#no idea how/if to tag the other character whose voice line is there but not seen

[aries-of-spades]

AYY guess who finished the thing!!

So, somehow in just under a month, I put together an animated/animatic movie trailer for Redstone and Skulk(a really awesome fic on AO3) by @silverskye13

I'm actually pretty proud of how it came out, seeing as I've never made an animatic before. And it was really fun to plot it out, record the voicelines, and mix all the sound elements. So I definetly want to do other animatics in the future.

[hannieween]

opening night | backstage series | l.sm

“Just play along,” he said softly, his lips curving into a playful smile as he leaned his head to kiss you deeply in front of everyone who, until that night, thought you were heartbroken for someone else.

♡︎ pairing: lee seokmin x afab!reader ♡︎ genre: smut. 18+ mdni you'll get blocked ♡︎ word count: 9.3k ♡︎ aus: theatre performer!seokmin, fake dating with benefits

₊🎧: love me a little – shownu x hyungwon

₊ nsfw tags under the cut

♡︎ a/n: i am only posting this for fun, but do let me know if you like it pls pls pls. thought of this idea while doing the dishes, quite literally.

♡︎ warnings: swearing, alcohol use, minor mentions of drugs, pet names: baby, noodle (hers), smut with plot, soft dom seokmin, big dick seokmin, seokmin is kind of a simp, teasing, making out, sexual tension, unprotected sex, couch sex, creampie, hand kink, fingering (f), oral sex (f), reader is quite dramatic, might contain some minor spelling or grammar mistakes and for that i'm sorry.

part 1

Nothing could compare to opening night jitters. There were some shows in which you didn't feel this nervous, small shows, small audiences or those times you had to act in front of other colleagues. It always made you jittery in some way. Tonight, the feeling of not being able to breathe was worse.

It was as if a bubble of air got trapped in your chest, and no matter how much you breathed in and out, nothing could get rid of it.

And not to mention the inescapable tunnel vision. It was something you suspected that it only happened to you, though. You could not focus on anything at all. Food? Not hungry. Thirsty? Maybe. But those were things that you could tend to once the first show is over.

"Shit. I think I forgot my lines," you blurt out with a shaky sigh.

The script was lying on the single chair propped in front of the vanity mirror. But the dressing room was so crowded with people getting ready that you just didn't see the chance of reading out some of it again.

"You know," someone started behind you, "for someone who has been doing this for years, you certainly can't control your pre-show emotions."

You didn't have to turn to know whose voice it was. "Sorry," you reply shortly. "I haven't done this in a short while."

"Well, put yourself together. We begin in five." Minghao told you. He was just finishing dressing the supporting cast, so he gave you a look.

"What?" you say, and look down at what you were wearing, thinking that somehow you had managed to ruin your dress that he carefully confected for your role.

Minghao grabbed you by the shoulders, a soft smile began to show on his lips and he said. "You're going to do alright. Just breathe, and show them what you're worth. It'll be over in two hours."

And with that, you released a long sigh. "Thank you."

"Anytime," he nodded, patting you on the head. "Is that Soonyoung's vest?" He said suddenly, snatching the vest from a chair and exiting your dressing room. "Soonyoung, come here you little rascal!"

It has been about five months since you stepped on a stage. So, there were a few things you need to get a hold on before the show begun. You used to have a pre-show ritual, which consisted in getting into character as much as possible.

However, things changed when you had to take a break after you and your ex called it quits. Now, you don't feel as connected to that ritual anymore. Besides, you haven't had a lead role in a play since your final year at uni.

It usually got really quiet backstage when the show was about to start. Everyone was aware that voices carry all the way to the audience, so movements were quiet, and noises kept at minimal. You closed your eyes for a moment before going to the stage and play your part.

Opening nights were always a challenge. Despite rigorous rehearsals, you were faced with doubt, often believing you could spot the smallest flaws and exaggerating them to fix them.

But this opening night was sort of different. You felt at ease. Exhilarated, even. Once the play was over and you finished bowing to the audience, you went back to the dressing rooms to get rid of your dress and make up.

You changed into something more comfortable. And as you were cleaning your face, you listened to the other girls in the dressing room gush about the people they saw at the seats. Apparently some more renowned actors had come to see the play, as well as some journalists.

That made you think that you didn't invite someone to come see you. You did your part to promote the play in social media, but nothing more.

However, you did see some familiar faces as you made your way out of the dressing room. Seokmin and Seungkwan were bantering loudly about something unbeknownst to you, their voices and laughter were so sounding that you were quick to locate them.

Seungkwan had Seokmin on a playful chokehold when they both saw you. Before you could ask, Seungkwan snapped his head at you. "We're settling a matter like men. Be there with you in a sec," at the same time that Seokmin blurted through his teeth: "Help."

"Ah, they're at it again," you turned to see Soonyoung who was throwing a backpack over his shoulder. "Seokmin has been teasing Kwannie a lot these days."

"What else is new?" you hummed.

You two watched for a brief moment, only to Soonyoung turn to you and chirp. "Anyway, want to leave these two behind and go buy some booze? 'S on me."

You watched his cheeks grow fuller as he pursed his lips. He had one thumb raised, pointing towards the exit.

"That sounds great," you say, grabbing him by the arm.

You turned to the exit, leaving your two other friends fight over yet another stupid thing.

The cold air of autumn hit your face as soon as Soonyoung pushed the door open.

"So," Soonyoung begun and suddenly you knew what was coming, "how you've been?"

The question was simple. But you knew what he meant.

"I've been doing okay, Hoshi," you replied shortly. "You don't need to worry about me."

He hummed. "You can talk to me anytime. You know that, right?"

You two arrived at the liquor store. It was friday night, so there was a couple of people buying alcohol for the night.

"You have done enough for me," you gave him a reassuring smile. "Letting me crash in your apartment for months until I found something for my own is something I will always be grateful for."

He sighed. "You don't have to do that. And you don't owe me anything, you dumbass."

"Do what?" you objected.

"You're avoiding it," he shrugged. "But hey, you don't wanna talk about it, fine. I'll wait."

You smiled and slapped the front of his cap down. "Come on, Soonyoung. Don't get all sappy on me. This is supposed to be a fun night."

He finally smirked, fixing his cap. "Right. Soju."

When Seungkwan and Seokmin finally got to the liquor store, they were sweaty and panting, they probably had to run to catch up with you and Soonyoung. But they were laughing about something as you reunited with them on the sidewalk outside the store.

"Hi there, noodle," Seokmin raised his hand and patted your head at the same time that his other hand reached for the six pack of beer you were holding to carry it himself.

You cringed at the name he used to call you. Which was born after a professor called you only by noodle arms in a dance class you four had to take at uni.

"Dk, it's been ages since you called me that," you whined, but as soon as he propped his arm around your shoulders you couldn't help but smile in his familiar warmth.

"Well, I've suddenly forgotten your name. You're Noodle now," he spoke in an old man's tone. But broke in a laugh as you poked his rib with your finger. "Sorry."

You walked in pairs towards the fancy apartment building down the street.

"Were you in the audience?" you asked.

"Yeah, obviously. Soonyoung wouldn't shut up about the play for weeks," he pressed his lips into a smile. "Besides, it's your first lead role in a while, I wouldn't have missed it."

"Did you like it?"

Seungkwan turned, and you understood he could listen on everything you and Seokmin were saying. "He fell asleep. Obviously," he sassed.

"I dozed off for two minutes!" Seokmin bellowed, but a wide smile formed on his face. "I did get to see your parts, though. And Soonyoung's."

"Thanks for coming, guys."

"No problem," Seokmin smiled briefly. "Hey, I heard that you moved out of Soonyoung's. Why didn't you tell me? I could've helped."

Just five months ago, your world turned upside down when you found out your ex had been cheating on you for weeks. To make matters worse, it was with that one girl he told you not to worry about.

You had to move out of the apartment you shared with your ex, leaving behind many things you couldn't take with you. That is when Soonyoung came to your rescue and offered his place for you to crash for a while.

"Well, I didn't need much help anyways. It was just a few boxes, really."

"I was still sad you didn't call though. You haven't even shared your new address," he pouted as he spoke, and you could tell he was joking. "It made me contemplate the whole meaning of our friendship, you know."

You snorted. "Not you too," you exclaimed. "First, Hoshi gets all corny with me and now you."

He showed a downturned smile. "You know I'm only playing with you. Soonyoung, however, thinks you're still a ticking time bomb."

You glanced at your friends, who were walking some steps ahead of you. Soonyoung was showing Seungkwan some TikToks he recorded for the company's official account, so you were out of their earshot.

"And you don't?" you asked.

He shrugged, looking at the floor as you made your way towards the tall building's lobby. "I think you're doing alright. Better than any of us would in your position. Honestly."

You let out a long sigh. "I just wish that people would stop asking me about it. I'm tired of it, the pity treatment, the tiptoeing around the subject."

"Well, you can't just expect us to not worry," he said softly.

"I know," you coincided.

You were still walking together, since Seokmin had his arm in your shoulders. Lately he did it often, and you didn't mind. You liked the the warmth with which he always treated you.

"I sometimes think that I was emotionally checked out from the relationship some time before I found out," you say, and felt that you could've dropped a bomb with that confession.

"So that's why you don't want to talk about it," he reasoned, his brow furrowed, deep in thought.

"I think so," you shrugged. "But I'm being honest when I say that I'm okay."

"And I believe you," he assented, pulling you closer for a brief moment and then dropped his arm from your shoulders. "I won't bring it up again."

The four of you entered the elevator that took you to the large apartment of the show's director, who was a young man you knew from your early days at uni. He had suddenly found his way through and had started to direct full plays in local theatres. His name was Yoon Jeonghan. And he hosted a party for every opening night.

It was your first time in that apartment. You knew the director in person, however, the three guys riding with you in the elevator knew him better, as they have had more roles than you these past few months.

You feel a slight tug to your side. "You know he's most likely going to be there, right?" Seungkwan said quietly, eyeing you with caution.

"I know," you mumbled. "'M going to be alright."

Now, why would you go to a place where you probably would encounter you cheating ex? Some part within you was deeply uninterested to see him again. And the other part was just enraged that he somehow mattered in your life still.

The opening night after party was almost like a tradition now, at least for most of the people who were close to Jeonghan.

The apartment was crowded, and you could tell it was set up to avoid bothering the neighbours. It had cushioned, soundproof walls, shaded windows, speakers kept at a reasonable volume, and many guests were congregating on the spacious terrace.

Jeonghan was a great host. He was kind of shy, but eager to meet everyone personally. He welcomed you with a warm smile, however he did hug the boys as they stepped into his large apartment.

You were quickly left to your own devices as your three friends were absorbed into the group of partygoers. Then you remembered how popular they have been since you met them.

The trio kind of took you in from that point forward because you were the one who organized university projects and stayed on top of schoolwork. But short after that, you found a close group of friends who were always there for you.

You decided that the only way you were going to get through the night was with some alcohol in your system. You weren't either an introvert or extrovert, you always thought you were in some middle point.

But your ex was there, sitting outside in the terrace with a girl beside him. You never knew the girl he cheated on you personally, but you knew it was her.

You snorted.

Suddenly, you felt a hand at your back. Seokmin looked at you, wariness in his eyes that dissipated quickly. "Want something to drink?"

"Yeah," you nodded.

"I feel like a bad influence," he simulated a shudder. "It's exciting."

You two downed your first glass of soju.

A few moments, the one glass of soju turned into the whole bottle. You drank while singing karaoke with strangers or with your friends. You drank while meeting new people and getting to know those who were part of your cast.

As you said, you were alright.

You just finished singing a song in the karaoke with Seokmin, who could hold his liquor a lot better than you. Both of you laughed at the way you couldn't keep up with the lyrics anymore and became a slurry mess.

"Never again," you say as the karaoke score marked a 10% on the screen.

"Remind me to never let you do this again," he agreed, teary eyed and red on the face from laughing with you.

The microphones were passed to other people, and soon after that, the party settled for just music.

Your chest still hurt from laughing.

"I'll go get some air," you announced a bit breathlessly as you made your way to the terrace.

Suddenly, Seokmin's hand made its way to your waist again and you glanced at him, his face had hardened.

And then you understood why.

As you were heading outside, your ex was leaving the terrace with his new girlfriend causing an awkward encounter. Your ex gave you a casual nod as if you were friends still, and his new girlfriend shot you a sly smirk as your arms brushed past each other.

"Hey, y/n," your ex goaded as they made their way inside the apartment.

You didn't reply.

Within this awkward exchange, you don't know how Seokmin's hand ended up intertwined with yours.

The air on the terrace smelled like a mixture of weed, vape and cigarettes. But it was cruelly cold enough to cool your body.

Seokmin mumbled something under his breath. And you noticed he was glancing at the back of your ex's neck with a scowl on his face.

You squeezed his hand, still not knowing how he grabbed you.

"How drunk are you?" he asked, his face was still serious.

"A bit. I think I'm beginning to sober up."

"Good," he breathed, pushing his bangs from his forehead and with them his furrowed brow. "Can you do something for me, noodle?"

You hit him in the shoulder. "Don't call me that," you smiled. "What do you want?"

"How about," he begun, not letting go of your hand, "I pretend to be your date for the night? Make the bastard realize he has no room in your life anymore."

"What," you blurt out and blinked feeling a bit perplexed at his offer. "You've finally lost it, Seokmin."

"I'm sorry. I know I said I wouldn't bring it up again. But I hate the way he thinks you still give a shit about him."

"I don't," you blinked.

"Then why would he go out of his way to even speak to you?" he countered.

"Seokmin, are you angry?" you gasped.

You could count on the fingers of your hand the number of times you'd seen Seokmin angry. And the other times it didn't matter because he was more the sulky type when something was bothering him. But at that moment, he was pissed off.

"A bit, yeah," he admitted with a sigh, but immediately flashed a sincere smile, almost as if his anger was a little embarrassing to him. He raised his brow. "But my offer still stands, though."

"D'you think it will work?" you mused.

"It might tell your ex a thing or two about leaving you alone. And as a plus, everyone else will also stop asking you about what happened between you and him." Seokmin added, almost casually.

You glanced towards the other end of the terrace briefly, and realized that Seungkwan was eyeing you too, a worried look on his eye as you caught him.

Licking his lips, he grabbed you by the shoulders. "What do you say?" He seemed relaxed, even focused; he tilted his head slightly as he looked into your eyes.

You held his gaze, listening to his words. Realizing that they were very much real and that Seokmin was dead serious about it.

Then, you realize how close you were to his body. His hands slid from your shoulders to your arms, where he traced soft lines with his fingers.

"Just for tonight," you murmured, but it came out sounding like a question.

"As long as you want," he offered. One hand found your chin, his fingers pressing softly on your hot skin.

You looked at his dark brown eyes. The relaxed look on his face was almost unsettling. As if he knew your answer already.

"Deal," you breathed.

His fingers angled your face towards him. "Just play along." He said softly, his lips curving into a playful smile as he leaned his head to kiss you deeply in front of everyone who, until that night, thought you were heartbroken for someone else.

Your hands found the back of his head, burying your fingers in his soft copper hair. You couldn't ignore that it had been a long while since your body felt so ablaze. Maybe it was the remaining alcohol on your system doing its part.

But even before you and your ex split, you felt kind of longing for the touch of someone. Something real. And although Seokmin was playing a role as he did on stage, kissing him felt different. It felt good.

As the kiss deepened, his tongue brushed your lower lip almost hungrily and you thought your knees might buckle under the shudder. A moan was quickly supressed in his mouth when his hand moved from your face to the back of your hair, his fingers tangling in a soft fist.

"I never imagined you'd be this good of a kisser," you confess.

Your chests were now pressed together, so you felt him chuckle. "Well, you know now," his demeanour had changed completely.

You wanted to look if anyone had seen you. But Seokmin was quick to read your intentions. He grabbed your chin again softly, forcing you to keep looking at him.

"Act normal," he ordered quietly with a look of endearment on his face, as if he were saying something sweet to you.

"I've never done this before," you sighed.

"I can tell," he smiled sweetly.

"Don't tell me you've done this before!"

He removed his hands from you, and made a gesture with his head, pointing towards the couch on the terrace. "Come with me."

You sat next to him, and as you did so, you saw Seungkwan's face, he was looking over at you both with an expression on his face that clearly read, 'what the fuck?' to you.

Seokmin scooted close to you on the couch, and placed one hand on you thigh and his other hand rested on his own thigh.

"I haven't done this before either," he confessed. "But you're an actress, and I'm an actor. We can act this out."

You snorted. "Thanks for pointing out the obvious, Lee Seokmin," you said drily.

Seokmin was smiling sweetly at you. Your shoulders were pressed together and your thighs were also so close that you might as well just sit on his lap. You fought against the thought.

"Then, act like you're my girl," he said idly, leaning down to place a kiss on your cheek.

An exhilarating feeling roused deep within you. You fixated on how comfortable his hand on your thigh looked, and the ease to which Seokmin took your face with his other hand and captured your lips with his.

Your hand met the one that was holding the side of your face.

"Afraid to put on a little show?" he coaxed.

A smirk crept on your lips, almost involuntarily you find yourself saying. "What do you want me to do?"

He blinked slowly, almost as if he was a little startled by your new demeanour. "Just relax." he put in softly. "And if you don't like something, tell me. Okay?"

You nod. "Okay."

His thumb caressed your jawline softly, before pressing his lips with yours. What started as a sweet kiss, slowly evolved to a enticing one. His mouth explored yours, biting softly at your lower lip, and his tongue lapping yours, testing what made you whimper or what made your hand clasp his.

You rested your forehead against his for a bit, catching your breath. "I hate that you are so good at this."

He laughed, taking one strand of hair and tucking it behind your ear. "Why is that?" he asked quietly.

"Dunno. I never thought of you as anything other than my friend."

His eyebrows shot up. "You never thought of me doing this?" he asked almost amazed.

"You did?" you quipped with half a smile.

Then you thought of doing something with your hands, since they were laying flat on your thighs. You pushed some strands of hair from Seokmin's forehead, and brushed the hair that you had messed up when you kissed.

His eyelids fluttered briefly. "I mean, I did wondered."

You pointed a finger to his face. "Don't lie, Seokmin."

He smiled sheepishly. "I just wondered what you'd be like. Honest."

"And?" you ask.

Seokmin shrugged. "You're not terrible."

The tingling sensation in the lower pit your stomach only intensified. Almost as if Seokmin had just challenged you. You laughed at his words, seeing his chapped lips smile at your reaction.

You locked your lips with his again, but this time more confidently, and your slipped your tongue to meet his. Your hands grabbed his face, and travelled to the sides of his neck, earning a small moan from him.

Feeling embarrassed, you broke away to breathe. If Seokmin noticed that you were getting all worked up, he said nothing about it. Yeah, you were both actors and have known each other for years, but you were human. And somehow Seokmin knew where to put his hands and how to kiss you perfectly.

You pulled out your phone from your pocket and opened your camera. Seokmin understood immediately and took your phone from your hands and angled it to capture you both for a few photos.

He took photos of you leaning your head on his shoulder, one in which you kiss him on his cheek and he smiles, and another one of him kissing the top of your head.

The photos would be kept in your album, as you didn't intend on actually posting them. Not yet anyway.

You tried not to think too hard about how crazy this all was. A part of you didn't feel awkward, as if the familiarity of his body near yours was meant to be this way anyway.

Testing your own boundaries, you turned to him, grabbing his chin to kiss him again, and you realized just how much you liked his lips on yours. But you didn't think it was anything else.

You nuzzled to his side softly. "D'you think that was enough of a show?" you mumbled to his ear, feeling embarrassed that you were so breathless from kissing.

You felt Seokmin smile again as if you had just spoken sweet nothings to his ear. "I think. Wanna get out of here?"

"Sounds good to me."

You stood up from the couch at the same time as Seokmin. He promptly grabbed your hand and interlocked your fingers in his. As you made your way out of there, you and Seokmin waved at your friends goodbye. Making a show that you were leaving hand in hand with Seokmin.

As soon as you stepped on the elevator, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Before you saw the screen, you knew what you were about to read.

[10:39 PM] boo: hello ??? [10:39 PM] boo: wtf are you doing? [10:40 PM] you: wdym? [10:40 PM] boo: with dk ?? [10:40 PM] boo: since when ?

"We have to come up with a story," you tell Seokmin, who was leaning his back against the wall of the elevator.

He was looking at his own phone. And you couldn't help but eye at his lithe fingers. You sighed, pushing your thoughts away.

"I agree," he said and showed you his screen. Messages from Seungkwan and Soonyoung were popping on the screen so urgently that you couldn't read any.

You buried your hands in your pockets along with your phone. "I think we did stir up some waters," you muttered.

Seokmin pressed his lips into a content smile. "Hopefully they stop nagging you with questions of your ex."

"They're going to ask questions about you now," you countered with a smile. "Though I rather talk about you than that jerk."

"That is the plan," Seokmin smirked.

"Why, though?" you find yourself asking.

Seokmin eyed you for a second. "At first it was because I really despise your ex," he confessed. "But I think I'm obligated to tell you that I really liked it. The attention."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"Promise?" you insist.

He came to a full stop on the sidewalk and you were force to stop too. Seokmin held out one pinky finger towards you wordlessly.

You breathed out with a smile. "This is not necessary." You say, linking your finger with his.

It wasn't just a pinky promise. It was something your group of friends took too seriously. You didn't lie to each other, and promising it with your pinkies could very well serve as an oath.

It was childish. But your friend group liked it that way.

Seokmin walked you to your apartment building, which also served as a way to show him where you lived now.

"Talk to you tomorrow," Seokmin said as he pull you into a bear hug and patted your head affectionately.

"Sure," you said.

He watched as you entered the building, and waved at you goodbye before disappearing behind the elevator doors.

Someone peeked over your shoulder to look at your phone screen to the point where you can feel their breath on your neck.

That someone was Boo Seungkwan.

You've been typing nonstop for five minutes, your fingernails snapping at the screen in a frenzy.

"Stop snooping," you tried to tell him while typing.

The coffee shop where you both work part-time has been quiet, as it's almost 9 p.m. and you're both about to clock out. There have only been a couple of passing customers during the last hour of your shift, so your attention has been diverted elsewhere.

You hear a sigh and then, "So you're not going to tell me what happened yesterday?"

"'Bout what?" you said absentmindedly.

"About what happened with Seokmin," he answered pointedly.

"What about it? We just kissed."

You heard him scoff. "You two did not just kissed, you made out on a dirty couch. And then you both disappeared for the rest of the night. Yeah, you're not fucking fooling me."

You didn't find it strange to hear him curse. He's been your friend for years, ever since you met at university. But he's lately been expressing his annoyance with you for your decisions, so you hear him cursing a lot more lately.

That is what pulled your gaze from the phone screen. "Don't put it like that. The couch was decent."

He rolled his eyes, and cursed some more. "Now, you're trying to be coy. The couch doesn't matter. What matters is that you kissed with your friend, our friend!"

"And? We're two consenting adults," you shrugged while trying to keep a straight face. But you couldn't help feeling a little embarrassed.

"Are you guys a thing then?"

You stared at him, racking your brain to come up with an answer.

A customer entered the shop at the same time you opened your mouth to tell Seungkwan everything that happened last night. Somehow, you didn't see far up ahead your actions and didn't think Seungkwan would react like this. So you feel secretly grateful that the customer drove you away from that conversation.

"Listen," Seungkwan said as soon as you two finished closing up. "I really don't care what you two are, I just hate it when you keep me in the dark on important stuff like this. Before last night, I though you were still broken over Youngho."

You two usually walked home together whenever you had to close the shop. Seungkwan lived a couple of blocks away from you so you kept each other company.

You contemplated sharing with him that what happened with Seokmin was improvised on the spot. That you were just as surprised with the turn of events as he was. But, telling him would just trump the deal you had struck with Seokmin.

And you were a bit too greedy to let that happen.

"I'm sorry, Seungkwan. I know it was shitty of me to not mention anything," you found yourself saying with a small shrug.

"That and playing dumb," he said, shooting a resentful glance at you.

"Yeah, and playing dumb or whatever," you said, rolling your eyes but couldn't help but smile. "How can I make it up to you?"

"Can you cover me on monday morning?" he answered a bit too quickly.

You snorted. "Sure. But only if you promise to stop berating me."

"I am not berating you."

You continued walking to the apartment complex in silence. For a short bit, though. You knew what was coming.

"So you two are a thing or not?"

"Sorta," you shrugged again.

"Sorta," he parroted.

You stopped at the door of the building where you live.

The weather was cold, to the point that Seungkwan's breath could be seen as he sighed with a weak smile.

"Well, just don't fuck this up, okay?" he said, raising his eyebrows. "I know that you are a big girl and can take care of yourself but, just don't do something stupid just because you can't move on."

"I got it, Kwannie," you tried to brush off with a hand gesture. "I promise not to fuck it up, okay?"

"See you tomorrow." He turned around and walked towards two buildings down the street, where he lived with his roommate Vernon.

"See ya!"

In the elevator, you scrambled for your keys, which were in the pocket of your jacket. You tried to play it cool with Seungkwan, however couldn't help but feel anxiety pulsating on your stomach as the elevator doors opened with a ding noise.

Seokmin lifted his head to the sound, he was leaning back next to your apartment door, phone in his hand. "Hi there," he said with a soft smile that reached his eyes.

"Hi. Have you been waiting long?"

He stood up straight and pocketed his phone as you walked to the door and opened it. You glanced sideways at him, he was wearing the oversized hoodie from last night, but instead of jeans he was now wearing grey sweat shorts.

"Nope. Just ten minutes."

"I couldn't shake off Seungkwan's prying," you informed, as you both entered your apartment.

You closed the door behind you two, removing your boots at the entrance. Seokmin followed suit and removed his Nike's, carefully placing them next to your boots.

"I imagined as much," he hummed. He still had a content smile on his face.

You two held each others gaze for a moment. Only to realize that you hadn't even turned on the lights, or fully invited him to your apartment.

"Make yourself at home," you chimed, turning on the lights of the living space. It was empty except for the lone large sofa, a TV screen perilously propped up on a plastic table, and a pile of boxes from when you moved out of your ex's apartment.

Seokmin smirked.

"I haven't had the chance to unpack yet... or buy more furniture," you murmured briefly.

He noticed the pillow and the pile of blankets that were tossed in the couch. "I assume that you don't have a bed yet, either."

"I just have the bed frame," you reply as you remove the pillow out of the way and fold the blankets in half. "It's still packaged, though."

"Hey, don't think I'm judging you," he raised the palms of his hands innocently. "I use to sleep on the floor at a friend's place when I got to this city, remember?"

Seokmin was a great friend. If you could describe him succinctly, it would be that. A great friend. You knew he wasn't judging you, since the curiosity in his smiling eyes didn't fade as he sat on the couch and eyed the piles of boxes that were labelled with your name in your ex's handwriting.

You also knew that Seokmin sleeping on the floor when he moved to the city to study was not the same as being kicked out of you and your ex's apartment after he cheated on you. But you were glad that his mind didn't go there, evidently.

"Can I offer you anything?" you sighed heavily. "I may not have furniture yet, but my fridge is full and the rent is paid."

"Well, that is what matters as far as I'm aware. I'm fine, thank you," he pressed his lips. He then scooped to the side and patted next to him on the couch.

Right.

"So..." you breathed, sitting down next to him. "You wanted to talk."

You were now sitting next to each other. Being so close to him sparked something deep within you, something that last night made you feel alive.

Then, you knew that you were in trouble. It was alarming the fact that you couldn't take your eyes off of him. You were aware of every gesture, every movement Seokmin made. You gulped.

Seokmin sat with his knees spread slightly apart, his hands resting comfortably between his thighs. "About last night," he begun.

"I, uh-"

"If we're going to do this, we need some ground rules," he declared.

"Wait. Seriously?" you blurted out.

"Wha- what did you think I was going to say?" He looked up to catch your gaze.

"I thought you were going to back out."

"Oh, you want to call it off?" Seokmin retorted, his eyes searching your face.

"No. Not really. Last night was..."

His eyes lit up along with a playful smile. "Fun?"

"Yeah, exactly," you matched his smile. "Well, I don't enjoy lying to Seungkwan, but at least I didn't get the pity treatment, for once."

"Wait. What did you say to him?"

"That we are sort of a thing," you mumbled.

His eyebrows pushed up. "And he believed that?" Seokmin laughed, brushing his hair hastily with his lithe fingers.

"He seemed to," you shrugged. "He stopped questioning me after that."

"Well, that is what you wanted, isn't it?" he shifted beside you, so that he was facing your body. Then he took that same hand to fix his watch on his other wrist.

You mirrored his movements, and now the two of you sat facing each other on the couch. You leaned your head on your hand, with your elbow resting on the couch's headrest.

"So what happens next?" you asked.

Seokmin shrugged slightly, a relaxed look on his face. "Whatever you want, I told you."

You bit your lip for a second, aware of the fact that Seokmin was gazing at your mouth and your eyes, silently waiting for your response.

"I'm still thinking of last night," you confessed, the act of being that blunt made your cheeks heat up.

"Me too. I couldn't think of anything else," he smirked. Your eyes lingered a bit on his lips too.

He toyed a bit with the sleeves of his black hoodie, and pulled them up to his elbows, then crossed his arms across his chest. You swallowed at the sight of how veiny his forearms looked.

"D'you think that we could talk about the ground rules later?" you asked sheepishly.

Seokmin couldn't help but notice the way you inclined towards him slightly. And you couldn't help but notice him swallow hard. "What do you want to do?"

"I really want you to kiss me again," you mumbled, feeling something rouse within you.

His eyes twinkled with excitement. "Oh, yeah?" he hummed.

He seemed as if he were waiting for you to say something inviting, you noticed the moment he smiled when you nodded a bit too eagerly with your head.

He lifted his hands to grab you by the sides of your head. "C'mere," he whispered, his lips quickly finding yours in a soft kiss.

You felt his breath on your neck as he pulled away slightly. "Again?" you sighed.

His mouth was smiling as his lips found yours again, and as the soft kisses turned more demanding, you couldn't ignore how your body responded.

This felt different from the make out session of the night prior. It was entirely carnal, at least, Seokmin kissed you with more eagerness, unafraid of being seen and judged. You heard his breath catch in a gasp and his lips smack. You both were not acting.

You broke away from him, all thoughts in your head quieted down when in a sudden movement, you moved in the couch to sit on his lap, straddling him. Seokmin said nothing either, and you silently thanked him, as his hands returned to the sides of your face to kiss you deeply.

The sizzling feeling at the lower pit of your stomach, the warmth all over your skin when one of his hands slipped from your face to the back of your head and fisted your hair softly, sending chills down your spine and making you moan in response.

"Yeah, I thought you liked that last night," Seokmin mumbled gruffly.

"Shut up," you smiled.

"Make me," he whispered back.

You leaned in to kiss him again, a rush of adrenaline filled you as his hands that were on the sides of your head moved to your back to press your body against his. Fingertips trailed softly on the sides of his neck, you felt him shudder as you made your way to his collarbones where you shyly touched his skin like never before.

Seokmin left a trail of kisses from your lips, to your jaw and ended on your neck. You gasped when he found a sweet spot effortlessly, and made something flutter in your stomach. Hearing your reaction, Seokmin sucked on the spot gently, eliciting a moan from you.

It had been a while since you felt like this. Even with your ex, you felt that the last few times you were together like this were more of a obligatory act from both of you.

So, being close to Seokmin like this was like unearthing feelings that your body had long forgotten. And it was really hard to control.

You let your hips sit fully on his lap and started grinding on him suggestively. Seokmin groaned in your mouth and broke away.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice sounded raspy.

"Oh, fuck—sorry. You don't like that?" you whimpered and made a gesture to move out of his lap.

But Seokmin grabbed you tightly to his body effortlessly, since his hands were still on your back. "No, it's not that," he put in briefly.

You stared at him, puzzled. "What is it then?"

"What do you want?" he countered.

He watched you swallow hard. "I want you," you muttered, hoping that the emphasis you put in the word was enough for him.

A few strands of hair had stuck to your wet lips, and Seokmin pulled them away with gentle fingers as he asked: "How do you want me?"

You couldn't help but smile. "Don't tease me like that."

Seokmin just shrugged calmly, but his eyes were burning with lust. "I won't do anything unless you tell me."

You planted a soft kiss on his jaw, then one on his lower lip. "I want you to fuck me, Seokmin," you whispered into his lips.

He reciprocated the slow, wet kiss. And groaned again when you grinded your hips one more time. "I didn't bring any condoms," he mumbled.

"Really?" your voice sounded obnoxiously high.

"I just came here to talk," Seokmin laughed. "It never crossed my mind that we'd fuck."

"Really?"

"Really. I didn't think you'd be this needy," he started laughing when you landed a playful smack to one of his shoulders.

You rolled your eyes at him. "I'm on the pill."

His hand grabbed your chin and he pulled away to look at you in the eyes. "Are you sure you wanna do this?"

You both understood what this meant for your friendship. Seokmin didn't seem concerned at all about you being on his lap, or that you were practically begging him to fuck you right there and then. He seemed willing, but like the good gentleman he was, he needed you to say what you wanted.

You nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure."

Seokmin's lips parted briefly as he scanned your face with his eyes one last time. "Fuck," he groaned, and pulled you to his mouth again.

Your lips latched onto his, hungrily, teeth grazing, tongues clashing. You could feel the wetness from his saliva beneath your mouth as the kiss turned sloppy and more fervent.

His hands casually made their way from your back to your hips, where they rested comfortably before giving you a gentle squeeze.

"Take these off," he murmured in your lips, his fingers pinched at the fabric of your jeans.

You stood from his lap to take your jeans off, aware that Seokmin had his eyes on you. He rest his head on the back of the sofa, his hungry eyes watched your body up and down. His hand grabbed yours and tugged you his way to gesture you to straddle him again.

Your lips explore his neck, licking the spot below his ear, and he breathed out a moan. His fingertips dug slightly on your hips, and then he cupped your ass when you left wet kisses and sucked in the spot again.

Seokmin pressed your body back and forth, rubbing your clothed pussy against his hard cock. You moaned and hid your face in the crook of his neck and grinded some more on him.

"Let me see you," he muttered in your ear.

Your lips searched his tentatively, kissing him with haste as his hands moved from your backside to underneath your top. You broke the kiss again, and let him remove your shirt entirely.

Seokmin revelled at the sight of your half naked body, his fingers trailing softly from your collarbone, to your sternum, all the way to your bellybutton.

"Pretty," he mumbled when his fingers tugged at the band of your pink panties.

He looked at you, as if asking for permission. But he quietly trailed his fingers to your clothed core, and there he found that your panties were already soaked. You could feel yourself grow more aroused at the mere act of him feeling you without breaking eye contact.

You shuddered a sigh when he pushed the soaked fabric aside and had to bite your lip from moaning loudly when his fingers found your wet core.

Seokmin sighed. "You're so fucking wet," he smiled softly.

"God, Seokmin–," you breathed and your eyes fluttered close when he slowly moved one of his fingers inside you. And then, he pushed another finger in.

He bent his head and planted a kiss on your shoulder. "Ride my hand, baby," he said hoarsely.

A shiver went down your spine at hearing what Seokmin called you. You started moving on his hand almost immediately grinding on his fingers the same way you had done on his lap.

Your forehead found his, a tingling sensation travelled your body when you his breath caressed your face. "Seokmin."

His lips were formed into a smile when he pressed his lips on yours in a chaste kiss. "Mmyeah, that's my name, baby."

His other hand unclasped your bra expertly, and you helped him with the straps and threw it somewhere on the floor. You felt his breath on your skin and your nipples grow hard.

It was almost embarrassing to you to hear the squelching sounds you were making against the hand between your legs. But you could barely pay some thoughts to it, all you could think of was the way he moved his hands on your body. And that you wanted more.

He rubbed his thumb around your nipples, and you watch him do it, watched the hand buried in your pussy as you grinded on him, close to your release. Then, his hand rested on your neck for a bit and you shuddered when his thumb caressed your skin and curved around your throat.

"You like them?" he asked peering at your face. "My hands? I've seen the way you look at them."

"Yeah," you breathed. "I wondered what they would look like on me."

"Oh, yeah?" he smiled. Then pulled out his fingers from your core, just about when you were about to cum. You blinked at him, confused.

"Lie down," he muttered, pointing to the sofa. You did as he said, and moved your back to the sofa, your knees pulled up.

"I knew you'd be bossy," you confessed, feeling hot on your face.

Seokmin's eyebrows raised a bit. "Been thinking about me a lot, huh?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. And then his hands reached up to the collar of his hoodie, he threw it over his body in one swift motion and tossed it aside.

His bare chest was the first thing you saw, it was wide and lean. You also got a good look at his strong thighs when he undid his shorts, and step out of them.

A shiver shot up inside you when you saw the outline of his hard cock pressing against the tight fabric of his black underwear.

His toned arms as they came to the sides of your head to lean and kiss you fervently. "Stop looking at me like that," he groaned softly in your mouth.

He placed his knees on the sofa and patted you on one of your knees gently. "Spread your legs for me," he placed himself in between your legs as soon as you did what he ordered.

Seokmin left a trail of open mouthed kisses from your neck, to your collarbones as he palmed and squeezed your breasts with his hands. Your fingers tangled in his soft hair and moaned his name again when he sucked one of your nipples gently as his fingers pinched the other one.

He stood on his knees, hooking his fingers on your panties and dragged them along your legs, and dropped them to the side of the sofa.

Seokmin held your legs with his hands, as he placed kisses on the inner side of your thighs, sucking and licking softly on your skin. He gave you a glance one time before lowering his mouth to your core.

A whine reverberated on your chest quite loudly as your back arched almost involuntarily. Feeling his tongue lapping on your core, licking almost hungrily but patiently too, as if he wanted to take his time pleasuring you.

Seokmin revelled in your taste, in the sounds you made. He groaned when your fingers tugged at his soft hair again, he groaned when you whimpered his name as you neared your orgasm.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you muttered with eyes shut. Just as when you thought you couldn't feel any closer, Seokmin slid his two fingers inside you, pumping in and out. Your hips rutted desperately against his face and he was quick to hold them down with his free hand.

"Be still," he said softly, before dipping his head down on you again.

"Sorry," you replied breathlessly.

He hummed in response, and you could tell that he was amused at the desperate mess he made of you. But all you could think of was his mouth on your clit, as he had quickly found out how you liked to be stimulated, eliciting moans and half pleas.

You heard him moan with you when you reached your climax, as if he enjoyed the noises that you made, along with his name. Seokmin pulled his fingers out and placed sweet kisses on your clit.

You watched him lick his lips and fingers clean, and you could see that the tip of his nose was slightly wet with your arousal, making you grin at the sight of it. You cleaned it with your fingers as you brought his mouth to yours to kiss him fiercely.

"You taste so good," he muttered lazily on your lips and you could taste yourself in them.

You started tugging at the band of his underwear, pulling it down as best as the position of your bodies let you. Seokmin sighed, and you noticed that he was smiling.

"Be patient," he groaned, his demeanour seemed elated still. But he stood up from the sofa, and quickly got rid of his underwear, revealing his large cock.

You gulped almost involuntarily. "You have a pretty cock," you mumbled once he was between your legs again.

That took him off guard. He gave you a breathy chuckle. "Well, that's a first," he confessed.

Yeah, you were quite sure he didn't get the word 'pretty' as often as 'big'.

He gave you a small peck on your lips, pulling you out of your trance. "You're ready?" he asked.

You winced in anticipation the moment you felt his cockhead align with your entrance. Your fingers cradled his face as he watched you nod.

"I need to hear you, baby," he crooned, placing another sweet kiss on your lip.

"I'm ready."

He held one of your legs angled for him as he eased himself inside you painfully slow. You grabbed at his shoulders, letting your fingertips dig at his skin.

"F-fuck," you whispered, releasing the air that caught between your teeth and Seokmin sighed deeply too as he stretched your pussy slowly.

It had been a while since you last had sex, so the feeling of having someone, let alone someone as big as Seokmin took a bit more from you than expected.

"Good girl," he muttered through gritted teeth when your hips met fully. You felt your walls flutter a bit around his cock, easing from the sting at having him stretch you open.

His eyes searched your face briefly, but wasted no time and started moving slowly and with shallow thrusts until you both adjusted to each other's bodies. Then he effortlessly picked up his pace and his thrusts started coming and going deeply inside you.

He kissed your moans with wet lips and released your leg from his grip. "Wrap your legs around me," you did as he said, also wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed your lips again.

His hands buried in your hair, closing in a tight first and his forehead leaned on yours. "You feel so fucking good, baby," he gritted his teeth. His hips buckled once before taking a faster and harder pace on you.

"Fuck! Right there," you moaned on his mouth. And gripped him tighter with you hands.

The grip on your hair tightened and he turned your head to the side slightly to make way for his lips on your neck where he had found a sweet spot.

When you opened your eyes, you found yourself on the reflection of the tv screen. You hadn't noticed it before when you were so busy staring at Seokmin, but now, you could see your face wild with lust, and your body entangled with Seokmin's; as his hips rammed against yours.

You almost fell in love at the image of him fucking you, passionately, hard and fast. Just seeing your bodies melted like this made your body quiver almost sending you to the edge.

He lifted his head and found you staring at both your reflections, he smiled at you and cooed. "Look at you, so flustered and pretty."

His thrusts quickened, but they didn't relent on their depth. And it was exactly what you needed. Your hands travelled down his back and dug your nails in his ass, earning a throaty moan from the man above you.

You were panting, feeling all sanity lip out your mind and you could hear yourself call his name in whispers, but couldn't make out another word.

Soft, wet kisses trailed down your neck to your mouth as the lewd noises you made filled the room.

"Are you going to cum again, baby?"

"'m so close," you whimpered. You closed your eyes, savouring the feeling as you reached your second orgasm.

"Look at me, baby," you heard him whisper and opened your eyes to find his.

"God. Seokmin. Don't stop, please," you cried as your body trembled with hot waves of pleasure.

A long moan escaped your mouth but was quickly supressed by a wet kiss. "I know baby," he whispered as you came on his cock, whimpering and twitching uncontrollably under his body.

Then he sat back down on his knees, grabbing you by your hips with a tight grip, and the change in position made you moan lazily. You didn't think you could keep going, but the sight of Seokmin's face riddled with pleasure made want to chase after a third orgasm.

Seokmin threw his head back before letting out a deep moan with his eyelids shut, his lips parted and twitching slightly once. You could feel your body tremble again at the thought of his cum inside you, and moaned at the same time he did, his thrusts on you not relenting until your cream started dripping at the base of his cock, mixing with his cum.

As his hips came to a stop on top of you, he glanced down to where your bodies remained connected and sighed in pleasure at the sight.

You also could feel yourself get lost at the sight of him for a bit. His heavy breathing made his chest and shoulders move up and down in a languid manner, a light layer of sweat covered his neck and collarbones.

He moved to rest his head on your chest for a moment, without saying a word. You knew he could hear your heartbeat, as you could feel his own heart stuttering against your body.

His forehead also glistened with seat, his hot breath caressed your breasts and even though you could see his relaxed features, you noticed that he was lost in thought.

You pushed his wet bangs from his face, drawing his attention to you. "We're still friends, right?" you asked jokingly.

His lips rose in a lazy smile and nodded. "Still friends."

♡︎ Final notes: I haven't posted fanfic for years sooo... well, if you liked it please show it some love, a reblog or leave a comment, i'm all eyes. click here for part 2 ( · ❛ ֊ ❛)

[mk-writes-stuff]

OC Interaction Game

Rules: describe an OC, then describe how they would interact with the OC(s) of the people who tagged you

Thanks @somethingclevermahogony and @illarian-rambling for the tags! I love this game

C’s OC: (As of the start of Book 1) Narul is a 23 year-old slave at the Palace of Labisa, the Great City by the Lake. He is a forestfolk, a person or group of people who have been mutated or altered by the effects of wild or ambient magic. His birth mother was a priestess, his father is a mystery. He was adopted by an enslaved woman as an infant, thus how he ended up in the servitude of King Hutbari. He is a giant of a man, literally, at just a hair under nine feet tall. He is additionally quite bulky, much much larger than even the biggest human. He is so large that the door into the slave quarters had to be reconstructed just to fit him as he grew up. Aside from his size he is also just a bit rough in appearance, hairy and broad, picture a DnD Dwarf, just sized way up.

He is inhumanly strong, a fact that causes him a great deal of distress. Because of his size and strength, Narul has the potential to be quite dangerous to normal humans, as he has been repeatedly reminded of since his childhood. Narul has a great deal of anxiety around his body and his potential to accidently hurt others, as such he is quite timid and careful. He has a tendency to mumble when he talks, which unfortunately due to his low voice, often makes it sound like he is growling.He is a gentle person, he likes flowers and abhors violence. He cries relatively easily and gets easily anxious or overwhelmed.Despite all of this he is fiercely loyal and kind. He doesn’t talk much but loves to listen to others. 

His fatal flaw is a healthy dose of self-doubt and self-loathing. Narul hates his body, it scares him, and he believes that it scares others. He is often self-deprecating, though not in a joking way. He feels an intense jealousy towards those around him that are able to live normal lives and pursue normal relationships.

Katie’s OC: Elsind is a 20 year old changeling whose true form looks like a mannequin wrapped in raw meat with five fins ringing its face, and who can transition between a solid and liquid state. They change their disguise frequently (they can only do people, not animals) and use the pronouns of whatever face they're wearing. As a person, Elsind is anxious, easily flustered, cries a lot, and is overall very kind-hearted, despite working as an assassin for a rebel cell. She ended up in that line of work because she wants revenge for what the nobility of her home put her through - kidnapping her at thirteen to serve as a court freak. He thinks if he can assassinate his target, he can earn his courage back and be more than another discarded toy of the ruling class, even if the idea of killing someone makes him sick. Indeed, classism is where Elsind gets very passionate, as well as talking about romance novels. They long for love, even if they think no one would accept a changeling without a disguise. I would also say she's chronically unlucky. If anyone is going to slip in the mud in his nice new dress, it's Elsind. All I have written down on their character notes is "eager to please, easily overwhelmed, great combo of traits," which is pretty much Elsind's deal.

My OC (created by my lovely gf): Nellie is a clone in her mid-twenties, although she’s only been out of the vat for about six months. She’s reasonably tall and pretty skinny, with pale skin, short black hair, and narrow red-and-gold eyes, which she usually hides behind sunglasses. Nellie is a sweet, kind, and empathetic woman who cares very deeply for others and wants to help, to the point where she sometimes struggles to put herself first. She also has a deeply traumatic history of abuse by her genetic donor that still troubles her deeply and gives her struggles with intimacy, as well as an addiction to mindsplit that she’s trying to shake. She longs for a simple, happy life - a good job, a nice place to live, good food, and the chance to live as her true self (Nellie is a trans woman) is all she’s really looking for (and maybe a partner one day if the opportunity arises - she’s met a friend who’s cute but he’s also a clone of Belladonna’s dad so she’s a bit uncertain). Nellie also has empathic magic, although she hasn’t trained it much, which she mostly uses to see how others are feeling and help them where she can.

How Nellie and Narul would interact: I think at first Nellie would be a bit intimidated by him because he’s huge. But with her empathy magic, I think she’d quickly realize he was actually a very sweet, anxious man, and she’d no longer find him scary. She’d be happy to talk to him (I think she might kind of hope the creeps would steer clear of her if she spent time with him, but regardless she’d be happy to just because he seems nice) and would be fine talking if he wanted to listen, although I think she’d feel like she was running out of things to talk about because she’s still figuring herself and her life out. If he ever opened up to her, she’d understand the feeling of being different very well - she’s only just recently been able to start living a normal life now that she’s out from under Narcissus’s thumb.

How Nellie and Elsind would interact: I think they’d get along great! They’re both very kindhearted people with awful pasts due to their natures (Elsind being a shapechanger and Nellie being a clone). Nellie doesn’t want Narcissus dead particularly, and would certainly never want to kill him, but she wouldn’t blame Elsind for wanting their abuser dead. They both have similar view on the world (classism bad and nobility kind of sucks), and Nellie would love to hear all about Elsind’s romance novels - she’s just starting to read herself, so she might ask Elsind if he has any suggestions. She would be happy to befriend Elsind despite her being a shapeshifter, so I think they’d both benefit from this friendship, since both of them could definitely use a friend.

This was a fun one! I hope y’all like the answers, lmk what you think :)

@kaylinalexanderbooks @rkmoon @writingsfromspace want to play?

[hey-heigo]

Chapter 6

ooh...drama.....

also happy 2024. im posting this on new year's eve in my time-zone tho so consider this the last update of 2023

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

lovingly named this chapter 'the naegami pre-divorce fight' in my head

was incredibly worried about how the characterization would work out here. shoutout to @moonlighttogami for beta-reading this one!

Byakuya is an asshole here. But it's in-line with how he is in canon anyways

Reminder that this fic is a slow-burn. For both naegami AND togiri. Which includes conflicts abound

Content warning tags: canon-typical assholery from Byakuya, mention of previous character deaths

< previous - from start - next >

Things are quite tense after that.

It doesn’t help that Monokuma has no intentions of taking any of it seriously. He toys with them openly, seemingly delighting in the collective misery. But he at least opens up the next floor and some other facilities, which offers a wide new variety of options to them.

The first floor warehouse and bathhouse are now unlocked. On the newly available second floor, there’s a pool, some more classrooms, and most importantly, a library, though no kind of technology that could access the internet or the outside world. Even despite all that, it’s a welcome change; Byakuya was beginning to grow bored with the routine of the first floor, and the limited spaces he could occupy to eavesdrop on people.

He found painkillers and nausea medication in the first floor warehouse, which was a veritable boon to him. It’s cheap over-the-counter stuff, but he recognizes the obvious branding labels and has Naegi confirm it for him before he takes some bottles for his own use. Naegi also recovers a bottle of eyedrops, which he accepts, though they prove to have no effect whatsoever; at the very least, they made him feel like some progress was being made.

The real treasure trove, however, was the second floor library. 

It’s nothing compared to the library in the Togami residence, of course, but it seems that whoever was librarian here at least had good taste. He runs his fingers over smooth leather spines and finds titles that he recognizes, old favorites that he once tore through with eagerness and newer ones that he had always been planning on reading, and even ones that he had never heard of before. He felt almost pleased by it, though it was quickly accompanied by a note of bitterness.

Not like I can read these myself, however. He thinks, clicking his tongue and making Naegi jump besides him. And listening to someone else read was always irritating, especially when he could usually read faster by sight than they could speak. But he has little choice now, as he pulls Naegi to his side.

“Come to my room tonight,” He says in a low voice, with no uncertain terms. Naegi’s face flushes, and he begins to stammer out something ridiculous before Byakuya smacks him lightly over the head with a copy of Tolstoy.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” He scoffs, pushing a sizable stack into Naegi’s hands. “Go take these to my room. Then come back.”

“Oh, o-okay…” He walks off, tottering a little underneath the weight. He was listless after the trial, gloomy and less responsive, but he still followed orders well enough.

Byakuya watches him go, before turning his attention back to the shelves. Much as he’d hate to admit it, he was loath to be out of Naegi’s company nowadays. The atmosphere after the first death was palpable, thick with tension. Plus, it didn’t help that some certain, purple individuals, had taken up a new interest in stalking him.

One of whom was Fukawa. He’d noticed Ultimate Writer had taken up some kind of habit of following him around, as told by the slightly harrowed sound of her breathing in his general vicinity, and the general smell. And the other of which was Kirigiri, of whose presence he became uncomfortably aware of recently.

Maybe it was their few, clipped conversations with thinly concealed aggression. Or maybe it was simply her actions during the trial, which now put her at the forefront of attention - she had gone from being someone who the others were prone to forgetting, to a sort of secondary leader. Someone whose advice was asked for, though she was rarely around to give it. But regardless, he now found himself looking for white as soon as he entered a room, tensed as if ready to right. Though, after their first few, hostile interactions, all other conversations were relatively civil.

At the moment, neither of the two girls were posing any real danger. Fukawa, while off-putting, was more importantly boring and therefore relatively harmless (and furthermore, currently involved in some inane argument with Yamada). And Kirigiri was too involved in exploring their surroundings to pay him any real note; he turns just in time to see her pulling something flat, gray and rectangular out of a desk.

“What’s that?”

She shakes the thing, hard enough for him to almost be worried that it’d fly from her hands and smack against the floor, and a cloud of dust flies off. “A computer.”

“Oh?” Now this was interesting. He approached nearer, curious. “Does it work?”

In lieu of answering, she sets the device on the central desk and flips open the lid. After clicking and holding a few buttons, she shakes her head. “Doesn’t look like it. That would’ve been too easy.”

A shame. But she was right; it would have been too easy, considering all the mastermind’s attempts to cut them off from the outside world. “Send it to Fujisaki. She should be able to figure something out from it.”

“I was already planning on that.” She sounds mildly miffed at the suggestion, as if affronted that he would think she wouldn’t come to that conclusion.

“Good. I’m glad you have half a modicum of common sense, then.” He sniffs. It was more than just about anyone else here, at least.

She faces him for a moment, long enough for him to wonder if she was glaring at him, before turning away. “Did you find anything of note?”

“Not particularly. Some interesting volumes to pass the time with, but nothing obviously relevant to our situation as of yet.” From what he could tell, and what he had Naegi explain, the shelves held more than just good books. There were also case files for crimes that never reached the public eye, documents of incriminating evidence and then some regarding some of the most powerful names in the world. He would have to pore through those individually later. And some medical textbooks - he made a mental note of their location, and a reminder to go back for them.

Kirigiri steps past him to run a hand across the surface of a low shelf, sending up a cloud of dust. He wrinkles his nose and steps back. “Do you mind?”

“Sorry. I was just reaching for this.” And she holds up a thin rectangle of parchment, sealed by red wax.

___

The letter creates some interesting revelations.

For starters, the school had supposedly been closed down for nearly a year by now. And secondly, it was due to some circumstance outside of anyone’s predictions or control, that the school shut down in the first place.

There was no other elaboration, and nothing could really be gleaned from it other than the mastermind possibly having more control than they originally thought, provided that the letter was real. It was a frustrating loop back to where they first started; nothing was gained from the loss in morale.

If circumstances were different, he would’ve chosen this moment to break off from the group. He found a new source of entertainment and information with which to use, and with Maizono breaking some unspoken promise, there was now no telling who might strike next. If circumstances were different, he would take this opportunity to try playing a more active role in the game, to see how much he could push his limits, to prove the value and right of his blood.

But with his current situation, he had no choice but to continue to participate in the inane routine that everyone agreed to partake in. Waking up at six AM sharp to dress and clean himself accordingly, taking extreme care to ensure nothing was out of place, and then walking to the dining hall to enjoy breakfast. Ishimaru was usually there at this time, as timely as ever and preparing breakfast alongside whoever’s turn it was to handle the meals that day, and could usually be coerced into making a half-palatable cup of coffee. Then was the usual waiting around as the others made their slow, meandering ways in, exchanging yawned greetings and calls for food.

He sat apart from everyone else, as usual. Sometime around seven, Naegi would show up, and bring over a plate of buttered toast and some cut fruit for Byakuya and move on without another word. At first, the others had exchanged curious, barely concealed whispers, wondering at the nature of their dynamic - now, they hardly paid any mind.

“Today, we should split up and look for clues!” Ishimaru declared, after they had eaten.

“Isn’t that what we do every day, anyways?” Asahina muttered under her breath. Her head was resting in her arms, sprawled on the table. “I wanna go to the pool…”

“Yes, I don’t see why we can’t take a day to enjoy the new facilities.” Celeste interjected, hands folded primly over her lap. “I doubt any of it is going anywhere. And we have endured quite a lot, have we not?”

“Yeah, we should take a break! For like, morale and stuff!” Yasuhiro agreed heartily, nodding emphatically.

As Ishimaru tried to regain control over the table, Byakuya silently agreed right along with them. By his calculations, it would take at least twice as long for him to read anything if Naegi was helping him. Any free time was valuable.

“Well- it’s better to get work done before leisure, you know!” Ishimaru tried again, voice raised. “Otherwise, how will we be dedicated students!”

“We’re hardly students at all though?” Naegi’s quiet voice piped up. “I mean, considering why we're here...”

The previously light-hearted atmosphere vanished instantly. Over the course of just a few days, they’d witnessed the deaths of three of their peers. As much as Byakuya respected the entirely logical reasoning that Naegi had offered, he also felt that it was rather mistimed.

He debated whether or not to offer his own input, before Kirigiri beat him to the punch. “Why don’t we do both?” Her tone was calm and clear as always. “I imagine we will all be in different locations anyways. If every person just makes note of something that’s interesting and worth remembering where they are, we can come together later and combine that information. Everyone who wants to investigate on their own is welcome to do so.”

There’s a chorus of agreement to that suggestion. Ishimaru seemed relieved by Kirigiri’s attempt to boost the group’s cohesion, though Byakuya doubted whether that was her real intention. Bit by bit, people began to split off; predictably, Asahina half-dragged, more-led Ogami away in the direction of the pool, and Celeste began demanding Yamada to make her some tea. Byakuya stood up, watched as Fukawa swooped in and took his empty cutlery, and beelined towards Naegi.

He reaches him just at the same time as Kirigiri, both of them placing a hand on the young man’s shoulders at the time. Byakuya locks eyes (presumably) with the girl, frowning. “Is there something that you need?”

“...No.” She releases him, and walks away. It takes both of them by surprise; Byakuya had been expecting a bigger fight.

“...What was that all about?” Makoto asks, bemused. Byakuya had no good answer to that question.

“You’d do better to stay away from her.” Is all he says instead, before dragging Naegi off.

He had a selection of books he wanted to read for his leisure in his room, but had left anything potentially case-relevant in the library. It is for this reason that he pulls Naegi into the room and positions him directly in front of a shelf of all case files, and points to the one on the right. “Start from there. If there’s anything in there mentioning ‘Hope’s Peak’ or crimes of passion, or killing games like this one, tell me, and we’ll go from there.”

“...Wait, for all of these?!” His voice is a little reedy still, presumably from last night - while he was slow at reading, he was decent at it, and not unpleasant to listen to - Byakuya had made him read aloud nearly half of a translated copy of Atlas Shrugged.

“Is there a problem?” He looks down on the other boy. “You said you’d be my eyes. This is part of what I need my eyes to do. Get started.”

He watches as Naegi wobbles for a moment, turning between him, the shelf, and the door, before reaching for the first file on the far right of the shelf and starting to skim through it. He’s slow, taking a good few moments to look through each page, so Byakuya sits down in the large leather chair by the desk, sinking comfortably into it.

It’s quiet in the library, silent if not for the distant hum of the building’s internal machinery and the occasional flip and shuffle of Naegi going through a folder. Not for the first time, Byakuya wishes for a radio, or a music player. Boredom was a dangerous thing - as Pennyworth had taught him, it dulled the brain and made for delayed, clumsy reactions - and Byakuya had already exhausted the few tricks and games he knew to combat it on his own.

Maybe, it’s for this reason that he decides to initiate conversation. With Naegi, of all people.

“What do you think of her?”

The commoner takes a little moment to respond, and when he registers the question, he predictably begins to sputter, fumbling with the papers in his hands. “I-I-! …Um, w-who…?”

Byakuya rolls his eyes. “Kyoko Kirigiri. Who else?”

Kyoko Kirigiri. He was hoping that, if this school was the Hope’s Peak Academy they were meant to enroll in, that there would be more information eventually revealed about her as well. But for the time being, she was a wild card, and a mystery. These were two things that made her dangerous, and a possible threat.

“Sh-she’s…well, she’s nice…I think?” Naegi tilts his head to the side, unsure about his own answer. “I mean…she helped me out a lot with the trial. I don’t think I would’ve been able to get through it without her help.”

Interesting. That was true from what Byakuya could tell, but it also seemed that Naegi had been doing most of the talking, with occasional interjections from Kirigiri to help push him in the right direction. It was a demonstration of clever manipulation, and one that irked him. If Naegi was going to be working for him, he needed to be free of outside influence.

“Keep looking through the files.” He nods at the shelf, and Naegi fumbles with the folder with his hands, flipping it closed and sliding it away. “I saw you and her talking the other day after the trial. What were you discussing?” He asks, voice casual and almost bored.

“Oh, that? That…” He trails off. He seems to almost visibly deflate, his form drooping over like an unwatered plant. “That was…about Sayaka. She wanted to reassure me that Sayaka still cared about me, at the end.”

Still cared about you? The notion was so preposterous that Byakuya couldn’t help stifling a laugh, instead snorting at the thought.

“...What’s so funny?”

“Sorry. I simply find the idea of it ridiculous, is all.” Sayaka Maizono, caring for him? Perhaps, but the entire plan that she had prepared was, albeit hastily executed, commendable in its elaborate design, considering the short time period in which it was concocted. Trying to derive small comfort from such an assumption was like trying to squeeze water from a stone; a pointless, frivolous task.

“Why?” Naegi’s voice is raised now, and he sounds angry. “It’s not ridiculous. We really were good friends-”

“Oh, please. Were you friends back in middle school? Or did you only watch her from afar?” Naegi shrinks back at the words, which meant that Byakuya had been spot-on. “And she only reached out to you after we found ourselves trapped here, and said all the right things to get you to follow after her like a starving dog.”

“Shut up.” Naegi says, voice so quiet he almost missed it.

“She could’ve used any of the half-witted fools in this class, but she used you because she knew you were unlikely to betray her.”

“Shut up.”

“Did you happen to make a promise to ‘help her no matter what?’”

“I said, shut UP!”

The sudden shout is accompanied by the rustle of papers hitting the ground, as Naegi drops whatever was in his hands to the floor. Byakuya remains carefully composed, though he suddenly feels incredibly wary.

“I’m only telling the truth.” He keeps his voice level, calm. Naegi was standing up, and somehow seemed bigger than before; though that was perhaps due to how Byakuya was sitting down. “It was obvious that she was trying to pin you under her thumb. She was going to betray you eventually, so it’s better to forget about her and move on.”

“You don’t get to say that stuff about her.”

“And why can’t I? Everything I say is simply meant as advice. Advice that you clearly need.” He continues anyways, trying to hide the unease creeping at the edges of his voice. Why did he feel so threatened? The only one here was Naegi. “You know it’s happening again, right? That Kyoko woman. She’ll do the exact same thing as Sayaka and you’ll be none the wiser.”

“She’s not like that.” His words are a low whisper now, barely audible. It seems to fill up the entire room.

“And how do you know? What do you know about her that no one else does?”

At last, he’s met with silence. A question that can’t be answered. He watches the realization sink into Naegi, watches his demeanor change, shrinking back to being small and meek again, and without realizing it he lets out a breath he’d been holding.

“...I don’t know.” Naegi says aloud, at last, and his voice is so small again. “I…I don’t know anything about her.”

“Right.” Byakuya nods, while feeling an inexplicable rush of relief. “So-”

“But I also don’t know anything about you.”

“...Excuse me?”

Not for the first time, he wishes he could discern facial features. He hadn’t realized how much he relied on them before; how telling they were to a person’s character, their emotions, their whims and ideals. Even Naegi, someone who should’ve been inconsequential to him, was capable of becoming dangerous. A treacherous link in a chain. 

But Byakuya had no choice but to rely on him anyway.

Naegi turns around, and Byakuya suddenly realizes he was about to leave. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Sorry, I…can’t really think straight right now. I probably won’t be able to help you for a little bit.” There’s a tremor in his voice. Anger? Grief? “But I don’t know anything about you either. Yes, I know your talent,” He adds, as Byakuya opens his mouth to correct him. “And your secret, but…that’s still not enough, right?”

“This-This is different, though.” We’re built on more stable footing, he thinks. Naegi knew his secret and would help him navigate as needed. In return, he would use his authority to ensure the lives of Naegi’s family. That was their deal.

“Maybe, but still. There’s a lot I don’t know about you. And you’re right - I don’t know if I can trust Kyoko’s words, because she could just be trying to use me. Just like Sayaka did…” His voice trails, and he shakes his head. “But I also don’t know if I can trust you. Aren’t you just using me, like you say Kyoko wants to?”

Was he stupid? “Like I said, this is different.” He stands up, steps forward - and hears the crunch of papers beneath his feet, but there’s no time to worry about that now - “I’ve already sworn on my family’s name - there’s nothing else in the world that means more to me, not even my own life - and look at me. Do you really think I’m capable of anything when I’m like this?” He holds his hands out, gestures towards himself. This wasn’t turning out the way he wanted - all he had wanted was respite from boredom, and reassurance that Naegi wouldn’t betray him, and to get some sense into the damn peasant - “Makoto.”

Naegi turns away again. “...I’m sorry.” Byakuya can hear his hand on the doorknob, trembling slightly. “I promise, I’ll keep up my part of the deal still, but…please, let me off for now. To think for a bit.”

He still doesn’t move, however, and Byakuya belatedly realizes that he was waiting for permission. He hears the papers beneath his shoes crumple, as his heels dig into the carpet.

“...Fine, then.” He spits. “Get out. Go play with Kyoko, or whoever you want, and get your pathetic heart broken and betrayed all over again.” He watches Naegi cringe under these words, shying away as if they were physical blows. “Don’t come back to me until I say so.”

< previous - from start - next >

[oh-no-another-idea]

Writer positivity tag

Tagged by @cherrybombfangirlwrites SO long ago you wouldn't believe. Thank you, lovely!

1. What motivates you to write?

Half pure enjoyment, half the beast inside me demands it. The beast keeps ya going when the enjoyments are few. ;)

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

I love this bit here from my wip Cemetery Sisters:

The idea stayed, lingering like the condensation on Madeleine's ice water glass. An illusive definition of family dripped down and over her fingers, a question of grief and love left a ring behind on the table. “Is it going to give you purpose in a healthy way?” Miguel asked, like he was some kind of therapist and not a boy with a circ saw. “Are you asking me if I’m going to get obsessed with results that exist only in my head?” Madeleine retorted, pulling the lemon wedge from her glass and slurping it. Her teeth tingled.

3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

Most all of them do! But I definitely love thinking about my boy Tim Alabaster from a wip of only vibes at this time. He's a magician framed for murder, and I adore him :)

4. What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

When you know just enough about the characters and the arc of the story that you can see it taking shape and the words are flowingggg

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

I'm good at dialogue, I think, at having different voices and humorous jokes.

6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

I love how supportive everyone is, how you can get so many wonderful glimpses of others' work through tag games, how there's really a story for everyone out there.

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

I enjoy trying to put down 300 words per day. More often than not, I end up writing way more than that, but it's a nice attainable goal.

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

In Stars and Ships there's a city on a planet that's built on tidal flats--all the structures are on stilts and at low tide canoes are tied up and hang up above the sand. I still like thinking about all the implications of the setting...

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

Don't be hard on yourself, and take a rest. Sometimes, just not holding yourself up to other standards and sleeping is all that's needed, and sometimes pursuing other creative outlets really helps me! Read, draw, go on a walk, talk with friends. The writing is still inside you, it'll be there.

10. Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters

Everyone I meet on here is kind and wonderful! Thank you to everyone who boosts me up from all over the globe. Your kindness really inspires me. And also beloveds @sleepy-night-child @drippingmoon @sleepyowlwrites @reneesbooks @chauceryfairytales

@charlesjosephwrites @eccaiia @ashen-crest <333 Hugging you guys!!

Everyone^^^ consider yourselves tagged if you'd like, and also OPEN TAG for everyone else that sees this!!

[lbulldesigns]

Void Touched.

I can't stop thinking about one of Kai'sa's voice lines to Jinx. I think it's when their allies, she says "calm yourself, sister".

Now at first I thought she was being sassy but the tone she uses and the fact she doesn't really call any other champion sister (that I know of) makes me think, or perhaps wishfully think, that Kai'sa feels a kinship to Jinx; like maybe she senses something void like about her, like maybe Jinx was actually touched by the Void?

Which also gives me an idea for a fic.

Trigger warning ahead ⚠️ mentions of suicide/coercion of suicide.

Powder after the events of the cannery, this would be the only story I come up with that doesn't spare Vander and the boys 😢, Silco locks her up in the ventilation tunnel that Jinx occupies in the show but unbeknownst to him there is a Void tunnel at the bottom of it. And one night a Void Demon climbs the wall and possesses Powder but instead of having complete control it ends up riding shotgun with Powder against it's will, which pisses it off because it saw her as an easy meal and now it's trapped in her so it decides to torment her already fragile mind in the hopes she'll end her life and free it but instead, as a way for her mind to save itself, Jinx is born.

In this AU Powder has DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) the combination of the cannery incident and the Void possession has forced her mind to resort to desperate means to protect itself. So Powder has two distinct personalities and a tag along:

Powder: who doesn't remember her life before everything happened. She's the innocent part, in her mind she doesn't remember ever having a family so she doesn't have anyone to miss. She spends her days fixing and building prosthetic limbs, ventilation masks, air filters, repairing and building firearms, and so on. She also spends her time researching about magic and the Void, this is a subconscious part of her looking for a way to get rid of the Void Demon but she believes it's just pure interest and curiosity that drives her. This pursuit for knowledge leads her to do odd jobs in Piltover so that she can get access to bookshops and libraries (a.k.a creating possible connections with characters such as Viktor, Caitlyn, Jayce, and Ezreal).

Jinx: although she was created as an alternative personality, Jinx remembers everything and tries to keep her and the Void Demons existence a secret from Powder. She doesn't view Powder as a weakness to kill, she sees her as her innocent twin sister that she will protect better than Vi ever did (Jinx doesn't like Vi). Jinx still works for Silco and does see him as a father but she also acknowledges that he's a risk to her little Meow-Meow. She still has conflicts with the Firelights but she has a bit more control over herself and doesn't kill them on sight like in the show, however she's considered public enemy number one with them. Which leads to some awkward interactions with Powder who doesn't remember Ekko.

The Void Demon: it doesn't like either Powder or Jinx, it's trapped in their body, at first it wanted Powder to kill herself so that it could be free but now has a somewhat reluctant symbiotic relationship with her and Jinx. Every now and then, on the rare occasion when neither Jinx or Powder are in control usually when their unconscious and in danger or Jinx just relinquishes control, it will take control and feed (imagine it like Venom but more asshole-ish). Powder is not aware of it's true existence because Jinx beats it down enough to reduce its influence on Powder. If any of that makes sense.

In short it's basically a Moonknight and Venom hybrid AU. Kai'sa makes an appearance in the fic when she ends up in Zaun via the Void tunnel after being told by a mutual friend (Ezreal) about Powder and Jinx. She sticks around to meet Powder and Jinx and looks for a way to help them get rid of the Void Demon, and explain how the Void operates to others (a.k.a Ekko and the Firelights whose perception of Jinx changes a bit once they learn about all of this).

There's a funny little subplot where Ekko tries to improve his image to Powder, who thinks he's an asshole after Ekko attacks her believing she's Jinx 😅

Jinx enjoys messing with him and teasing him, but they do slowly build up a friendship after some time.

Some things to keep in mind:

Silco, although he initially thinks Powder needs to die, does see her as an asset due to her fixing up important life supports around Zaun and her contribution to the advancement of medical technologies.

He sees her as a daughter but Powder calls him Uncle Silco (part of her made up past is that he's a family friend who took her in after her parents died when she was too young to remember them).

Ranata Glasc sponsors Powder and pays for her education in Piltover.

Ranata is aware of Powder's DID.

Caitlyn is friends with Powder and is aware of Jinx but doesn't understand the full story.

Powder does have hallucinations but manages them through therapy thanks to Ranata paying for her sessions.

Kai'sa becomes close with both Powder and Jinx, and sees them as sisters (which was the whole inspiration for this fic).

Ezreal is Powder and Jinx's best friend, which makes Ekko jealous but he also ends up becoming besties with Ezreal.

Sevika doesn't have a problem with Jinx or Powder, if anything she's protective of both.

Warwick exists as a companion for Powder, because he's best boy. HE WILL BE INCORPORATED INTO THIS FIC MARK MY WORDS!! 😂😂😂

And, Vi's going to be soooooooo confused and heartbroken when she reunites with Powder and, subsequently, Jinx.

But she does build up a sisterly relationship with both eventually 🥹

I'm gonna be honest, I'm getting some serious brain rot with this fic 😂

--------------------------------------------------

Edit: Okay I lied, I'll find a way to spare Mylo and Claggor. Killing them off but having Jinx being born as a means to protect Powder from the Void Demon feels like a retcon of her guilt over their deaths.

This subplot will need some polishing.

[winterandwords]

🌞 Writeblr positivity tag

Tagged by @reneesbooks. Thanks, friend!

1. What motivates you to write?

World's simplest answer, but enjoyment. I just really, really enjoy writing and couldn't imagine not doing it.

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

This bit from November Breaks (you can read and download the whole thing for free at @novemberbreaksbywintersimpson!) will forever make me feel fizzy about my wordstuff...

Hovering above the boundary between potential and decision, I am opaque. He holds me at the edge of the void and I become transparent. I wrap my bravado in ribbons of tendons and bruise-kissed skin, and even that is not enough of an offering.

3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

All of them! If I absolutely have to pick one, probably Brett from November Breaks and Spin Cylinder. He's a terrible bastard, but he's so much fun. He's reckless, self-centred, manipulative, and usually high on something. He's a very "That's a terrible idea. We should do it immediately" kind of person with no conscience and enough charisma to turn most situations in the direction of his choosing. Not someone I'd be friends with in real life, but a great dude to have living in my head.

4. What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

Editing. Specifically line editing. Like final draft level line editing. Obsessing over the tiny details with the guts of the hard work already done.

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

Dialogue, maybe? I write a lot in first person, so maybe that should be monologue. I hear character's voices really clearly in my head, so I always feel like I'm just writing down something someone else is dictating to me.

6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

The level of support and pure hype. How people will go absolutely feral over each other's writing. It's fucking beautiful. Also, I don't feel like the only fucked up weirdo here, so that's nice.

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

I recently discovered LivingWriter and I'm in love. I adored Scrivener, but I need to be able to access my writing on my phone as well as my laptop and Google Docs didn't have the structure I crave. LW looks like how the inside of my brain feels.

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

The psychoactive frequencies in Bridge From Ashes and Project Aria are fun. I've always wished it was possible to get the effect of drugs or adrenaline-junkie experiences without the potential consequences, so I made a fictional way for that to happen.

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

TAKE A BREAK. No, seriously. If you're feeling burned out, exhausted or lacking in motivation, let yourself rest and recharge. We're all so conditioned to push through and often the best thing to do is just chill, switch off or switch gears for a bit, and let the muse kick back in when it's ready.

10. Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters

@kaiusvnoir, @indecentpause, @thegreatobsesso, @manathen, @nanashi23, @elbritch-kit, @reeseweston, @drabbleitout, @diphthongsfordays, @i-can-even-burn-salad (I feel like I'm forgetting people because there are so many amazing folks on here and I'm endlessly grateful for you all)

Tagging @cherrybombfangirlwrites, @clairelsonao3, @daisywords and @diphthongsfordays if they'd like to do it, with an open tag for anyone else who wants to take part. Blank questions are under the cut 💜

1. What motivates you to write?

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

4. What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

10. Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters

[ginevralinton]

Thank you for the tag @ailendolin ♥♥

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Currently 67

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

197,359

3. What fandoms do you write for?

BBC Ghosts, mostly, at the moment, but I also do some classic lit fics every now and then

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

A second (minor) heart attack

Cast Back (embarrassingly)

House Share

A piece of the universe

Not quite like the books

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do. I feel like my replies aren’t all that thrilling, but I always try to say thank you!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I have a (possibly) bad habit of needing to end with at least a glimmer of hope, however, I think ‘where the evening splits in half’ is angsty (I mean, it refs a canonical character death and one that always makes me sad) and ‘a workshop of filthy creation’ (for lack of resolution/continued pain)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Maybe the whole ‘Not to get mushy but…’ series. ‘Those That Love Us’ and ‘House Share'. I think contentment, connection, found family and love are the vibes the endings give, so maybe that’s what counts as a happy ending?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not that I can recall

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I tried, once. I think it’s really bad, so I won’t be doing anymore for now.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not really, unless we’re counting ‘Uninvited Guests’ or ‘a workshop of filthy creation’ which could be considered crossovers with my original works, as they feature my OCs. I did, however, once write a modern AU crossover of Frankenstein, Wuthering Heights and The Italian in my first year of uni, but that shall remain buried somewhere in my laptop.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I don’t believe so!

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

I’m not sure – I either find I like one thing or several equally so… Still, as I’m answering this as a writer, my favourite to write has been Julian/Robin or Lucy/Ginevra

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I’m not sure I’ll ever finish the next parts of my Ginevra/Lucy fic (a continuation of ‘Don’t let them get you down, you’re the best thing I’ve seen’) – I tend to just add to it every now and then, when I feel inspired.

I have also started gathering ideas for a sequel to ‘workshop of filthy creation’ and I have a few lines noted, but right now, I’m not feeling inspired to write it. Never say never though.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Perhaps writing narrative voices that fit and align with the character they’re trying to capture, and from whose perspective the story is told from? By which I mean making conscious word choices, thinking about thought patterns, using appropriate metaphors and tones for that character?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I definitely struggle with plot – and while I’m not really one for grand, action packed narratives, I do sometimes feel that instead of taking the straightforward path from A to B when I’m writing, I tend to meander, get distracted by other details, get tangled up in reflections and reminiscing, so everything I write is slow. I also struggle a lot with endings – a desire to tie things up probably too neatly, or an inability to actually just reach the ending? That, and I can often be a slow, slow, slow writer, so I might start a piece and take weeks to actually complete it, which can lead to tone shifts, I think.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I wouldn’t personally feel comfortable doing it, because my GCSE German is awful, I’ve never learnt another language, and I’m not sure I trust translators for full sentences. In terms of the practise in general, it is fits in with the canon, and ‘makes sense’ for the character – sure, I don’t mind. I mean, I’ve read Charlotte Bronte’s Villette after all.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

It was for a British comic I believe, back when I was 12/13…I did re-upload it from ff.net to A03, so if you really want to read it, you can, but don't expect much.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

My personal favourite is probably ‘Don’t let them get you down, you’re the best thing I’ve seen’, because it took a lot of work, combined some of my favourite things and allowed me to use what I researched and wrote on for my MA dissertation in a creative way?

My other favourites are:

‘Those that Love Us’ - this was fun to write, and I enjoyed the challenge of capturing the vibe and language of the book, while also making it my own.

‘A Second (Minor) Heart Attack’ - a very early Ghosts fic, but it made me smile

‘House Share’ - possibly because it was such a project and I completed it

I'll tag @someoneplsloverobbierotten @sonnet-of-anarchy @its-a-hare-pom-pom @natequarter @thelastplantagenet and @athelstan-anglecyning, if you wish :)

[cloudyswritings]

Old Light, New Light

This feels like a crazy idea but I’ve been on such a destiny kick lately I feel like such an idea I just need to put out there. Picture if you will, a Destiny and Hollow knight fanfic. There’s a couple of main ways I think this could go, that said:

SPOILERS BELOW FOR THE FINAL SHAPE. Please turn back now if you’ve somehow not been spoiled or played it yet.

Okay cool, let’s get into it then. I’m grouping these ideas by character

THK:

Fic/Campaign title: Synapomorphy

The most interesting path I can think of for Hollow(whose name in this might end up being Atlas) is taking the role of our guardian. Now it might be cliche but I really do think it’d give both Hollow and their ghost the best chance at growth as characters.

I think that Hollows ghost actually had a really hard time raising them, see ghost kept reading that their guardian was being attacked and infested with darkness and worked very very hard to excise it. I think you can see where I’m going here, but when Hollow first rose it was with chitin as pale as the travelers shell, a voice that carried the low rolling growl of a wyrm, and eyes like blue crystals. Ghost essentially removed their shade, and accidentally revealed the god that they could have been. Hollow themself doesn’t really know why their body bothers them, speaking makes them nauseous, and the color of their chitin sends a deep sense of guilt and loss rattling through their guts.

Hollow ends up actually being a fantastic shot with any gun, and finds that they remember a number of what appear to be spells(including focus, which is huge tbh). Naturally ghost is absolutely bamboozled and has no idea who they’ve rezzed as their guardian but cheerfully goes along with it. I feel like there’s a slim chance that Hollow gets mistaken for a hive by less experienced guardians but in general they just follow the main story line and work on figuring out their memories. They still have their nail, and get it repaired at some point. I feel like after people get used to them slinking about and being impossibly sneaky for someone of their stature, as well as them being yk not human, they end up really loved at the city.

Favored light: Void, though all of their light comes out pale, bleached of nearly all of its color. They either cannot or will not use solar, it reminds them of someone they can’t quite remember, and sets stinging pains through one of their arms…

Class: Titan, people keep trying to get them to challenge Zavala for his job(Hollow is very much not a fan of that and they and Zavala are buddies.)

Other: Their shade is still out there, and I imagine we’d encounter it in an area of great darkness, possibly it even snuck into the black garden or the dreadnought, who knows. Either way it’s where a majority of Hollows memories are, and when they find it they’re forced to make a very difficult choice, made even more challenging by the fact that both the shade and them have grown into different people since they parted ways. So I’m not decide yet but they either take it back or leave the past behind to focus on the future(which could be a healing moment for them and represent them accepting who they are now and setting their regrets to rest, but it also means they wouldn’t remember Hornet, or Ghost, or their mother. Their father though… his influence is carved into their shell itself, and they don’t think they could forget him if they tried.). I think it could end up with their shade tagging alone in their actual shadow most of the time, or being their super maybe? If y’all have ideas lmk.

PK:

Fic/Campaign title: Refractions/Beyond the Pale

The Pale King absolutely belongs just post collapse along with the other warlords, I think it’d give me a lot of opportunities to explore how he’d feel about being responsible for having lives under his care after what happened to Hallownest. Additionally he wouldn’t have much of a choice in the matter which I think would really up the tension a lot and force him to confront his failings. There’s also the matter of his light to consider, it was so powerful it still blanketed Hallownest for an age after his passing, so it could present a really interesting situation to have him grapple with sharing his abundance of light with his ghost and how that overwhelming power could act as a sort of beacon, drawing in Eliksni and the eyes of other hostile warlords. Alternatively you could have him revived with his light significantly dimmed, and force him to face his fall from godhood and being powerless to stop terrible events from happening to his people once again(there’s also a very interesting parallel between him and the traveler.) it’s important to note that upon being risen he absolutely would retain all of his memories, at least in this path specifically.

The other option I have for him, which I think could almost be even more interesting, is for him to have been the Osmium Kings familiar, which is notably a dead, white, worm. Also the Osmium king descends into madness after the worm washes up, perhaps in this case hearing the whispers of the pale kings foresight?? There’s also the white palace to consider, it seems to function very very similarly to a throne world, and given my headcanons about what it takes to become a pale being in the first place(hint hint, mass deicide and cannibalism). If that was the case I could see him being risen during the witch queen. This would be super interesting from a lore perspective and also in connection for what I’ve got roughly mapped out for Hollows storyline. Meeting their father, who remembers nothing about them would be highly devastating.

Favored light: Arc, mostly used to power his fucking buzzsaws and such. I also see him having a very unique perspective on the sheer unbridled energy of arc when compared to other risen.

Other/Ergo Sum: So…. There’s quite an overlap between the travelers experience at then of this lovely little lore entry and PKs isn’t there… specifically about drowning in the sea. The traveler says: “The deep, dark ocean has gotten into your lungs, droplets of ink dispersing in silver blood. This time, you think, this time It has won.”. This whole section perfectly describes my thoughts on how the pale king died. He died of regrets and the void sea drowned him, and snuffed out his light. More than that, he sought a kingdom eternal, where death held no weight and new possibilities could be explored and he resolved to bear the weight of that all on his own in the end(plus or minus many vessels). There’s honestly so many parallels between these two, so I’d implore y’all to go read the whole lore tab for Ergo Sum and just like, have your mind blown by how similar and yet different these two pale gods are. All in all if anyone was going to be capable of hearing the travelers whisper quiet voice(Silent, Silent, Silent) it’d be PK(whose voice, I’ll note, is a chorus of whispers in and of itself.)

Class: Warlock, like with Hollow his light is completely bleached of color and burns coldly regardless of what type he’s actually channeling.

Radiance:

Fic/Campaign title: Old Light, New Light

She’s 100% a new light and absolutely ready to be problematic, which should surprise no one. I think she’d struggle a lot to fit in with the rest of the guardians, and still have a very arrogant attitude. Something I do think is important to note is that she’d absolutely never use any darkness aligned powers, it’s completely against her nature and she absolutely killed someone of the implication she’d do so. Her memories of the void and fighting ghost haunt her every waking step. She’s a warlock for sure, and probably using the black sun shell. She is super awkward around Hollow, and they very nearly splattered her across the city when they met her.

Favorite light: to no one’s surprise it’s solar. She also probably manages to develop her light in line with how she used it as a god, so invading dreams, controlling lesser beings, and a sort of shared mind/forced unity. All in all she’s got about as many unique light abilities as Hollow and PK.

Class: Also Warlock, unsurprisingly uses well of radiance.

How’d we get here then?

So, now that those ideas have all been laid out, you may be wondering; how the hell did they end up where they did? The short answer is Ghost did it. The longer answer is that Ghost, before heading into godhome to beat the shit out of Radiance, dropped off a fragile flower with the pale kings corpse and outside of the black eggs(for their sibling who they were gonna free no matter the cost) as well as giving one to the godseeker. When they ascended the flowers got everyone out of dodge, though the radiance that gets revived is really more of an imprint or shadow than the real deal, she’s basically got none of the juice that PK and Hollow get.

Other Notes:

Ghost: Massive parallels with the Witness, all of the shades are in consensus and the Lord of Shades is the result. They are both Ghost and not, essentially the black pearl to the witnesses pale pearl. They’re foils in the same way I imagine the traveler and PK could be. I don’t think they’d really show up in any capacity except through lore drops on Hollows weapons they made, you might be able to find and use charms though. Possibly if we leave the solar system I could see Hallownest being a location, and the guardians being able to get Hollow knight themed shells(I might do some art of these with lore??).

Hornet: Almost certainly uses strand, beyond that I’m not really sure how I’d incorporate her.

Grimm: alas probably mister not showing up in this au atm, this will likely change eventually though. He could contract with the drifter perhaps? Maybe tied to why the drifters ghost has its red eye?

[memento-morri-writes]

writeblr positivity tag

I was tagged by the amazing @space-writes. Thank you, friend!

What motivates you to write?

Really just the desire to be creative and the desire to get my words down on paper. I have a lot of trouble with motivation issues, though, and I don't do nearly as much writing as I'd like to.

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else’s work you love (just please credit them).

It would probably have to be this line from ATQH (that I never shut up about): Fallon grabbed his wrist and looked him in the eyes. Her own burned with tears and anger, but her voice was steady as she spoke. “Don’t you dare say you aren’t worthy of love. Don’t you dare go wasting yourself like this. You are a good man, Kristopher Pelle, and you’d better damn well act like it.“

3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

As much as I want to say Fallon, it's probably actually Kristopher. He's my beloved self-deprecating, self-loathing prince who finally finds a place where he can be happy, and learns to stop hurting himself. Just thinking about him makes me giddy, and even more so thinking about him and Fallon together.

4. What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

I like developing characters. Coming up with their backstories, their personalities, how their backstories affect their personalities. Since I rarely actually write, developing characters is usually about as far as I get on a regular basis. It's also part of the reason that I like d&d so much, because I can develop dozens of characters. (I actually have 24 character concepts at the moment. Actually 25, including my one Pathfinder OC.)

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it’s okay)

People have told me that I'm good at writing emotional descriptions. Which is so funny, because I have basically no empathy, and dealing with "real human emotions" is not a strong suit of mine at all. (Autism things.) But I really do enjoy writing angst, and making it stab you in the heart. Because that's what I like feeling when I read, what I enjoy reading. But yeah, people tell me that's what I'm good at. And that's what I want to be good at!! So that's good!!

6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

The interaction with other people. Seeing people's tags and comments on my writing. That's what I love most.

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Oh, I don't know. I'm not a very organized person, and I haven't really written in a long time. I do love Scrivener, though.

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

I'm super proud of all the details between Anvia and Oryn in ATQH. It's a lot, and almost none of it will actually show up in the story, but I'm proud of it nonetheless.

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

Hell if I know! I am always in a rough patch and can't seem to get myself out of it, so I have no idea what to say to others.

10. Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters

@space-writes @cherrybombfangirlwrites @ink-fireplace-coffee and so many other awesome people!

[lilietsblog]

You need dialogue/actions/interactions/whatever else that is UNIQUE TO THE CHARACTER DOING IT. It's fine to have stuff that anyone could and would do/say, but for every character you want the audience to remember, you need to give them lines of text where you could replace each mention of their name/identity with "X" and the audience could confidently identify them.

You can also do it in groups of various size - "that's definitely either X or Y", "that's one of the Z", etc. And not in the sense of characters saying that, but in the sense of your audience after reading/watching the whole thing being able to blindly identify this in the small moments they don't remember per se.

Often characters do things because they're just the reasonable thing to do in the situation. Protagonists are especially prone to this, as we're directly in their head and writers want to make them Make Sense and make them be Relatable.

And that's really not bad. As a matter of fact this should apply to every single character in your story at all times always - but you need to remember that the situation they are in is not the situation anyone else is in! Even when they are literally standing next to another person staring at the same unique and surprising thing, the entire prior context of their life, their experiences, their knowledge, their skills, their closest associations, their habits... it's a different situation!

It's especially easy to get this wrong when you the writer are trying to express ideas or themes or give the reader information or make a joke or make a character look more awesome with an in-universe audience reaction or, hell, when you're literally just trying to move the plot forward. When you are using a character for a purpose that is not in itself characterization, it's very easy to make it generic. And that's not a crime, but it's... just, worse.

So you need SOMEONE to say a specific thing - okay, let's think. Who would say that? How would they say it? Is it better to give the line to a bit character, making it worldbuilding instead of characterization? Why, perhaps, would a character say that and how can you maneuver them into it?

Who WOULDN'T say that? If the answer is "literally anyone would" - are you sure you can't come up with a better line, one that would pull double duty of whatever the original line was supposed to do AND characterization? Your story will always, 100% of the time, be better for it if you can.

Audiences have been getting allergic to snarky banter and internal monologue, it's basically an invective now - and yet, some of the most beloved and iconic things are exactly that. And the difference is characterization. Is that line something anyone in your story would say, or is the funny part that literally no-one else would?

Horrifyingly, my suggestion for a piece of fiction to study that gets it right is... Homestuck. Its character voice is impeccable to the point that you can reliably produce/identify "character pretending to be another character". Just about every action ever taken by anyone on-screen is unique to them. It has... flaws... in its everything, especially later on, but as far as making your cast *uniquely identifiable*, it pretty much wrote the book.

And you NEED to do it and keep doing it. If you have a character whose literally every line and action on-page/screen could belong to another, you don't have a character! Remove them and give their part to other characters you can actually properly characterize, or give them SOMETHING. A silly accent or an obsession with horses or the tendency to hiccup or a habit of drawing words out. Whether any one given quirk is a good idea in context is a different question, but you need SOMETHING. Social class, religion, ethnicity, gender, tragic backstory. Knowledge about the situation, a secret to keep, convictions regarding the importance of second breakfast, a growing headache, a habit of being nosy. Age, education, confidence, lack of confidence, a crush on another character.

If you have a dialogue scene, try removing all tags and replacing all addresses with X. Can you, the author, confidently tell who said what without resorting to counting lines? (It's fine to have unidentifiable lines like "catch!" or "i got him!" where maybe even the characters themselves didn't catch who said that exactly. But that's not a dialogue scene)

I need everyone’s best character advice. STAT.

[fozmeadows]

race & culture in fandom

For the past decade, English language fanwriting culture post the days of LiveJournal and Strikethrough has been hugely shaped by a handful of megafandoms that exploded across AO3 and tumblr – I’m talking Supernatural, Teen Wolf, Dr Who, the MCU, Harry Potter, Star Wars, BBC Sherlock – which have all been overwhelmingly white. I don’t mean in terms of the fans themselves, although whiteness also figures prominently in said fandoms: I mean that the source materials themselves feature very few POC, and the ones who are there tended to be done dirty by the creators.

Periodically, this has led POC in fandom to point out, extremely reasonably, that even where non-white characters do get central roles in various media properties, they’re often overlooked by fandom at large, such that the popular focus stays primarily on the white characters. Sometimes this happened (it was argued) because the POC characters were secondary to begin with and as such attracted less fan devotion (although this has never stopped fandoms from picking a random white gremlin from the background cast and elevating them to the status of Fave); at other times, however, there has been a clear trend of sidelining POC leads in favour of white alternatives (as per Finn, Poe and Rose Tico being edged out in Star Wars shipping by Hux, Kylo and Rey). I mention this, not to demonize individuals whose preferred ships happen to involve white characters, but to point out the collective impact these trends can have on POC in fandom spaces: it’s not bad to ship what you ship, but that doesn’t mean there’s no utility in analysing what’s popular and why through a racial lens.

All this being so, it feels increasingly salient that fanwriting culture as exists right now developed under the influence and in the shadow of these white-dominated fandoms – specifically, the taboo against criticizing or critiquing fics for any reason. Certainly, there’s a hell of a lot of value to Don’t Like, Don’t Read as a general policy, especially when it comes to the darker, kinkier side of ficwriting, and whether the context is professional or recreational, offering someone direct, unsolicited feedback on their writing style is a dick move. But on the flipside, the anti-criticism culture in fanwriting has consistently worked against fans of colour who speak out about racist tropes, fan ignorance and hurtful portrayals of living cultures. Voicing anything negative about works created for free is seen as violating a core rule of ficwriting culture – but as that culture has been foundationally shaped by white fandoms, white characters and, overwhelmingly, white ideas about what’s allowed and what isn’t, we ought to consider that all critical contexts are not created equal.

Right now, the rise of C-drama (and K-drama, and J-drama) fandoms is seeing a surge of white creators – myself included – writing fics for fandoms in which no white people exist, and where the cultural context which informs the canon is different to western norms. Which isn’t to say that no popular fandoms focused on POC have existed before now – K-pop RPF and anime fandoms, for example, have been big for a while. But with the success of The Untamed, more western fans are investing in stories whose plots, references, characterization and settings are so fundamentally rooted in real Chinese history and living Chinese culture that it’s not really possible to write around it. And yet, inevitably, too many in fandom are trying to do just that, treating respect for Chinese culture or an attempt to understand it as optional extras – because surely, fandom shouldn’t feel like work. If you’re writing something for free, on your own time, for your own pleasure, why should anyone else get to demand that you research the subject matter first?

Because it matters, is the short answer. Because race and culture are not made-up things like lightsabers and werewolves that you can alter, mock or misunderstand without the risk of hurting or marginalizing actual real people – and because, quite frankly, we already know that fandom is capable of drawing lines in the sand where it chooses. When Brony culture first reared its head (hah), the online fandom for My Little Pony – which, like the other fandoms we’re discussing here, is overwhelmingly female – was initially welcoming. It felt like progress, that so many straight men could identify with such a feminine show; a potential sign that maybe, we were finally leaving the era of mainstream hypermasculine fandom bullshit behind, at least in this one arena. And then, in pretty much the blink of an eye, things got overwhelmingly bad. Artists drawing hardcorn porn didn’t tag their works as adult, leading to those images flooding the public search results for a children’s show. Women were edged out of their own spaces. Bronies got aggressive, posting harsh, ugly criticism of artists whose gijinka interpretations of the Mane Six as humans were deemed insufficiently fuckable.

The resulting fandom conflict was deeply unpleasant, but in the end, the verdict was laid down loud and clear: if you cannot comport yourself like a decent fucking person – if your base mode of engagement within a fandom is to coopt it from the original audience and declare it newly cool only because you’re into it now; if you do not, at the very least, attempt to understand and respect the original context so as to engage appropriately (in this case, by acknowledging that the media you’re consuming was foundational to many women who were there before you and is still consumed by minors, and tagging your goddamn porn) – then the rest of fandom will treat you like a social biohazard, and rightly so.

Here’s the thing, fellow white people: when it comes to C-drama fandoms and other non-white, non-western properties? We are the Bronies.

Not, I hasten to add, in terms of toxic fuckery – though if we don’t get our collective shit together, I’m not taking that darkest timeline off the table. What I mean is that, by virtue of the whiteminding which, both consciously and unconsciously, has shaped current fan culture, particularly in terms of ficwriting conventions, we’re collectively acting as though we’re the primary audience for narratives that weren’t actually made with us in mind, being hostile dicks to Chinese and Chinese diaspora fans when they take the time to point out what we’re getting wrong. We’re bristling because we’ve conceived of ficwriting as a place wherein No Criticism Occurs without questioning how this culture, while valuable in some respects, also serves to uphold, excuse and perpetuate microaggresions and other forms of racism, lashing out or falling back on passive aggression when POC, quite understandably, talk about how they’re sick and tired of our bullshit.

An analogy: one of the most helpful and important tags on AO3 is the one for homophobia, not just because it allows readers to brace for or opt out of reading content they might find distressing, but because it lets the reader know that the writer knows what homophobia is, and is employing it deliberately. When this concept is tagged, I – like many others – often feel more able to read about it than I do when it crops up in untagged works of commercial fiction, film or TV, because I don’t have to worry that the author thinks what they’re depicting is okay. I can say definitively, “yes, the author knows this is messed up, but has elected to tell a messed up story, a fact that will be obvious to anyone who reads this,” instead of worrying that someone will see a fucked up story blind and think “oh, I guess that’s fine.” The contextual framing matters, is the point – which is why it’s so jarring and unpleasant on those rare occasions when I do stumble on a fic whose author has legitimately mistaken homophobic microaggressions for cute banter. This is why, in a ficwriting culture that otherwise aggressively dislikes criticism, the request to tag for a certain thing – while still sometimes fraught – is generally permitted: it helps everyone to have a good time and to curate their fan experience appropriately.

But when white and/or western fans fail to educate ourselves about race, culture and the history of other countries and proceed to deploy that ignorance in our writing, we’re not tagging for racism as a thing we’ve explored deliberately; we’re just being ignorant at best and hateful at worst, which means fans of colour don’t know to avoid or brace for the content of those works until they get hit in the face with microaggresions and/or outright racism. Instead, the burden is placed on them to navigate a minefield not of their creation: which fans can be trusted to write respectfully? Who, if they make an error, will listen and apologise if the error is explained? Who, if lived experience, personal translations or cultural insights are shared, can be counted on to acknowledge those contributions rather than taking sole credit? Too often, fans of colour are being made to feel like guests in their own house, while white fans act like a tone-policing HOA.

Point being: fandom and ficwriting cultures as they currently exist badly need to confront the implicit acceptance of racism and cultural bias that underlies a lot of community rules about engagement and criticism, and that needs to start with white and western fans. We don’t want to be the new Bronies, guys. We need to do better.  

[witch-hazels-musings]

scaramouche, diluc, and childe with a [gn] reader whos terrified of needles?

Needle Fear

Warning -> General, sfw (mention of needles, getting a shot, cussing (S), sudden kiss (Ch))

Character X GN Reader | Anthology 

Includes: Childe, Diluc, Scaramouche 

Childe

Not only has Childe seen many sicknesses and many healers, but he’s also had to help his siblings through any and all visits they had to take - so it wasn’t unusual for him when you nearly begged him to visit the healers with you

There was something adorable about the way you tightly gripped onto his hand, the way you hid behind him just enough when you walked down the hall to the examination room, the way you glanced at him or turned to him every time you heard a person walk past the door. How could he not think you were adorable? 

“Childe, it’s gonna hurt.” Your fingers curled around his shirt as you pulled him closer to you. His comforting scent and tall frame were like a barrier between you and the door you didn’t want to see. 

“It’ll be okay, I have to do this all the time.” 

“Really?” He nodded his head and lifted your chin. The smile on his face was reassuring and, for a moment, as his fingers rested against you, you forgot where you even were. That was until you heard the click of the door and the sound of footsteps. 

“Hey there, are we ready?” They entered the room and set their items on the small table next to you but all you could respond with was shifting closer into the shield you’d made out of Childe. 

“Hey, it’ll be alright. Wanna know why?” He leaned down, his arms spanning either side of you while his palms pressed into the mattress you sat on. The soft cool of his eyes brought you a reprieve, a distraction from the current environment and as you looked at him, you shook your head signaling him to continue. “I’ll be here the whole time, right here, that’s why it’ll be okay.” 

After a moment, you gave in - how could you not when he was so comforting to you. “O-okay, I’m ready.” Your hands moved to grab onto his wrists and as you heard the healer begin to prepare their items, you continued to stare at Childe. “Don’t move.” 

“I won't.” You nodded again, your eyes drifting to the healer, and when they ran a cool, cleansing cloth over your arm you tensed. “Look at me, it’s okay.” Their hand wrapped around your arm to hold you steady and your head twisted in fear.

“Childe --- I can’t … hold o-” Your words were cut off by his lips, his fingers wrapping around your jaw as he pulled you back to him. The suddenness of his kiss blocked out everything else, the heat of his lips, the fullness of his connection, it was all so distracting. 

“All done.” You pulled away, your gaze dropping to the small bandage they placed onto your arm. When did they do that?

“See, I told you it would be simple.” Childe smiled at you and you hid your embarrassment in the palm of your hand. 

Diluc

He couldn’t count the times he’s had to experience this type of care - from the constant exams done in the Knights of Favonious, to the aid he received during his three mysterious years - getting something like this was just common practice to him at this point - plus, it only took a few moments and then it was over, so it wasn’t that bad 

Though, as he watched the way you fussed, worried, and nearly drew yourself to sickness at the idea, he recalled a memory of his childhood. If he could do it for you, he would, but unfortunately, that wasn’t the case and he was going to need to find some other way to keep you steady 

Diluc stood next to you, his body angled in such a way that he could keep you in his line of sight while also observing the door. You didn’t dare turn around so instead, you looked out the window as you held onto your arms with a grip that hurt your fingers. 

“I don’t like this.” You muttered, watching the workers meander through the vineyards. It would have been better if you could just be with them, hide in between the many dangling grapes, and as far away from this situation as you could get. 

“I know, I’ve been assured this person is very experienced. You should have nothing to fear.” 

“Save for the whole needle part, archons, why do we even need this.” You shook your head and moved closer to the window. 

“It will only take a moment, I’ll be here the whole time.” Turning your attention away from the outside world, you gazed up at Diluc. His neutral expression surrounded by lively hair was somehow more comforting than anything you’d ever come upon in your whole lifetime. He was your rock, steadfast and sturdy, and as his fingers grazed your arm, ran over your ear, you knew his words held true. 

“Oka--” 

“Master Diluc, the healer.” You turned and saw one of the maids ushering in a young woman whose brightness lit up the room. You recognized her from the church and immediately you felt more at ease. Quickly, the instruments were prepared and as you settled onto the bed, your eyes found the one thing you were most anxious about. 

“I know you’re scared,” She began, pulling a chair close to you while she explained the process. “I’ll clean your arm with this,” She pointed to the small tin before continuing, “then I’ll gently take your arm and give you the shot.” 

“It’ll hurt, right.” You whispered, shifting uncomfortably to make more space. 

“For a very brief second. Then it’ll be over.” Her smile was so warm and you knew she must have done this quite often. 

“I’m sure it’s silly to see a grown adult so afraid of needles.” 

“Not as silly as you would imagine, are you ready?” You looked at her and nodded your head slowly but when she began the process, you turned away and closed your eyes. That’s when you felt the bed dip and a warm heat spread across your body. 

“I’m right here.” Diluc’s voice was soft, and sent a shiver down your spine - or was that the cleaning salv? It didn’t matter because as soon as your face found his chest, you disappeared into his warmth and security. All you felt was his hand over your ear, all you heard was the pounding of his heart; you weren’t sure how long you stayed that way, but by the time you looked up the healer was gone but Diluc had stayed. 

Scaramouche 

He didn’t understand your aversion to something so small. How could one little thing cause you to break down into a panic, it’s not like it could really hurt you - he’s felt much worse in his lifetime

So when you begged him to go with you, pleaded practically on your knees, he was stuck between his irritation of your complaints and how cute you were with those pouting lips and watering eyes (how adorable you look, he’ll never tell you though)

“It’s not that bad, just be quiet for one minute.” Scara pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed so loud you were sure people outside of the room could hear him. Of course, he’d be annoyed, you literally dragged him here to your check-up just so you could have someone with you when they … when they brought out the needle. Why did they need to do this to you anyway, weren’t there healers all around Teyvat that could cure you with a flick of their wrist. The fact that they also had instruments like these was confounding. 

“I know, I’m sorry …” You bit your lip and turned away from him. Your eyes finding the sheets and fingers moving to poke at your gums, teeth clenching hard around your nails. This habit was one you developed a long time ago and while you managed to curb it during most activities but when you were stressed and uncomfortable it reared its head. 

You heard the sound of Scara’s voice and turned to look at him but were interrupted by the healer entering the room. “Hello, are you ready?” As soon as they placed the items close to you, you went stiff. You wanted so badly to be calm but it was … impossible, look at that thing! Eyes darting to Scara you slipped into pleading but did your best to keep your thoughts to yourself. 

“Will it hurt?” Scara asked as he watched them prepare the needle and syringe. 

“Only for a second, I promise you won’t even notice it.” They looked at you but all your eyes could see was the large pointy metal bit that was about to go right through your skin and as a child reaches for their parent in the darkness, you grabbed onto Scara’s clothes. 

“Fine, give me one. I’ll show you there isn’t anything to be scared about.” Quickly, he rolled up his sleeves and after the healer prepared a second needled, they held his arm while he looked in your direction. 

“Ready?”

“Get it over with.” You watched as the needle moved to his arm, your head shaking but he seemed so calm. “See there is nothing to -- FUCK WHAT THE .. SHIT!?” His sudden outburst startled both you and the healer, but their professionalism powered through until it was all done. 

“Wasn’t that bad … huh?” You laughed, your hand covering your mouth as you watched him stare daggers into the person at his side. 

“Shut up, I’m leaving.” 

“Wait! I still haven’t gotten mine!!” 

“Too bad, you’re on your own.” 

“Scara!” He pushed his way through the door and you heard him shouting indiscernibly down the hall. 

“Are you ready?” The healer asked, and you began to bite your nails.  

--

tag list:

@sufzku @plenilunegazes @the-mermaid-of-mondstadt @fuwon @aoirohi @anatthesavage @actstfbla @shy-specter @fvushiguros @kaidou-pie @cyphermagic @linarizaki

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

How to Kill an Immortal - Chapter One

Pairing: Marcus Pike x OFC, with flashbacks of Marcus x other OFCs & OMCs

Rating: M (eventual smut, rating may change depending on how explicit)

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Angst like WOAH, character death, mentions of the Black Plague,

Summary: Marcus Pike sees time differently than most people.

A/N: This is all @mandocrasis ‘s fault. But really though, they deserve all the credit for letting me spam them with ideas (and providing many of their own!!!). Thanks for Beta-ing this for me and telling me it’s not Too Much™. Yes, Marcus Pike is a feminist hero even in the middle ages, no I don’t care if that’s not realistic. I've updated my tag list to include this series so please go here if you want to be tagged in updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Chapter One - The Middle Ages

“Well hello, stranger. It's been what, two hours since we spoke last?” Marcus says into the phone, a teasing note in his voice. “What can I do for my beautiful new fiancée?”

He leans back in his chair with all the ease and carefree confidence of a man in love.

That's when his smile fades.

“He… he did what? Hang on, sweetheart, slow down.” Marcus pinches the bridge of his nose. “Teresa, baby, I–”

Silence, as he listens to the voice on the other end.

“Can we… can we at least talk about this?”

He leans forward, putting his head in his hands.

“Sweetheart, this sounds crazy. You’ve got a job, a good job lined up here, I–I got a place that was big enough for the two of us and then some. We were supposed to build a life, a–a family, if you want–”

His voice is getting louder, more desperate.

“I–please, I–”

Silence. Deafening silence.

Marcus hasn’t removed the phone from his ear, although the person on the other end has long since hung up. He may as well be a statue–his body is unnaturally still for far too long. Most people, even when experiencing unimaginable grief, can only sit in stunned silence for so long. The body eventually has to move. It’s human nature.

Marcus sees time differently than most people.

Eventually, the phone slowly returns to his desk.

Marcus would have thought that eventually things would hurt less–that the years would ease the sting of rejection, of heartbreak, of loss. But somehow, his pain has only intensified and changed shape. He’s seen enough people die in front of him–far too many to count–that the tears currently spilling down his cheeks almost surprise him. Almost.

He knows himself well enough to know that love is his greatest weakness. And the pain never lessens, it only magnifies. One tragic loss on top of another.

In a way, Marcus is almost relieved.

It’s one less person that he has to watch die.

York, England. 1319 AD

The boy called Marcus skipped excitedly down the cobblestoned street, which was teeming with life on this, the most exciting of days.

He had waited all year for the St. Peter’s Fair. It was a little boy’s dream–the streets were lined with merchants from faraway lands, musicians and jugglers walked among the townsfolk, and there were so many games, dances, stage plays, and more food than Marcus could ever eat in his life.

Marcus had always been the curious sort–always eager for stories from peddlers and merchants who had seen the world beyond the walls of York. He remembered the events of last year's fair fondly–when he and his friends had found an explorer who had regaled them with tales of the Orient, telling the young children tales of adventure, of people who wore the finest silks, whose food tasted of the most exotic spices.

Marcus dreamed of becoming an adventurer himself someday, of seeing sights that no living man has yet seen.

He ogled the vibrant wares for sale and inhaled the aroma of meat roasting on a spit nearby. He had just noticed a stall filled to the brim with sweets, including imported dried figs and plums from Spain, when a sharp voice rang out behind him.

“You, boy!”

Marcus spun around to see a young woman with jet-black hair and piercing green eyes, wearing a dark cloak, pointing directly at him. He frowned, but didn’t turn to flee. He prided himself on his bravery–when he wasn’t dreaming of being an adventurer, Marcus wanted more than anything to be a knight, although he knew it would always be just a dream, as his family was not a part of the aristocracy. Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t act like one, squaring his shoulders and facing the woman head-on, his head canted upward, giving him an air of authority that didn’t fit his small stature.

“Lady,” Marcus addressed her, with a polite nod of his head.

“Call me Sabine, for I am no lady. How old are you, boy?” the woman asked.

“I have seen ten summers,” Marcus replied. As she approached him, he spied an amulet hanging from her neck–an evil eye talisman–and his eyes widened. “You are… a witch?”

“What I am is not important. What, my child, are you?” Sabine asked him.

Offended by the tone of the question, Marcus stuck his chin out further, a suspicious frown gracing his young features.

“I am Marcus, son of William,” he declared.

Sabine’s features softened. “Marcus, son of William,” she said quietly. “You have a strange magic about you.”

“My father says that magic is for devil-worshipers and heretics,” Marcus said, his eyes wide with equal parts curiosity and fear.

“True magic knows no allegiance,” Sabine stated sagely. “Mark my words, Marcus, and mark them well. Remember this day. There are mysterious powers at work in your life. Heed my warning: love shall be your downfall.” She extended her hand toward him, and Marcus took a nervous step back.

“You shall not put a spell on me!” the young boy cried, spinning on his heels and running down the cobblestoned street.

Marcus had been brought up not to trust the words of a woman who consorts with the Devil, but he never forgot the warning from the witch Sabine.

Love shall be your downfall.

It followed Marcus through his adolescence and into adulthood, although he never told another soul of his encounter that day in the market. When he eventually fell in love with the baker’s daughter, Isabella, he vowed never to tell his young wife of the witch’s words. It was nonsense, the rantings of a heretic, he maintained.

Marcus and his new wife opened a little bakery of their own. She taught Marcus everything she knew, and the two of them would work side by side in the small kitchen, rolling out dough as she talked about everything and nothing. Marcus would always find an excuse to gather her into his arms, getting flour all over her dress as he kissed her.

Isabella brought two beautiful children into the world for him, Emma and Wade, who gave him more joy than there were stars in the night sky. He loved being a husband and father more than anything in this life, and it suited him well. As a commoner with a meager bakery, Marcus never had much to his name, but he would always feel like a rich man when he would walk through the door and see Emma running toward him on stubby legs, followed by his beautiful wife, infant son in her arms.

He would never want anything else in this life.

The witch Sabine was wrong, Marcus concluded. Love was his salvation.

York, England. 1347 AD

There was death in the air. It permeated the streets of York, seeping into the cobblestones and the cracks in the walls. Bad vapours, the clerics said–although Marcus didn’t understand what they were and how to avoid them, as the smell was unavoidable at this point. He pressed a cloth over his mouth as he hurried home from the apothecary, a bundle of ‘Four Thieves Vinegar’ under his arm–a concoction he had been told would offer significant protection from the sickness.

Four vials had cost more than what he could possibly make in a week, but Marcus would do anything for his family, and these were strange times, indeed. Simple concerns like work and money seemed like grains of sand against the deluge of death and decay. How would his family avoid the humours that had already killed a quarter of York’s population?

He slipped through the doorway and greeted his children–now seventeen and fifteen, he could hardly believe it–who were baking bread. Well, Emma was baking the bread. Wade was drawing pictures in the flour with a sullen expression.

Marcus’s heart ached for them both–Wade had been despondent since the blacksmith he had apprenticed to for many moons had succumbed to the same sickness that had taken so many others. He had not been back to the smithy since, and spent most of his days drinking ale and all-around being a nuisance about the house.

Emma ran the small bakery almost single-handedly these days, but had been longing for a suitor. Being the way with daughters, Emma did not tell her father much on the subject (and that was quite fine with him), but Marcus knew she had her eye on Alric, a merchant’s son, and that he likewise had wished to court her before… before.

Now, everyone’s primary concern was survival, and the survival of their families. Marcus passed them the vials from the apothecary and bade them drink it, before downing his own.

“Where is your mother?” he asked, as he set the vial down.

“She is out buying a bolt of cloth for a new dress,” answered Emma.

“A new dress?” Marcus frowned. “I know not where next week's bread will come from. Clothing should be the least of our worries.”

“A hot coal singed a hole through her skirts as she tended to the oven fire,” Emma said. “And we are out of patch material.”

Marcus nodded and smiled to himself, shaking his head fondly. Truly, he would never have denied Isabella a single thing, even a new dress, in these strange times, however frivolous it may be. She could have taken their meager savings and come home with a bolt of gold brocade if it made her happy. The march of time had not dulled Marcus’s affection for her, nor his regard for her beauty. He found her just as stunning at the age of thirty-six as he did on their wedding day, nearly eighteen summers ago now if he was counting correctly.

As if his remembrances had summoned her to him, Isabella returned at that very moment with a bundle of blue linen in her arms. She looked beautiful in blue, Marcus thought, as he crossed the room to give her a gentle kiss.

“My love,” he greeted her with a smile, then sobered. “You know you are supposed to limit your exposure to the bad air. I don’t like anyone leaving the house unless it is absolutely necessary.”

Isabella pouted her lip. “My dress is full of holes, but in truth, my sweet, I am desperate for something to occupy the time as we are confined to these walls. I am afraid I may go mad.”

Marcus chuckled. “Perish the thought.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You are a talented seamstress; but it is you that makes any dress you wear the most elegant of finery,” he told her with a fond smile.

She giggled sweetly at his praise. “If I am careful with the pattern, I may have enough to fashion you a new vest with the remainder,” she told him with a proud smile. “And perhaps some pocket handkerchiefs.”

“You spoil me, my love.”

She never finished the dress.

In barely a fortnights’ time, Isabella was struck with fever. Marcus prohibited the children from entering her room, for fear that they might inhale the vapours and fall ill themselves. Instead, Marcus tended to her night and day–bringing her water and broth, a cool cloth for her forehead, and any remedy that Emma or Wade could purchase from the apothecary.

Marcus watched her sleep fitfully through the night; she was rarely awake as the fever raged through her. He touched his lips to her forehead–still burning. He dipped the now-hot rag back into the basin of water and replaced it on her forehead, and she stirred.

“Sit up, my love, and have some broth,” Marcus directed quietly, as he placed a supporting hand under her shoulders to aid her.

“Oh, my sweet–have you been up all night again?”

Marcus closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the frailty in her voice. His strong, headstrong wife had always spoken loudly, and often–excited by some new idea–and Marcus loved when the house would practically sing with her laughter. Isabella had always been outspoken, something that had caused her father to warn her that she was not marriageable, and that no man would enjoy her silly thoughts and back-talk.

Marcus had never minded–in fact, he had always welcomed it. It was what drew him to court the odd young girl that snuck him pudding on the sly at the bakery in the first place. He was sure that the other townsmen gave him funny glances when he wasn’t aware, and that there was gossip in the church of the baker’s husband who caved to his wife’s desires and did not rule the household with a firm hand. As for him, he couldn’t understand why one would get married if one was not to treat their spouse with respect, as a partner and equal under the eyes of God.

“Think nothing of it,” Marcus replied gently. “I would see you well again, and if a few sleepless nights are my payment, I will gladly owe them.”

He watches as she takes one meager sip of thin broth before pushing the bowl away.

“I… I cannot–”

“Please, Isabella,” Marcus entreated, returning the vessel to her lips and making her take an additional drink. He tried not to notice how her lips trembled around the lip of the bowl.

“Marcus,” she murmured as he laid her back down on their bed. “Please do not despair when I am g–”

“Stop this,” Marcus interrupted firmly, his voice stern and thick with emotion. “Do not speak those words.”

“One cannot hide from death,” Isabella reminded him quietly. “He comes whether or not the words are spoken.”

“I will not hear them,” Marcus said through clenched teeth. “The years ahead of us are many, my love, I just know it.”

Isabella smiled and let out a weak imitation of her beautiful laugh. “Never change, my sweet. My fanciful dreamer of a husb–”

The rest of her words were drowned by a hideous cough that shook her diminished frame. Marcus held her until the shaking stopped, until she could again pull air into her body without wheezing. He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips and pretended he wasn’t crying.

“I need more time,” he pleaded–with her, or with God, perhaps, he didn’t know. “You must give me more time.”

Isabella palmed his cheek. “I have not the power to bestow such a gift.”

A dry sob racked Marcus’s body.

“I have given you all of my love,” she continued. “As you have given me all of yours, and what an exquisite gift it has been.”

He lowered his forehead to hers. “I have more to give,” he whispered. “So much more. And I shall give it all to you, my love, when you are recovered and for many years to follow.”

Her breath was shaky, her eyes already fluttering closed to sleep once more. “I look forward to it,” she whispered back.

She did not wake again.

In the end, it was Emma who finished the dress.

“I am not as talented a seamstress,” she said, when Marcus asked if she could, “but what little work remains, I am sure I can complete it." She started to cry. “She looks beautiful in blue.”

Marcus gathered Emma into his arms and held her furiously, clutching at his daughter's shoulders and kissing her hair. “She would not want you to weep,” he said softly, although the tears ran steadily down his face as well. “She would tell you that death is a part of life, and that we will see her again.”

“Do you believe that, Father?”

"In truth I do not know," he admitted quietly.

Emma let out a choked laugh. "The church would accuse you of blasphemy."

Marcus smiled through his tears. "Many things I say could be called as such."

His daughter pulled back to look at him. "Not nearly as many as Mother," she said with a fond smile.

Marcus laughed in spite of himself. "No one could possibly. Although I could argue that it is simply because she speaks three times as much as any other person."

Emma giggled and hugged her father again.

"I am a man unaccustomed to silence," he said thoughtfully, ruefully. "I should not like to get used to the quiet."

Emma worked through the night to finish the dress, and in the morning, Marcus dressed Isabella in it. Emma had wanted to help, but he had refused, not wanting Emma's last memory of her mother to be an unpleasant one.

"I made you something as well, Father," Emma told him tearfully, holding out a bit of blue cloth to him. "I do not know how to make a vest, but I made you a pocket handkerchief."

Marcus vowed to carry it for the rest of his days.

York, England. 1376 AD

Something was wrong.

Marcus could no longer pretend otherwise.

Over the years since Isabella took her last breath, life had continued on, as it always does.

Neither he nor his children fell ill with the sickness, and for that he was eternally thankful.

Emma married Alric and had three children of their own, whom Marcus doted on.

Wade, as the blacksmith's apprentice, took over the forge when the plague finally retreated from the town. He became a celebrated smith, and although he never married, he dedicated his life to his trade, and took on a great number of pupils in an attempt to bring as many of the village children out of poverty as he could.

Marcus swelled with pride whenever he thought of his children–both happy and healthy, and fulfilled in their own ways.

There was nothing as sobering, awe inspiring, humbling, or as joyful as watching one's children grow and change with the seasons, Marcus thought. To see the years of life etched on their faces, even though Marcus could still feel the weight of them as newborn babes in his arms.

There was only one problem: the years were not likewise etched on Marcus's features.

Emma would laugh and tell her father that the years were simply kind to him, but as time passed, and his own son slowly grew to resemble him in nearly every way, it became a problem that could no longer be ignored.

Marcus was troubled. He did not know the cause, nor the solution to his conundrum. But over and over, the witch Sabine’s words rang in his ears.

You have a strange magic about you.

You have a strange magic about you.

Strange… magic.

It was enough to drive him mad.

And that was why, on this St. Peter’s Fair day, Marcus wandered the streets of York searching for the witch. He did not have much hope that he would find her–he estimated that she was perhaps twenty or so when he encountered her all those years ago as a young boy. That would make her nearly eighty–far older than most people Marcus knew.

He spent an entire day searching with no luck, but as the evening fell, Marcus spied a female figure wearing a cloak as dark as the night sky. As he approached, he saw she was wearing an evil eye amulet.

"Excuse me, Lady?" Marcus asked.

When she turned, he saw that she was indeed not Sabine, for this woman was young and had hair the color of rust.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"I'm looking for a woman named Sabine. I met her some years ago at this same fair, and she had a similar cloak and amulet as yours. I was wondering, perhaps, if you might know her." Marcus explained.

"What business do you have with Sabine?" the lady asked.

"She said something to me, many years ago, and I have some questions for her."

The lady narrowed her eyes, sizing Marcus up with a suspicious expression. "What did she say?"

Marcus paused. His business was his own, but he was so desperate to solve this mystery that he couldn't afford to be secretive.

"She said… I have a strange magic about me. I-I need to know what that means."

The witch studied him for a moment. "You do indeed, stranger. You are a man out of time," she said cryptically.

"I do not know what that means," Marcus said. "Please, do you know her? Sabine?"

She nodded. "I do. She is old and frail and does not have much time left in this world, but you are an intriguing soul and I am certain she would like to see you."

She beckoned Marcus. "Follow me. She lives in the woods outside of town. If you like, I shall take you there."

She led Marcus deep into the forest, where he eventually saw a small stone cottage sitting between two large oak trees.

When he entered the cottage, he saw a stooped old woman sitting by the fire. The years had weathered her features and turned her hair nearly bone-white, but he could still recognize her as the woman he saw as a boy.

“Marcus, son of William,” she croaked.

Marcus raised his eyebrows. “You remember me?”

“I would not forget one who is touched with Magic so.”

“Please, help me. I beg of you. I do not understand why I do not age as others do.”

“How many summers have you seen now?” Sabine asked.

“Sixty-seven, and yet the long years do not show on my face as they do on my own kin.”

“You have been blessed with long life,” she told him.

Marcus slammed his fist against a wooden beam in anger. “This is no blessing; this is a curse!” he spat.

“I suppose that depends on the way you look at it," said Sabine with a sly smile.

“I measure it in the number of people I love that will die before my very eyes,” Marcus rebutted through clenched teeth. "Would you consider it a blessing if you must bury your own children?"

Sabine looked upon him with pity. “Did I not warn you that love will be your downfall?”

"Lady, please, remove this curse," Marcus begged.

Sabine shook her head. "This is magic I do not understand. I may be able to divine more answers from your future, but I am not able to remove this strange enchantment."

She motioned to the younger witch. "Agnes, the scrying vessel, if you please."

Marcus watched as Sabine gazed into the unnaturally still water–as flat as a mirror and black as night, offering no reflection of her face as it should have as she hovered over it. She was quiet for a long time; he thought at one point she had fallen asleep, but finally, just when he was starting to grow antsy, her head lifted and she stared at him with eyes full of unnatural knowledge.

"Marcus, son of William. Long life you shall have, and yet your face will age no further. Your death must come by the hands of another; any attempt to stop your life yourself shall not be successful."

"I cannot bring about my own death?" Marcus asked.

"This is what I have seen."

"Is there anything else? Anything else you can tell me?" he entreated.

"You are a man who loves strongly and deeply. A blessing, this is, for a man with but one life to live, but a curse for one who must experience many. I see a life full of love, yes, but also a life full of pain. You will love many, and lose many," Sabine warned him.

"Have you ever encountered another soul like me?" Marcus asked.

"I have seen many strange things in my eighty-four years, but none as strange as you," Sabine confessed.

Marcus crumpled. "I do not want a life full of pain," he murmured through the lump in his throat. He brought his hand to his pocket, fingering the blue handkerchief he carried with him always.

"Oh, my son," Sabine said, not unkindly. "What is joy without sadness? What is love without loss? These things must exist together; they complement each other. You crave love; this I can see without the aid of scrying water–I need only to look in your eyes. You are brimming with love. It is both a weakness and a strength."

"You said love would be my downfall," Marcus reminded her.

"I foresaw a vague impression of your future that day," Sabine explained. "I have seen much in the water that gives me a greater understanding, but I cannot see how it ends."

"How I die, you mean," Marcus clarified.

Sabine nodded. "This I cannot see. Perhaps the vision will become clear to you in the years to come."

Marcus walked back to town with a heavy heart and a head full of swirling thoughts. He had barely made it through Isabella's death; he couldn't imagine willingly going through that pain again.

On the other hand, Marcus had always been the curious sort. In spite of himself, he couldn’t help but feel a little spark of excitement of adventure underneath his grief. The things he could do in countless lifetimes! The sights he could see!

He resolved to keep that spark of raw curiosity alive, to help him through the dark times ahead.

He was a man without time. A man with too much time. And if he didn't have a choice in the matter, he supposed he may as well make the most of it.

---

A/N: Four Thieves Vinegar was a common potion used for protection against the Black Death. It is a combination of cider, vinegar, or wine with spices such as sage, clove, rosemary, and wormwood. It’s name comes from the legend that it was created and used by four thieves who were able to rob the graves of plague victims because drinking the potion made them immune.

Next Chapter

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Taglist: @leslie-lyman @beyourobsession @coastielaceispunk @balekanemohafe @lovesbiggerthanpride @wildmoonflower @hotchlover @honestly-shite @ezrasbirdie @stilettoforbeginners @bison-writes @green-socks @mandocrasis @musings-of-a-rose @beskarprincessjenny @iamskyereads @janebby @amneris21 @littlemisspascal @buckybarneshairpullingkink @pascalove @beardsanddetectives @girlofchaos @mandoblowmybackout @oogaboogasphincter @hb8301 @elegantduckturtle @shadesofnerdlygrace @anaaaispunk @allthe-ships @mswarriorbabe80 @steeevienicks

If you ever want to be removed from this or any story, please let me know <3

[thinlinez]

🤫 2022 Self Evaluation 😉

Thanks for tagging me @neondiamond :)

Here goes:

1. Number of stories posted to AO3 this year: 3

2. Word count posted for the year: 131,794

3. Fandoms I wrote for: One Direction

4. Pairings: Larry

5. Story with the most:

Kudos: Lost & Found In Oblivion

Bookmarks: Lost & Found In Oblivion

Comments: Lost & Found In Oblivion

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why): 

I don't think there's one that I am REALLY proud of... Maybe DDD since I edited it TOO MANY TIMES to count...

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why):

They are all babies, no shaming my babies.

8. Share or describe a favourite review you received:

All the comments from @marchessa and @greenblueish always make my day since they are so heartfelt and long.

9. A time when writing was really, really hard:

Until I hit up @iminthisstanshit I couldn't write a single word. It was so so hard for me to start and FINALLY in March or April, I found the best writting buddy and started from there :) I was in a writer's block for SO LONG UGH!

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

Maybe that changing room scene in MH. Simply because I have always wanted to write changing room sex, especially with a mirror so it turned out nicely.

11. A favourite excerpt of your writing:

UMMMMMMM, alright... I'm gonna go with DDD since I was pretty clever for coming up with this:

“Hungry for knot?”

The alpha’s voice suited his image so well. The deep, borderline sensual octave made Louis shiver. It was laced with timbre and Louis couldn’t remember the last time someone had spoken with a voice like this to him. But wait… Did the alpha just ask him if he was “hungry for knot”?

“Excuse me?” The omega could feel a hot flush underneath his skin. Surely, he was imagining things as he continued to gape wordlessly at the stranger.

The alpha raised a brown paper bag emblazoned with the Burger King logo up to Louis’ eye level. “Says here, I have a delivery for HungryForKnot?” Green, green, green. Startling mossy, earthy grass, iridescent summer green. The beautiful green seemed to be sparkling as they locked with baby blues.

“Are you not HungryForKnot?” The alpha’s tone was definitely teasing now.

“I most certainly am not!” Louis spluttered. His cheeks were positively burning. He had to grip his doorframe to steady himself or else he might keel over in embarrassment.

“Oh.” The alpha lowered the bag, plump lips forming a slight pout. “Then I guess I got the wrong house?” He tilted his head adorably.

12. How did you grow as a writer this year:

DAMN where should I start? First of all, I discovered omega H and now all I wanna write is omega H to the point that I don't read any bottom Lou fics unless they are recced or from my mutuals... There you go, the BIGGEST change. Bottom H is so powerful.

13. How do you hope to grow next year:

Delve into bottom H and be good at it.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

All the people in my dms :)

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

Clothing shop? I would say cuz I'm into vintage clothes now so LAFIO clothing shop was a good idea.

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

If you only write bottom Lou, you are fucking missing out. Bottom H RULES!!!

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: 

I have so so so many fics lined up, ready to go and ready to be written. We can only wait til January !!!

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

I think loads of people have been tagged already... Tagging @chai-hat-tea @flexible-racoon @beardyboyzx @cyantific @forthetherapyy @harryslonecurl :))

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Part Nine. Minecraft Dating 101

warnings: swearing, mostly super freaking fluffy but some oopsies at the end (which is the barely-there angst that i mentioned before!!), pet names?? if that bothers you??? (like...... one or both of them might use baby.........) word count: 5.3k (not including pictures)

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

A/N: HEHEH SORRY ITS SO LONG SORRY hope you guys like it!!!! hope it lives up to your standards of minecraft dates lol also thank you guys all for all your suggestions!!! i loved all of them so much!!!! i would have added every idea except this was already 5k words so its much less “flirting” and more so “oh gosh im so nervous what am i supposed to do” from both of them so hehe i think thats more endearing anyway

**********

The familiar sound of a FaceTime call connecting rang in Y/n's ears and she held her phone up to her face. "Hi, Karl," she sighed.

"Y/N!!" he said with a cackle. "ARE YOU READY FOR YOUR DATE?!"

"Shut up, I'm doing this for you."

"I already gave you the tour though so really you could back out. You're choosing to stay." His voice was teasing and giddy. "Why's that, hmm?"

Heat rose instantly to Y/n's face. "Because I'm a woman of my word?"

"OkaAaAyy," he sang. "Or because you liiiiikeee himmm."

"Shhhut up, Karl. No, I don't."

"Suuuure."

"Is this why you called me?"

He giggled. "Yeah, but—"

Y/n disconnected the call and set her phone down with a small laugh and a shake of her head.

With her stream started and her chat greeted, the donation limit raised to $100 (both because she didn't want to be flooded with questions on the date and because she didn't want people to donate their hard-earned money), Y/n logged onto Dream's SMP and found the voice call Dream was in, George's name right under his.

After she clicked it to join, a small gasp emitted from her headphones before she heard Dream mutter something. "Get out, get out, leave."

George's voice was normal. "But I wanna—"

"GEORGE!" Dream yelled, making Y/n giggle.

"Fine!" George yelled back. "Have fun you two," he sang like Karl did before a sound from Discord told them that he left.

It was silent for a second before, "Hi."

"Hi." She giggled. "What was that about?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing. Just some last minute, uh, setting up."

She hummed, amused at the sound of his frantic voice.

"So, um... are you ready for our date?"

"I don't even know where you are. I'm still in my house."

"Knock, knock," he said with a laugh. Y/n turned to see green peeking through the cutouts on her oak door and she laughed.

She ran to the door and opened it for him, revealing Dream in a slightly altered version of his Minecraft skin. He looked the same, except the white blob appeared to be wearing a necktie of some sort. "You look ridiculous," she admitted with a smile. "Wait, is this a fancy date? Should I change my skin?"

"It's not fancy, I just wanted to look my best for the prettiest girl in the world."

"Ohmygosh," she muttered to herself, hoping that writing off his charming words and actions as annoying would make her face not heat up as much. So far, it hadn't worked. Two minutes in and she was already blushing like a schoolgirl whose crush asked her to play tag at recess. "So, I'm not underdressed?"

"No, you're always perfect."

She didn't comment, opting for an eye-roll instead. Truthfully, she wanted to flirt back with him, try to make his heart beat fast like hers already was, but she was worried her words wouldn't come off joking and that the true intention would be obvious, that he'd be able to breeze right past the jovial tone and hear the sincerity in her words. Wait, true intention? What was her true intention? Her true intention should obviously be to just joke around and have some fun, but deep down she knew the motivation for teasing him came from somewhere different, somewhere more meaningful.

She wanted to tease him because she wanted to be the one to make him blush, to make him trip over his words and not know what to do with his hands.

Why? Well, she was still figuring that out.

"If you're ready, follow me, ma'am."

"Where are you taking me?" she asked as she followed his character down prime path.

"Hmmm..." he mused. "A secret, obviously."

"Obviously," she scoffed. She noticed that he was several blocks ahead of her and she smiled to herself. "Hey, Dream?"

"Hm?" he asked, spinning to face her as he ran backward.

"I don't know how many dates you've been on, but usually people walk together. You know, gives them an excuse to maybe hold hands or at least enjoy each other's company?" She made sure her voice had just the right balance of teasing and seriousness, curious as to how he would respond.

"I, uh... oh."

"Unless you want me to just meet you there. I mean, you're practically running away from me."

"I'm just excited!" he excused, stopping briefly so she could catch up with him.

"But look at how many beautiful things there around us to look at while we get to where we're going!" she told him. "Well, maybe not that," she said with a laugh as she punched her fist towards Tommy's dirt house. "But other things."

Dream laughed and continued to walk next to her like she requested, pausing if he ever got too far ahead. "How can I look at all those when the most beautiful thing is walking right next to me?"

She's never rolled her eyes so hard in her life. "Shut up," she mumbled as she punched him.

"OW! BUG!"

"That was supposed to be a pat on the arm but Minecraft only has one level of hitting and it's a punch. Sorry."

Dream wheezed briefly before containing his laughter. "This way," he instructed, getting off the path and starting into the woods.

"Oh, really you're trying to kill me. That's why you didn't want me to wear anything nice. Didn't want me to ruin any of my fancy stuff."

"Foiled my plans," he joked lightly. "Okay but really, um, I was thinking—well, so you already have a house but I was thinking we could build one together. Or build something, I don't know. But you're really good at building and I know you really enjoy it so I thought maybe you could show—like, teach me and then later I'll teach you something and then we can have a little picnic dinner."

Y/n smiled at her nervousness. "Hey, that actually sounds really fun!"

"What? What do you mean actually?" He laughed. "What, did you expect me to plan something boring?"

She laughed over his dramatic pouting. "No, but I mean, I didn't know what to expect," she said shyly. "I do have to say, though, I'm not sure what you plan on teaching me. I'm pretty much a master at all possible Minecraft skills, so..."

"Oh, really?" he taunted. "Everything?"

"Mhm," she hummed, her confidence wavering at his smooth voice.

"We'll see about that..."

"Unless you mean you're gonna teach me how to code Minecraft. That's a Minecraft skill I will admit I know nothing about."

"No, no, nothing like that," he said with a laugh.

"Good, save the programming talk for later."

"For laaater, hmmm?" he sang flirtatiously.

"Oh my gosh," she said through a laugh. "You would think that's what I meant."

"Hey, you're the one that said you think it's cute when I talk about coding. Maybe you're into that."

"I was saying it's sweet hearing you talk about stuff you like, you nerd. Why did you immediately think—what, is your idea of dirty talk talking about... like... computer viruses?"

"WhAT?"

"Hey girl, lemme clean out your motherboard," she mocked in a deep voice. "You overclock my processor. Lemme program your, uh—uh...hAHA, nevermind, ew, no."

"BUG?! WHAAAT? What is wrong with you?" His gasps for breath between wheezes made her laugh with him. "Don't ever talk like that again, pleASE."

"I won't, I won't, I'm sorry. Oh my gosh."

"Is that your idea of flirting? You are bad!"

"No, no, no!" She laughed. "I was making fun of you. No, I'm actually really good."

She couldn't stop giggling to herself for a few minutes, embarrassed but also proud of the reaction she got from Dream. She loved hearing him laugh as if he would never stop, it made her heart so happy to hear, especially when she was the one who caused it.

Though she feared her horrible pickup lines, if you could even call them that, were already clipped, ready to be used against her for the rest of her life. Worth it. Probably.

They approached a cleared-out area in the woods and Dream stopped and turned to Y/n. "So, we're here. What should we build?"

"Oh, so now I have to plan? Wow, you are so underprepared," she joked.

"What, no! I originally... I wanted to build a, like, a house together because I didn't— I forgot you made your—your house already and—but since you already have one—"

"We can still build a house," she interrupted with a soft voice. Him fumbling over his words was very endearing but also very confusing. How serious was he taking this bit? Or was he... actually nervous? She was actually nervous but she had reasons to be: a huge live audience to entertain and not ignore, and the weird staticky, itchy feeling in her tummy every time Dream spoke to her. Both valid reasons to be nervous. What was his excuse?

"Really? You wanna build a home together?"

Heat rose to her cheeks at his wording and she hummed. "Mhm. You can be my secret lover I hide in my vacation home. Like a second life kinda deal."

He scoffed. "Oh, now I'm just your side piece, Bug?"

"Nah, you're my main bitch, baby. I just wanna hide you away to keep you for myself because I'm selfish."

There was silence on his end for a few moments, making Y/n's face practically catch fire as she thought about her words. Why did she say that?? How can he flirt all the time but as soon as she says something: dead silence.

"Well.... shhhhhit," he finally mumbled definitively.

"You wanted me to flirt with you, Dream. You literally asked me too!" She laughed, trying to cover up her embarrassment. It had been less than 20 minutes and she already made a fool of herself.

"I did, I did, I just—wow. Come on, that was... I didn't expect you to go from never flirting to calling me baby!"

"Too much?" she bit her lip as she waited for him to explain if it was a good or bad thing.

He paused again. "....no."

She laughed loudly, pulling her hoodie collar up to her face in an attempt to rid herself of the giddiness and heat on her face. Like anyone could see anyway.

"So, a house?"

"A house."

"What kind of house do you think we should build together, Dream?"

"Maybe...." he thought as he ran around the area. "Maybe, like, a log cabin? Since we're in a forest. It's fitting..."

"Very true, very true..." she thought. "I was thinking a castle was more suited for you, king, but a cabin works too."

"Bug!" he yelled, laughter bubbling up in his voice. "What is wrong with you?"

"What?" she said defensively, giggling.

"You're a handful today," he groaned under his breath and she smiled. Though his words said one thing, Y/n could tell he was enjoying her energy.

"So, a dinky, old cabin, or what?"

"Whatever you want to build," he sighed.

"You always this agreeable?"

"Only to you."

"Well, I honestly don't have much practice with building cabins and since I want to show off my skills, I mean, that's the whole point of this, right? For me to impress you with my skills?"

Dream laughed so she continued.

"I think we should build a treehouse."

"A treehouse?"

"Mhm. What do you think? I make a pretty bomb treehouse."

"That sounds awesome!" he agreed. "Oh, and it could go from, like, one tree to another and, like, connect with a bridge! Like, the living room on one and the bedroom on another."

"Yeah, exactly! Okay, it's settled."

"What do we need? What do you want me to do?"

"I'm thinking.... we use cobblestone?"

Dead silent. Literally no noise until a few moments later, ".......Bug. This might be a deal-breaker."

"I'm joooking! You think I'd build something out of cobblestone? Who am I, Tommy? No, what's your favorite wood?"

"Dark oak."

"GOOD. Me too. So.... we need dark oak. Or, wait! Okay, hear me out."

"I'm hearing..." Dream prompted as he pressed A and D on his keyboard back and forth, earning a giggle from Y/n. He character was bouncing left and right is excitement.

"Dark oak planks..." she started.

"Mhm."

"Stone bricks..."

"Go on."

"And green wool for accents."

"Well, now you're just pandering."

"No!" she laughed. "Not, like, lime wool. Green wool. It's close to you but not as... obnoxiously blinding."

"I trust your vision. I'll go get materials."

"Perfect, you're the best, Dweam."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled before laughing. "You pick out a tree you think would be best for the main part."

40 minutes later, they were nowhere near being done. Y/n had shown him how to make a good house layout after he placed the floor in the shape of a square. She had yelled at him for it first, of course. They also had the frame of the walls and one bridge but nothing on the other side of said bridge. Not wanting the stream to last six hours since this was only the first part of the date, Y/n made a suggestion.

"What if...."

"What if what?" Dream asked, pausing to look at her character, who had stopped fixing his mistakes. "Did I mess something up?"

"No, I was just thinking. What if we make this the whole house and do a little garden on the other side of the bridge? Or like a little cute thing."

"A little cute thing?" Dream laughed.

"You know, like a thing," she said, knowing she hadn't clarified anything. "I forgot this is only date one, you can't read my mind yet."

"Oh, so there are gonna be future dates? I thought this was just to pay off your debt?"

She paused, playing with her hoodie strings between her left hand. "Well, I guess we'll see."

Dream laughed. "So, what little cute thing did you want to make?"

"We could put a bench facing the sunset and have some potted flowers and hang lanterns and stuff."

"Oh, like a romantic spot?"

"I guess if you wanna think of it like that."

"Sounds cute," he said. "So, we have to change the layout in here then?"

"Nah, I mean, we can just not add a kitchen, we obviously don't need one anyway."

"True. Then all we need is to put our bed down, right?"

"Beds," Y/n corrected.

"Well, when they're together it looks like one big bed."

"Who said we're putting out beds together?"

"Buuuuggg..." he whined. "Come on... lemme put my bed next to yours."

She giggled again. What was with all the giggling, sheesh. "No. There's plenty of space, put it somewhere else." She placed her white bed down in the corner and went across the bridge to bring her idea to life, or, to Minecraft.

It only took about ten minutes and she finished when Dream spoke again. "I think I'm done."

"I am too! Let's take one final look around." She went back inside and immediately noticed his bed right next to hers. She stared at his character and he laughed.

"Whaaat?" he asked shyly and she just sighed, letting it happen. They took a look around and agreed that it was basically the best treehouse in the entire universe, both in Minecraft and real life.

"Bug, you're so good at building," Dream complimented as he ran around the house. "What's your favorite part?"

"Ummm...." She looked around before deciding on the bridge. "I like how you made the bridge. And I like the little touches you added to it. It's nice."

"Thanks! I think the 'little cute thing' you did is the best part."

"Shut up, I can't stand you," she scoffed. "But thanks."

"Hey, Bug?" Dream asked, leading her back into the house. He faced the two beds placed together and she prepared herself for the worst joke of all time. "Is this where all the programming talk happens?"

"I knew it! I knew you were gonna say that! Shut up!" She punched Dream as he laughed loudly and she couldn't stop smiling. "You're such a nerd. You're so annoying."

"OH! I have an idea, wait here."

***

It had been a solid eight and a half minutes of Y/n waiting for Dream and he showed no signs of returning. He was silent too, so she resorted to saying random things to get him to crack.

"When will my husband return from war?" she joked, her voice laced with sadness and longing.

There was a small suppressed laugh from his mic, but still no words.

"Sometimes I think I can still hear him laughing at me."

He must have gotten reeeaaalll close to his mic, because his next words, the first ones he had spoken in almost ten minutes, were whispered but she felt like he was in her ear. "I'll be home soon, baby."

Once again, she was so glad her chat couldn't see her because she literally shivered and her face was so warm she felt like she was glowing.

For the first time all stream, her eyes betrayed her and she looked at her chat as she pulled her hoodie collar up to her face.

user18: BUGSY BEIN REEEAL QUIET

user4: i think i just passed out

user11: wHAT ON EARTH DREAM ADKXKH

user7: BUGSY ON GOD BE REAL WITH US WTF IS GOING ON RN

user2: hey bestie i cant do this rn

user9: they can't talk to each other like that and say they're just friends pleASE

Also for the first time all stream, someone dared to donate at her limit (which, again, was ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS).

karakatara donated $100 I had to donate bc I just HAD to tell you how cute you and dream are! honestly my favorite couple ever and I was just wondering how long you've been dating??? love you and your videos!!!!!

It was $100. She had to answer it. Meaning, she had to use words after Dream said that like that and she wasn't sure that was physically possible right now.

"Aren't you going to answer?" Dream taunted.

"Wha—what, are you—you stream watching, you weirdo?" she forced out. "Why?"

"I wanted to read your chat, they're really funny."

"I haven't been reading it."

"What, why? They've been so funny this whole time."

"I've been too scared to."

"Too scared? Of what?"

Of the jokes that she wanted to be real? Of seeing something so cute only to break her heart when she remembers it's all a joke? Of seeing someone hate her for being so close to Dream? Many things.

"Of seeing something... that boosts your ego."

"What? Oh, come on. Hey, answer the dono. Someone gave you their hard earned money for that."

"Yeah, wait, chat, I had the limit that high so you DON'T donate! Why on earth would you—"

"You're avoiding the question."

"We aren't actually dating! Not actually a couple!" she said with a laugh, though something in her heart was very much against laughing at that fact. "Obviously not."

"Well, it's only the first date, so, we'll see I guess, but..."

"I cannot stand you. Thank you so much for the dono, though, Karakatara. You're insane for... yeah. Thank you so much." She turned her attention back to Dream. "Actually though are you ever coming back?"

"Yeah, what, I'm almost there. I see the you staring out the window. ."

When he got inside, he dropped a blue cornflower for Y/n and stepped back. "Okay, now, give that to me."

She followed, not understanding. "For you, Dream." She dropped the flower.

"Aw, Bug! That's so kind! Aw! Thank you! Here's a flower for you, too!" He dropped her a red poppy and then put two item frames on the wall above their beds. He put the blue cornflower above his bed and she followed by putting the red one above hers. "Now that's my favorite part of the house."

"You didn't want to use the real ones? What, did you lose my flower or something?"

"Hell no!" he defended loudly. "No, I just don't want someone to steal that one. It's in my enderchest for safe-keeping."

He said it so casually like it was no big deal, but her heart soared. She too had his flower in her enderchest.

"This," she said dramatically with a sigh, "is now a treehome."

***

"I already told you I'm the best PVP player out there."

"Bug, honey, I've seen you play Bedwars. You're trash."

"Hey!" Hehe, honey. Shut up brain.

"But that's okay! I'm here to teach you."

Y/n's character stood across a makeshift battlefield from Dream's, an axe in hand and armor that was definitely donated by DreamXD on her body. "This is kinda sexist of you. Assuming I know how to name a cute house but not fight."

"Oh no, that's not—crap. Bug, I'm only basing this off of your streams, which I watch all the time—"

Once again, he said something so casual and yet it still made her heart skip three beats and once again, she grabbed the collar of her hoodie and pulled it up to hide her face. This thing had to be stretched by now from how often it was yanked on in this stream alone.

"��and don't get me wrong, you're great! But you're also good at a lot of stuff and—"

"Dream!" she giggled out. "I'm teasing. I admit you're much better than me."

"I wouldn't say much better but... it's the only thing I could possibly teach you anything about because you're just so good at Minecraft." His tone was sarcastic at this point but she knew he was meaning what he said.

"Whatever. Come on, Dream, show me how it's done."

He actually had a lot of very useful tips that Y/n otherwise would have never thought about. I guess when you tryhard Minecraft, she thought, you learn a thing or two about pvp. It was a complete joke, but she still kept it to herself.

"I could basically beat anyone now," she said confidently.

"Yeah, basically. Except maybe Technoblade."

"Nah, even him."

"Let's see how good you really are. To the death."

"What?" She laughed. "You're gonna try to kill me on our date?"

"Yeah, scared?" Seconds later, a creeper exploded near Dream and he screeched, jumping back. Y/n lost it. She laughed loudly, clutching her stomach.

"Dr-Dream!" She laughed. "What the hell was that?"

"It scared me!" he argued. "Here, I'll protect you," he offered, running past her and killing a skeleton that was shooting towards her.

"I don't need protecting, especially from you! Besides, if you're trying to kill me, you'd let the mobs get me."

"No," he decided. "No one's allowed to kill my Bug."

She was literally going to explode. "Wh—"

"Only I get to."

"Dream!" she scoffed, running to kill the skeleton first. She succeeded and he pouted.

"Hey—I did more damage than you, you just had the final hit."

"Really? Cause to me it looks like I'm your knight in shining armor."

"Nuh-uh," he spat.

"Dream. F5 right now, you're covered in arrows."

There was a pause. "Oh whatever." He hit her once and that's all it took for them to start fighting, throwing jokes and taunts at each other the whole time, eventually resulting in a satisfying win for her.

Dream was slain by Bugsy

"WHAT?! HOW?"

<Tubbo> i thogt you were on a date <Ranboo> well definitley not anymore <Ranboo> is that canon <JackManifoldTV> WOMEN

"What was that about you being better than me?" Y/n teased.

"Oh, come ON! I still had damage from the skeleton, and besides, I taught you everything you know!"

"That just makes you a very good teacher, Dream," she said sincerely and he paused, probably expecting her to insult him instead of compliment him.

"Yeah, suck up now that you've murdered me."

***

They were finally at their final stop, three hours into the stream. Not too bad on time, though this was probably the longest Minecraft date in the history of Minecraft dates. Also the best, but maybe Y/n was biased.

There was a huge tree, obviously built instead of naturally generated, with lanterns hanging down and lighting areas of the dark world around them. Under that was a checkered pattern of carpet, a single chest in the center with a potted plant sitting next to it.

"The carpet is supposed to look like a, uh, what's it called... picnic blanket?" Dream explained as they approached the scene, clearly not happy with how it turned out. "It looks weird. Nothing compared to the treehouse you built."

"We built," she corrected. "And this looks awesome, Dream," Y/n complimented. "It's is also my favorite colors."

"Yeah, I had some help from Karl on that one."

She leaned back in her chair in real life and pressed her hands to her face. Oh, it was so unfair how cute he was when he was shy like this. She glanced at chat, which only made her face go from the temperature of molten lava to basically the sun. She was going to explode.

She hummed, a little giggle coming out as well. "That's cute."

She sat (crouched) on the picnic blanket (piece of carpet) while Dream put a disc in the jukebox off to the side.

"Is that a Tommy disc?" she giggled and Dream laughed.

"No, no, no, don't worry. There shouldn't be any continuations of wars interrupting our date."

"Shouldn't be," she emphasized, noticing someone approaching them from the distance.

Dream was about to speak when Quackity reached them and quickly joined the voice channel.

"Oh no," Dream sighed. "We've come so far."

"AYYEEE WHAT'S GOING ON, MAN?!" Quackity yelled in his Mexican Dream voice, his voice bubbling with laughter. "IS THIS A DATE OR SOMETHING, MAN?"

"Quackity, go AWAY!" Dream ordered, punching the character who had stripped to his underwear. "YOU'RE INDECENT! THERE IS A LADY HERE!"

Y/n laughed, enjoying the scene of fancy Dream hitting naked Quackity away from their picnic dinner.

"I'm your waiter, I'm your waiter!" Quackity said in his normal voice, still laughing. "DREAM! WILL YOU STO— QUIT HITTING ME!"

This had turned chaotic very quickly.

"We don't need a waiter," Dream informed him.

"Then I'm the singing gram you ordered." He started singing a song and Dream groaned. "HEY THERE DELILAH WHAT'S IT LIKE IN NEW YORK CITY—"

"No! You're being a clout chaser, go away!"

"I'm honestly impressed we made it this far without anyone coming into the voice channel," Y/n admitted.

"I paid them," Dream joked.

"You did not!" Karl's voice suddenly came through and Y/n laughed. "We were all just being polite and staying away but we're getting bored! We've been so patient!"

"Yeah, hurry up! We wanna play!!!" Sapnap whined. "Dream, it's not fair for you to steal Bugsy from us for so long."

"Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed with a laugh as Dream laughed along.

"Just ten minutes! Ten more minutes!" Dream bargained but none of them would have it. "Just so I can say goodbye!"

"No!" George insisted. "Right now!"

"Look, wait, wait, hold on—"

<Sapnap joined the game> <GeorgeNotFound joined the game> <KarlJacobs joined the game>

"—hold ON!" Dream begged, watching as the three boys ran and joined Quackity by the picnic blanket.

Y/n could not stop laughing at all the avatars around them. The date had been so peaceful and cute but all good things must come to a chaotic end.

"Wait, come on, Karl, Karl, Karl," Dream said quickly. "Come here. Bug, just a sec, please. Stay right there."

"Okay," she agreed, curious to see his plan.

Karl followed him and of course Sapnap couldn't help but also join them.

"Okay," Dream whispered loudly, clearly wanting everyone to hear his offer. He crouched and the other two copied. "Just give me ten minutes—"

"Ten?" Sapnap asked loudly.

"Shhh!!! Yes, ten minutes, to say goodbye and, you know, end the date."

There was a long, thick pause. "What exactly are your intentions with Bugsy Games," Karl asked seriously, matching Dream's whisper.

"Well, I wanna make sure she gets home safe, you know, so I'm gonna drop her off and, I don't know, see if maybe.... maybe she'll give me a hug?"

Karl and Sapnap both gasped dramatically and Y/n giggled, sparing a glance at her chat who were all freaking out.

"What the hell?" Quackity said while laughing. He and George were still standing near Y/n so they were just watching the goons with her.

"Bugsy is not that kind of girl!" Sapnap protested. "You think she's just gonna give you a hug?"

"Sapnap! Do you not know how to whisper???"

George let a loud laugh slip before slapping his hand over his mouth, which his mic picked up.

"Okay, Dream, wait, so you're gonna try to... hug her?" Karl clarified. "She won't even let me hug her. Good luck."

"Well, I'm not going to force her into anything but, I don't know, she said something about holding my hand earlier so I just thought maybe there's a possibility—"

"WHAT?" Karl yelled before going back to the whisper. "Okay, okay, don't panic, but that's huge. Dadnap, a word?"

He and Sapnap broke off from Dream and formed their own huddle, except their whispers were incoherent mumblings that weren't even English.

"Oh my gosh," Y/n groaned loudly, an unmistakable laugh behind her words.

"Okay," Sapnap said, rejoining Dream. "We'll give you five minutes but if you take any longer, we're barging in and killing you."

"Yes, sir!" Dream said. "Thank you, sirs."

"Mhm. Okay, break!"

They all uncrouched in sync before Dream ran back to Y/n.

"How did it go?" she asked as if she didn't hear the entire conversation.

"Bad news," he started. "Your dad's want you home."

"Shame, I was quite enjoying my time."

Dream slowly turned towards the boys as if to glare at them for ending the date before turning back to her. "Then, maybe, I don't know, we could do this again sometime?"

"I.... think I'd like that," she said slowly, trying to tease him.

He giggled and told her he was going to drop her off at her house, even though when the date was over, they were all probably gonna mess around together anyway so there was no point in them leaving the group. But it was the thought that counted.

He ended up taking her back to the treehouse, which warmed her heart. She also noticed when they faced each other at front of the door, she could see the four other boys watching them.

"Goodnight, my sweet Bug," he said poshly.

"Goodnight, Dream." He turned away but she stopped him. "Wait!" She moved to his side and made a loud, MUAH, sound before stepping back in front of him. "A kiss on the cheek," she clarified, not wanting him to think she gave him a real kiss.

"Cute," he said under his breath, almost like he didn't mean to say it out loud. "Night night." He turned away and ran down to the others, screaming the whole way. "GUYS, DID YOU SEE THAT? BUG GAVE ME A KISS ON THE CHEEK!! OMG DID YOU SEE, DID YOU SEE?"

Chat was gonna have a field day with that. Actually, with a lot of things that had happened. Oh, she could see the clips and edits now.... oh boy.

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