#on another note this is the closest i have come to a pen pal which is so remarkably fun it's something i've wanted to do for so long

[averlym]

hello omg this reply is so late i'm so sorry but

beiguang??????? beloveds?????? omg omg omg your fic is like. god-tier i love it omg omg the feels. the imagery. the metaphors fhdfhdfdhfdf

“i dislike losing what is mine,” she repeats, voice softer, “but i do not mind, once in a while, losing to you.”

aaaaaa????????? it's literally. i. screaming crying they are SO sweet i just. aAA ‘i am yours but also my own person’ BEST SHIP DYNAMICS HONESTLY

crying screaming the feels it's so tooth-rottingly fluffy omg

bro i would love to play liyue millenial. i want to play liyue millenial so badly you have no idea it's like. i need to play it. mihoyo drop the board game omg i would give them all my money for liyue millenial

it's like. it's my dream chess game. because i absolutely suck at chess and monopoly (omg ningguang basically invented monopoly didn't she) but games that mirror society?? are so beloved??

like. oh you checkmated my king but while you weren't looking the pawns overthrew the monarchy and live under a republic now. nice try. 5d chess vibes.

modern ning dominates 5 dimensional chess you can't change my mind

adgshjdsfhj but also. chess where halfway through the rules swap and suddenly the pawns are the most important part because viva la revolution. you have a set timer and when before half the time runs out, you have to grab the king. otherwise, when the halfway mark is reached the rules flip, the monarchy falls, and if someone has no more pawns, they lose. if both players have pawns the most important objective now is to remove all pawns before their revolution breaches country borders.

(my sister refuses to play chess with me because a) she's better than me and b) i keep instigating a prison break and she gets mad)

-🍵

beiguang is dignified fluff idk how else to put it they exude knowledgeable 大姐energy even though beidou is the more approachable one. big sister/ cool aunt vibes.

also yes!!! liyue millennial!!! i imagine like the pieces ninguang owns are like handcrafted wooded works of art in their own right and it's terrifying but also so cool and pretty :OOO

modern ningguang would be so good at any kind of strategy game i think. the real question here would probably be zhongli because is he going to do scary good because of mr god of war and contracts rex lapis??? or is he going to fail spectacularly because of mr funeral consultant with as much common sense as he has mora (none. the answer is none.)

i am so so terrible at chess but also that sounds hilariously fun. bestie! the chaos of that is so genius. also also, how do country borders work in chess?? i'm just imagining all the black squares are black territory and all the white squares are white territory. after the pawns take control, do all the other pieces except the king attempt to work against them? do the pawns turn against the nobles on their side attempting to get rid of them? do the nobles regardless of black or white work together as a whole to reinstate a king? (a pawn makes its way across the board, confused, and turns into a queen. it's queen, equally confused, just accepts the new queen as a spouse. alternatively, enemies to friends to lovers arc as they vie for queenship, with the new queen as leader of the revolution. no one else knows which queen is which because they look exactly the same, leading to some identity theft shenanigans. i'm overly invested in this subplot.)

speaking of games that mirror society i have never played it but dnd sounds quite fun

... jean related ficling under the cut? hurt/comfort vibes?? lowkey a character study?? here u go anyways? (i have written three fics in the past year and here is the last one)

a/n: au where signora is a bit more violent and venti protects mondstadt from her and saves his gnosis-but gets badly injured during the fight and dissipates into wind (he's recovering! elsewhere! it's just... thousand year naps where you come back mean that your mortal human friends have lost you for the remaining less than a century of their lives and you're essentially, well, dead.)

basically, the gnosis falls into jean's hands. temporary anemo archon/ acting grandmaster jean gunhildr adapts.

dandelions

jean, in the aftermath of becoming an archon.

vision holders, allogenes- they possess the power to ascend to celestia and become gods, like venessa's legend. but archons have no need for visions. as anemo archon, venti's vision was a fake glass ball, gifted to him by the anemo archon. himself.

when jean became an archon, as the gnosis became part of her, her eyes and hair glowed. her vision did not.

there is a funeral for venti the bard, held under the windrise tree, after all has been said and done. customary as it is to pass visions to family for safekeeping, the wind has no blood relatives, and a gray vision lies dull in the ground as they cover it with dirt, the body having dissipated into wind. the traveller lays some cecilias nearby, while jean places dandelions beside the grave. at her waist, a glass ball glows the same colour as the flowers.

buried that day is the anemo archon, and the gift he once gave her. what do you lose when you attain godhood? a vision. a gift from a god, now gone. a friend.

craving some semblance of normalcy, jean resumes her position as acting grandmaster, and just sort of lets the worship of the anemo archon continue as if it wasn't her.

perhaps this denial is unhealthy. jean buries herself in too much work to care. venti lost himself in songs and wine. she loses herself in helping the people of mondstadt. her people now.

in the disaster that strikes mondstadt, the statue is broken. jean remains the one that the citizens look to for advice, and following said advice, they rebuild the statue as it was before. resting under the hood with the traveller, perched on the reconstructed shoulders of barbatos, jean learns of the nameless bard. of how the shape venti took was to honour his friend.

maybe, in the quiet of her room, jean stands in front of a mirror with twin braids. the traveller showed her how to do them, murmuring something about getting to braid blond hair again. jean looks in the mirror, makes herself shorter, considers dying her hair dark until teal ends are the only bright parts left. then, she leaves for her office in her usual form, orders for rebuilding the statue of barbatos on the tip of her tongue.

she cannot, will not take the shape of venti and his long-dead friend, so she will just have to make sure their legacy carries on in a different way. in the water that surrounds the statue, jean glimpses her reflection, and she feels both guilty and relieved.

she chooses to leave the statues of the seven in the shape of venti. when she visits windrise, she sits by the statue and his grave and thinks about simpler times.

by the time the statue is built, mondstadt has settled down, and people are once again attempting to climb up the statue to blow dandelion seeds. jean doesn't mind, actually kind of likes the hopes and dreams of her people floating through her winds. it's a direct feedback loop to better take care of the citizens of mondstadt, probably better than the sheafs of paperwork reviews she sometimes has to go through.

the thing about being an archon is human needs are a bit less necessary now, so jean often finds herself fulfilling these dandelion wishes instead of sleeping.

this doesn't go unnoticed by the knights- one morning the wind floats fluffy seeds by her desk, and the dandelion knight stops writing to listen. amber's voice earnestly wishes that "jean remembers to take care of herself", and this becomes a daily occurrence, with kaeya's teasing, lisa's flirtatious threats, and klee's childish lisp flying on dandelion seeds. a smile in barbara's voice, and even an occasional reminder from a certain darknight hero. every morning, the winds whisper this into her ears, and jean loves her friends so so much, loves this city so much, that she sometimes forgets the anxiety that came when venti pushed his gnosis into her hands.

at night, when the city is asleep, jean sits in the palms of the statue, feeling held and feeling small and pondering immortality. how mortal venti was, how immortal he was. the absentee god who led their city to freedom, a wind spirit who took the shape of his lost friend, and- the bard who sung in front of his statue, who mimicked paimon, who tried to scam diluc of wine and would accept payment in apples. so very human.

jean feels a quiet sort of sadness, reconciling the image of the anemo archon who gave her her vision and the happy-go-lucky bard who was her friend. sitting in the palms of this statue is the closest thing she'll ever have to being near venti again. she looks up at the giant face, and then looks down below to where a young bard would have been strumming his lyre.

if the traveller notices the anemo archon using the winds to carry her high enough to hug the statue of the seven at windrise, it's never mentioned to jean.

[angelsdevils]

Time Zone:

Warning: There are some SPOILERS Note: This story will only be on my Wattpad and AO3 which are usernames Aurora_Petals. If you see anyone claiming this plot as their own let me know. I do NOT own the characters. KoFi not mandatory but donations are appreciated!

Tag List: @omakeomuomu @thisbicc @galactict3a @6-022-10-23 @bontensbabygirl @smkandfire @artemis1862 @oikawascutie

Masterlist Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Final |

Kazutora's POV:

I stood in front of the judge as he looked through my list of felonies. He was shaking his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose. I can tell he hated giving minors a long sentence and I felt so guilty. I honestly deserved everything I have coming. I have made so many mistakes in my life, and I was only 15. The world would be better if I wasn’t here, the last mistake I made was killing my closest friend who stuck by my side for years. That was starting to eat me up, and I felt sick. 

“I will sentence you to 10 years at Tokyo Detention Center for Juveniles. If you break even one rule your sentence will be extended. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir,”

“You will also be required to join a support group program, starting today. I expect you to do every activity they tell you. Dismissed.” I was led out of the courtroom and placed on a bus that was full of troublemakers like me. Though I doubt their sentence was as long as mine. Hell, it’s not long enough. 

I leaned my head against the window as I waited for us to arrive. It wasn’t long before we arrived, leaving the bus in an orderly fashion. When it was my turn to get off I was led inside and provided a schedule.

“These are your schedules every day. Nothing changes on the weekends, accept your classes.” One of the officers yelled at us and I looked over mine. Pretty mundane. 

5:30 AM Wake up

6:00 AM Breakfast

7:00 AM Scrub their apartan dormitories

8:30 AM Classes (Math, Art, History, Geography)

11:00 AM Recreational time

12:00 Lunch

12:30 Excercise led by a drill master

1:00 Support group 

2:30 Recreational time

4:00 Showers

5:00 Dinner

6:00 Private time

7:00 Bedtime

We were handed our grey uniforms and instructed to change immediately. I did as I was told, thoughts on nothing but my past mistakes. Once we changed, I was instructed to go straight to my support group. I folded the paper in my pocket and was led to the room by another officer. It was a silent walk, which only left me to my devilish thoughts. I walked in and all eyes fell on me. I looked around before the officer spoke. 

“Ms. Fujioka, you have a new one. He will be under you for the next 10 years.” 

I heard someone whistle, knowing it was one of the other inmates and she nodded her head. 

“Alright, please take your seat in one of the free chairs. Why not introduce yourself?” She asked after the guard left. I sat down away from everyone and looked around before looking at her. 

“My name is Kazutora Hanemiya… I am 15 years old, and I am here for~a lot of things.” I mumbled looking down. 

“Well, I won’t force you to talk about it right now… but I do want you to acknowledge what you have done. Maybe written on paper, and explain what you think were the leading factors.” I nodded my head and she smiled before turning back to everyone. 

“You came in at the perfect timing…” 

“What do you mean?” I asked confused and the guy nodded his head towards Ms. Fujioka. 

“As I was saying, we are trying something new out. We know, that people your age don’t want to talk with people older than you. So we thought, as a way to open up about your life and to still keep you connected to the outside world, we are going to be doing a pen pal kind of deal. Now it’s not always going to be someone in Japan. We work with so many schools across the world. So they may be somewhere overseas. They will have your profiles, no pictures just a name, age, and birthday. If they choose you, we will let you know. And will probably receive your first letter within a few weeks. Sometimes, longer maybe sooner. Any questions?”

“So, we have no idea who we are writing?” One person asked, and I leaned against my hand. I was slightly interested but I doubt I would have been chosen. I sigh softly as she spoke again.

“Nope, unless they send a picture you will have no idea. You are the first group we have decided to try this with. So it’s a test run, if it works then we will be keeping it in place. If not we will go back to our boring lectures as we did before.”

“So, that means we won’t have to deal with lectures during this period?” The guy next to me asked and she shook her head.

“Nope, but you will be telling me what you learned about your person. I hope you guys get letters soon. For anyone who doesn’t get a letter, we will keep your file open for other schools to eventually choose from. Kazutora, if you have any questions do let me know. You can spend the rest of this session, writing your small essay.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” She got up and walked to the other inmates, and the one beside me ended up talking. 

“My name is Sato Toshiaki, but people call me Toshi. Been here for a couple of years now.” 

“Oh, nice to meet you…I guess.” 

“No need to be cold might as well make friends while you are here. Since you will be here for 10 years.” 

“Yeah, I guess. Honestly, should be here longer.” 

“Well, the way I see it. You know what you did was fucked up, so that’s the first step. According to Ms. Fujioka, so might as well accept it.”

“Mm, I guess…” I mumbled as I worked on my essay. It was quiet for the rest of the session. 

The day had gone by so fast, that I didn’t even realize it was time for bed. Turned out I was stuck with Toshi, who talks a lot. When it was time for the lights to go out, I lay in bed staring at the top bunk. I didn’t realize how exhausted I was but after the day I had, it was a given I would be tired. Yet I could barely sleep because of the events, between Baji’s death, and the fight with Toman, Mikey, Mikey’s brother. Everything. It was becoming too much for me to handle. 

© [@angelsdevils] all rights reserved. none of my posts or stories should be modified, reposted, etc. I do not own the character or the fanart, but I own the plots of these stories. All fanart goes to their appropriate owners.

[pleasantanathema]

Invasive Species

Pairing: Hawks x Fem Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Yandere, Dubious Non/Con, Stalking, Possessive Actions

Word Count: 7.7k

A/N:This is a part of the bnharem pen pals collab that can be found here! Please check out everyone else’s amazing work for this very unique smutty collaboration.

           The noise was so faint, a gentle peck against the glass, the sound muffled by the mild summer breeze, that you hadn’t heard it. And so, the paper became lifeless, drifting down onto the floor to rest until you found it. You were startled when you saw it—a blood red feather, with a crisp, folded note tied to it, lying in your floor, the feather ruffling in the wind from the open window. Your heart pounded in your chest. You had seen feathers like that before, felt them against your skin and in your hair as a winged hero carried you to safety from a burning building just yesterday. But you’d been one of many, he saved so many people, yet he left a feather for you?

           You’ll always be safe with me around.

                                   –Hawks

           You smiled at his writing, finding it to be much neater and prettier than you expected from a man in his twenties. What a kind, considerate hero to send you such an endearing promise. No wonder he topped the popularity polls, you mused, sitting on your bed and re-reading the little note. You tapped the feather against your lips, twirling it between your fingers. You remembered how he was able to control the nimble things, sending feathers zipping across the sky to pull people by their collars and the back of their shirts to safety. Surely he would want it back, right? You felt it twitch within your hand as if it could read your mind.

           Quickly, you searched your desk, ripping at a piece of paper to create a slip similar to the size of his note. You took a breath before writing, not wanting your handwriting to seem unsteady or nervous. You wondered if anyone ever wrote him back, or if people kept his feathers like trophies.

           Thank you, Hawks. I’m grateful that someone will be watching after me.

           You signed your name in the bottom corner.

           The crimson feather darted away when you placed it on your window sill, jumping like it was alive. It carried your note back to waiting hands and a cheeky smile, to a man only a few rooftops away. Avian eyes narrowed and darkened at your innocent words.

           You didn’t realize it at the time, but your message was an invitation to a very dangerous game.

           The next little letter came about a week later, long after the sun had set and your eyes were heavy. The quill against the glass spooked you, the sound reminiscent of sharp nails tapping to get your attention. You opened the window and the feather fluttered past your cheek, landing perfectly in the middle of your desk like it belonged there. You rubbed your eyes as you sat down to read it, flicking on the dim light that you had just turned off to go to sleep.

           You couldn’t help the way you smiled when you saw that this letter was personally addressed to you.

           Sorry for making you wait so long. I’m not used to writing letters. But your handwriting is so pretty, I thought I could implore you for another? Please tell me something about you.

                                                                                 –Hawks

           You blinked at the paper, thumbs crinkling the edges. There was something about the letter that made your heart thump a little harder in your chest, blood racing in your veins. You realized that you were not one of many to receive an assuring note from the hero; no, you had been sought out by him, plucked and singled out of the crowd. Hawks had remembered you in particular. A small bit of adrenaline kicked into your system as you picked up your pen.

           This is going to sound like I’m trying to be sweet on you, but I’ve actually always loved birds. My favorite are the pretty red song birds that I hear outside my windows in the evening.

           There was a compulsion for you to keep this response letter a little longer. You mulled it over, hoping he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. You weren’t lying, those cute little song birds did bring you joy, but there was a tinge in your heart to impress him, to make him smile as he read your letter.

           And as quick as the feather flew in, it flew away, a red streak across the star speckled sky. You finally curled up in bed, a concoction of excitement and content brewing in your chest. You held your pillow a little closer, dreaming of the brush of soft wings against your skin.

           But those wings were dark, casting shadows in the moonlight, now only a single rooftop away from you. Hawks held your letter in his hand, golden gaze locked onto the color of your curtains. He wondered if you’d ever become privy enough to shut them.

           He read your words over and over again, smiling at how coy you were. He knew you were clever, but he didn’t expect you to be so daring. He brushed his hair behind his ear, pressing the small scrap of paper to his nose, trying to get a hint of the sweetness he had smelled in your hair when he plucked you from that building. You were so darling in his arms; he loved how you clung to him, small hands around his neck like you would collapse without him, even when he had you safe on the ground.

           The letter in his hand felt like the key into your life, and all too quickly he found himself writing back to you. And in the depths of the night, this particular letter and feather were hand delivered by the pretty bird from outside your window, though you’d never know it.

___________________________________________________________

           You found the letter tucked neatly into the corner of your window, the one closest to your bed. It had been the first thing your eyes focused on as you awoke, the crimson barbs of the feather gleaming in the early morning light. You laid in the comfort of your warm bed for a few moments just gazing at the sight, sleepy mind trying to piece together how and why the winged hero had taken an interest in you. He was so handsome, so popular, so tantalizing in a curious way.

           The summer breeze was warm even so early in the day. You left the window open to allow a current of fresh air in, settling back into your pillows as you unfolded the note.

           I suppose liking birds is something we have in common. Those pretty red song birds outside your window are actually cardinals…an invasive species in Japan, but pretty nonetheless.

                                   P.S. Perhaps I could soon become your favorite red bird.

                                                                       –Hawks

           You read it a few times, worrying your lip as your eyes raked over every word. There was something to be read between the lines, only you worried you weren’t finding the hidden meaning. Why mention that the birds were invasive species? It made them sound impish and not as lovely knowing they weren’t really supposed to be there. Yet their morning calls were beautiful, melodic, a comfort to your ears from the open window. And was Hawks…flirting with you? His post script seemed so playful and nonchalant, and reading it had your cheeks turning pink.

           You busied yourself with your morning routine as you debated how to reply. You didn’t know Hawks, you didn’t even know how he found out where you lived, and yet he was flirting with you so offhandedly, like he expected you to return his dalliances. Had he come early this morning before starting his hero work? Or did he work at night, and sent a feather before returning home? There was so little that you knew about him that it made you nervous to be stepping into such an unknown situation, but surely it didn’t mean much to him. You were a little nobody; he was the number two hero.

           Even still, in a way, it felt so romantic, finding hand written letters from him, like you were out of time, floating in a midsummer bliss. But it also felt disquieting, like you were stepping out into a vast, unknown ocean.

           You sat down to write to him before you left to begin your day. The feather in your hand was so light, so soft, and you gently stroked your thumb over the barbs, watching them split apart and then find one another again. The hollow shaft seemed to quake in response. You were reminded of how every feather appeared to be alive, controlled by their far-off master. They were so sensitive to every touch, every gust of wind. You dipped your finger against the edge, watching the alluring color bleed against your skin.

           Can you feel what your feathers feel, Hawks?

           And you set the feather free once again, having to block the sun from your eyes as you watched it dance away, note dangling from a long forgotten ribbon you had found in your drawer.

           But soon, you forgot about it, carried away by the daily musings of your life.

______________________________________________________________

           As for Hawks, he thought about it all day, carried your little note in his pocket as he attended to his heroic duties across the city. The image of your window, of your little home where it was tucked away, always remained in the back of his mind. He was itching to go back to the rooftop from where he watched you; he wanted to see your reaction as you opened his letter, watch you ponder how to respond. He was quickly becoming addicted to you, to watching you when you least expected it.

           He had perfectly crafted his response by the end of his day, broad wings hurrying him to his favorite resting spot. Your city apartment was so high up, no one from below could dream of looking up to see you. But he could see you, he had scouted the best from which to watch you. He was just high enough where you couldn’t peer back at him, the perfect perch for a predator to watch his prey. From the neighboring rooftop he could see the entirety of your bedroom. It was like a painting on the wall of a museum, wonderfully on display for him to admire, especially when you came home.

           He rested his cheek in his palm as he watched you come in your bedroom door. He could practically hear you sigh as you dropped your bag, stretching your arms above your head to rid yourself of the small tensions your day had brought you. And this was his favorite part—you quickly shimmied out of your pants, a little dance as you bounced back and forth on your heels, pulling one leg up and then the other. You then bent over and pulled your favorite pair of soft shorts from the floor, having unceremoniously dropped them there the night before. You looked so good in those, he mused, the cozy fabric stretched so snugly upon your hips, curving just right across your backside.

           He waited for you to get comfortable, then plucked a feather from his wings, tying his note to it with the ribbon you’d sent out this morning. He grinned at how you jumped when the feather flew through the crack in your window. He made a little show of having it swirl around you before landing it on your desk.

           I can feel everything that my feathers touch—the wind, water, sound vibrations, they’re a part of me. You should give this one a kiss before you send it back.

           The name’s Keigo, by the way. Takami Keigo.

           Did you always blush like that when you opened his letters? He watched you stand up and pace around, thumb between your pretty lips, lost in thought. Soon you grabbed the note again, plopping on the edge of your bed to read it over. Your legs crossed and uncrossed, a smile finally pulling at your cheeks. He watched with delight as you picked up the feather, tingles immediately spreading across his skin at the feel of your fingers.

           He groaned as you brushed your fingertips over the barbs. He pulled at his tinted eyewear, bringing them to rest upon his head so he could watch you more closely. A lock of hair twisted around his finger as he anxiously waited for you to do as he asked, to kiss his feather, to let him have a fleeting moment where he felt the ghost of your lips upon his skin.

           But you didn’t, you just kept stroking the long red feather, teasing him. His brows furrowed as you stopped, watching you sit the feather back on your desk, along with his note. How could you…how could you not respond to him right away? Why not give him what he desired?

           Hawks watched in disbelief as you sauntered out of your bedroom into another part of your little home.

           He waited for what felt like hours for you to come back. He should’ve left when the sun went down, he chided himself, bringing his wings closer to his body. Autumn was in the wind. He had almost left, was even picking himself up and shoving his hands into his pockets when your room lit up like a beacon calling him back. So he settled back into his spot, golden eyes watching your every move.

           His breath caught in his throat when you began to shed your clothes—all of them. He’d watched you for over a week now, and finally you were fully naked before him. You looked ethereal with the dim light of your room spilling over your curves, every single line of your body on display. He found himself sitting up straighter, perched on the balls of his feet like at any moment he was going to leap into your arms.

           Were you…? Oh fuck, you were walking to your desk, sitting down and taking a pen into your hand. Instantly he was hard, fingers encircling his cock with a death grip as you picked up the feather, his feather, and admired it for a moment. He could feel your breath blowing against the soft barbs, the warmth spreading over him like a blanket from the breeze. But you sat it down, electing to instead write him back, treating him to the lovely sight of your naked back arched over your desk, the elegant sinews of your shoulders on exhibit.

           And then you were in your window, your naked body so temptingly close. He wanted to reach out and touch you, to feel the weight of your breasts within his palms.

           As soon as he felt the wind blowing against the feather, he pulled it back to him. He always knew when it was your feather returning to him, even when he couldn’t see it. He could sense the heft of the paper tied to it, pulling at the feather like it wanted to sink to the ground. He even recognized the tenderness in your touch, felt how you always twisted the feather between your fingers.

           You’re cheeky, Keigo. A kiss? I hardly know you. Maybe one day.

           He scoffed at your words, folding the note back into its creases. Your light flickered off, the moonlight the only illumination for him to gaze into your little world. He watched you climb onto your bed, expecting you to curl up in your favorite spot and drift away into your dreams.

           He was very happily mistaken.

           Your hands were on your body, one cupping your breast, the other slipping into your mouth. He stroked his cock through his pants at the sight, eyes wide and ravenous as he watched the scene unfold before him. You were slow, thorough, taking your time running your hand over your curves, twisting at your nipples. Your fingers left your mouth and traveled south, to another pair of lips he had yet to see. You spread your legs, teasing yourself as your head dipped back against the pillow.

           Hawks was desperately moving his head, angling his body to try to see what sweetness was waiting for him between your legs. But your thigh was in the way, blocking his view, and he huffed indignantly as he unzipped his cargo pants. His cock was achingly hot as he released it, the night air bringing a refreshing chill to his scorching skin. He wrapped his hand a little too firmly around himself, closing his eyes for only a brief moment to imagine how tight you’d be around his cock.

           Your face was awash with pleasure, lips hanging open. He silently vowed to etch that look upon your face himself.He watched you intently, memorizing every movement, every place that you touched yourself. He could’ve observed you for hours, if it wasn’t for his unrelenting need to orgasm. He pumped himself to the paces you set, alternating between fast and slow, wanting to cum the moment you did. But the moment he saw your back arch, his keen hearing picking up on a high pitched moan through the window, he lost control, spilling himself all over his hand and down the front of his shirt, dripping onto his pants.

           He’d been so caught up in his own ecstasy that he missed yours. He only saw you in the afterglow, your curves sinking into the mattress as sleep overcame you.

           He wrote you a quick letter, leaving it wedged against your window sill. He took a moment to admire you up close, hand pressing to the glass to steady the silent flapping of his wings.

___________________________________________________________

            But I know you.

           There was no signature to the note, only large fingerprints upon your window.

           They were like little specters, ghastly against the morning dew.

           Your stomach dropped at the sight, dread bubbling to the surface. He had hand delivered this note, had been at your window, had seen you at some time in the night. You pulled your sheets to your chest, recalling that you’d fallen asleep on your comforter naked last night, only waking in the early hours of dawn to finally crawl under the covers. Had he seen you? Is that what he meant?

           He reminded you of Hermes, a winged protector of humans, but a trickster god nonetheless, flittering around the country with a bright smile and witty banter, but perhaps something darker in his heart. Maybe he was worse than Hermes, maybe more dreadful, more sinful. For a while there had been something nagging at you, pulling at the strings of your intuition and whispering danger. But now…now that feeling had blossomed into fear.

           You decided you had indulged the winged hero enough. There was no need to reply. Any romance you had felt from the actions withered away, dying out like a flower left in the sun.

           You started to close your curtains when you came home most days, just in case.

           Weeks went by, and autumn came. The cardinals stopped singing, with no other red feathers or letters in sight.

           But sometimes you could hear rustling outside, see familiar shadows pass by.

           He was on your television screen, too, newsfeeds obsessed with the most popular hero. He was always being praised for saving more people, for helping rescue and clean up after a disaster. He was darling on the screen, blonde hair always slightly a mess from flying. He seemed so handsome, so harmless, but you could see the glint in his eyes. He was something wicked, something enticing, and you hated that you had thought about him every day since his last letter.

           The morning you found his note, you had thrown the paper in the trash, and thrown the feather back out the window. But by evening, it had fluttered back, red and sweet like a rose growing against the glass. You’d left it there, hoping the wind would take it away, but days went by and it was still hanging on, a reminder of his presence. A storm was on the horizon when you relented and took the feather in. There was something inside of you that couldn’t bear to see the cherry colored barbs wilt in the rain.

           You tucked it away in your desk drawer, not as a reminder, but to just to get it out of sight. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

           Some of your nights were restless, plagued with thoughts of him, of Keigo Takami peeking into your window, of his plush wings against your skin.

____________________________________________________________

           It was after an especially long, grueling day, that you gave in to your repressed thoughts.

           You stood at the foot of your bed, ready to climb in, when some unknown force had you turning on your heels. It was like your hands had a mind of their own, pulling open the drawer and plucking the crimson feather from its resting place. You twirled it before you, nostalgia creeping across your skin as you remembered how the feathers used to look in the summer sky.

           The feather felt like red silk upon your lips when you kissed it. You wondered if he could still feel it, after all these months.

           You laughed at the inane thought, kicking off your shorts as you finally found your way into bed. You gazed up at the ceiling, counting the moonbeams that had slithered in through the cracks in the curtains. You hadn’t closed them all the way, but you rarely did anymore.

           You sighed, closing your eyes and trying to imagine yourself somewhere else. Your fingers drifted down to the hem of your underwear, toying with the edges. You thought of strong arms around you, thick hands in place of your own. You thought of a new hero you had read about earlier, some young, recently graduated young buck from a hero program. You bit into your lip as you tried to recall his name. All you could remember were wild plumes of purple hair, which looked so luscious and soft in the online videos. You tried to imagine him, or someone like him, at least, pressing themselves between your legs.

           Your fingers rubbed lazy circles on your clit, warming your body up. But you couldn’t stay focused on one thought, the problems of your day tiptoeing back into your conscious as you tried to pleasure yourself. Your other hand slipped under your big t-shirt, tugging rather roughly at your nipple as you tried to bring yourself back into a different headspace. You increased the speed of your fingers, only to find yourself panting in dissatisfaction at your actions.

           “Fuck,” you called in frustration to the darkness.

           “Seems like you need some help, little bird.”

           You had never expected the darkness to call back.

           Your whole body stilled, going completely numb as you opened your eyes.

           Hawks stood near your desk, absentmindedly fiddling with the feather you’d left on its surface. The window was open, curtains billowing and brushing against dark wings that eclipsed the moonlight. You felt like the shadows his wings cast were smothering you, sinking around your lungs like an inky vice, keeping your voice trapped within your chest.

           He had the audacity to smile at you. His hands were deep in his pockets, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt that looked haphazardly thrown upon his shoulders. You wanted to run away, but you felt glued to the bed, beguiled by smoldering golden eyes as he approached.

           “I know what you like, you know. Watched you do it so many times now.”

           You braced yourself against the bed, the sheets slipping down as you crawled back, gaze transfixed on the predator placing his knees on the downy comforter. He was so quick, grabbing your leg and pulling you towards him. His smile never wavered as he pressed a wet kiss to your ankle, tongue sneaking out to catch a taste of your skin. You whimpered at his words, tongue too heavy in your mouth to form ones of your own.

           “Cat got your tongue? Come on, I want to hear that pretty voice. Say the magic word, and I’ll be happy to help you out.”

           It was like you were engulfed by his presence. The air smelled like him as he spread his wings, gently ruffling them before settling them back down to his sides. He smelled like rain, felt like a raging storm from above you, all dark clouds and lightning as his quick fingers started to move up your calves, keeping your legs spread to accommodate him upon the bed.

           “N-no.”

           Your voice was weak, just a hot gasp of breath into the room.

           “You sure about that, baby? I promise I know exactly how to touch you.”

           To prove his point, a hurried hand wrapped around your hip, thumb slipping under the fabric of your underwear to skim across your hip bone. You shuttered, his touch was too warm, feeling like he was burning his thumbprint into your skin. But it felt good, the pressure behind the digit so firm, making you feel so real against your body’s borders, feel alive at the jolt of pleasure that ran down your spine.

           But with his body hovering above yours, it felt like there was a heavy weight falling onto your chest, pushing you down, down, down, deep into the mattress and holding you hostage. You wanted to push him away, to scream, to pull at his wings until it hurt him. But you were quiet, frozen in place, entranced by golden curls in the moonlight. And he knew it too.

           “I’m going to show you everything I’ve learned by watching you,” his head dipped down, smile hanging just above your face, “and show you a few new things I know you’ll love.”

           “Hawks,” you breathed out, hands finally moving and finding purchase against his chest. You wanted your tone to sound berating, angry, but instead your voice sounded pleading.

           The brush of his lips against yours was so delicate, a penumbra against supple flesh.

           “Keigo,” he corrected, the syllables of his name pressing into your lips.

           He drank you in with a heavy groan, kissing you like a man starved for touch. You couldn’t close your eyes, too shocked at the sudden intrusion. Just moments ago you were dreaming of a man between your legs, and now one was here, he was real, eyes shut as he moved his lips against yours. Your sight was blurred by forming tears, your vision focused on the black lines that adorned his eyes. They were so beautiful, so stark against his soft skin, a reminder of how truly avian he was; a reminder of his primordial instincts.

           The hand on your hip drew your body up into his, fingers now gripping at your ass with bruising strength. Your mouth fell agape at the stinging pain of his roughness, allowing his hot tongue to slip between your lips. You fisted his shirt, trying to push him away, only to be met with lithe muscles straining underneath the fabric. You were reminded that he might be slender, but he was still a trained fighter, the number two hero, and he could do anything he liked to you.

           He was brash, eager, desperate to finally touch you. His kiss was sloppy and wet, full of hearty groans as his hips bucked against your own. Your eyes finally shut, mind trying to picture someone else above you, someone who didn’t stalk you, scare you, but yet you could only imagine him. His presence was suffocating, his smell saccharine, the brush of his fluttering wings addictive.

           “I knew you kept my feather,” he panted against your lips, his head dipping to your neck where he pressed open mouthed kisses to your beating pulse, “I knew you’d call out for me.”

           “Hawks, no, that’s not what I was—”

           He forcefully sucked at your neck, the sharp pain silencing you.

           “Keigo,” he reprimanded against your skin, “come on, you didn’t miss me? Not even a little?”

           “How can I miss you when I know you’re always there?”

           He chuckled, sitting back and plucking your hands from their tight grip against his shirt. He held a wrist in each hand, settling them on either side of your face, pinning you down under his strong arms.

           “I wanted to write you so many more letters, but I was worried that you’d throw them away.”

           “I would have.” You sneered, wiggling in his grip.

           “But why? I told you that you’d always be safe with me around, little bird.”

           “You’re stalking me, Hawks—”

           The grip on your wrists tightened, his thick fingers crushing the delicate bones, a warning.

           “I’m watching over you.”

           He gradually removed his hands from your wrists, the movement slow, steady, his keen eyes watching to see if you would react. Your skin was throbbing, bones aching from his relentless grasp. You didn’t move.

           “And look at how I found you, baby, so desperate for help.”

           His fingers pressed between your legs, rubbing against your clothed sex. Pleasure ran through your veins like a shock wave, your legs instinctively closing around his forearm. He sat back on his knees, marveling over how your body reacted to such a simple touch. He moved a little faster, a little harder, middle finger pressed firmly against your slit. He daringly pressed in, the fabric of your underwear keeling at his actions, sinking inside of you.

           “Fuck, you’re so wet already, is this all for me?”

           You could only shake your head no, too stunned to open your mouth to speak. He smirked, running his other hand through his hair, whistling at the vexing sight before him. For so many nights he’d wanted to be right here, in your bed, your thighs spread across his own as he touched you, toyed with you, proved to you that he could please you.

           He kept his hand on your pussy, using the other to lift up your shirt, fingers searing across your belly. They kept moving upwards, pushing your shirt away to reveal your breasts. He licked his lips at the sight, fingers itching to pull at your nipples.

           “Say the magic word,” his voice was lower now, more sinister, “say it, and I’ll touch you how you like.”

           Did you even have a choice?

           His hands were perfectly still, like he was a man stopped in time. You blinked at him, once, twice, wondering how something so beautiful could be so nefarious. He looked like a fallen angel, like his feathers had been dipped in blood and he was going to paint you with them. Your heart rate slowed, any adrenaline you had to fight beginning to flush from your veins. Your pussy was aching, the tip of his finger stretching you just enough to make you want more.

           “Please.”

           His eyes snapped to you, black pupils narrowed.

           “A little louder,” he commanded, “and say my name.”

           You swallowed, tongue wetting your lips. Your fingers dug into the sheets, still next to your face where he had left them. You were sweating, overcome with the feeling of your naked chest heaving with shaky breaths.

           “Please…Keigo.”

           The dam broke, sensations flooding over you as he moved freely over your body. Your shirt was gone in an instant, your torso thumping back to the bed before you even realized he had ripped the material over your head. His shirt was gone, too, being shimmied over his wings and tossed into the floor. He was so quick, nimble fingers ridding you of your panties in the blink of an eye. And then he was on you, two fingers sunk deep into your pussy before you could even think to breathe.

           You cried out, body arching as he pumped the digits into you at high velocity, your slick walls clenching. You felt his flaxen hair tickle your chest as his warm mouth sucked one of your nipples into the wet cavern, tongue shamelessly flicking over the hardening bud. Fuck, he felt so good, so warm, so real against your body, so much better than your own hands.

           His teeth pulled at your nipple, white hot heat surging through your body in response.

           “Keigo!” You scolded, but your voice was so high pitched, so laden with lust, that he mistook it for praise.  

           He continued to nip at your breast, fingers still plunging in and out of your pussy, the sounds lewd to your ears. His pace was wild and excited, making your skin tingle from all the attention. He sucked at your nipple, releasing the bud with a wet pop, a string of saliva still connecting his flushed lips to your darkening skin. He nuzzled his face to the underside of your breast, leaving you gasping as he sucked and nipped at the sensitive skin, nose pressing into the fleshy mound.

           His fingers slowed as he sat back to look over your writhing body. He smirked, curling his fingers just right, pads brushing against the soft, flat place buried deep inside of you.

           His free hand encircled your jaw, pursing your lips.

           “Watch me, little bird.”

           You nodded in his grip, keeping your eyes on his as he came to lay between your thighs. He draped one leg across his shoulder, allowing him to angle his head as he pressed a kiss to your clit. You moaned wantonly, worrying your lip between your teeth as you watched him. He was smiling at you, warm golden eyes hypnotizing you to keep observing. He was ready to put on a show, to let you see how observant he was, how he knew your body like the back of his hand without ever touching you before now.

           The way he licked at your clit was intoxicating, little hot swirls with the tip, then heavy strokes with a flat tongue, alternating just how you liked. That sizzling coil inside your belly began to tighten. He was moaning against your wet flesh, the vibrations tingling down your pussy lips. He was enjoying himself, savoring you like an expensive meal he’d waited ages to try. His fingers kept in pace with his mouth, stroking you just right, strumming you like the devil would his fiddle within his hands.

           He then employed a trick he learned from watching you. With his other hand, he spread your labia, exposing your sensitive clit even more to his hungry mouth. You shivered at the onslaught of pleasure, body so hot you felt like you could burst into flames, melt into the bed, die a little death. You whimpered, still wholly spellbound by the vision between your legs. Hawks’ wings seemed to shutter with every moan you made, the red plumage highly attuned to every sound, every move of your body.

           Every touch, every lick, was so sinful and wicked. You tried to remind yourself that you didn’t want this, that Hawks was dangerous, that he had stalked you for weeks and could only tempt you so expertly because he watched you through your windows. But he was so beautiful, so devilishly divine between your legs, hot tongue swirling figure eights against your clit, fingers beckoning you to come undone.

           “You like this.” He said it between long licks, fingers beginning a new, more ruthless pace inside of you.

           A string of curses left your lips, your thighs beginning to quiver against his shoulders.

           “No, no, please no,” you said the words to yourself, the pleasure he was creating becoming unbearable between your legs. He continued to lap against your folds, fingers spreading you wider, keeping you open and unprotected for him. He knew you were close, could feel your walls tightening. He added a third finger just to be cruel, to watch you shrink against the sheets as your back arched for him.

           “Cum on my face, baby, I know you’ve thought about it before.”

           To your shame, you absolutely shattered around him at his words, your pussy spasming, your orgasm flooding all of your senses. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you were blissfully pinned down by his feathers, asphyxiated by his overbearing presence within your room, within your body. He stopped his ministrations, electing to watch you unfold for him from between your legs, eyes brighter than ever before. He could see the muscles within your lower stomach contracting, could feel your orgasm upon his fingers, slick coating them in gentle waves, all for him. The sight was more glorious than he ever imagined, the girl of his dreams cumming all over his fingers, all over his mouth, your sweetness flooding over him.

           He didn’t allow you time to breath, time to bask in the afterglow of your orgasm. He quickly pulled you into his arms, sitting you in his lap, greedily kissing your lips.

           “Keigo,” you whined, pressing against his chest, trying to find a moment to breathe.

           “Fuck, I love the way you say my name,” his lips were relentless, seeking yours out every time you broke away, head following you like a moth would a flame, “keep saying it, baby.”

           “Keigo, get out.” You growled, threading your fingers through his hair and jerking his head away. You kept him at bay, keeping a steady pull on his blonde locks.

           “Oh no, I’m not done with you.”

           His eyes were so dark, his cock so hard between your dripping legs.

           He was the devil, Lucifer himself, the wayward angel staring at you, waiting to devour you. And you, you summoned him.

           There was no incantation that could contain him or send him away. His arms tightened around your back, one hand pulling you into him by your shoulder, the other hastily pulling himself from his pants.

           “See what you do to me, little bird,” he took your hand and wrapped it around his cock, big hand using your smaller one to stroke his length, “I’m always so hard for you.”

           You couldn’t help the shameless moan that tumbled from your mouth. His cock was silky smooth against your fingers, throbbing and hot, far too hot, and slick from his own pre-cum. You didn’t protest as he used your palm for his pleasure, a sly grin upon his cheeks as he felt you become complacent in his lap.

           “Haw—”

           The hand on your shoulder was swiftly upon your face, two fingers that tasted like your pussy invading your mouth to silence you.

           “When you’re with me, you call me by my name.”

           You nodded softly, eyes shifting across the planes of his face, attempting to read his serious expression. He continued to run your hand upon his length, guiding you to squeeze his swollen tip, thumb petting the underside of his cock. His thumb hooked in your cheek, not so gently tugging at the elastic flesh, studying how you let him touch you. He skated his fingers across your tongue, hoping to feel the wet muscle react to him.

           “Keigo,” you mumbled against his fingers, the sound like manna from heaven to his ears.

           “Good girl,” he cooed, feathers ruffling as he pushed you back onto the pillows.

           You laid before him again, limbs heavy and with the ghost of his fingers still in your open mouth. He looked like a god as he towered above you, wings spreading wide as if to parade their otherworldly beauty before you.

           Then you felt the weight of his hips between your legs, the press of his chest against your own, the prickle of his facial hair against your neck as he settled himself there. His hands were on you again, precipitous and heedless against your curves, twisting and pulling at your flesh to bend one leg back, hook the other around his waist.

           His cock nudged at your wet heat, one of his hands guiding him inside of you, the stretch simultaneously delightful and dreadful. Protest was on your tongue, you could taste the words, feel your gut instinct to use your curled leg to kick him away. But your arms welcomed him, encircling his shoulders as you moaned for him. Your head tipped back against the pillow and he took the opportunity to latch on to you again. His tongue lapped at the sore spot he had created earlier with his mouth, tasting the saltiness of sweat upon your skin.

           “You feel so good around my cock,” he groaned, hips beginning to snap into you. Your nails dug into his shoulders, his feathers brushing against your knuckles as he moved within you. You felt so full, so entirely encompassed by him, enraptured by the sweetest devil.

           All your movements felt coerced, like your body was following his lead against your will. Your hips began to match his thrusts, bucking up into him in order to feel his thick cock fall deeper into you. His strong hands encouraged you, gripping into the supple flesh of your thighs as he pressed himself into your wetness, faster and faster with every thrust.

           You kept your eyes open for a moment, entranced by the exquisite scene above you. Keigo felt unhinged, electric against you, golden curls bouncing upon his head, red feathers dancing upon his back. But his face was smooth, pretty, cheeks dusky with a dark blush as he found euphoria from within your body. One of your hands trailed up to the back of his neck, weaving within his hair. His eyes fluttered open to see you, signature grin returning as he felt your touch, his hips rocking a little harder to reward you.

           “Tell me how it feels to have me inside of you.”

           You closed your eyes then, focusing on how effortlessly his cock glided within you. Each thrust was hasty and rough, skin slapping against skin as his cock buried itself deep within your gut. He curved just perfectly inside you, cockhead delightfully brushing against the sensitive flesh of your walls with every plunge of his hips. His hands were splayed across your hips, one dangerously close to your clit, as if teasing you.

           “Fuck,” you hissed, recognizing the buildup to orgasm pooling within your belly, “you feel so good.”

           A bawdy sound left his throat at your words, like he’d died upon hearing them.

           One of his hands slid higher upon your body, fingers lacing around your ribcage, framing the underside of your breast. He began to forcefully pull your body into his, sliding you upon and down the sheets and upon his cock. You cried out, leg tightening at his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, begging him to devour you and take what he wanted.

           “That’s right, little bird, I’m going to make you cum on my cock.”

           Your breasts were bouncing against his chest, your nails leaving indents upon his skin, his mouth back to sucking at your neck.

           “And then I’m going to cum in you, make you mine.”

           You were too lost to care, every nerve under your skin desperate for his touch. His thumb glided wickedly against your clit, fanning the hellish flames of your ecstasy even hotter and higher than before. A shriek of pleasure erupted from your chest, the hand upon his head bringing him closer to you, crashing your lips together as tears gleamed in your lashes. His cock was hammering into you so ruthlessly, your clit feeling abused from his too-quick thumb.

           You were coming undone too quickly and too soon, your body feeling like threads being ripped apart at the seams. He grunted into your mouth, your tongue finally coming to play against his own, battling against him as you wrestled within yourself not to cum for him again so soon. But every stroke of his cock brought a fresh burst of pleasure blooming across your body, and you were so close, so fucking close to falling off the edge.

           “Say my name,” he demanded against your lips, “say my name when you cum.”

           There was no reason for you to comply, you weren’t his, he didn’t own you, but everything inside of you ached to appease him, and your mouth moved on its own accord.

           “K-Keigo,” you stumbled, feeling yourself climbing the orgasmic ladder, every harsh thrust of cock leading you up another rung. His arm wrapped around your back, pressing you up against him in a hectic embrace. Your face settled against his shoulder, your fingers tightening in his hair, the others drawing blood upon his back. He only purred at the pain, so determined to bring you to release that he paid it no mind. His thumb rubbed tirelessly at your swollen clit, moving it in harmony with his cock.

           Suddenly your moans stopped, the air being knocked from your lungs as pure ecstasy approached again.

           And then the world felt too quiet, your mind hazing over as you cried out in melodic moans, your inner walls clenching and unclenching so deliciously tight against his thick cock as you came for him. You could feel the heavy weight of him inside of you, still plunging into your depths as he sought his own release. Your fingers relaxed against his skin, feeling like you were sinking and he was the only thing keeping you safe from the fall.

           “Keigo,” it was a whisper, the barest hint of sound against his ear. But he felt, heard it, and it had him tumbling over the orgasmic edge with a roar of your name. Hot ropes of cum filled your body, his hard cock twitching against your walls.

           “Fuck you’re mine, all mine.”

           He murmured it against your hair, both arms now wrapping around your body. You laid there, motionless in his arms, heart pounding within your ear drums. Reality came crashing down far slower than your orgasm had, but still the consequences of your actions felt weightier against your body than the man above you.

           He fell to his side next to you. But he wasn’t gone, far from it, as his hands were back on your body. One trailed across your cheek, the other dabbled between your legs, toying with his cum that leaked from within you.

           He smirked, eyes catching yours, “and now you’re mine, my perfect little bird.”

           You were too tired to fight back, lids heavy as he held you against his warmth, the fierce wings of an invasive species draped across your naked flesh.

[magiefish]

hhhhhhhhhh guess who drew all the batim characters in prep for the comic they’re making!

yeah so it took like 4 days to draw all these guys, and it was actually pretty fun figuring out colours and designs and stuff!

(also, update on the Reveries Twisted comic, I have a plan for the first chapter but i have like, 7 tests next week and I haven’t started drawing it yet so it’s definitely not going to be coming out anytime soon sdfgsdfsj but i am still working on it!)

anyway, i felt like writing little descriptions for every character, so feel free to read these below the ‘keep reading’ line if you feel like it! My ask box is also always open, so if u have any questions feel free to ask

Bertrum Piedmont-he/him, gay/ace

-Started working as a mechanic at about 15 and worked his way up from there -Everyone in the studio @ him: why are u british -His big ego often gets in the way of things, but at his core he's a good person (doing bad shit but ultimately having good intentions is common among these guys shdgfs) -Wlw & mlm solidarity w/ Lacie, who is his most trusted confidant and friend -Actually treats his employees well, even when they do basically nothing all day, so he does a lot of work himself most of the time Linda Stein-she/her, straight as a ruler -Parents immigrated from Spain -She's very catholic and very into 'traditional family values' and that sort of stuff -She is sweet, but her strict morals and black and white ethics often make her do unintentional harm -She is also pretty oblivious to most things Jack Fain-he/him & they/them, pan/ace, OCD -Mother immigrated from China to France, and then he moved to America, it's confusing -Can play the violin really well, but is terrible at composing his own pieces -Peak friend material -Short and round and soft with a love of a good espresso -Kind and quiet but ultimately ineffective and happy to watch from the sidelines Daniel 'Buddy' Lewek-he/him, aro/ace, autistic, jewish -He is curious and observant, but very very naive -He finds it hard to pick up on social cues, and tends to daydream a lot -Never really had a father figure, and unfortunately kind of half sees Joey as one (baaaad choice), but his mother is great -Loves drawing and tends to chew on pens (and most objects really) -Too young Susie Campbell-she/her, demi -Her parents were Russian and she picked up their accent, but taught herself how to cover it up. She is now excellent at voice acting. -Has a birthmark most theatres turned her away for. But luckily voice acting gave her another chance at performance, and the music department really does not care about it. -Her dad was a butcher, so she now knows a concerning amount about how to cut up and dissect meat. -She gets easily attached to things emotionally, and has a whole pile of random bits and bops she keeps on her person because she can't throw them away. -Naive, but smart enough to know how to read and deceive people if needed. Ms Abigail Lambert-she/her, lesbian -A very gifted artist, who is quite frustrated with the business aspect of animation. -Picked up quite a few things about engineering from Lacie. -Stern, but kind. Motherly, if she likes you and you squint hard enough. -Used to fighting for things. -Giving her food is a pretty good way to get her to like you. Being an artist, she forgets to eat at the correct times a lot, so a meals always appreciated. Norman Polk-he/him, gay, albino -Knows how to fix things, knows how to fight, knows how to hide -General cool uncle vibes -He watches people a lot, and gives off some creepy vibes, but he does genuinely care about people -Knows something is up and is determined to find out what (even if he dies trying) -Fought in WW1, then worked at a cinema for a bit. Emma Lamont-she/her, heteroflexible -Keep dancing even when everything goes wrong -Bit of a 'i'm better than these fools' mentality going on -But she's pretty chill, and willing to act when needed -Basically every woman in the studio knows her on the basis that she chills in the girls bathroom. -Hates Joey, but knows those who stir up a bit too much trouble usually 'resign' Sammy Lawrence-he/him, (vocal-romantic) bi/ace, ADD -His dad sucked, so he ran away. He's also the reason he's largely abandoned his faith, but he still holds hope that there is some kind of god out there. -He and Jack are basically brothers, they've known each other for a long time. -He can compose music in his head, but can play basically every instrument. -Tall and thin and sharp with a love of black coffee. -He's actually pretty chill and nice, but the conditions of the studio (workload, noises, dreams) have left him quick to snap and a stressed out mess. -He's pretty oblivious to his own feelings and spends basically all his time thinking about music, so he usually only realises that he has a crush on someone if he hears them singing (hence the vocal-romantic joke) Johnny Hart-he/him (she/her), gay (trans), heart condition -A nervous wreck who avoids everything and everyone -Trans but doesn't realise it, he thinks this level of discomfort has something to do with his heart condition or something like that. -Speaking of which, if he gets genuinely terrified or panicked he could have a heart attack. -Hence why he's a recluse who remains in the organ room and interacts w/ literally no one. -Except Dot and Buddy (who forgets he exists and who he also has a crush on). Wally Franks-he/him, pan -Friends with literally everyone who isn't one of the older folks (and thomas) -Honorary member of the music department because he can play a harmonica and vibes with everyone there. -Tries to put a positive spin on everything, often beyond the point of reason -A mischevous, mildly selfish prankster with a heart of gold -Gossip pals with Susie and Norman The Violinist-she/her, nobody knows -Has literally never expressed an emotion ever -Seems to know things are going to happen before they happen -Just generally pretty weird -She isn't friends with Dot, they're both just vaguely interested in what the others doing -She looks a lot like Allison, but the two have never spoken and nobody knows if they're sisters Thomas Connor-they/them, gynephilia -He is just. So tired. -An actual mechanical genius who gets his work used for the wrong purposes. -Is very of the 'when you're on a path stick to it' mentality -Cold and hard exterior that vertually no one except Allison has ever managed to get through. -He can and will beat you up. Henry Stein-he/him, gay, vitiligo -Nice and hardworking. -Doesn't have many emotions other than to draw. -He's in fucking narnia he's so deep in the closest. -Feels emotions, but buries them deep down and doesn't express them too clearly. -Has difficulty setting healthy boundaries with people and represses himself far too much. Joey Drew-he/him, homoromantic/pansexual, bipolar disorder, alcohol and cigarette addictions -Chaotic, feral, short little man who lies to everyone -Charismatic as hell, but also a terrible friend and person in general -He doesn't blink enough, does not know the meaning of personal space, and hasn't aged for about 4 years, which are all very bad signs. -Doesn't understand how to run a business but does so anyway. Doesn't understand how to interact with people but does so anyway. Doesn't understand how to create life but does so anyway- -He isn't pure evil, he just gets into very bad mindsets and makes poor decisions that lead him down the wrongest way to go. -Does some self evaluation and goes 'maybe this wasn't the right way chief :/' just a bit too late Audrey Dempsey-she/her, lesbian, Borderline Personality Disorder -Feral conspiracy theorist -May or may not be related to multiple studio members -Everyone's called her crazy for years and made her feel like a burden, and she is hellbent on proving everyone wrong -Quite socially awkward, and rather sarcastic with a dark sense of humour -Works for Archgate Allison Pendle-she/her & they/them, androphilic/ace -Is forever lost in a vintage clothing store -Most people say she seems nice, but everyone just kind of subconciously registers that there is something up with her -Knows a lot about the supernatural -The person closest to Joey, which doesn't necessarily mean they're friends -Nobody has ever seen the right side of her face Dot Acciaci-she/her, pan -Her parents are Italian, and she speaks a little herself, usually using it to encrypt her private notes -Mischevious & curious, but ultimately kind -She will find out your secrets, and is very good at reading people -Great storyteller -Struggles with loneliness a lot Dr Eleanor Hackenbush-she/her, aro/ace -Science knows no bounds -Doesn't care what your motivation is, as long as you give her some cash and some experiments -Filled with nothing but utter spite Ms Reina Rodriguez-they/them, demi -Tired of everything -Although she puts up a calm exterior, Rodriguez is very attached to the studio and views it as her 'new family', having a terrible relationship with her old one -Her family drama connects to the fact they're very catholic, but she nobody knows what this drama is other than Joey Tessa Arch-she/her, straight -An absolute bitch -Trusts her husband far too much -Not very smart, but compensates for this for being good looking and rich Shawn Flynn-he/him (intersex), pan -Jovial, but gets angry quickly -Willing to do 'wrong' things if it helps someone else out, kind of like Robin Hood or something -His mother taught him how to sew and he helped her make clothes when he was younger -Found it hard to get a job because he's Irish, so despite being tired of all the bullshit of JDS, he is reluctant to look elsewhere -Friends with Lacie and Grant because they appreciate his humour Lacie Benton-She/her, lesbian, trans -Tougher than the toughies -wlw & mlm solidarity w/ Bertrum, who she views as one of the only genuinely smart people in JDS and who she has worked for for basically all of her life -Feels like something is up, but doesn't notice much if it doesn't connect to her work -Has automatophobia -Friend with Shawn and Grant because she respects their dedication to their work Grant Cohen-He/him, bi, depression, jewish -Absolute madlad at maths -Acts like he doesn't care what you think, cares far too much about what you think -Everyone wants him to just get therapy already -Doesn't have many friends, but has a weird 'we're both horribly overworked' kinship with Sammy, so they usually just chill and smoke together -Friends with Shawn and Lacie because they're actually mentally stable and he needs some rocks Nathan Arch-He/him, straight -You should hate him -You should hate him a lot -Super rich and doesn't pay his workers enough -Silver tongued -Basically a spider. Creates webs of manipulation and lies, sees a lot, and knows plenty about waiting for his prey to come to him.

[ughthatimagineblog]

When John Met. . .

john mulaney x reader

prompt: you’d loved him for years, before, during and after his fame, but what happens when you close your heart and he tries to win you over? oh, by the way, it’s in front of millions of people. requested: @lundqvistisgod warnings: cursing? kissing? word count:4232 a/n: jesus christ idk why it took me so long to shit this out. it was a beautiful prompt and the idea for the skit came to me from my fave fave fave rom com ever pls enjoy

       You knew you wanted to be a writer, but staring at screens all day with the accompanying hum of machinery is not what you had pictured when you would think of your dream job. It never occured to you that maybe writing isn’t as simple as just “writing”. It had, but of course you were blindsided by the glitz and glamour of the flashing lights you had in your mind when it came to success in your dream career. Writing for Saturday Night Live was a dream… Sometimes. A lot of the time it was constant meetings with producers, stuck up famous people, more writers and interns that didn't know what the hell was going on. But at the same time, neither did you.

       However, there was something off about this draft for next week’s show. It didn’t have a host written in. You looked over your computer to Pete who was also clicking away at his desk. You had come to be quite fond of him over the past couple of years. You were about the same age but you met him when you were also a clueless intern, prime in your senior year of university and he was only slightly more familiar to the studio than you were and just a little bit more outgoing which made him the perfect person to cling onto while you learned the ropes. It didn’t matter whatever you went through, he was there to help and it often saddened you to think of the day he moves on and expands his career without you. It was something you didn’t enjoy dwelling on and out of all the ups and downs you both had been through, you know you’d never trade them for the world.

    One of the biggest issues you’d had that Pete had helped you with was John. Yes, John Mulaney. You’d met him towards the end of your intern years as you were invited back as a full time employee and writer for the show and he changed your life. He gave Pete a run for his money and even caused a little fight between you both while all three of you were first writing for SNL. You had spent so much time with John it drove Pete wild and he didn’t understand it until he drove you to confess your feelings for him. You and Pete knew you hadn’t had much luck with guys or felt so strongly for someone since high school so it was kind of a big deal for you. Alas, it did not last long and you were given the chance to move on as John left the show to pursue his standup career which turned out to be fruitful.

      You remember seeing his shows start popping up on Netflix and then he’d have new ones every now and then, still performing in New York. You even went to see a few a couple years ago. But over time your frequent conversations became, well, less frequent. Every day turned into every week, every week into every month and every month into every year and then not at all. The world kept turning and he had forgotten. 

     By the time he’d returned to SNL to write you’d figured he’d become another washed up celebrity you both used to snicker at. You’d assumed the jabs in his shows were just quips to pander to audiences that were alien to celebrity life and not genuine like they would’ve been years ago. Now he was almost thirty two, much more skilled in his practice and you were closing in on twenty five and still at the same job you started at just with a higher pay raise and a little more creative freedom.

     It pained you sometimes to see him around, to be forced to interact with him. There have been several late nights with your pal Pete where you would just rant about John and how hellish it was having to work with him again. Of course, Pete would listen and offer sage where he could but overall you would do most of the talking. At one point, he asked if you’d even spoken to him to see if your assumptions were true. You admitted you hadn’t. At least not in any way that had been genuine. You worked with him so of course you had to speak with him but not for longer than moments at a time and not for any more than a few words. It was all you’d offer John. It broke you when he left, it broke you again when he changed, something still unconfirmed but you were sure of it, and you couldn’t allow yourself to be broken again. Your fingers flicked the edge of a packet of paper idly as you debated asking Pete for help on the somewhat empty screen plan in front of you. He looked busy, like he didn’t want to be bothered and had better things to do. Besides, you were starting to feel bad about how much you ranted to him. Of course you let him rant to you as well but it was nothing compared to what you needed to let off and you could tell how much it was wearing on him. Little did you know, though, that Pete wasn’t necessarily tired of your rants, he was more tired of being the middleman. John, since coming back to SNL had been coming to him for advice as well. He knew that Pete was your closest friend and wanted to know how to get close to you again so John would go to Pete. They’d exchange emails and text, even going out for a beer a couple times a week all without your knowledge. Well, Pete would have a beer, John would go for the water or tea. If Pete let you find out, he knew just how angry you’d be and how you’d never let him live it down and he’d go down as the traitor friend who let her long time unrequited love just walk back into their lives with no fight. But that’s exactly how it was. Pete and John became really good friends since he had come back and actually found more things in common than just ‘you’. During this formed friendship, Pete learned John actually felt for you. In more ways than he had ever led on.

      You sighed, finally caving in and opened your mouth to ask Pete why there were blanks in the forms when one of the interns walked into the office with a bouquet of flowers. Pete’s eyes quickly looked up from the monitor to the intern and back to you with a questioning look. Only a moment more and you stood. “Um, hi, can we help you?” You said, voice soft. “Yeah, these flowers are for a,” The intern paused to look at the note in her hands. “Y/N.” They looked back to you expectantly. “Oh, that’s me. Are you sure that’s correct?” You asked, doubt lacing your voice as you looked between Pete and the intern. They nodded, showing you the card. Sure enough your name was written in calligraphy and signed, ‘Secret Admirer’. You smiled, furrowing your brows a bit in confusion. “All right. Well, thank you.” You took the flowers from the temp’s arms and set them on your desk, staring at the card.

      “Well?” Pete’s voice jolted you from your train of thought. Looking up from the piece of paper between your fingers you saw his expecting expression. “It’s from a secret admirer.” You laughed, giving the card to Pete. He smiled, shuffling in his seat as he turned it over in his hands. “Someone in the office likes you.” He grinned and you rolled your eyes. “Yeah well, very funny Pete but valentines day isnt until next year.” You turned back to your desk, ready to work again, already forgetting about your earlier question. “It wasn’t me.” His tone was serious. Looking back up at him, his face matched his voice. “You mean this wasn’t a joke?” He shook his head and you returned to your work, noticing your coworker had sent you a couple emails regarding a different project and for the rest of the day, the blanks in the form and the anonymous love had been forgotten.

      For the next week, conversation with John had grown and you realized, maybe, he wasn’t as stuck up as you had previously believed. He was still kind, still funny, and still knew you better than most. But you were still wary, moving farther away when he would get close enough to, what seemed like, hear your heartbeat. Or sometimes he would say something that would edge between friendly and flirty and you’d change the subject, shutting it down before your face could heat up. But even as the interactions frequented, so did the flowers.

       Followed by chocolates, and gifts that were surprisingly personal to you, each coming with a new note that became more detailed over time and by Monday, table work day, it was obvious your admirer was on the writing team for this upcoming Saturday. You smiled as you unveiled the card tucked into the sleeve of the coffee cup before you, which by the way, was ordered to your specific liking. Amused, you turned to Pete, leaning on your desk, reading the note out loud. “I hope you enjoy this special cup of your favorite blend. I’m looking forward to seeing you later today- later today?” You paused, surprised. Pete’s eyebrows shot up as a mischievous grin spread across his face.

       “They must be in the table room for later.” Pete shrugged, leaning back in his chair, biting on the end of his pen with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Must be.” You giggled. “Nice sweatshirt by the way.” Pete said with a pointed look. You looked down and felt your face heat up with the realization. You had bought a shirt online with a reference to one of John’s show’s on it. Despite everything you had claimed, you still admired him and were proud. You were really just scared of getting hurt. “You know it’s nothing to be ashamed of but-“ He checked the time. “We have to get to the meeting.” You nodded grabbing your coffee and the notebook, heading out the door with Pete.

        You were halfway down the long hallway towards the table room when it finally dawned on you. “Oh yeah, Pete, there was a mistake in my forms. Who is the host? The spot was blank?” You asked as he reached for the handle and opened the door. You walked into the room, still waiting for a reply from your friend. You wouldn’t get one. Sitting at the table was two other writers you were not super familiar with and then John. John Mulaney sat at the head of the table. One of the writers turned to you and smiled. “Y/N, John’s going to be our host this week.” Shutdown. Your brain began to shut down. This meant youd work with him more. Every day for a lot longer than just a few seconds. You were so shocked you didn’t feel the hot coffee that was now on your hands as you had squeezed the cup too hard. 

      “Oh, shit.” You cursed, face heating up and the horrid chain of events unfolding before you. John’s face changed from smiling to concerned as he leapt up from his seat to help assist in the cleanup.

    You stood in the breakroom, water from the sink left running as you leaned against the sink while John was applying Neosporin onto your burn. “Does it hurt?” He asked softly, eyes focused solely on the injury before him. “No, not anymore.” You managed to get out. He was so close. Your cheeks felt hot and even though he towered over you, the proximity made him feel small. “I told you, it’s not that big of a deal-“ You were cut off by him shushing you. “Hey, I wanted to help so I’m helping.” You rolled your eyes as he finally made eye contact again. “You’re wasting time.” He scoffed. “Pete and Megan can handle it for a while.” You shook your head and it fell silent. “Nice sweatshirt.” He grinned. “Shut up.” He laughed and your heart clenched in your chest. You loved his laugh. “No animosity. It’s a good bit.” He turned to reach for the bandaid. “Yeah, a lot of people seem to think so.” You said, a hint of venom in your tone.” His eyes shot to yours. “Is there something wrong?” John’s voice has both concern and hurt in his voice.

       “No. Put the bandaid on.” John’s hand withdrew. “No, now I know something’s wrong.” You looked at him and sighed. “You’ve just been gone and you’re different.” You confessed. “I’m different?” You nodded, crossing your arms, flinching and then uncrossing them. He muttered a “Give it here.” before taking your hand again and dabbing it with a cool cloth more. “You left a long time ago and it was hard seeing you go. And then it- you got really really big and famous and soon enough you were just like them.” Your words felt small saying them aloud. His expression was incredulous. “Like them? Like who? Like the people we used to shit on? Y/N, I’m not ‘like them’. I haven’t changed. But every time I’ve tried to show you that since being back you’ve backed away. Pulled away. If anything you’ve changed.” Your head snapped up at him, a ping of hurt went through you.

      “I have not changed. I just don’t know when you’re going to leave again so I’d rather not lead my own feelings on and let you get close to me again just for you to run off again.” Your eyes closed after you finished confessing, only in the back of your mind registering what you had told him.

       “Your feelings for me?” He asked and your eyes opened. “Yes. And I’d rather not re-open that wound if you’re just going to run off again. But thank you, for trying.” You grabbed the band aid from his hands, which were shaking but you were too quick to notice, and left. You left him in that break room with no room for a response or time to register. You didn’t want or care to know his response.

     Saturday finally came and so did the end of working within more-than-close proximity with John. He had talked to you the same amount as the days before, not mentioning what you had told him, treating you just the same and eventually your heart sank at his indirect answer to how he felt in return. But the secret admirer never stopped sending gifts. Another cup of coffee, more flowers, your apartment was filled with them, and more food. By the time your last gift came in today, you marched down to the other writer for Saturday’s episode, Michael’s office to tell him to stop. You knew it was him, especially after Monday. At first it was sweet but at this point you didn’t like him that way and knew you had to tell him.

    You knocked on the threshold and leaned in the frame. Michael’s eyes popped up from his desktop and smiled when he saw you. This was going to be hard. “Hey, Mike, I just wanted to say thank you for all these little gifts but,” You walked further into the room to make sure you two were alone. “I don’t like you in that way. I’m sorry. I just have feelings for someone else and you’re a great guy, and I-“ 

      “Stop, stop, stop. I didn’t send you those gifts.” Michael said, a smile on his face. “What?” He chuckled. “Yeah, those gifts that intern’s been delivering? Those aren’t from me. Thanks for thinking it was me, but they weren’t.” He smiled with a closed mouth before returning to work.

     You left his office perplexed. Who could it have been? Maybe Pete had been doing it as a joke. You would wait until he got off of lunch to confront him and tell him how mean that was but for now there was work to do and a show to air.

      Night fell and Pete returned just as everyone was preparing for places and you nearly stabbed him with your own finger when he got back. “You asshole!” His arms flew up and the couple steps he took back from you were staggered. “What the fuck?” People shoved past as you pressed on. “You sent all that bullshit to me?” Pete’s face turned on a dime as he registered what you implied. “No! I did not!”

      “Do not lie to me, I talked to Michael, he didn’t send them.” You claimed, crossing your arms, brows furrowed so deep you felt like you hadn’t moved your face for ages. “Of course it wasn’t Michael. Michael is gay, Y/N. But that’s not even the top reason why it wouldn’t be him.” You shrugged, throwing your arms and feeling one of them flop to your thigh as your other hand came up to pinch the bridge of your nose. “Then who did?” You released the bridge and looked up with a questioning gaze. Pete only returned with an equally expectant stare.

     It registered and your turned towards the cast hallway in horror and surprise. “No.” Your voice sounded distant, even to your own ears. You stood there, frozen, people bumping into you in a hurry as they passed. What was really ten seconds felt like thirty minutes before Pete sighed. “Yes, it was him.”

       “And you didn’t tell me?”

“He wanted it to be a surprise! He told me this is what he was going to do and holy shit, finally. I was so sick and tired of you both secretly pining for each other like, what kinda bullshit is that?” Pete rambled for a few moments before finding your unresponsiveness a little tiring and walking off. Your feet moved you before your brain did after that. Back to your office, to put away a couple folders given to you by some bustling assistants, cameramen or more interns, then they carried you back while the anxiety built up. You came back to see John take his place, an assistant handed him a bottle of water and he took a drink, catching your eye. The director began to count. You smiled and he waved back and they hit five seconds. The audience was in place, you were next to camera man A, aka James to oversee how well the script ran and soon enough, John began hosting.

             His bit ended sooner than expected and he came straight up to you the moment the cameras were off of him. “Was that okay?” He asked, half jogging up to you, nearly chugging the water he was given. “Yeah, you did great.” You nodded, offering to hold the bottle for him but he shook his head in response. Your head was still reeling, not forgetting about the fact he was the one to send those gifts but not knowing how to ask about it. “I have to do a couple more skits before I can bring you on.” He admitted, signaling you to walk with him. “What?”

       “I talked to Lorne and Don. They agreed to let you do a skit with Aidy and I. It’s close to the end and I talked to Inga. She agreed to do your makeup and hair while I go on to do my other ones.” You failed to speak as he explained and all you could do was stutter. “I won’t even know what to say? This is not what we wrote.” You tried to weasel your way out of it. “It’s an improve. You’ll do fine. Kate comes in around the middle so if you start dying she can help.” He nodded with reassurance as you reached his dressing room and opened the door to meet Inga, Louie and Cara. “Oh god.”

     You waited in his room long after he left. His costume changers were also there to help, which you were booted for, but welcomed back in as he went on. They changed you into your costume which fit you surprisingly well. Well cut skinny jeans and a nice shirt. Inga did your makeup to compliment your face and eyes and your hair to complete everything. “I must be one of the normal ones in this one, huh?” You quipped and Inga just smiled which, admittedly, worried you. Just as you were about to dwell on it too much, the door opened and Stella, the girl you liked to call the cue girl, opened the door and waved you out. Your breath was shaky and steps were uneven as you made the trek to the stage. She informed you they had three minutes until the commercial break was over, the musical guest would introduce the skit and they would signal you to go on with John. You nodded adamantly, not bothering to tell her you knew how the show ran in fear of throwing up the moment you opened your mouth. Three minutes passed faster than they should have and right before you were about to ask about them rigging the clock, John came up, dragged you to side stage and whispered “Break a leg.” You smiled up at him and his eyes found yours with a soft look. It felt safe. The musical guest walked onto the main stage and introduced the skit. “New Years Eve” they had announced and before you could think of how odd it was, considering it was August, they started counting you down from behind the camera and it was also only then you realized the room was packed with extras all wearing party clothes. You recognize the scene immediately.       “When Harry Met Sally.” You muttered. The camera guy’s hands counted down from ten as Aidy rushed you into place. “When John Met Y/N.” She said and winked, walking away. “What?” You asked, panic and confusion now flooded you. The room was so crowded and she was gone before the man hit five. Four… Three… Two… One… Everyone in the room began counting down as the music kicked up and the twinkling of party decor littered the set. Your confusion was appreciated but genuine as John approached you. He had the nerve to drag you into this. Your confusion turned to anger and you no longer cared. “Dammit, John, what the hell is this?” You made a vague gesture around the room. It was improv technically, or at least, you could play it like it was. The look in his eyes told you he knew it wasn’t. “You drag me into your crap the moment you come back like nothing has changed? And you sent me all that other stuff like nothing has happened? Don’t you care about me? Because if you did, you’d know you can’t just walk back into my life like that. It doesn’t work that way.” Your heart gasped. You’d said it. “Well, I do care about you. I care about the way you bite your lip when you get real nervous,” He wasn’t.      “I care about how you can never make up your mind whether you want tea or coffee and how, despite claiming you hate me, you still wear my sweatshirt. And most of all I care about how, even after all this time, your laugh hasn’t changed a bit and even after I leave work and go home to my apartment at night, I can still hear it in my head. Away from home, that's what I missed most. And come to think of it, you are what I missed most and it killed me you never knew how much I loved you before I left.” He finished and it took a few moments for the blood to stop rushing in your ears long enough to realize the crowd had stopped counting and you could hear the tail end of the audience’s ‘awe’. “And all this?”       “Surprise.” He whispered sheepishly, coming close to your, his arms coming up to your biceps as you had crossed your arms earlier. “You’re an asshole, yknow that?” You smiled, as he leaned down to kiss you. “Believe me, I know.” Your lips brushed his and he smiled through the tender kiss before pulling away. The audience clapped as you both pulled from each other. You looked around. “Did you plan all this just to ask me out on a skit?” You realized cameras were still rolling. He nodded and turned to the camera. “That’s right folks, you just witnessed an elaborate plan to ask the love of my life out on a date instead of an actual skit. That’s something you just paid money for. Thank you all for watching… “ You turned away from him and the giggling audience to find Pete off stage. You smiled softly at him and mouthed ‘thank you’. He smiled and winked in return. “... And goodnight!” John finished and came back to kiss you more as the credits rolled and the music resumed. Maybe he wasn’t stuck up, but he was right about one thing. Famous people are weird.

[theprodigypenguin]

I’m gonna get sappy here for a bit, so feel free to pass this post.

All day today my coworkers were talking about Valentine’s Day and their significant others, one of them talked about how she set up cute goodies for her husband and kids, another talked about making dinner and getting her boyfriend of 4 years a valentine’s gift after work, and the third one talked about spending a cute dinner with her boyfriend. That was all super fine, it was cute, they were all so excited that I got excited listening to them. They looked so happy that I was only happy for them, but then one of my coworkers looks at me and goes “so do you have a love interest in town, someone you like?”

For background, yeah, I do. There’s a guy who works in the same building that I like. We don’t exactly work together, because we work in two separate businesses that just happen to be located in the same place (they’re like a grocery store and we’re a deli/bakery that sells stuff in the front of the store). So he’s like a work crush, but I’ve liked him for MONTHS. I even bought him something for Christmas, and was bold enough to give it to him in person instead of shoving it in his cubby and running away like I wanted to. 

Clearly he appreciated it because the next day he gave me a Christmas gift too (one of two gifts I got aside from a Christmas care package I got from Weasel). It was an adorable little notebook that he bound BY HAND, the cover is real leather, and he made it THAT NIGHT. Like? Why is he so sweet? And I really like him, and sometimes I get the feeling he may like me back, but there’s so much wrong with me, emotionally and mentally, that I don’t know if I can properly understand other people’s opinions or feelings towards me.

People liking me is just... absurd to me, because it doesn’t make sense, because no one has ever liked me before, because clearly there’s something wrong with me, so what makes me at twenty-two so different from me at any other age? My romantic relationships in the past have been far and few between. I’ve had exactly one person I called my boyfriend, and I fucked that up because of how intense and fucked up my self image and insecurity was (I broke it off with him because my family made me feel insecure about the relationship). I regret it every day, because breaking up with him started a domino effect in his life, and I don’t want to explain that part further cuz it still stings. The other “relationships” I had were just as messed up, and I thought it would be less painful when I had a crush on a girl, but nah, that was even worse. I confessed to her and she went and started dating my friend  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ There’s more to unpack between my crushes/relationships from the past, but I don’t think Tumblr needs to know the rest of that.

Anyway, this isn’t about all that. Romantic love is all well and good, and I like to think I’m at a place in my life where I’d be ready for something romantic, but for me platonic love comes first, and is the most important thing to me. My family has warped my and my romance has damaged me, but my friends, for the most part, have healed me and helped me grow more than anything else. I’ve gotten through my darkest moments completely alone, because my irl friends just... didn’t care, but the older I get, the more I’m learning I don’t have to do that, because even if my “friends” irl don’t give a damn about me, I like to imagine I’m starting to accept that the friends I’ve made online, notably Tumblr, do genuinely care.

Internet friends are so much more treasurable than people give them credit for, and I know in this day and age it’s hard to know if you’re getting catfished or not, but these people especially I trust with my entire life. So for this Valentine’s Day I would like to send invisible Valentine’s Day love to three Tumblr friends I’ve made over the past year or two I’ve been on this site that I appreciate more than words can describe.

@cremmisius | @weasleywood True friendship is born from a meme, which is how I found this amazing sir. Intrigued because my lack of being able to read like a normal person made me think his URL said Weasel instead of Weasley, because I’m an idiot. A meme and a fun name had us starting to talk, and now I consider him to be one of my closest online friends QwQ I just wish we lived a little closer, I swear if I loved closer to you or you lived closer to me I’d be dragging you to watch The Cursed Child with me so we could cry over it together. For now we must deal with several states separating us, but I’m going to be sending you more care packages and goodies as soon as I can. Thank you for being such an amazing friend to me, and for letting me slide into your DMs with so many depressing and angsty James headcanons because I’m a lunatic. Thank you for having such amazing OCs and for just existing in general, because my man you give me strength (and really good advice considering who I’m crushing on so thank you for helping me pick out his christmas present).

@scarshavestories I think it’s been literally a year? Since we started talking? I’ll be honest, I reached out originally for a beta reader, which I’d never had before cuz I was too much of a wuss and couldn’t handle edits. A beta would say “you spelled yes with two E’s” and I’d cry cuz I’m a baby, but I think I’m better now, probably. At first you were super intimidating, idk why, beta readers are just spooky scary to me, editors have inhuman powers, and I thought I was constantly annoying you when I messaged you because i’m just like that, but you are literally so patient and kind and sweet and I did not expect that but I appreciate you so much for putting up with me (and I know you’re gonna smack me with a newspaper or something cuz I say “put up with me” a lot and you nag me about it but you know what that’s okay that’s what friends do). Anyway! I’ve grown to really consider you a friend, and I feel so beyond lucky, because wow I do not deserve you, you’re too nice and wonderful I can’t even believe it, and I want to send you goodies in a care package too but I don’t wanna send you stuff you can’t use cuz I know you don’t like having stuff with no purpose BUT I’LL FIGURE SOMETHING OUT! And one day if I ever visit the UK I hope I can meet you QwQ you are very far away, literally the other side of the world from me, am sad but still love you.

@bettercallmemalfoy I think you’re one of the first people I started talking to on Tumblr, found you through Scorbus and I think that’s very appropriate tbh. You’re not much younger than me but I consider you my smol sis and I adore you, and for the record your accent is SO CUTE I just wanted to add that. I haven’t sent out your care package yet cuz of personal stuff but it’s bad cuz I keep finding stuff I want to add to it and if I keep adding stuff it’s gonna be really heavy and then the shipping will literally kill me, but I just want to note when you get your box you are going to be so happy and I can’t wait for you to get it cuz it’s packed with all the love in the world cuz I want to spoil you cuz you deserve it. I know right now you’re probably watching TCC and I’m SO HAPPY FOR YOU cuz you deserve it so much, being able to watch the play for real, you deserve it more than most tbh (everyone deserves to see it at least once but that’s not the point). I just wanted to add you to this post and send you Valentine’s Day love so you know that someone out there adores you. Even if it’s just me, at least it’s something QwQ thank you for being my friend, and again I’m sad you’re so so far away, separated by lots of that stupid water, but we’ve been friendos for this long so maybe we can remain friendos until we can maybe meet one day.

Even if I haven’t contacted you in weeks, I think about you guys every day, when I think of true friends I think of you three, and I talk about you guys at work and to my family and talk you up and say I have pen pals/internet friends and they’re the best and I love them cuz I love you guys so much and you deserve to know. So thank you for being my friends, thank you for putting a little more light and love into my life and making me happy to have a Tumblr.

Remember to take care of yourselves, take your meds, get enough sleep, enjoy baking that cake, don’t cry too hard at TCC but if you do make sure you cry in front of James Howard (I think he’s the actor who plays Draco in the London production, right?) that way you can sneak your way into maybe getting a hug >:3 

And know I love you lots and wish all the good in the world to befall you <3 <3 <3 Happy Valentine’s Day to you and to all of my followers who have decided to put up with all my mess, I love you all!

[wwounu]

mafia!junhui “WEN” #1013

↻ masterlist — intro￤s.coups￤yoon￤hong￤wen￤hoshi￤jeon￤woozi￤dk￤kim￤xu￤boo￤chwe￤lee

note: happy jun day~

con-artist/gambler

member of Perficio Unit

maybe con-artist isn’t the best term but its the closest to what he does

which is disguising himself and acting in a certain way

he’s been conning others since a young age

does really odd roles despite being a guy who just has to go undercover

bartender, a very bad chef, blind, pole dancer he wasnt asked to do that but he just wanted to try

all the work that goes into his conning his done by himself: fake ids, cards, outfits although joshua and seungkwan help him on that

his best role is his gambler status, which is how seventeen recruit him

located using jeonghan’s connections but it was hard since it was in china, however soonyoung was the one to recruit him

soonyoung and junhui were actually pen-pals a long time ago junhui always laughed at soonyoung’s attempt at writing chinese, they both didn’t realise it until the night where soonyoung had to save junhui’s ass

it was in a grand casino in china where it happened when seungcheol, jeonghan and soonyoung were observing him

junhui was gambling and having the time of his life winning all the money he got from filthy rich people

until a gang came in and kidnapped him in order to get all his valuables as well as set the casino on fire

seungcheol left first to help the people get out as quickly and safely as possible

and without their leader, soonyoung and jeonghan had to do something too, but didn’t know what

so jeonghan left afterwards to find where the fire was and deal with it

leaving soonyoung to rescue junhui from the gang

it was getting hotter and hotter the more the fire spread, making soonyoung’s focus harder to get to junhui

but he eventually found him and had to fight against three men who were armed

and soonyoung wasnt cheol, so he was in some serious shit.

he did have a gun though

lets just say soonyoung likes to aim for the head when shooting

junhui, confused, is dragged by follows soonyoung into his car and at this point junhui thinks hes going to die

because who wouldnt think that

soonyoung tells him to stay in the car in korean which he found weird because why would a korean gang kidnap him and why would he even stay he’s being kidnapped twice in one night and leaves

although he thought he was being smart, he couldnt get out of the car no matter how hard he tried

whoever modified this car must be insane

soon, three guys come back into the car and junhui is fighting for his life to get out

however he stops, thinking he can get out of this if he acted like he was part of the authority

he tried... but seungcheol telling off soonyoung for stealing another car in china was cancelling his chances

and afterward jeonghan said ‘hey this guy’s acting is really good’, which junhui understood and gave jeonghan a weird look

because how did he know he was acting-

junhui was eventually taken into a cold and dark alleyway, cornered by the three men speaking in korean

more like arguing since one of them was yelling at the driver and the one that sat next to junhui was getting mad for not getting any attention on him

thats when it hit junhui

‘sorry - are you soonyoung?’

and soonyoung jumps back but keeps his cool

‘whats it to you’

junhui knows hes only acting but it gets on his nerves anyway

he reasons, ‘did you have a pen pal when you were 10?’

soonyoung panics even more, getting on his knees like howdoyouknowmeilldoanythingforyou

cue jeonghan and seungcheol not knowing whats going on

junhui says that he thinks he was his pen pal and soonyoung  goes NO WAY I DONT TRUST YOU

but hes like ‘your eyes havent changed from that picture... but did you really throw a shoe at your sister—’

and soonyoung shuts him up, looking to the guys and is like ‘ok were recruiting him

junhui didnt have a say but hey he got a free ferry ride to korea

as junhui is in a new country, he can now con everyone all over again

locals see him as another person who blends into the crowd

“lucky hands” is what seventeen calls him

the filthy rich know him as the “hand of god”

all because of junhui’s gambling skills

even when they try to cheat him junhui hates cheaters with a passion, he’ll win

card games are his preferred way of gambling

its his game when youre against him — he can predict his opponents style and moves

he can choose to win or not if he pleases

but wheres the fun in losing?

comes home with a duffle bag of cash and seventeen sigh as they find junhui literally bathing in his money

sometimes gets bored of gambling and winning all the time for no real challenge at the end, but joining seventeen gave him to enjoy it all over again

loves games that involve betting

bets on his life when he’s drunk

over the years people have suspected him to be in seventeen, so people try to get him drunk so that Junhui can spill all their secrets about them

but they should know better — junhui can act drunk out of his mind to sober on command

drunk junhui also knows better than to trust them

insert seventeen all telling drunk junhui over and over again to not trust people that arent in seventeen for a whole week

his reputation is very respected and very high, and junhui has been holding that for ages despite how much people want to beat him

members cant beat him either — and its funny to watch them try their hardest

however you have members like jeonghan crying his way to win and junhui buying it

or chan holding up a gun to junhui’s head — or seokmin naturally making junhui feel sad because its seokmin

sports do not exist in his dictionary, only games

because brawn is overrated, you need to master the mind

speaking of hands, he’s very quick with them

can steal almost anything he wants, can also get into someone’s phone to transfer enough information to jihoon

he’s very sly and no one notices him unless he wants the attention

his only weakness is walking

the boy stomps

isnt light on his feet — when he feels cocky his footsteps get louder to get the attention

Perficio Unit’s tries their best to make junhui walk more quietly, but it gives him a reason to be louder

his killing skill isnt up to par with the rest of his unit yet he’s certainly needed in hiding all traces of them

because his way of clearing the evidence is flawless

how to hide fingerprints, clean the weapons, replace details of the scene

he’s one of a kind

his choice of weapon other than guns is throwing stars because its just like skipping stones, except your aiming for the target’s chest

not the greatest metaphor but junhui is also good at skipping stones so...

the most merciful out of Perficio Unit, but that still doesnt mean a lot

is a strange person when you really know him — though no one rarely sees it since he secures himself with a certain, flawless image

only seventeen and seventeen alone can see right through him

unless its another act he’s pulling

“As the door opened, I was faced with new destiny”

[b-does-the-write-thing]

top 5 and bottom 5 kudo’d fic

Showing up five days later with starbucks but thanks to @thescholarlystrumpet. @nerdrumple, @thatravenclawbitch and of course @prissyhalliwell for tagging me. I’m pretty sure I know the top five fic but not too sure about the bottom five...

Top 5

The Story Teller Kudos: 713 Long ago, the Dark One made a deal to protect the Middle Kingdom from Ogres in exchange for a bride. However, each year, the bride has been returned as a corpse and another taken away. When Lady Belle is sacrificed to save her kingdom, she finds her love of stories may just keep her alive.

This is the fic that is always surprising me. I posted it and within twenty four hours it had more kudos than all my other fics combined.  To this day, I have no idea where exactly it’s going but every time I revisit it, there’s some new twist that I even didn’t see coming. (I know, I know bad author)

The House Guest Kudos: 564 When Belle "Lacey" French accidentally summons the "Dark One", she finds herself with an unwanted roommate. Life with a demon isn't all it's cracked up to be and things spiral out of control. Secrets about her heritage, her town, and her friends come to light as she struggles to find where she belongs.

This one started out because Prissy send in a prompt, and then another one, and then four more and then some more people started sending in prompts and the stupid demon for a roommate story ended up being an exercise in world building, character development, and writing for an ensemble. Finished it last year and while it doesn’t get a lot of attention due to it being Lacey-centric, I enjoyed every second of writing this. 

The Gate Kudos: 222 Something is not quite right about the small town of Storybrooke. When Lacey French goes undercover to discover the scoop that could jump start her career, she herself disappears into a magical world known as Fae. With only the protection of a questionable sorcerer, Lacey must survive a year in the world of Fae's nine kingdoms where nothing is as it seems. Amidst magic, romance, mythical creatures and courtly intrigues, Lacey learns sometimes it's not always just the monsters who can change.

I’ve just noticed that most of my fics have a pretty hefty kudos drop....1st to 2nd is almost 150 and 2nd to third is nearly 350! So, this was my very first fic in the fandom, and led me to the fandom here on tumblr. Another Lacey centric, and a massive world building exercise, it’s my closest to an actual novel. Sadly, it doesn’t get too much attention these days, but I’m hoping to get back to it come NaNoWriMo (famous last words)

The Heart of Avonlea Kudos: 181 Lady Belle is more interested in learning to rule her lands and care for her people than worrying about love or marriage. Yet, when her father declares she must wed, Avonlea is flooded with potential suitors for the famous beauty.When the infamous Dark One arrives in Avonlea to throw his hat in the ring in order to claim a mystical treasure, they form an uneasy alliance to get what they both want- only to discover what they never dreamed of in each other.

Actually was kind of surprised by this one being #4! This was a Rumbelle Secret Santa gift and it’s a sweet little fairy tale.

Stutterer Kudos: 141 Due to his stutter, Robert Gold has a hard time making himself understood...except with his online pen pal Belle French. Yet when an opportunity arises for them to meet, Gold isn't sure if he's ready.

Based off the oscar winning short by the same name, I took a beautiful story and rumbelled it. A sequel is promised but I haven’t quite gotten around to it...too nervous to not do credit to the original!

Bottom 5 

(Dropping this under a cut due to length)

Beyond the Gate Kudos: 16 One Shot Prompts from the Gate

Not surprising- probably incorporate these into the story one day.

Sweet Sorrow Kudos: 29 Belle packing her bags to leave Storybrooke and Rumple finding her

 Just a sweet/sad prompt fill from a while back 

Relapse Kudos: 37 Anon asked for Angst based on Carrie Underwood's Relapse

Another prompt fill but this is one i really relate to, based off when Belle sends Rumple away Cooking for Two  Kudos: 37 Belle cooks for the first time. It’s not what Rumple expects…

Same prompt fill as the two above

From Hell Itself Kudos: 39 The town of Storybrooke has always been strange. It's counterpart in the Underworld is no less strange and Hades, Lord of the Dead, is growing vastly sick of dealing with it.

Crack fic about Season 6′s arc but seeing how I was so far behind on canon, this was just weird. 

--

Okay, if anyone has NOT done this yet, send me a note and I’ll tag you <3

I assumed my top five would be my major WiPs which isn’t actually the case as I have two one shots on there and I didn’t really think about what would be my lowest rated fics, but some short tumblr prompts isn’t surprising. 

[docandprof]

Why Do I Struggle With Love?

Salutations mi amigo!

Sorry it’s been like a month since we have done this. I miss this and I feel like every time I wanna tell you something I just say, “wait until the post“, but then I feel like I forget stuff that I wanted to tell you. So here is me just trying to say that I am trying to work on being a better pen pal and recommitting to weekly posts. SO there is definitely some stuff that I have to get into. Let’s catch up!

Since I last posted, I think I was going through a big week of midterms of something, and I just wanted to update you on how I'm doing as a student. Classes are fun, still enjoying what I chose to do. My last organic chemistry test was pretty rough for the class as a whole. The average was a 64%. But I did pulled a 76% and I'm super proud of that because although she doesn't curve tests, here actual class is curved, so add 10-15% to you tests and that is your score, which brings be to a B - A- grade! I know it seems pretty silly to be proud of getting a C on an exam, but I see myself improving and competing with my friends who are doing very well and that is what matters to me. History is a breeze, probably because I enjoy it so much. Just took a rough first test of the semester in my Biological Clocks class and the entire class was lost on what was going on so hopefully we didn't all fail. Otherwise yeah, its going great!

Nothing else has really been going on any differently since we last posted, at least outside of my relationships. For my birthday, as you know, a couple friends and I went real camping in the Black Mountains of North Carolina. We stayed for a couple days and one day we hiked Mount Mitchell, which is the tallest peak east of the Mississippi River. It was a brutal vertical hike that took like 4 hours up and maybe 3 hours down, bu the view was gorgeous and well worth the pain. It was kinda fun towards the end because we had to hike in the dark, and I mean DARK, with nothing but a flashlight for each of us to shine about a foot in front of us so we didn't trip and fall down the mountain. So I really enjoyed that time camping out under the stars and I really wanna do something like that with you and the gang just to have a group experience like that. Other than that, I helped out with MUN last weekend and it was my first time ever in that type of setting, but I really enjoyed helping these high schoolers get what they wanted accomplished. But other than those two things, nothing to note. To the juicy parts now?

Love, love, what is love? So I left you off with a bunch of mixed emotions and no idea where to go with them, helplessly drowning in an ocean of my unresolved romantic angst and turmoil. But I think I have navigated my way to some resemblance of an answer...kinda. As you know, I was caught between 3 “options”. 1) the girl I had a crush on since meeting her last year 2) the girl who I consider one of my closest friends here at school and 3) her best friend who also happens to be an exact copy of me in almost every facet of life but goes to another school. I thought I would have to start choosing and eliminating to find what I wanted, but life, and ultimately God, saw to it that my options just kinda presented themselves to me. So girl 1 just kinda fell away because in all reality, I never see her and don't have any interaction with, so it’s kinda hard to cultivate a relationship with someone you never even see or talk to. From girl 2, although she has never said anything to me and nothing has changed in our relationship, I just don't have THAT feeling with her. She makes me happy and laugh and smile, and I want to do the same for her, but it’s almost how it is with our shared sister Alyssa, we both love her to death and want to make her happy, but we don't do it out of romance. Now this is not to say that I wont ever see girl 2 in this way, but as of right now, I'm a little preoccupied with THE girl. Uuummm....girl 3, her name is Jaynie, is really all that I think about on a daily basis. I don't remember what the state of our relationship was at the time of my last post, but I can definitely tell you it is not the same anymore. I think I talk to her the most out of anyone. She talks to me and tells me more things than she does even for her best friend, who is girl 2, and it’s now a running joke that if anyone wants to know something about her, they ask me instead of Nidhi, even Nidhi does this! I honestly think that Jaynie is the coolest person I have ever met, and I'm best friends with you! A couple weeks back, she may have said the coolest sentence I have ever heard. She told me that she was looking through all of the Star Wars movies to find this one sentence that she thought was Thai, because she is learning Thai at school. I mean common?! Huge Star Wars nerd who is learning an awesome language!! And so we Snapchat all the time and text and I will call her sometimes to get her opinion on what kind of candy I want to eat at that moment (no joke I called her in the middle of the night to ask her what candy I wanted). She even wants to meet my parents!! Like her own words were, “I cant wait to meet your mom”. So I was really super excited to see her over fall break for my birthday because we were all going camping and it was gonna be awesome, but she couldn't come because she decided to dedicate her break to going down to Houston with CRU (a Christian organization that we have here at school too) to go do volunteering. And while I was bummed, I couldn't have been any more awed and proud to know someone who would do that. And that brings us to this weekend. As you know, Friday we went to go see Moon Taxi (which I will tell you about a little bit later on in this romance novel I am writing). Now Moon Taxi is Nidhi and Jaynie’s favorite band and Nidhi got her a ticket to sit with us at the concert for her birthday, so I was sooooo excited for this weekend to come. Now sad part first, she got in at like 6:30 on Friday night, but she had to leave this morning (Saturday) at like 11am because her grandparents were back at home and she wanted to go see them. So we only got like a couple hours together. But they were an awesome couple hours. We kept counting down the days til we got to see each other to keep motivated during the week, and when we finally got to see each other, we were so happy. It had been raining and her one foot just got soaked, so I let her wear my shoe to keep her warm, as any gentleman should, and she actually wore it! Like what girl wears a boy’s shoe when he offers it? This girl does!!! I know what you are thinking, Aaron this is so stupid, and both of you are weird, which is EXACTLY my point!! So when Moon Taxi came out on stage, it was my friends, me, Jaynie, and NIdhi sitting in a row. But Nidhi’s view was obstructed by a pole and a person. So I shifted down to the end to let her have a better view to see her favorite band. But when I moved, I wasn't sitting next to Jaynie anymore, just Nidhi, which kinda bummed me out but I accepted because I wanted her to have a good time. But to my surprise, and happiness, Jaynie leaned over to Nidhi and asked her to switch spots with her so she could be by me! Like you have no idea how high my heart jumped. We just spent the night singing along to all the songs and freaking out and being weirdos with each other and I would just look over at her and smile while she enjoyed herself. But you are gonna kill because I never made a move and I never went to hold her hand or anything and I really regret it but you know that I have troubles telling my feelings to someone for fear of getting rejected. So the night ended and we were good but that was that. Until the morning. I made sure to be awake before she left so I could say good bye, and I also promised her a few weeks ago that I would make her some mac and cheese for breakfast. So I did that and us two and the Nidster were hanging out for a bit before she had to leave and I just couldn't help but feel like she had the same feelings I was having. We were being all tickle-y and she let me rest my hand on her knee and it wasn't weird or uncomfortable. Even Nidhi was looking at the two of us smiling and when I gave her that “What?!“ look, she just smiled and said “nothing“. When she left it sucked to see her go and I ALMOST told her how I feel before she left but I couldn't bring myself to do it because I was so scared!! I can’t help but feel like the look she gave me when I stopped her to say goodbye one last time was looking for me to make a move or say SOMETHING, but I'm a weenie and I couldn't do it. But it’s pretty obvious that I'm head over heels for this girl and some of my friends can see it and were watching the two of us interact over the time she was here. I mean what do I do man? I wanna cry for how stupid I'm being, but I'm just afraid to put it out there and lose it. But I know that is what it has to come to. There is other love drama going on in our group too, but I can save that for another post, I have beat this dead horse for too long.

To wrap up, in our normal tradition, my recommendation is to listen to the opening band for Moon Taxi. They are called Too Many Zooz and they are FUNKALICIOUS!! I recommend watching them on YouTube as well just to see to see how cool they are. Moon Taxi was awesome, by the way! Last Jaynie mention for the post, she made me this awesome drawing for my fridge in my room, so when you wake up, there will be a picture on your phone from me of the drawing and this is why its there. Question: What is your ideal Halloween costume? And be creative! I know you have something deep in your mind you can come up with. Alright, sorry for the epic I just told you, but I had to get it off my chest and I tell you everything so there ya go. Big ol pile of plot dump on ya in one sitting. Love you bud and can’t wait to hear back from you.

Your best bud,

The Doc

[readbookywooks]

I HAD TO WAIT UNTIL ALMOST eleven o'clock. I would have gone earlier, while Mom was at the hospital, but a couple of Dad's pals came around with kids of their own and I had to play host. Mom returned home at about ten. She was tired, so Dad quickly cleared the house of visitors. They had a cup of tea and a chat in the kitchen, then went up to bed. I let them drift off to sleep, then snuck downstairs and let myself out the back door. I sped through the dark like a comet. Nobody saw or heard me, I moved so fast. I had a cross in one pocket, which I'd found in Mom's jewelry box, and a bottle of holy water in the other, which one of Dad's pen pals had sent to us years ago. I wasn't able to find a stake. I'd thought about bringing a sharp knife instead, but probably would only have cut myself. I'm clumsy with knives. The old theater was pitch black and deserted. I used the front door this time. I didn't know what I'd do if the vampire wasn't there, but somehow I sensed he would be. It was like the day Steve threw the scraps of paper up in the air with the winning ticket hidden amongst them, and I shut my eyes and reached out blindly. It was destiny. It took a while to find the cellar. I'd brought a flashlight but the battery was almost dead and it flickered out after a couple of minutes, leaving me to grope through the dark like a mole. When I did find the steps, I started straight down, not giving fear time to catch up. The farther down I went, the brighter it got, until I reached the bottom and saw five tall flickering candles. I was surprised weren't vampires supposed to be afraid of fire? but glad. Mr. Crepsley was waiting for me at the other end of the cellar. He was sitting at a small table, playing a game of cards with himself. "Good morning, Master Shan," he said, without looking up. I cleared my throat before replying. "It's not morning," I said. "It's the middle of the night." "To me, that is morning," he said, then looked up and grinned. His teeth were long and sharp. This was the closest to him I'd been and I expected to spot all sorts of details red teeth, long ears, narrow eyes but he looked like a normal human, albeit a tremendously ugly one. "You've been waiting for me, haven't you?" I asked. "Yes. "He nodded. "How long have you known where Madam Octa was?" "I found her the night you stole her," he said. "Why didn't you take her then?" He shrugged. "I was going to, but I got to thinking about the sort of boy who would dare steal from a vampire, and I decided you might be worth further study." "Why?" I asked, trying to stop my knees from knocking together. "Why indeed?" he replied mockingly. He snapped his fingers and the cards on the table jumped together and slid back into the pack by themselves. He put it away and cracked his knuckles. "Tell me, Darren Shan, why have you come? Is it to steal from me again? Do you still desire Madam Octa?" I shook my head. "I never want to see that monster again!" I snarled. He laughed. "She will be so sad to hear that." "Don't make fun of me," I warned him. "I don't like being teased." "No?" he asked. "And what will you do if I continue?" I pulled out the cross and bottle of holy water and held them up. "I'll strike you with these!" I roared, expecting him to fall back, frozen with fear. But he didn't. Instead he smiled, snapped his fingers again, and suddenly the cross and plastic bottle were no longer in my hands. They were in his. He studied the cross, chuckled and squeezed it into a little ball, as though it were made of tinfoil. Next he uncorked the holy water and drank it. "You know what I love?" he asked. "I love people who watch lots of horror movies and read horror books. Because they believe what they read and hear, and come packing silly things like crosses and holy water, instead of weapons that could do real damage, like guns and hand grenades." "You mean...crosses don't...hurt you?" I stammered. "Why should they?" he asked. "Because you're...evil," I said. "Am I?" he asked. "Yes," I said. "You must be. You're a vampire. Vampires are evil." "You should not believe everything you are told," he said. "It is true that our appetites are rather exotic. But just because we drink blood does not mean that we are evil. Are vampire bats evil when they drink the blood of cows and horses?" "No," I said. "But that's different. They're animals." "Humans are animals, too," he told me. "If a vampire kills a human, then yes, he is evil. But one who just takes a little blood to fill his rumbling belly...where is the harm in that?" I couldn't answer. I was numb and no longer knew what to believe. I was at his mercy, alone and defenseless. "I see you are not in the mood for a debate," he said. "Very well. I will save the speeches for another time. So tell me, Darren Shan: what is it you want if not my spider?" "She bit Steve Leonard," I told him. "The one known as Steve Leopard," he said, nodding. "A nasty business. Still, little boys who play with things they do not understand can hardly complain if..." "I want you to make him better!" I yelled, interrupting. "Me?" he asked, acting surprised. "But I am not a doctor. I am not a specialist. I am just a circus performer. A freak. Remember?" "No," I said. "You're more. I know you can save him. I know you have the power." "Maybe," he said. "Madam Octa's bite is deadly, but for every poison there exists an antidote. Maybe I do have the cure. Maybe I have a bottle of serum that will restore your friend's natural physical functions." "Yes!" I shouted gleefully. "I knew it! I knew it! I..." "But maybe," Mr. Crepsley said, raising a long bony finger to silence me, "it is a small bottle. Maybe there is only a tiny amount of serum. Maybe it is very precious. Maybe I want to save it for a real emergency, in case Madam Octa ever bites me. Maybe I do not want to waste it on an evil little brat." "No," I said softly. "You have to give it to me. You have to use it on Steve. He's dying. You can't let him die." "I most certainly can." Mr. Crepsley laughed. "What is your friend to me? You heard him the night he was here: he said he would become a vampire hunter when he grew up!" "He didn't mean it," I gasped. "He only said that because he was angry." "Perhaps," Mr. Crepsley mused, tugging at his chin and stroking his scar. "But again, I ask: why should I save Steve Leopard? The serum was expensive and cannot be replaced." "I can pay for it," I cried, and that was what he had been waiting for. I saw it in his eyes, the way they narrowed, the way he hunched forward, smiling. This was why he hadn't taken Madam Octa that first night. This was why he hadn't left town. "Pay for it?" he asked slyly. "But you are only a boy. You cannot possibly have enough money to buy the cure." "I'll pay in small amounts," I promised. "Every week for fifty years, or as long as you want. I'll get a job when I grow up and give you all my money. I swear." He shook his head. "No," he said softly. "Your money does not interest me." "What does interest you?" I asked in a low voice. "I'm sure you have a price. That's why you waited for me, isn't it?" "You are a clever young man," he said. "I knew that when I woke up to find my spider gone and your note in her place. I said to myself, 'Larten, there goes a most remarkable child, a true prodigy. There goes a boy who is going places.? "Quit with the bull and tell me what you want," I snarled. He laughed nastily, then grew serious. "You remember what Steve Leopard and I talked about?" he asked. "Of course," I replied. "He wanted to become a vampire. You said he was too young, so he said he'd become your assistant. That was all right by you, but then you found out he was evil, so you said no." "That about sums it up," he agreed. "Except, if you recall, I was not too keen on the idea of an assistant. They can be useful but also a burden." "Where's all this leading?" I asked. "I have had a rethink since then," he said. "I decided it might not be such a bad thing after all, especially now that I have been separated from the Cirque Du Freak and will have to fend for myself. An assistant could be just what the witch doctor ordered." He smiled at his little joke. I frowned. "You mean you'll let Steve become your assistant now?" "Heavens, no!" he yelped. "That monster? There is no telling what he will do as he matures. No, Darren Shan, I do not want Steve Leopard to be my assistant." He pointed at me with his long bony finger again, and I knew what he was going to say seconds before he said it. "You want me!" I sighed, beating him to the punch, and his dark, sinister smile told me I was right.