#perhaps i'll write something else this weekend...

[arlertwhore]

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! “sneaky link” reader.

synopsis: paige & you find a new hookup spot: your parents' house. what else do you find? that the chemistry never left after all - you just have to get paige in the right space - literally. warning(s): smut, strap 😬, paige eats it from da back, dirty talk / fluffy pretty much, degrading, choking, idk bro this is from memory i didn't read it so 🤷‍♀️ find out yourself word count: 4.1k (SHESSH) Author Note: the anticipated part 6 that took forever to write because of terrible writers' block. the creative spark just isn't there for this series anymore, so this alone will serve as the conclusion to the series, however — i do have a draft i'll release that can be regarded as a part 7. thanks tons for all the support on something i played around with and got hooked on! love u all sm ☺️❣️

Being at the family home of the girl Paige was casually involved with wasn't exactly how she pictured the UCONN long weekend off going. She and the team had planned a series of fun activities, and although your invitation completely disrupted those plans, she couldn't say no. "Hello? I… Team's awake, I'm in the washroom, be quick."

You chuckle softly. "So I guess that means now isn't a good time to tell you you're coming back home with me this weekend?" Paige sees her reflection and watches her resolve surface, anticipating that you're going to try to escalate things back into what they shouldn't be, breaking down the walls she has up.

She scoffs. "Y/N, you know we can't do that." "I won, Paige, fair and square. You said 'anything', you promised!" you insist, taking advantage of the fact that as a competitor, she'll honor her word. "Yeah, but don't you think it's a little bit intense for me to meet your family? I mean, I just don't want to overstep any boundaries," she stammers, uncertain. You glare at your phone, staring at the wavering voicebox of Paige. "You realize I'm doing this for you, right? How I always am? And because it's too hot to keep banging you in your car?" you say firmly. Finding new spots for clandestine rendezvous was proving increasingly challenging. At least with the constant change of locations, sneaking around, and adventure, you could pretend to yourself that you were going on the first date you knew Paige would never officially give you. And if she wasn't going to give you that first date, the least you could ask for was a comfortable bed. But you knew her, you knew her rules, and the only thing you had left was that victory over her head on the club Friday, so you wanted to use it.

It falls silent on her end. Paige doesn't want to talk about your sacrifices for this.

For you and her. For her. You want to tell Paige how it affects you to be nothing but a secret to her, especially now that she's afraid of her team's disapproval and seemingly everyone else's, meanwhile, you bust your ass, comply, and accommodate everything that being her confidante requires, but for the sake of your own feelings, you know you can't. She will leave you. She'd made that clear from the beginning. Paige's commitment issues and seemingly inability to have genuine emotions for a girl are frustrating, especially given her actions toward you. Perhaps back then, before she forgave your sins against her strict rules, took your virginity, and got to know you far beyond casual, you didn't care. But now, you knew her well enough to trust her around your family and you couldn't risk losing the only person in the world who just seemed to get you. None of your 'close' friends, who didn't care for a thing to do with you, deserved to be the one you chose. Even if she sometimes treated you like you were nothing, you knew the only person for you was her. And plus, your parents were nice people. She didn't have to worry about judgment like she always did — I mean for crying out loud they raised you, nerdy, quiet, and a loner up until this point of your life. Male or female, they'd be proud to see something good with the person they put out into the world.

"This isn't... meeting your family isn't 'anything,'" Paige countered, hushing after hearing footsteps pass the washroom door. "And plus, we have shit planned for this weekend. What do I tell th—" Team. You roll your eyes. The team left, the team right, the team all around. You cut her off. "You're visiting your Grandma."

And again, you win. Still, Paige sighs. "This isn't exactly fair for you to just spring on me, y'know? I've been so hyped for the plans this weekend and you just... you ruined them!" You can hear she's serious, her tone half angry yet delivered with a lightheartedness that doesn't ease the blow of her words. All you did was invite her to come home with you, supposedly 'ruining' her plans. You retort, "Ruining? Jeez, thanks, Paige." "Yeah!" she refutes, still trying to whisper. You giggle, then mutter provocatively, "Should've eaten my pussy better, loser," knowing it'll halt her momentum. You gloat, "Gosh, how do you fail at something as easy as that? Something you've been doing since you were 16!" The banter continues. "You'll change your mind on that soon," she predicts.

You chuckle confidently. "We'll see about that, peanut butter. Bags packed, 10 am sharp. Don't keep me waiting, loser," making your point clear.

You end the call with Paige and smirk to yourself, feeling a mix of anticipation and defiance. You can't believe how much of a rebel you've become, just as Paige can't—once so pristine when she first met you, she's corrupted you to the point of using your parents' place as a sneaky link spot. But with you guys left rendered optionless, Paige's next move was to fabricate a story about picking up her clothes if their shared app alerted her location. However, the plan was soiled with the early arrival of your new roommate, a freshman named Maggie, and you had no choice but to evacuate Connecticut altogether, returning to your place in the city just over; calmer, more serene, and familiar. You quickly text your parents: "Bringing a friend," before rushing off to pack. You'll try to keep them out of your hair as much as possible. It's only a 4-day stay, and they're both very schedule-oriented people, so you anticipate that you and Paige will have the house to yourselves mostly. Just as you're about to finish packing, you recall the strap and text Paige again, sending a picture of you holding it with the caption, "Bring??" She ignores your question about the strap and instead frets like she did the day you first showed it to her, as if she has a big performance the next day. She texts you back:

"Should I dress girly? Do I bring a gift? Are you sure they're okay with us?" She's overwhelmed with uncertainty, unsure of how to navigate this new territory, but you don't give her any tips because Paige needs to figure it out herself. You know it's how she's always rolled, relying on herself. You ignore her and continue, "Sooo, strap on or not? I'd love to try it out on you finally.☺️"

"Now especially no," she shoots back. Then she follows up, cryptically, "You're not the only one with surprises. Trust me. We won't need it." At that remark, you hop into bed eagerly and await sleep, yearning for the day to arrive faster. You stop thinking obsessively about why she won't let you use it on her, and it's the last thing on your mind before you doze off. At 9 AM, you're awake, welcoming your new roommate Maggie, and by 10, you're out and at Paige's dorm. She's waiting outside, readied. She doesn't know how to not dress like a tomboy, so she's awkwardly masculine, but now in pink, and the sight throws you off guard. You thought she'd figure her shit out better than that, and you laugh as you film her, to use it as blackmail in case she ever leaks the many pictures and videos she has of you (which you know she won't). When she climbs into the car after stowing her bag in the backseat, she grabs your wrists and uses her strong grip to hold them in one hand as she deletes the videos, uttering, "Think you're funny, huh, ma?" "No... I think you are," you chuckle, and Paige pushes you away playfully by the forehead. You tease her relentlessly, the amusement of your time with her just beginning and already infectious. She rolls her eyes, shaking her head at your immaturity with a shy smile on her face. "I can't believe I agreed to this," she grumbles and you echo the words from last night, chortling, "You had no choice, remember, Paige Puckers?" a play on words at how she drunkenly, clumsily, and messily explored a tactic that, while it did get you off eventually, was hard to get the hang of at first. She smirks and you see the challenge in her eyes. "I'll make you eat those words, ma, just watch." As you guys veer off, Paige takes control of the music and begins shedding layers until she's left in just the pink flannel, a sports bra, and basketball shorts, feeling overheated. She's so absorbed in the music that when you arrive, she doesn't notice she's partially undressed until the door swings open to your parents, and she quickly tugs the flannel over her body tighter. She watches with a smile as you hug your mother warmly, while Paige stands back, observing. "And you must be the friend she spoke of!" your father extends his hand for a shake, and Paige reciprocates, resisting the urge to give him a fist bump, as that's all she knows. "Paige," she replies calmly, "It's nice to meet you, sir. And Ma'am," she nods to your mother afterward, who smiles before stepping aside. "Well, come on in, girls, this heat is stifling." You all sit down with a cold pitcher of iced tea after bringing your bags up to your room. As you settle at the kitchen island, your parents strike up a friendly conversation with Paige across from you.

You start to regret the whole situation when your mom and Paige hit it off too well, and your mom embarrasses you. "Y'know, it's about time I met a friend of hers, Paige. You're the first; she's never really had any," your mom remarks, and you feel yourself blush. "Mom!" you interject, embarrassed.

"No, no, let her. You've been teasing me all day, you deserve it," Paige chimes in with a chuckle, playfully slapping her knee. "So, I hear Paige plays basketball, Y/N. Seeing as she's never really been the athlete type, you know, more of a bookworm? How did you two meet?" she inquires. You grow hotter, not good for the warm weather. You can't tell your Mom & Dad that: "Hey Mom, I got hammered at a party for the first time, drunkenly approached Paige's friends, and ranted to them about how I would marry her, then made out with her in the bathroom before proceeding to let her fuck me within an inch of my life the following weekend." You were still their little, strange, friendless, and focused girl. "Things just clicked," Paige answers, PG'ing and summarizing the story. "She was just... looking like the life of the party, and I thought she looked fun, so I wanted to get to know her." "Did you find out that looks are deceiving?" your mom asks again, and Paige is genuinely and seriously laughing—not the "haha parent way," but actual laughter. When even your father chimes in and says, "I bet she forces you to practice Telekinesis and stuff like that, huh?" is when you truly decide you won't tolerate the bullying. "Cytokinesis, Dad," you correct as you get up. "And I study developmental biology now. That Bio for children." And besides, you didn't want Paige to get too close to them anyway—just close enough to exist in their house unbothered.

We're gonna go pick you girls up some dinner!" said your mom cheerfully. "We'd love you to join us."

Paige begins to say yes, but you interject, "Actually, we're gonna have a nap. The ride was exhausting." She doesn't budge, so enthralled with your parents that she isn't catching on until you have to gently pull her out of her chair, trailing off with her as she calls back to your mom who had asked, "Paige, what do you like?"

"Y'alls sense of humor!" she chuckles, because Paige just gets her (they enjoy teasing you together).

"Okay, girls, don't nap too hard!" jokes your dad, and before the door can even close, you're kissing Paige deeply in the upstairs corridor, trying to make her forget everything she'd been told. Napping is the last thing you'll be doing. Her hand comes to your chest, attempting to push you away, but you're resilient and hold her with determination as you back her into the doorframe of your bedroom. "Since when were you such a scaredy pants?" you tease as you strip off your clothes, not bothering to lock the door. "We've been walking around in public everywhere these days, and inside is when you get nervous?" Within seconds, before Paige even shuts the bedroom door behind her, you're naked against her, pressing your tits against hers firmly as you shower her with a barrage of kisses. "Gonna make me eat my words still?" you challenge her. Paige slowly realizes you weren't joking about just wanting a comfortable place to have sex with her, and that it was the primary purpose of her visit. She still can't shift gears because she'd been with your parents just a moment ago, and now you're in this intimate moment. So you help her.

"Because it looks like I'm making you eat yours." you smirk at her teasingly. Before you know it, you've pumped the gas so hard she has you turned over on all fours on the bed, back arched invitingly. She wastes no time with you, and despite your usual verbosity, the way you yield to her the moment her tongue delves into your cunt is undeniable. You press back into her face, enveloping her between your thighs and asscheeks, and Paige thinks if she's going to go, she wouldn't have it any other way. You whimper softly in pleasure, squirming as you press against her warm tongue, and Paige chuckles, the vibrations from the deep shrill causing you to jolt forward, feeling the hum pulsate through your pussy hauntingly. "Aw, shit, Paige, you get me so wet," you moan desperately, "You make me so crazy, fuck." The thrill of the moment is evident in her eyes, wide with desire as she gazes at you from above her. You look back at her below you, eyes lidded and mouth parted in an 'o', and you look pornographic. It's sick, really, to think how just moments ago she was conversing with your parents, and now, here she was, tounge enamored filthily in your cunt, savoring every drop of arousal from your desperate dripping hole. "Your pussy tastes so good," Paige murmured, her lips puckering as she spoke before gently nibbling at your clit, swirling her tongue around the pearl in a circular motion, which you absentmindedly replicate with your finger as you gripped the sheets, groaning deeply. Maybe after all, you did like the plump of her lips encasing you as her tongue worked at your clit fervently, making soft wet noises. "Shut up, Paige," you said, "You're gonna-I'll cu-" you're too prideful to say it could EVER happen that early, and just continue to grind your hips against her pretty face, not bothering to ask how she's holding up. Judging by the way she slurps at your clit voraciously, her tongue eagerly scrambling from the front to the back of your cunt, clit to entrance, laving through it hungrily each stroke of the muscle and eliciting the nastiest and most repulsive sounds you've ever heard, yet somehow the sexiest, you have reason to believe she's doing just fine. And you tell her how fine she's doing through a broken, fucked out, and breathless assurance of, "Y'so good, P," biting your lip as you whine your hips languidly, whispering, "Keep going, please." She pulls back, struggling to find her breath. "You're a fucking—" she gasps for air, "You're a slut." The way she says it leaves you aching for more devaluing words, because when Paige utters them, it sends you into a frenzy unlike anything else. In the haze of it, you plead, "Shit, just fuck me, I... fingers, I need them." She rises from her knees. "Say it," she demanded, smacking your ass, and meeting your gaze. "Tell me what you are." You don't have a chance to answer before she presses you down hard, into the mattress, and you gasp at the intense pressure, feeling your cheeks flush impossibly hotter. "A slut," you strainedly admit, the pressure on your back knocking the wind out of you. The words, though so sexily demeaning, are true at the moment.

She's pummeling you in your childhood bedroom and has the audacity to demand sharply, "Louder!" as she presses you down, causing the ache in the first place. You fight for breath, complicitly declaring, "A slut, Paige, mmph!"

You should've known you were in for a ride the moment Paige fell silent. Arms pinned behind your back in between her palms, you squirm at the feel of something much thicker than her fingers rimming against your cunt, and you can't see it, so you start to panic. You can only feel it. It's so large you fear it might break you, and before you can say anything, Paige has eased the tip inside you with a dazed sigh. Your head crooks back to watch her face as she sinks her cock into you, and it makes her heart jump because it's a little too intimate and it reminds her of the first time ever. Still, she doesn't attempt to break it. It's sexy to both of you and it's not often that it happens. She's typically invested in gazing at your body or your lips, or just has her eyes closed, but the look in her eye as she leans forward is intense, and the one in yours gets Paige wetter at the mere sight. She's so satisfied by how you have no choice but to yield and take it, take her - until your body involuntarily starts to falter, punctured by the weight of it pulling you down from inside your body. "So...fuckin'....sexy," she moaned, her free hand gripping your hips and reigning them back as her own pressed forward simultaneously, fucking you thoroughly. She repeats the act, pulling you back and pushing forward until she thrusts particularly hard, and gasps herself. It's genuine, and you're unsure how to react to hearing her moan so sincerely. You simply nod approvingly. "I love how you sound when you fuck me, P," you encourage her, to which she replies, "I love how it feels when I fuck you, baby," "Then don't stop," you cry as you rock forward, slots of arousal pulsating from your core and coating her strap in opaque white. "I'd never want you to." It's insane how when she releases your wrists and manages to sink into you fully, she begins using your body like a toy, ruthlessly owning your cunt with grunts of satisfaction each time your ass claps against her, your skin clapping together. "Such a tight little pussy, God," she praises, watching the sight of your cunt expanding and then resetting with how thick she is, struggling to not get wrecked. With how this strap is made, when you come back against her, she feels every sensation, each thrust pushing the double-ended dildo deeper inside of her as it slides in and out, quicker when you fuck her back. So she might be using you like a fleshlight for the tip to rub the walls of her G-spot, but you can't blame her. She's doing all the work. You lie there helpless and overwhelmed with pleasure as she hammers into you from behind, pulling you back by your hair to meet her gaze, so you can see her and the way she wrecks you proudly. "Fuck yourself on it, angel, please," she pleaded, and it's sweeter than the sinful look she's giving you. Experimentally, you push back hard, meeting her strokes, and she whimpers directly in front of your face, a high-pitched, desperate sound that emerges from deep within her body. "Please," she begged again, "You're gonna make me cum, aw fuck, baby," Your eyes roll back into your head. At the tempo you set for yourself to feel good and the one Paige sets for you to make HER feel good by throwing it back on her, essentially for you, you feel your climax on the horizon. "I want it, Paige, cum with me," you plead. "Yeah?" she grunts, her voice gritty. "You want P's cum? Think you deserve it?"

"I-I do." "Then fuck it out of me," she commands, hands tightening around your waist and pulling your back flush against her chest, essentially hugging you as you rut against her, crying out her name with each movement.

She grips your tit in one hand, squeezing gently and pulling, "Go, baby, yeah.. just like that, make me cum," and though she's trying to steady it, you hear how her voice cracks a couple of times. It sounds so sexy and it gets so raw that it gets to the point where you're actually throwing it back, popping your hips and whining it so quickly Paige can't even help you move faster for both of you. She can't catch your ass as it bounces so vigorously, the visual mesmerizing as she watches. "Don't stop, ma," You're trembling, toes curling uncontrollably as you whine and whimper and grind against her. "I'm close!" you gasp, and just as Paige speeds up, the front door opens downstairs, and her hand flies up to your neck, silencing you, her other hand muffling your sounds. You reach your climax with no air left in you as footsteps approach up the stairs, and you shout into a pillow. Paige is quick enough to press your face into said pillow by this point and finish both of you off, her body pressed against yours as she huffs into your ear. You swear you hear her say it, even if she'll try to deny it later. "You're mine, fuck," as she cums, panting. You lay there, Paige on-top of you, flush against your body, limp.

And for a moment, the world stills, your hearing muffles, but you can still hear your Dad knocking carefully. "Still asleep girls?" he asks. Paige nods, smiling. "Yeah! If it's okay, we're gonna head for a walk before dinner. Y/N needs to wake up!" She's right — you're so overwhelmed that you find yourself outside, dressed, sitting on a bench in your neighborhood park. Yet Paige is still clinging to you for reasons you can't quite grasp.

The gentle, refreshing breeze envelops you both, the park empty and serene. Lost in each other's embrace, you finally pull away, the words tumbling out: "That felt like the first time, kind of."

Perhaps it had considering the two of you finally got to do something more sexually exciting in behest of maneuvering sex in her car.

Paige's response helps it all make sense. "I know." She might be swept up in the moment, but you don't protest. If it feels good, it does, and you eagerly pull her back in as she grips your sore ass, moving you over her lap to straddle her, kneading it. "I bought you...my strap as a gift because I wanted to thank you for, you know, how good of a...link you are," she says affectionately. You gaze deeply into her eyes, refusing to let her look away as you study her face.

She's so serious and so stupid for choosing to get in her feelings while at your parents' house for the week - with you. "What?" she asks intently, eyes tracing over your face as she searches for your reaction. "Is that-... Are you okay?" When you don't answer, lost in the post-coital haze, smiling softly, she murmurs, "So pretty." She doesn't even try to hide she's in the ropes of it too, but while out of the haze, she doesn't think there's ever been a moment when she's seen you look as beautiful as you do when you're in this blissful state.

"Paige?" you whisper, head buried in the curve of her neck as she moves to gently stroke your back soothingly. "Yeah?"

"Do you feel this too?" The question is extremely raw, earnest, and vulnerable, but under the spell of the moment, it sounds like magic to her ears. "Yeah, I... yeah."

"Have you felt it before?" you inquire softly, searching her eyes. "Besides the first time? Because I... I have. I do."

She holds you tighter, placing you back into the crook of her neck, and you suppose she's ducking from letting you see her when you feel her nod. "You're gonna get me in trouble, y'know. You always do."

You smile softly, kissing her soft skin. Little does she know, you already have. MASTERLIST

AUTHOR NOTE #2: this ending i think can cap off the series perfectly because it's left up to the interpretation of the reader. i mean, lmk if i should release the pt 7 draft when i start releasing drafts anyway! lmk anything on your mind I LOVEE you anons / moots / ppl who message me / ppl who reply to my posts, ur all the funniest ppl ever! - ana.

[prongsiepotter]

down bad | j. potter

summary: you're so in love with james potter but he's a little too good at giving you mixed signals that it might actually ruin you

pairing: james potter x reader

warnings: angst, a little fluff if u squint, and so much longing & yearning. omg so much of it

a/n: i am unfortunately completely obsessed with taylor swift's new album, so everything i'll write in the near future will be based on one of the ttpd songs (yey!) & this one's based on 'down bad.' feel free to send requests if u want pick the next song for me x

──────── 𑁍︎ ‧₊°

"So he just said no?" Mary all but hisses. Marlene shushes her, glancing around the classroom before leaning down from where she's sitting on your desk.

"Are you sure it didn't mean something else?" She rests her hand on yours. "Maybe it was just a misunderstanding. He wouldn't…he just wouldn't, right?" You smile weakly at her, then shake your head. She squeezes your hand.

"The note was pretty clear," you say with a soft sigh. The sentence rolls off your tongue with unhidden bitterness. "Sorry, can't. Need to catch up on some assignments."

You would show it to them, so they could see for themselves and maybe divert their sympathetic gazes from you. But you had set it on fire right after reading it, just like the other two notes friendly rejecting you. You still aren't sure why you did it. After all, you did just tell Mary and Marlene that you're fine. At least you will be. You should not be this devastated over some guy.

Even if that guy is James Potter.

James who is now strolling into the room with his mates, looking as invincible and full of life as he always has and always will.

Quickly, you force a smile at the girls and pull out the chair next to you. Marlene, bless her, gets the hint and lightly shoves Mary's shoulder to have her take the seat. You're going through your book bag, pulling out your inkwell when four bodies make their way past your desk.

"Ladies," comes Sirius cheerfully loud voice as he bows at the waist because, of course, he does. Peter and Remus aren't as dramatic with their greetings. The latter, however, does take the time to slow down in front of you until you look up and return his kind smile. Belatedly, you realise perhaps you shouldn't have done that. You lock eyes with James, who's right behind him.

He sends you an easy smile and a wink. Like he's letting you in on another one of his rare secrets. You're not sure if you're smiling back, but it's almost a given that you are.

He takes his seat behind you, laughing blithely at a joke Pete just told, and it's all so painfully charming that you want to die. You fear he will always make you feel like this. Like you're somehow the chosen one. It's such a sickening feeling, you can't help but whip around and look at Mary, pleadingly. Though, you're not sure what you're pleading for anymore.

She shoots you another unbearably sympathetic smile, looking like she's close to cooing at you. You sigh, hiding your face in the crook of your arms.

You can't help but think how easy it would be to just cry right here. It's embarrassing to admit, but you've done it plenty of times over the weekend after you had seen James out at Hogsmeade with the others. Miserably, you had realised that he was, in fact, not too busy working on his assignments. He just didn't want to spend time with you.

You almost let out a sob.

A hand rubs your back and you know it can only be Mary, but you let yourself believe that it's the universe consoling you, as if to say there, there because there's nothing fair about this and she knows it, but there's nothing she can do it about now, can she?

History of Magic passes in a blur. Before you know it, you're in the library, pouring all of yourself into an essay that you normally couldn't have cared less for. But you're willing to do whatever it takes to keep yourself busy. You know your thoughts will stray the moment you're lying quietly in bed anyway, awaiting another sleepless night.

You finish the sentence and look up, satisfied with your work. Apparently it's been a while since you've torn your gaze away from the parchment before you, seeing how stiff your neck is. You knead at the uncomfortable knot in your shoulder while looking around the library. It's relatively full today with every other seat being taken.

Which makes it all the more irritating when your gaze snatches on a figure sat at the other table right across from you. He's not even looking up, head bent over a book, but you would recognise that mop of unruly dark curls anywhere. James must've seen you when he came in, but that might have just been your hopeful self speaking.

Begrudgingly, you resume your writing and it takes everything in you not to look up every few minutes. To glimpse the slight furrow in his brows and the small pout of his lips as he's carefully reading every paragraph. You know he's likely looking for something to prepare for a prank. Normally, you would simply go over and ask him what he's up to. You know he'd happily tell you. But you're glad to have at least a little bit of pride and dignity left that keeps you rooted in your spot.

Seemingly not enough though since all you can think about is that there's no way he doesn't know that you're right there. It really does make you want to bang your head against the table. Maybe that would finally catch James' attention.

Pathetically, you glance at him only to notice that he's packing his things to leave. The tip of your feather goes back to the parchment so fast, it almost pierces it. You haven't got a clue what you're writing, too busy tracking James' movements from the corner of your eyes.

You watch him stand up, walking down the length of his table towards the door down the hall on his right. Then he stops. You hold your breath. James seemingly hesitates before fixing the strap of his bag on his shoulder. He turns left and walks towards you. You're staring at your hand as it writes illegible words, completely out of your control, when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

"Hey," James whispers when you look up, giving you a familiar grin and small wave. It's an innocent gesture, sweet, but there's almost something hostile about this encounter. Like you have no choice but to let him occupy every single one of your senses. You stare up at him, a matching smile sweeping over your lips before you can think better of it.

That's when you notice the scarf he's wearing and its frizzled ends. It's yours. You know it is.

Did he not give it back to you after one of your nights out together on the stands? After you had flown on your brooms, so close to the sea of stars that you could've dipped your fingertips in them? You could almost hear the echoes of your windblown laughters as the memory pushes itself into the foreground of your mind.

James is sitting still, rosy-cheeked, watching you with curious eyes while you babble on about the Leo constellation. He had just told you that you could do whatever you want to him—another quite maddening thing to casually say to someone—and now he's apparently keen on staying true to his word by letting you wrap your scarf around his neck.

It took some convincing before he'd finally accepted it from you. You promised that you wouldn't be cold with your high collared sweater, but James only gave in when you had accepted his wool hat in exchange.

He had carefully put it on you, smoothing down your hair and pulling out some loose strands to frame your face, mumbling something about how much lovelier his hat looked on you than on him. You told yourself that he surely must've known what it did to you when his knuckles brushed your cheeks. Right? Surely.

James pokes your side, chuckling, as if he sensed that your mind was drifting elsewhere. He cracks another joke, saying that if you were the one to teach him Astronomy, he might actually pay attention in class. He says it like it's a deal and you feel inclined to do whatever it takes to hold up your side of the bargain.

You laugh helplessly, feeling drunk on a little bit of everything; the stars above, James' gentle laughter, the familiar smell of broom wax and crisp winter air. This must be cosmic love, you think to yourself. Your breath clouds in front of you, becoming one with his. All the while, you're too aware of James' shoulder bumping into you, his leg pressed against yours. There's no one out here but you two.

You have all the room in the world, but James chose to sit this close to you. Probably close enough for him to hear your heart pounding. Did he do it for a reason? You'd love to know.

"You don't need me to pay attention in Astronomy," you find yourself saying in response, something daring laced in the drawl of your voice. His eyes flash, bright and a bit wild. It's the same look he gets after you challenge him to a race on your brooms. His grin grows wide, carefree, and oh so lovely.

"Please." His face comes impossibly closer and you lean in without another thought, eager to take whatever it is James will give you. You feel his breath on your lips.

"I will always need you, Y/N."

Somehow he makes it sound genuine.

Then he winks and leaves you a horrid, forsaken mess. Somehow he makes that feel like a nice gesture too.

Incredulously, you stare at him as he leans back, elbows resting on the seats behind him. James Potter, you think weakly, what are you doing to me? Not for the first time you ponder what you would do if you can't have him. You almost double over from the striking pain in your chest.

Then he points out another constellation and you nearly forget all about yourself. He's good at that. Never ceasing to show you that the world is bigger than the two of you. Making you forget and remember that you might be in love. Because what if you were in love?

James cups the back of his neck, then points towards the door of the library, almost shyly letting you know that he's leaving. You nod slowly, still dazed. A small smile crosses his lips before you watch him round the corner, his back disappearing from your sight.

You blink, letting out a ragged breath. You feel like you got the wind knocked out of you. Like you just lost your twin. Someone who knows you like no one else ever will. Someone who might just be your better half. Someone who sometimes makes you feel like they want nothing to do with you.

It's ridiculous, you think bleakly to yourself, you're so down bad.

And James Potter makes it feel like a curse and a blessing.

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Jareth x dreamy reader🔮✨️🌌

How he would react if he was fascinated by you.🔮🌌🌠✨️

Part 1.

Part 2 here

A/n: hello dearies, this was my first attempt at doing a fan favourite childhood movie. ❤️✨️ I plan on writing a fanfic, but please let me know if you'd like a part two for the venetian masquerade scene. I'll admit I might rusty with his character because I haven't seen the movie in a while 😅.

Labyrinth requests: open

You were always a dreamer, daydreaming imaginative worlds beyond anyone's understanding, creating creatures in your mind that appealles to the eccentric.

No one really understands you, not deep down. On the outside, you may speak with politeness, telling others of your little endeavours of fantasy yet twas not in their interest nor care.

You never really fit in with the world around you, dreaming as others spoke in the usual topics of gossip, romance, sport, debates, and social societies of the world.

When working, you would dream of yourself in a flowing white garb dancing around in a fae forest pretending to be a different creature.

One night, you watched a film you believed to be rather fun and eccentric, not thinking much of it.

You recalled your mother was fond of the film, as you remembered. You had watched it once before as a child, then as a teenager.

However, as the day went on. as you worked. driving. Sleeping. Your daydreams soon turned to seeing yourself within that world, and not only that—

In the day dreams, you envision—not purposefully—you were often interacting with one of the characters within the film, the goblin king.

Though this phenomenon wasn't unusual as this happened when you were but a teenager. It was quite crazy to think that if you told anyone, they wouldn't believe you. Most saw it as only a movie, others saw it as their fantasy.

You didn't think much of it at first. Though, it was always in your mind, in your dreams despite never researching about the film.

One day, out of the blue, just as you were about to head to bed. You were wandering to the kitchen to turn off the lights. When you saw a book on the counter, out of curiosity you examined it. As to how it got there was a mystery.

Examining it, it hit you with the realisation the title was the same as the movie you had watched. How was this possible? I don't remember having owned any book like this?

Reading it plagued your curiosity. Did I—no��I don't recall buying this—how on earth? Did I—

Your questions were soon put to rest upon seeing the outside light flicker on. It had motion sensors, so whatever moved would activate it. That's odd? Perhaps it was just a cat roaming outside. They often do trespass to hunt for whatever else may be out there.

You placed the book back down onto the countertop. Taking a peek outside the window, seeing if anything was outside. What the hell? Is that a barn owl. Here. On the fence.

In hindsight, you were rather in awe than suspicious. You loved animals, and barn owls were quite rare. Once, as a child, you recalled a similar experience of a barn owl perched on the roof. It was rather extraordinary.

The owl seemed unaffected by your presence as it tilted its head, observing you—curiously.

You didn't want to disturb it. So you thought of taking photos to show your parents whom were out of town for the weekend. Grabbing your phone, you attempted to take pictures when suddenly—it was gone.

Baffled, you opened the door to your backyard, looking around the area. Nothing.

You didn't think too much of it, yet you were slightly disappointed. It was a rare sight to see something extraordinary in the moonlight.

Looking down at the book—and thinking of the movies plot. You wanted to test the theory of these coincidences. Scoffing to yourself, you jokingly said the words "ok, then, coincidence or not—".

You dramatically turn, acting like a character in a stage play. "Goblin king, goblin king, heed me, take my life away from here."

Within whispers and echoes—nothing. Nothing happened.

"Did she say it? Did she say it!".

"No, shut up!."

"Those weren't the words!".

"All she has to say is 'I wish my life away from here' it's not that hard to say."

"Shhhh, she's speaking again".

You picked up the book, reading the words from the beginning. Testing it once more. You thought of all the moments of conversing to many, not making any sense of your imagination. Trying to fit in within the world, and yet, they never understood you, despite being kind.

With genuine emotion, you say plainly, "I wish my life away from here."

Suddenly, with a turn of events, a gust of wind passed through the trees, and it wasn't gentle, but rather heavy. Turning, you didn't think a storm was possible.

Though it was put to rest when the door to the backyard swung open with brute force from the blustery winds, as glitter rained from in from the winds.

The owl that had perched against the fence had flown inside the home. Transforming into a man. You couldn't believe your eyes. You were too flabbergasted to speak.

"My, my, not even a second later, and you've already spent a wish on something so foolish—I'll be honest y/n, I was expecting a rather more exciting display from you." He was rather peculiar. His attire was not of modern fashion. Donning a white blouse with grey leggings with black boots. What caught you off guard was his outward apperance.

"That's because I thought it was fictional." You muttered.

"Fictional, you say? Hm~ Well, I'm afraid not, for I'm as real as you." He cocked a smile with a rather British sly tone.

"No, I'm dreaming, this isn't real—" you muttered, stopping. "This is a dream, you're not real, I'm simply in bed dreaming right now."

He found it funny. He was taking pleasure in your flummoxed reaction. Despite how wished to deny it true, he was real—and he was here to fulfill your wish.

"Y/n, do pay attention, I've heeded your wish, and I am here to grant it." Suddenly, within the grasp of his hand, a crystal clear ball fluently appeared. He started turning it, spinning it. Displaying tricks that seemed impossible for any human to do.

"Not all young girls get this privilege. What I'm offering you is far more than what anyone can simply have." Within the crystal ball, a vision began to play. A dream. One that happened during one of your day dreams. "I can take you there, you know, all you have to do is ask."

"Dreams can be made." You said simply. "There was merely a misunderstanding."

"And yet your dreams can be granted. Look at what I'm offering you y/n, a life far more than your own, a place where you're understood, a land in which none can harm you. A world completely of your own." He spoke as if he knew you completely, as if he'd been observing you each day, watching your dreams.

"I—I couldn't, what of my family, my friends, my loved ones." You say in a soft whisper.

"What of them—the deed is done y/n, and I'm afraid there's not much you can do now." He whimsicaly spoke with a cunning tone.

"There must be—surely—if there's a way to counter any deal, curse, or legend. Then, there must be a way for a wish."

"Hm, quite the insightful young thing, aren't you. Very well, I shall give you a chance to take back your wish if—you complete my labyrinth."

"Labyrinth?" You questioned whether or not such a place exists. After all, it's not like you could simply teleport to where he was speaking of.

Suddenly, turning behind you, you were met with a great, vast plane and seeing a stoned architecture resembling a maze with a castle in the middle. "You have 18 hours to complete my labyrinth or."

"You shall be trapped here forever." With that, his voice disappeared within the wind. As you turned to ask "wait but, how do I—hm?, ok, guess I'm on my own."

With that you were on your way.

What you hadn't known was that he had watched you from the start. Taking fascination in only you when the rest were only but white noise.

He could've sworn he dreamt of you once or twice yet, to his astoundment, you were as real as the throne he sits on.

To you, you had no idea how excited you made him. He only wanted you as interested in him as he was in you.

Even if you couldn't recognise it, he wanted to trap you forever within a dream where he could finally have a companion that could understand him. Build worlds and new domains for his labyrinth. To finally have a queen/king/royal by his side to hold forever.

He wouldn't have approached if you were not of interest. Many have attempted to catch his interest and yet failed. After Sarah, no one could capture his care nor attention. He was left within a void. Until you came along.

For now, you were his dream, a wish he could grant, and he plans on keeping it.

[whatwouldsylwrite]

At least I got you in my head (4)

(3)

Summary: Abby is straight. And then you move in with her.

Tags: modern au, fem!reader, straight!abby (she is doing some comphet bullshit), pining, idiot in love and it's abby, reader is gay and tired.

Notes: Happy pride month, guys! I feel like I committed a hate crime with this chapter, so I'm sorry. It's also longer than previous chapters by 2k. And um, the "hate crime" part (not literal hate crime, just some angst) is rushed because I really didn't enjoy writing it :/

Black haired girl is Yoon Jiwoo from My Name, and she is a badass, if you want to see some female violence go watch some edits of her.

Taglist: @abbyily @lillysbigwilly @gravygranules @blairfox04 @frogtits1 @ccinnamongrl @ninazenuk @urmomsgirlfriend1 @sunkissedbibi @couchgarbage @nil-eena (if you want me to tag/untag you for the whole series dm me please)

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Caitlyn was again looking like a zombie, sipping her bitter coffee slowly. You were sitting in the coffee shop on the campus, and Caitlyn looked at you like a grumpy cat. Or a very pissed off cat. 

Caitlyn wasn't happy you distracted her (saved from exhaustion) from her studies (staring at her paper for an hour). But you didn't care as long as she sat with you and decompressed with her disgusting bitter 3-shots-of-espresso coffee. 

"You look like shit." You told Caitlyn and she glared at you. "You need to spend your weekend just sleeping for 30 hours. You can't do this to yourself."

"I'm fine." Caitlyn scoffed, but accepted the doughnut you slipped to her. "Thanks."

"I swear I will stay at your place for the weekend."

"I don't think you can be separated from Abby for so long, (y/n). Quite frankly, it makes me worried." 

Oh god, Cait had her detective face on, like she was solving a puzzle right now, and it made you nervous. 

"Why?"

"Well." Cait sipped her coffee. "You have the gay yearning in your eyes. Are you, perhaps, falling in love with her?"

"No." You cut sternly, surprising yourself. You didn't expect yourself to have such a strong reaction. "I'm not falling for a straight girl."

"Maybe falling was a strong word. You're crushing on her." The word crushing sounded so alien from Cait.

"It's manageable." You shrugged, not wanting to discuss your own weakness, but not wanting to lie to Caitlyn either. "I know I don't have a chance."

"This is quite upsetting." Caitlyn said and squeezed your hand. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I won't, I promise. I'm not stupid." You winked and drank your coffee. "Do you want to come to her fight on Friday?"

"I have to finish that paper." Caitlyn groaned. She noticed how you narrowed your eyes on her. "I swear, I won't study during the weekend. But if I push myself I can finish it."

"I'll be at your door at 12pm on Saturday. We will go outside, have a walk in the park, go to the bookshop or whatever nerdy place you want to visit. We both can use some downtime."

Caitlyn sighed but didn't protest.

"I'll text you when I go to sleep. Count 8 hours and then show up."

You nodded, proud of Caitlyn compromising on this topic. She didn't like "wasting time" but if you said it was for your benefit too she usually agreed. You trapped her in taking care of herself by thinking she was taking care of you, and it worked well. 

"Ask Ellie to come with you to Abby's fight. I'm sure she is going to be there anyway."

"You're right." You smiled and took your phone out. You still had Ellie's number from months ago. "Have you talked to her?"

"Yes. We study together from time to time, and sometimes I invite her to play chess." 

"Good. I'm happy you found your nerdmate." You smiled at Caitlyn and she smiled back. "Or is there something else?"

"No, we're friends. Not the kind you are with Abby." Cait looked pointedly at you. "I may be speculating, but I have a feeling she is not as straight as she thinks she is."

"Well, what do you want me to do? 'Hey, Abby, I know you're so deep in the closet you met fucking Aslan but how about you change your entire worldview because I have a crush on you that I totally can get over?'" You scrunched your nose, irritated at nothing in particular. 

"Obviously not that." Caitlyn frowned like she usually did when she was stategising, as if she could find a way to get you and Abby together because she was just that smart. "Well, I think you should start dating again."

You shrugged and looked down at your phone. 

to: Ellie Williams

Hi, it's (y/n)

Are you going to Abby's fight on Friday?

from: Ellie Williams

Hi

Yeah

Wanna go together?

to: Ellie Williams

Yes

from: Ellie Williams

cool 

I'll meet you there

"I'm not going to use other people in order to get over Abby. I'm not fighting fire with fire." You said, continuing your conversation with Cait. 

"You could use a distraction." Caitlyn shrugged in return. 

"I'll just find someone to tutor." 

"And I'm a workaholic with bad habits?" Cait muttered under her breath and bit down on her second doughnut. 

Thursday nights were usually booked for the time to unwind for both of you: you'd come home late, tired and hungry after classes and lessons on campus, Abby would be already home, studying in the living room for her usual seminar on Friday, also tired. 

Abby heard the keys as you opened the door and in a few minutes you appeared in the living room.

"Hi." Abby's chest tightened at your small, quiet voice and she looked at you. 

"Hey." She said gently and panicked, not really understanding why. "You look like shit." Nice save, Anderson.

"I feel like shit." You shrugged and went to your room to take your change of clothes. 

Abby took a deep breath, trying to get her panic under control - what was that? What, she wasn't allowed to be gentle with her friends anymore? What the fuck her brain was playing at? That was concerning. For some reason she kept creating excuses why it was okay to touch you, and that wasn't even the weird, selfish part. The weird part was - why did she even need to create excuses? She was touchy with her friends, and you were touchy too, it wasn't any different from her friendship with Ellie.

But somehow it was, and Abby was confused. She tried to act chill and normal around you, sometimes getting a little more sarcastic than usual. It didn't seem to bother you, but Abby got embarrassed every time she'd suddenly treat you a little rougher because she'd get this weird panic. Honestly, it was pissing her off - you were nice to her, gentle even, and she was acting like a school boy, tugging on your pigtails. 

Just like now. You didn't look like shit, you looked lovely despite being tired, and Abby had a fucking knee jerk reaction to god knows what. 

You came back from the shower, smelling like you, and you sat next to Abby, putting your head on her shoulder. Abby stopped typing, her heart doing a micro somersault: you were so close so suddenly it scared her. Or whatever she kept telling herself, really. 

"I wanna die."

"You're just hungry." Abby murmured and pretended to be concentrating on her studies. "There's leftovers from yesterday or I can order something for you."

You made a tired sound and Abby chuckled. 

"What do you want? Thai? Indian?" 

"Nah, don't waste money, I'll cook something."

"I'm not 'wasting money'. You're tired as fuck." I want to take care of you, she wanted to say, but she was being weird again, so she didn't. "Just pick."

"Let's do rock paper scissors."

Abby won and ordered your usual while you went through the endless list of tv shows for both of you to watch. Now, when you weren't that close, Abby got back to studying - her weird panic could wait until she was done. In Abby's mind her gpa was way harder to fix than whatever emotional things she had going on. 

"Cait really likes Ellie." You said offhandedly, and Abby perked up. "In a friendly way."

"Really?" 

Abby was surprised for two reasons: Ellie had a temper and was only likeable when she was interested in someone sexually, and Cait was so out of her league it was ridiculous. 

"Yeah. They play chess and study together. Cait doesn't study with people, so I guess Ellie is special in that way."

"Wow." Abby chuckled. "I mean, Ellie is extremely smart. Is it your type?" Abby teased, continuing the bit about you crushing on Ellie. However something in her grew anxious at the thought of learning what your type was.

"It's more about her arms, you know." You laughed, looking a little embarrassed at the admission. 

Something felt hot in Abby’s chest as she looked down at her own arms. She looked back at you and flexed her bicep to see your reaction, and it was worth it: you looked dazed for a second before quickly looking away, flustered. Abby laughed at you and you hit her on her arm, embarrassed. 

“Fuck you.” You laughed too, and Abby felt too good in this moment, just laughing and teasing you; she never wanted it to end. "What is your type?"

Abby blinked. Her type? She never gave it a thought before: relationships weren’t something she was too invested in, it never seemed to be worth the effort. She never experienced this head over heels love everyone was talking about, so she never cared to run after boys.

"I don't really have a type." Abby said, thinking back to her not-so-long list of exes. "You know, with men if he is not an asshole it's already a win."

You laughed and Abby smiled, her confusion about not having a type going away.

"Great, we're definitely going to have a perfect love life with these standards." You chuckled and laid back on the sofa, letting Abby get back to her study. 

Abby's favourite part of Thursdays was happening around 10pm, when you'd finish washing the dishes - today it was putting everything in the bin - and Abby'd get her excessive amount of pillows and blankets so you two could cuddle and watch the next episode of the ridiculous show you both were too invested in. 

"Come on, come here." Abby said a little impatiently while you were putting some pillows away. 

"I'm not the one who made a fucking fort out of pillows." You grumped but soon enough you put your head on Abby's shoulder, your hands tucked in front of your chest. Abby always expected you to hug her around her middle, but you never did, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. 

Sometimes, very rarely, when you'd get too tired, you'd fall asleep on Abby's chest, and Abby never had the heart to wake you up. You already showered, everything was clean and you didn't have any tasks to do, so why would she wake you up? Just so you could walk to your bedroom, your sleep interrupted? No. 

Abby looked down where your head was, curious if you were asleep after the episode ended, but you looked up just as she lowered her head, and fuck you were too close. So close Abby's heart fucking malfunctioned and started beating five times faster. She could feel your breath on her face and something was demolishing under her ribcage - it happened in a matter of seconds and you moved away, creating the distance between you, but Abby was so scared in that moment she didn't breathe. 

"Do you need to study?" You asked as you moved away and sat next to her. Abby tried not to feel disappointed at losing your warmth. 

"I'm done, actually. I feel kinda confident about tomorrow, you know?"

Abby stood up and started tidying up the living room, putting everything in its place.

"You're smart, Abby. You'd nail that seminar, I promise." 

"Thanks, (y/n). You're coming tomorrow to my fight, right?"

"Yeah. I even cleared my schedule for it." You said, pleased with yourself and Abby smiled. "But I'll kill you if you get hurt, you hear me? No missing punches."

Abby laughed and came closer to you, refusing to feel weird about being affectionate with you. It was fine. 

"I will be careful, I promise." Abby murmured as she leaned down and kissed your forehead. "Don't want to get in trouble with a woman who feeds me."

"Damn right." You said sternly. "Good night, Abby."

"Night, (y/n)."

You only had a vague idea about MMA fights: you were never really interested in sports, let alone violent sports, but well, Abby invited you so you decided to give it a shot. You weren't sure you'd like it (seeing Abby being punched? No thank you), but Abby wouldn't have invited you if it wasn't important to her, right?

Or were you fantasising again? Making a big deal out of nothing? Fuck, it was getting harder and harder to keep yourself in check with these things. Abby was sweet, and you were weak for sweet girls. 

You tried not to get delusional when your suspicion got too strong - was it intuition or wishful thinking? Were you seeing things that weren't there or were you ignoring what was? You didn't know, and yeah, it was manageable, but also - it drove you crazy. You couldn’t live like this, questioning Abby’s every move and every word.

Maybe you should have talked to her about the possibility of her not being straight, but her best friend was a lesbian, surely Abby had a moment to reflect on her own sexuality like some straight girls did when they found out their friend was gay. Abby was smart, she’d have figured it out already. 

God you thought you weren’t that stupid, but you were failing not to fall for Abby for a month and a half already. Hubris is a bitch, huh.

Ellie met you outside the place where the fight would take place fifteen minutes before the start. She looked good, as attractive as always - yes, (y/n), you needed to look at women you actually had a chance with, good job, keep it up - and the look she gave you suggested she thought the same about you. She even took your hand in hers as she led you to your seats, and you didn’t protest - somehow Ellie being touchy felt natural, and her cool hand felt nice on your skin. You sat together and you looked around.

“There’s supposed to be medics around, right?” 

“Yeah, but Abby doesn’t get super injured, she’ll be fine.”

“Have you seen her face? I almost went into cardiac arrest when I saw her.” 

“That’s her usual day at practice.” Ellie shrugged, her thigh warm against yours as she moved closer to hear you better. “Don’t worry, she can take a lot more than that. She is tough and intimidating, and she actually knows how to duck. But if you tell her I said it - your ass is grass.”

You laughed at Ellie's words and she smiled back. She explained to you how the fight was going to happen, and you felt a little hopeful - how much damage can happen in a five minute round? Not a lot, right? Right?

There were other fights too, and you had time to adjust to the overall violence of it all. You didn't know the girls who were fighting, but even then when a stranger got hit you couldn't help but flinch. Ellie noticed how stressed you were getting, so she took your hand in hers to ground you. The touch was definitely easy between the two of you, and it was comforting, so you squeezed her hand back. 

"I don't know if I'd survive this." You laughed and Ellie squeezed your hand back. 

"Look, they're all fine. No blood, no bruises." 

"The standards are too low, Ellie. You're in sports too, right?"

"If you call skateboarding a sport then yeah. I'm a hell of an athlete." Ellie snorted. 

"You should've taken Abby with you." 

"Babe, she has been in martial arts since she was four. I'm pretty sure she'd have kicked my ass if I asked her to leave MMA."

You laughed at this, a little bit confused: Ellie was behaving like Ellie you knew, not Ellie that was studying with Cait three times a week. The difference was intriguing. 

Finally Abby's name was announced and you got tense, bracing yourself. But when she walked to the cage, you forgot how to breathe for a totally different reason: she was so intimidating and confident, her defined shoulders rolled back in a threat, and you just couldn't help yourself. She was hot. She was so hot you pressed your thighs together as your eyes roamed over her trained body that screamed power and dominance, her top and shorts letting you see her abs and thighs that could crush your head if Abby wanted to. Fuck. 

Mark you as scared and horny. 

Her opponent was similar to her in size, and you watched with wide eyes as they approached each other after the bell rang. Abby was light on her feet, not too fast as previous fighters, but she timed her punches well, immediately cornering her opponent. But the girl was quick to recover as she landed some punches on Abby's side with her legs and you gasped, terrified.

"Abby's okay." Ellie said to you and you finally exhaled, not looking away from the cage. 

It was the most stressful eighteen minutes of your life, and the relief you felt when Abby was getting the upper hand and she was punching instead of getting punched, was immeasurable. Abby didn't really let her opponent corner her, her face had that calculated expression as if she knew every way this fight could go. That was comforting, but not as comforting as hearing the last bell and seeing Abby's black glove raised in the air to show her win. 

"That was so intense." You admitted as you relaxed in your seat and Ellie laughed, her hands stroking your thigh. 

"Believe me, it wasn't. You need to watch Abby's previous fights, there's some intense shit."

"No thank you." You said. "Do we wait for her or? What the fuck we are supposed to do, actually?"

"She told me to meet her at the party, so we can head out. Are you going to the party?"

"I dunno." You admitted sheepishly. "I have plans tomorrow."

"Come on, it will be fun. You can leave early and still get your beauty sleep. I can even set an alarm for you, Cinderella."

"Okay-okay. I'll leave at midnight." 

Abby arrived at the party a little later than she planned, but at least everyone was already having fun and not yet wasted. She quickly grabbed a beer and went through people to find Ellie and then find you - in Abby's head you were supposed to be with her. Ellie, however, was talking to her other friends - that was how Abby referred to anyone Ellie befriended in university - she was laughing and you were nowhere in sight. 

Ellie noticed her and went for a hug, patting her back.

"(Y/n) said your fight was 'so intense'." Ellie laughed and Abby laughed too, because they both knew Abby had way worse fights. "Congrats on not having your ribs broken."

"You're so sweet." Abby said mockingly. "What did I do to have such a supportive, caring best friend?"

"Nothing you should be proud of." 

"Have you seen (y/n)? I kinda thought she'd be with you."

"Yeah, she was talking to some girl." Oh. "Close to the bar." 

Something not really pleasant filled Abby's chest after Ellie's words, something like disappointment. She expected to see you there, but you were somewhere else, talking to someone else. 

Abby took a sip of her beer and went in the direction Ellie told her to find you. And yes, there you were, talking to a black haired girl Abby didn't know. It looked like the conversation was friendly, and the other girl didn't stand too close to you, which brought Abby relief - what the fuck was wrong with her? Why was she so uncomfortable with seeing you with someone else? What the fuck?

She walked through people to get closer to you, and when you turned your head you saw her and smiled. Abby smiled back and watched you touch the other girl's forearm, saying your goodbyes. The girl smiled at you and motioned at her phone as you nodded before she started to walk away. When Abby came to you, the girl wasn't there anymore and your smile was only directed at Abby, and it calmed her down, the normalcy of your life getting back. 

"Congratulations!" You hugged Abby tightly and she hugged back, stroking your back on instinct. 

"Did you like it?" Abby already knew the answer, but she really wanted to tease you. 

"Liked seeing people getting punched? No."

"But what about all those arms, hm?" 

"I swear to god, Abby." You elbowed her and Abby laughed. 

"Was it your friend?" Abby asked cautiously, trying to pass her curiosity as something casual. 

"Hm?"

"The girl you were talking to. I didn't want to interrupt, sorry." Was she really sorry? Maybe. 

"Oh, don't worry." You said, not answering Abby's question, and it made her feel not good. "Are you feeling okay though?"

"You're such a mother hen." Abby rolled her eyes. "My side is bruised, and she got my lip, but otherwise I'm fine."

"Great."

Abby spent the next hour glued to your side, talking to you: it was fun to be with you outside your shared apartment. Yeah, you spent time together on weekends, but being around a lot of people Abby knew and showing who she was friends with (yup, people knew you because you were a tutor on campus and a lot of them swore they got their credits thanks to you) was a cool feeling. Abby felt cool because she was friends with you. 

"I have plans tomorrow with Caitlyn." You said as you checked the time on your phone. "I'll head out."

"Already?"

"Yeah. But you have fun, okay? Call me if you need me." 

"Need you?" Abby raised her eyebrow.

"What if you get so drunk you'd need assistance?" You teased and hugged Abby. "Have fun! See you at home."

"Okay, mom." Abby laughed and watched you leave, just a bit sad. 

She found Ellie and hung out with her friends until she needed a refill of her beer. And while she was waiting for her beer, someone scooted closer to her and coughed, catching her attention. 

Abby turned her head to see a guy her age with a stubble. He smiled at her and Abby smiled back, a little confused.

"I was at your fight today." He said as he looked her over, and Abby got thrills from his attention. "You know how to throw a punch."

"Thanks." Abby said, pleased. Guys rarely liked the fact she could fuck them up, and hearing a guy saying she was good was ego boosting. 

"I'm Owen." He stretched his hand for a handshake, and Abby took it.

"Abby." 

The vibration of notifications woke you up and you expected to see Caitlyn’s message saying she finally went to sleep. You checked the time - 3am - and looked at your notifications. Indeed, Caitlyn messaged you half an hour ago with “if i see you earlier than 12pm ill kill you”, but there were other notifications. 

from: Abby

Hi im with a boy

sorry

promise we won’t be loud 

Your heart sank, but you didn’t even have time to process your emotions as you heard the front door open and people talking in hushed voices. Of fucking course you woke up just in time to hear Abby come home with a guy. They quickly made their way to Abby’s bedroom, trying to be quiet, but you got hyper aware of every noise. Fuck.

It hurt, and it hurt even more because you were so fucking stupid. You knew from the beginning Abby would never be interested in you because you were a girl, but the safety of your apartment where the two of you existed in your small little bubble made you delusional. 

Abby was just affectionate and touchy, and you were stupid and read it the way you wanted to read it, getting your hopes up. Stupidstupidstupid

You heard the bed creak on the other side of the wall and your throat tightened. Abby liked guys and she was having sex with a guy right now while you felt your heart crush, because you overestimated yourself and thought you could easily manage your feelings. 

The problem was that you forgot that feelings were not manageable and not something you could compromise with. You couldn’t just decide not to feel something and then actually stop feeling it. This mindset trapped you into repression and repression could only go so far, and now the fucking dam was broken. 

You were in love with Abby, and you had no chance and Caitlyn was right: you were hurting yourself. 

You didn’t cry, keeping your composure and snickering at the lack of the noise from the other side: either Abby was very quiet in bed or the sex wasn’t good. That thought made you feel better, not for any noble reason: you were hurt and you wanted Abby to not feel good too, and you didn’t really care at that moment that it wasn’t her fault.

Somehow you fell asleep, not bothered by any noise - that made you smile cruelly again - and you tried not to think about this situation and your own feelings.

Caitlyn was right, you needed a distraction. 

Abby woke up with a pleasant ache in her body and her head hurting just a little. Her bed was empty and she was relieved - she didn’t like to wake up next to someone she barely knew. 

Well, knew enough to have sex with him, but not enough to wake up next to him. Abby genuinely liked Owen - he was easy going and polite, and honestly? Maybe you were right when you said you didn’t really need to know someone to hook up with them. And hey, Abby was so touch-starved she was too touchy with you, so it seemed like a great idea yesterday. It felt like it worked - she was probably too lonely the whole time and now she was relaxed and there was no pull to go and cuddle you. It made her feel guilty - if she stopped wanting to be close to you after she hooked up then it meant she was just selfish this whole time, substituting what she actually needed with whatever she could get from you.

Yeah, she didn’t feel like a good person right now. 

Abby stood up from her bed and assessed the damage: two bruises on her inner thighs and a hickey on her collarbone, not that bad. She didn’t like when guys left marks on her - it mostly caused problems with covering up, but Owen was kinda good with not leaving marks everywhere. 

Abby put her clothes on and made her way to the bathroom when she felt her chest tighten with anxiety: not only Owen was still here, but he was talking to you. Shit. 

Abby felt bad for bringing someone home without actually discussing it with you beforehand and now you were making small talk at 11am with a guy who was supposed to leave a long time ago. 

Owen noticed Abby and smiled at her, and she smiled back. 

“Morning.” He looked down at her neck and Abby blushed a little. 

“Morning.” Abby responded and waited for Owen to come closer to her.

He put his hands on her waist and kissed her on the cheek and Abby melted a little.

“Sorry, I have to go already, but text me anytime.” Owen murmured before leaving a small peck on her lips and Abby nodded. 

Owen left and Abby went to the kitchen where you were drinking tea and looking ready for the day while Abby felt like a mess. The guilt overpowered her and she sat on the chair opposite of you.

“Sorry for yesterday, I know we haven’t discussed bringing people over.” Abby said, but you smiled at her.

“Hey, we are young and horny, can’t blame you for getting your stress relief.” You chuckled kindly, and Abby felt relieved. “He didn't seem like a total asshole.”

Abby laughed, knowing it was a pick at her standards.

“Well, just as you said, don’t really have to know him to hook up with him.”

“See, you’re learning.” You nodded your head approvingly and Abby laughed again. “Actually, while we’re still on the topic, can I bring girls over?”

“I mean, yeah, I think as long as we don’t disturb each other, everything is a fair game.” Who was Abby to deny your own needs when she literally brought a guy over?

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” You didn't look too happy right now, and it confused Abby to a degree, but she didn't ask.

What Abby didn’t know in that moment, that by giving you permission to bring girls over, she started the end of it all.

--------

To: Yoon Jiwoo

Hi! 

Would you like to grab a coffee with me?

[majachee]

got distracted about five different times on my way here but yES, I HAVE PREVAILED!! JUMPS INTO BOX

actually gnawing your art rn, obsessed with it

do your lil power ranger guys have names yet? 👀✨ what's their favorite things to do in down time?

GRINS. OH, I CANT WAIT TO INTRODUCE YOU TO THE LORE OF POWER RANGERS AND TOTAL DRAMA...!!!

In this AU, the TD characters are essentially placed in a world that follows MMPR rules (made up city, aliens, superheroes, etc.) and the main cast is as follows...!

graphic design is my passion

Dw about any last names, the TD characters canonically don't have any in the show, and it'll stay that way in the AU! At most, I'll do subtle nods or jokes about popular fanon names lol

AS FOR FAVORITE THINGS TO DO IN THEIR DOWN TIME... WELL.

Courtney is very active in the school government scene, and she's also a counselor in training at a local summer camp program. She's also a passionate performer, and enjoys working with the theatre/drama club!

She's one of those busy-bodies, methinks, she likes engaging with the community and keeping herself busy! It's what she enjoys! Her down time is often spent finding ways to be productive. The normalcy also helps her cope with the fact that aliens keep attacking at inconvenient moments lmao

She's also often seen with Gwen, a more introverted goth that she drags around from time to time.

Noah is also active in the student counsel. Hell, he's Courtney's direct competition for the title of Student Body President at the beginning of the story. (aka "season 1")

He's a lot more lax, however, preferring to keep the amount of responsibilities he has to a minimum. He breezes through classwork, and finds himself with a fair amount of free time... Granted that aliens aren't attacking again.

He's often seen reading or gaming in the library, hanging around with his friends Izzy, Eva, and Owen, or walking his yellow labrador retriever around the block.

Heather is difficult for me... She's such a pro-active, bitchy (/aff) character and I feel like we haven't really seen much of her acting domestic in the show itself. She does ballet, and I'd imagine she wouldn't be opposed to doing things around the school for her own benefit (especially after her character development lol)

But like... Huh. She has a cat, and it doesn't seem like she has a good relationship with her parents. I don't know what she does in her down time, really, perhaps it'll come to me when I write more about her. She's one of those characters that really dominates the page when writing, and seem to almost write themselves if that makes sense lol

Harold, like Noah, can be seen reading or gaming in the library, or hanging out with his bandmates. That's right boys, the Drama Brothers are CANON in the MMPC universe. 😈

Is their music any good? Don't worry about that...

Harold is also very active in weekend/after-school programs and activities, and has volunteered at many similar places. Jack of all trades, master of none some may call him. He's also open to hanging out with his teammates and trying to get them to open up, he's the most forgiving of the group and wants them to all work together. So, yes, for better or for worse, he helps everyone else out with their hobbies.

Duncan is known for skipping class, but what he does while playing hooky really depends. He can't stay at home, so instead he lurks around town or the school premises, sneaking in snacks and such for his friends. He's also into wood whittling, not something he can do on school premises but definitely something he has a talent for!

He also has a pet tarantula named Scruffy, who is very well-cared for and VERY spoiled. He has a few other spiders and bugs he takes care of, and is very knowledgable on bug care! He whittles out little sculptures and caves to put in their enclosures, methinks!

... When not doing that he's bullying Harold, and trying (but failing) at bullying Noah. Izzy bit him once, but that physical wound was nothing compared to the psychic damage Noah left him with. (He called him a poser, and proved it with citations and evidence. MLA formatted.)

[tiazennie]

₊˚⊹♡ ₊˚⊹♡

All my fault Genre: fluff and a lot bit of angst hahaha Chenle X Reader Warnings: swearing and superpowers which is crazy. corny way of writing, and lastly the amount of times the word guilty and the phrase "all my/your fault" was used lmao. (lmk if there's more!) Background: You've always treasured stargazing. perhaps as a little child, you were amazed by how the stars shone brightly on you despite their millions or perhaps billions of miles away, and it was your only source of comfort when something upsetting occurred. It all began, you and your parents discovering that you generate electricity each time your heartbeat rises above 80 beats per minute. However, today is the day that you had the worst day of your life! Someone chooses to sit in your usual park place, making things worse. ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

It was nothing unusual to your parents to see you frowning as you made your way to the park. Most of the answers were the same, and they knew that inquiring would only make things worse. Since it was the weekend and they thought maybe you might go together to the beach to let it out and spend some time as a family, they decided to ask tomorrow instead of letting it go today. Even worsening your already unpleasant attitude was the realization that someone else was occupying your preferred location within the park. You wanted to just run away and electrocute him then and then. However, you remained composed and just requested him to go.  "Um, hi! you're sitting on my favorite spot." The guy looked up at you and gave you an unimpressed look. "Hello, I'm sorry but this has no writing that says 'Please don't sit here' so anyone can sit on it whenever." He replied to which you acknowledged. Most people just roll their eyes and leave, but he was persistent on staying. "This is fine, I like a good challenge." You thought before replying. "Still, you're sitting where I sit everyday." You say emphasizing the letter/word "I" as he poked his tongue out in his inner cheek out of annoyance. "Fine, I'll leave in one condition." You roll your eyes mentally, "every time." You thought. "What is it? Give you five dollars or pick up your things for you--" "Give me your number." He says cutting you off, immediately showing a shit eating grin after seeing your flustered reaction. "My- my number? Please like I'd believe that." You reply ready to leave after you hear a beep from your heart monitor. You had to run and fast! "Wait-" He almost said before hissing after feeling an electric shock throughout his whole body. He felt numb and paralyzed. You looked back and saw him having trouble breathing and shaking uncontrollably. You wanted to shake him out of his situation, but hearing your heart monitor still beeping you thought it would make it worse so you decided to call 911. "H-hi I'm seeing a guy getting electric shocked, please come and hurry!" You stutter before ending the call and crouched beside him immediately wearing your emergency gloves so if things like these, happen you could shake them out of their consciousness, to lessen the effects of the electricity coursing through their veins and knock some senses into them (After you make them lose theirs). "Please stay with me, fuck this all my fault." Right after saying that he stops shaking and carefully stands up. Scrunching his eyebrows in an attempt to remember the things that just happened and why his head suddenly started hurting. "W-what happened?" He asks snapping you out of your thoughts. "I-I you were--" You were cut off by the ringing of the ambulance and the people inside it making tons of noises. Someone pushed you out of their way to check his vitals. "Put him inside now!" Someone shouted, and that someone was your Dad. "What did you do now?" He asks as tears started to build up in your eyes blurring your vision. "I'm sorry, This- this all my fault Dad, I didn't m-mean to harm him." You whispered barely audible for your Dad to hear. But he was sure, you were blaming yourself again. "Just get inside the ambulance." You obey what he said careful not to touch anyone to not make the situation worse.

After that was a blur. You could barely remember anything because you constantly spaced out. Already knowing what's about to come to you in your house. You were cut off from your thoughts, when a nurse called you and said the "patient" wanted to see you. Nervous, you stand up, your legs wobbly from the happenings and the thought that he might want answers to what just happened. You enter his room quietly, not wanting to disturb him from looking outside his window. His eyes were twinkling, just like the stars that were sprinkled all across the sky. "Hi, again." You speak up audible enough to make him look at you in surprise before smiling. His smile somehow made you feel comfort and genuineness. You couldn't even explain what was happening to yourself after seeing his pretty smile. "Hi, so Y/n I need answers on what just happened why I am here lying on a hospital bed." You knew it. he could see the hesitation in your eyes and he was about to say take your time when you replied. "You see um, what's your name?"" You ask out of curiosity as he chuckles, he somehow found you cute in a awkward way. He liked how straightforward you are with your actions and words. "The name's Chenle." He says trying to ask for a handshake as you just looked at it, confused on what to do. Your parents never taught you those things, in fear that you might hurt someone unkowinglly. Although, the name did sound familiar to you. "Here goes nothing." You thought inhaling as much air as you needed to calm down. Breathing helped you in calming down. Especially, when the cause of your heartrate to go up was near your personal space, and was about to pop the little bubble you had always imagined as a kid so people won't come near you. "It's your choice if your gonna believe me or not." You said and explained everything from when you were a child finding out you had that condition and to now, why he was here in the hospital.

"So you're saying, I made you flustered and it caused your heartrate to go up causing you to produce electricity because your heartrate went up to 80 percent. So now, I'm here at the hospital because of electric shock?" You nodded embarrassed and ashamed, you just wanted an earthquake to spilt the floor you were standing on and just swallow you whole, in other words. You wanted to die. He looks at you with a 'are you serious face' before saying you needed to prove it to him, or he'll press legal charges on you (which was a joke, but you totally believed him). "How? Oh! I know." You started running, wishing your heartrate would go up because your shoes squeaking the floor sounded so awkward. After a few seconds your heart monitor finally beeping and you planned on touching your phone to charge it, when instead a mosquito landed on your nose and it kills it. Chenle looks at the mosquito not even a hot second and bursts out laughing, as you just looked at the poor insect full of guilt and now embarrassment after hearing his laughter. Heck, you didn't even know you could do that. "Do you believe me now?" You ask still out of breath. Feeling as if you had just ran on a marathon. He nods trying to keep his compoture and not remember what just happened to the mosquito.

"It deserved it, after almost ruing your porcelaine skin." He thought nodding to himself. "I was actually hoping you could forgive me after what I said in the park, and now." You speak up facing the floor. This was the time where you appreciate how pretty the floor is right now. Scared on what he was about to say. "It wasn't your fault besides, I've always wanted to be electrocuted." He admits in an attempt to lighten up your mood. It wasn't working, not even one bit, and he knew it. When he saw one tear fall down on to the floor. God, your heart felt like it was about to burst because of guiltyness. He was trying so hard to make you feel good that it felt bad. You knew it was your fault, why wasn't he believing it? Why was he persistent on making you feel okay, when you shouldn't be? This was all your fault, all your fault he's here and all your fault that your dad might lose his job again. "Why are you trying so hard on making me feel okay, Chenle?" You say seriousness lacing your voice, you hear him sigh as he attempts (horribly) to sit up from his bed. "Cause it really wasn't your fault Y/n. Your dad came in a few minutes ago, and explained everything to me. He told me that you would oftenly blame yourself on situations like these, and i get where your coming from. I do also, blame myself when something happens in my familly. But, I never really thought how much it affected the people around me, and after seeing you I felt pittyful of myself. I felt so shitty, that the reason why I never gotten close with my parents was because I kept on pushing them away because I was always blaming myself."

Chenle says, making you realize that maybe he was really right. Your parents were trying so hard on being the perfect parents for you, but you couldn't appreciate that because of your ongoing 'all my fault' mindset. You sigh and hug him, which caughts him off gaurd but he hugs you back even carresing your back. "Thank you." You say quietly as he smiles in the crook of your neck. "I'll wait for you Y/n, until you're ready. But don't take too long, I am not a very patient person." He says making you laugh, and he was sure this wouldn't be the last time he'll make you laugh. Fin (hellooo, I appreciate you sm for actually reading until the end to this piece of trash that I wrote also this was kind of short since I wrote this out of the blue at around 1 in the morning. I couldn't sleep because of stress and everything that's going on in my life (jk I have sleep paralysis). Anyways, hopefully you liked this (although it was shitty) and enjoyed reading it! Please stay hydrated and hopefully you get a good day/night. love yaa!) -Ria-

[beanibon]

When you have the chance, could you write about vash or wolfwood being jealous of someone flirting with the reader? but instead of mainly writing about how vash/wolfwood being jealous, can it be about when they see the reader's eyes light up & their demeanor completely change once y/n see them? perhaps neither of them have confessed yet, so it's just heavy mutual pining

Of course Anon, thank you for request! I'm personally a huge fan of the jealous trope, I think it's so fun to write for.

So I hope you honestly enjoy! Hopefully I've done your request justice 💜💜

You had been travelling with Roberto and Meryl from the beginning, as their personal photographer for big projects. Once Vash and Wolfwood joined your little musketeer group, you had practically filled your camera's memory card several times with shenigans the group got up to. You'd proudly display the photos, printed in a town the group stopped at, even buying a photo album.

After a week of travelling, the group stopped in a busy town for the weekend. After accommodation was dealt with Meryl suggested the group goes out for drinks at a popular bar just up the road. Roberto agrees instantly, the other two boys eagering agreeing also.

So together, with Meryl joined to you by the hip as you all entered the bar. It was crowded, but not an uncomfortable kind of crowded. You all agreed to take rounds in paying for the drinks, Roberto going first as he took everyone's orders.

Eventually it was your turn to write down everyone's orders diligently, mockingly saluting once you checked over everything was correct before heading over to the bar. Waiting for the bartender, a stranger had struck up a conversation with you. You politely engaged with the topic, admittedly enjoying the strangers story and flirtatious quips. Little did you know you had a pair of eyes burning into the man besides you, gaze never leaving you as you laughed at other joke, oblivious to certain jealous individual.

Vash

Vash isn't the kind of person to opening make others aware of his jealousy, he's usually pretty good at hiding it, though there are exceptions to this.

When he is feeling particularly jealous, he turns into a pouting child. The other's actively catching on that something isn't right with their on the run companion, who's bottom lip is jutted out as he looks your way, almost wishing it was him up their confidently flirting with you.

If he is jealous it'll often be accompanied with feeling self-conscious.

He's known to be a little timid, but when it came to you and hyping himself up to try and confess he always changed the topic suddenly, before running off with some lame excuse. It was a surprise you didn't catch on.

Something about watching someone else slink their way into making you laugh so prettily always made him picture himself rather than some stranger you just met, but he never actually intervened as he understood you were just a friendly person to begin with.

Yet the moment you turned your attention his way, despite probably addressing the entire group, he couldn't help the way his eyes sparkled behind his shades.

His entire body would straighten, an adoring smile present as his cheeks warmed as you offered a tiny wave catching his gaze. One in which he eagerly returned, making Wolfwood scoff besides him and give him a smack upside his head.

Of course the entire group, besides you know about Vash's one-sided crush, it was obvious in the way he always admired your photography skills. Even sneakily stealing one that he particularly liked of you, which he always ended up getting caught.

After a while of him deflating everytime you turn away, to becoming attentive like puppy who was promised a treat, Wolfwood finally snapped.

"Listen Needle-Noggin, how long are you going to stare at her for? I've had to suffer in the back of that car for days now, watching you embarrass yourself each time y/n accidentally leans against you. Either you fess up, or I'll do it in the most embarrassing way possible that you'll wish you died in that Sand Worm." Vash swallowed, throat suddenly feeling dry as Wolfwood leaned forward, face contorted in a mocking sneer.

Yet no matter how hard Vash tried to mumble out an excuse, his mouth simply did not cooperation, opening and closing as he blinked at the Undertaker.

"He has point, it's honestly becoming insufferable watching you interact with her, and it isn't doing you any good silently observing as people flirt with her. It's downright shameful, not to mention embarrassing." Roberto agreed, pulling out his signature flask as your back and forth with the guy was making the drinks delayed.

Vash shrunk under the old man's words, face red in embarrassment at how obvious he was. It wasn't long until his head was on the table, groaning as he tried to hype himself up for umpteenth time. He had tried so many times to confess, yet his confidence failed him each time, resulting in him stuffing those emotions back down. Now it appeared none of his friends were having it anymore, it was either he confessed, or Wolfwood would make a laughing stock out of him.

"I think imma need some of that," Vash grabbed the flask from Roberto, earning a disgruntled protest from the man as he took a few mouths of the burning liquor. "Here goes nothing."

Standing, Vash shuffles through the crowd, his heart beating rapidly in his chest as he approaches. As he gets closer, he hears your laugh and freezes. It's so sweet and beautiful, feeling his hand become clammy as he looks at you, a lump growing in his throat.

"Oh Vash, sorry I was just about to order the drinks." Your voice broke him from his thoughts, offering an awkward chuckle as he apologised for rushing you.

He felt several eyes on him, his friends, the strangers, and now your beautiful gaze, awaiting his answer to a question he hadn't even heard.

"Earth to Vash, you still alive?" You laughed, fingers snapping in front of his face. Vash blinked a few times, cheeks matching his jacket as he looked at you, his heart skipping a beat.

You had the most angelic smile on your face, eyes lighting up as he looked into them. You looked so relaxed in his presence, unlike the polite, professional way you held yourself when conversing with the stranger. And the way you tilted your head at him, it simply made the room spin.

"Y/n. . . I think I. . . I th-think I," Vash wanted the ground to open up and swallow him, he simply couldn't do it, not with this random guy watching in obvious mocking amusement. "I think I want to change my drink order, you wouldn't mind would you?"

Your shoulders slumped a little, inhaling as you smiled at him, this time not as bright as the previous one. "Of course!"

Vash already felt dejected, averting his gaze as you turned to hail down the barkeep, back towards him now. His was about to give in, let Wolfwood embarrass him further, that was until a hand snaked around your waist.

Blinking in shock, Vash turned to the stranger, who simply flashed him a cruel wink. Your body tensed under the unwelcome touch, shuffling further away.

Brows knotted in an annoyed frown, Vash surged forward, shoving himself between you and the stranger. Eyes glared down at the guy, ignoring the harsh insults thrown his way.

"I don't appreciate you touching her like that." Vash spoke in a low, warning tone. His glare never left the guy as he slipped back into the crowd, only then did he turn to you.

"Thank you, Va-"

"I like you, Y/n! I have for a while, but I could never find the words to tell you," Vash blurted out, face reddening at each word spilling from his lips. "You're just so perfect, so beautiful that it drives me crazy."

You stared at Vash in silence, unaware of the drinks placed before you that you had ordered. You simply just looked up at Vash, who had suddenly returned to his awkward behaviour from before, apologising profusely if he overstepped.

"I thought you'd never confess," You simply smiled, watching as Vash held his mouth agape. "You really didn't think I'd catch on? Not to mention Nicholas's constant complaining."

Vash felt the burning sensation of embarrassment, so Wolfwood had already spilled his secret?

"And I feel the same way Vash, there's no need to be embarrassed." A gentle hand grabbed his face, the action was so tender it rendered the blonde speechless. Yet his eyes shone so brightly, as if the stars shined within their blue hues.

You leaned forward, placing a tender kiss to his other cheek, grabbing the drinks and walking back to the others, leaving Vash frozen by the bar. A giddy smile was already growing on his face, before hurriedly followed, pushing Wolfwood to his precious chair to sit besides you.

Wolfwood

Unlike Vash, Wolfwood is extremely obvious when he's jealous. Yet he's in extreme denial about it.

Doesn't know how to deal with his emotions, so most of his interactions with you were infuriating teasing insults, or teasing Nicknames as a way to express them.

Often times due to your extroverted personality, you'd bite back. And boy oh boy did that light a fire in Nicholas.

But again, he doesn't understand these emotions, so he won't know how to deal with them, resulting in shoving them so deep down they're non-existent. A figment of his imagination, to never resurface.

It doesn't matter if he begrudgingly gives you his last lollipop every time you ask for it, or smile when you successfully pluck a crumpled cigarette from his lips to snuff it out. He won't fall for such Bewitching enticement.

Yet watching as some cocky guy comes up to you, causing you to laugh at some cheesy joke he probably pulled from his ass, made Nicholas see red.

If looks could kill, that guy would be buried six feet under.

But the moment you turn to address the group, catching his gaze, it immediately softens. Shoulders slouching as the hairs on the back of his neck stand, and immediately he tenses with a sudden realisation.

"Fuck, I'm in. . . Love?"

Nicholas swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling a wave of heat from his spot at the table, dread sinking into the depths of his being. He couldn't really be in love, could he? Not with someone as obnoxious as you?

Despite trying to deny everything, finding every excuse in the book to try and reason with this newfound conflict, the Undertaker came up blank. He seriously needed another drink to make it through the night, maybe a few dozen at best.

"You'll burn a hole through her at this rate, if you're that thirsty just get the drinks yourself." Meryl dragged him from his thoughts, earning her an glare of annoyance.

Quirking a brow back towards the flirt by your side, the way he leaned just that little bit closer, shoulders brushing. Nicholas wanted to fill him with bullets.

"You know what, I think I will." Standing, shouldering past other customers Nicholas rudely got in between you and your new buddy. His signature smirk present as he looked your way, sliding an arm across your shoulders. "Apologies for the interrupting, sweetheart. We're all dying of thirst back there, gonna wrap this up or what?"

You give Nicholas a slight glare, though it held no real bite. "Rude as ever, Wolfwood. The space on my other side was free, ya know."

"Oh I know, just wanted to make sure this guy backed off." Turning to the stranger, Nicholas scowled at him, pulling you just that little bit closer as he chuckled lowly. "Well, run along, she ain't interested and I'm sure as hell impatient. Wouldn't wanna piss me off further, now would we?"

Scoffing as the stranger left, not before flipping the Undertake off. Nicholas turned back to you, leaning against the bar as he flashed you a toothy grin.

"Seriously? That guy? You could do so much better than him."

"Like you?" Nicholas choked, coughing into his hand as he squinted at you, a deadpan expression on your face as you quipped a brow at him.

Composing himself, Nicholas cleared his throat. "I'm not the worst option, sweetheart. If you're into me that is, who knows I might even bite if you're pulling hard enough."

You snorted, laughter following shortly after when the drinks were slid your way. Shoving a couple towards Nicholas, you calmed down enough to look at him, trying hard not to laugh again. "If that's your way of confessing, Wolfwood, I'd say you're utterly hopeless."

Nicholas felt his throat grow dry as you walked off, leaving him with his own drink and an additional one, probably Vash's. Tapping the glass with calloused finger, Nicholas scoffed, eyes rolling as he grabbed the drinks.

You really knew how to piss him off, but he'd be lying if he didn't get a kick out of it. You really were something, and Nicholas could no longer deny the way you made his heart burst like a thousand miniature fireworks.

Maybe he ought to properly confess, you certainly didn't seem to back away from the idea. He'd just have to regain some of that courage, try again when he was more sober.

A/N: hope you enjoyed these Anon! I actually had a lot of fun writing these, and hope you enjoy reading them. 💜

I do apologise with Wolfwoods being shorter, I'm was on a Vash agenda before this xD

[wholesomefluffdaddy]

Wednesday's new court mandated therapist is having her keep a journal of her thoughts and feelings. Wednesday finds this to be a complete waste of time and decides instead to use it to record her observations of her unusual roommate Enid Sinclair. Wednesday POV.

——————————————

Entry 6

Current Moon Phase: Waning Gibbous 🌖

Enid was most apologetic following the events of the Hunter's Moon. I was dismissive of her apologies as I explained countless times it was my own fault which caused the misadventure of that evening. Either way, Enid was determined not to leave my side for any extended period of time without informing me of her whereabouts and time frame for returning. This eased my guilty conscience and irrational fear of her suddenly disappearing. I find it most irksome that I will likely have much to discuss with my therapist at our next meeting.

Yet again I find myself getting off topic. The waning gibbous moon, with its close proximity to the full moon and comparative fullness to the waxing gibbous moon, has had an interesting effect on my werewolf subject: resource sharing. Enid has taken it upon herself to fetch sustenance for me with or without my request. Could this be a concomitant of the Hunter's Moon? Perhaps she wishes to ensure that the members of her pack are well fed. However, if this is indeed the case, then I appear to be the only member of her pack as of present; for she did not fetch food for anyone else as to my knowledge.

Regardless of the reasoning I thanked Enid each time she brought me sustenance. This seemed to delight her most greatly as her face lit up every time I did. Her smile-

During an instance in which Enid was not at my side I slipped away to the library to conduct research on 'scenting' and other such werewolf mannerisms. If I am to be a pack member I feel that I must be informed. From what I gathered 'scenting' is used to denote territory, possession, and a sort of kinship among werewolves. I use the term 'kinship' loosely as I found a significant lack of information surrounding the 'scenting' of peers. The only literature available indicated that werewolves 'scent' close partners or mates.

I can only assume that other publications go more in depth on this subject and include the act of 'scenting' to extend to family and pack members. I shall have to observe Enid closely during the next Family Weekend to confirm my hypothesis. In the meantime I may consider reciprocating 'scenting' to affirm our bond as packmates. Perhaps I should also consider demonstrating my hunting prowess and bring Enid a token of my gratitude for the deceased squirrel she gifted me the night of the Hunter's Moon. Speaking of which, I shall have to remember to stop by Uriah's Heap to check on its taxidermy progress.

Dear Diary,

I feel terrible! 😣 Willa has been an anxious mess since I escaped the Lupin Cages during the last full moon. I never meant to hurt her. 😥 I keep trying to apologize but she just won't hear it. She keeps blaming herself. I'm trying my best to make it up to her. I've been letting her know where I'm going and when I'll be back. I think that's helped?

I still feel the urge to hunt but at least that instinct can be managed by 'hunting' down snacks at the cafeteria. 😋 I've been giving these snacks to Willa. She seems to really like them. She gets this cute little embarrassed look on her face and says thank you - but of course in her own very Wednesday-like way of 'Your acquisition of sustenance on my behalf to ensure my continued survival is greatly appreciated.' Willa. Babycakes. A simple 'thank you' is enough. 😅 I swear I've seen her blush a few times too!

Anyway, I think I want to take her out somewhere nice and creepy to apologize for making her cry. 😥 I was thinking of like a cemetery or something but then I remembered Tyler 😡 took her to one on a 'date' once. My claws itch just thinking about him. I swear to god if he ever goes near my Willa again- Sorry about the ripped pages Diary, I kinda wolfed out for a moment.

Thing recommended going to a play at the local theatre in Jericho. They're putting on "Macbeth." I think Willa would like that. Speaking of things Willa likes… I think she's flirting back? I don't know! 😖 She brought me a dead spider in a box. 😳 What does that mean? She said she was 'returning the gesture.' I think she was talking about the dead squirrel I brought her? (Which important side note - I don't know what she's done with the squirrel. 😰 I can't smell it in our dorm room anyway. Hopefully she tossed it. I don't know what I was thinking. It was all wolf brain.)

Um also! I know I've joked about Wednesday acting like a grumpy cat but she's starting to act like one more literally. 🙀 She's been, um, rubbing up against me. I'm not going to lie - it's cute as hell and I just can't! 😫 It gets me too worked up and I just start wolfing out and I want to squeeze her! I feel bad because I can't help but start scenting her aggressively after. At least she seems to tolerate it. I am so sorry Willa! 😭 Please don't bring me more spiders!

[pomefioredove]

wait wait wait, your requests are open for noble bell for this weekend only? (if i got that right?!) sound perfect gimme 14 of em. anywhos if i did not getting the date wrong i have one! and if i i did please just let me shrivel up and die, thank you.

post college rollo and reader who live together as “roommates.” they’re 100% more than roommates and everyone can see it but them. rollo is probably some senator or something and insisted reader moves in with him cause he insists that since he’s making laws more just for magicless people there’s literally no where safer for them to be. just basically some domestic fluff with two people who act like they’re married and don’t even realize it. i personally think it would be way cuter to read from the perspective of a third party but if you’re willing to write this you can do it anyway anyhow and i’ll still be happy. thank you! <3

(if i got the weekend wrong i will absolutely die so please let me down gently, i am accoustic so i no no understand very basic things such as “this weekend” or “next saturday” if the day of the week is before a saturday)

oooh a bit of a future au... this is cute

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ and they were roommates

type of post: fic characters: rollo additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, kinda written from a 3rd perspective

Rollo Flamme's favoritism had never been a secret.

He might have been quiet, reserved, repressed beyond all reason, but there were some things even he couldn't hide behind his star-spotted handkerchief.

The very moment you arrived at Noble Bell College, you were his.

Rollo Flamme beheld you with a sort of reverence that could be called sacrilegious. That is to say, one had never seen idolatry until one had seen the way he looked at you, the way he touched you as if you were made out of porcelain, as if he could break you with an unclean hand and a breath.

His coldness and cordiality towards the others never changed.

For all your kindness, your smiles, your gentle touches upon his cheek that he would never have let anyone else give, you could not change him. And you did not try.

It was a tragedy in two parts.

Not that it mattered, of course. Not to you.

As far as you were concerned, the world began and end with each other. In a room full of people, mages and scholars and royalty, Rollo Flamme would still only look at you.

Nothing was confirmed. Your affection for one another was kept to lingering touches and burning glances across the long, morose hallways of Noble Bell.

If anyone had asked, and they certainly did, Rollo's handkerchief would come to sit over his mouth and he would remind them that gossip is unbecoming.

And to be decent, thank you.

Yet the rumors could never be smothered, and they lingered after Rollo's first graduation, and another, and to his seat on the Fleur City Council.

You lived with him.

You lived with him, in his family home.

And he would continue to deny anything romantic, giving the same excuse that he had since Noble Bell, that you simply had no one else to look after you, and it was his duty as a civil servant to see to your care.

Which was utter bullshit.

But, perhaps, bullshit that you both believed.

Outside of the council, it was rare to see him alone. When he went out, he went out with you. When he attended public events, you walked by his side. When he worked at home, you sat in his study, by the fireplace, as if you had always belonged there. With him.

Rollo would excuse himself from small talk and after-hour business like so:

"It's been lovely talking to you, Senator, but I'll be late for dinner,"

"Please, come by my office first thing tomorrow morning. I'm expected at home,"

"I'll have to be going, now. I have an excursion on the town tonight. With whom? Well, whom else?"

It became widely accepted, amongst his colleagues and the public, that Rollo Flamme was married. One might not have guessed, of course, from his cold demeanor, but rumors of the magicless alumni from Noble Bell that he so adored smoldered.

Rollo did not concern himself with the whispers or the knowing looks his colleagues gave each other, until a warm day in late March where a well-meaning secretary from another branch asked if he had any children.

"Children?" he had scoffed. "Why would you ask such a thing?"

The poor secretary looked like he had seen a ghost. "Well... you're married, aren't you?"

"Absolutely not. What gave you such an idea?"

And he seemed reluctant to answer.

Rollo had gone home that night with much on his mind. When you asked him if anything had happened at the council, he said "Nothing eventful".

To Rollo, who had lived in Fleur City, lonely yet not alone, for so many years without a kindling of friendship and not a thought on romance, he had never once questioned your relationship. You were his companion. His first, and last. That's all that matters.

Isn't it?

He could ask for nothing more than you. Your voice, your smile, your hands and warmth mingling with his. He was happy with you. Your friendship is enough for him.

Isn't it?

Despite what he tells himself, that night, when you sit close to him in front of the fire, reading a book he recommended simply because he recommended it, Rollo finds himself looking at you twice as much as usual.

He puts an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side, and you stay there, as if you had always belonged there. With him.

[setaripendragon]

JSaMN Readalong Liveblog - Chapters 2-3

Honestly, I have no idea if I'll be able to keep up with this, the first one took an entire afternoon, and while I have a lot of free time, I'm not sure I have that much free time XD Either way, I'm going to try, and see how I get on, because this is rather fun, if time-consuming. I've never actually taken the time to write down my thoughts as I read a book before. My approach to fiction is generally that if I'm not so absorbed I forget the real world exists, I'll go read something else, which makes this sort of liveblogging a bit impossible. Alright, here we go.

Chapter 2 - The Old Starre Inn (January - Fabruary 1807)

Every time I read or hear 'the old starre inn', my mind puts it to the tune of The Magician in York. (Warning: song contains spoilers up to chapter 4 of the book, I think.)

Narrator: Chapter 2: The Old Starre Inn Me: All on a winter's day~

I find it very interesting, the fact that Norrell gives them no specifics as to the magic he's done. After all, he hangs so much pride on his status as a practical magician that you'd think he'd want to show off. But it doesn't feel at all out of character, as he sees these 'pretend' magicians as so far beneath him that why would he need to?

Which is in such contrast to Honeyfoot's impression of him as 'humble' that it's funny. But at the same time, I don't think Honeyfoot is entirely wrong in his impression of Norrell. 'Shy' perhaps gives the wrong impression, but I get very vivid vibes from Norrell of that loner kid on the playground who no one wants to play with because they're 'weird', except once they settle into their isolation and do something cool because they're just trying to have fun by themself, everyone's suddenly interested in them, and their response is 'fuck off, it's mine not yours'.

"For the nation's good. He is a gentleman, he knows his duty..." This is such an alien perspective to me. I know it's a very common attitude of the time, and something of a theme in the book, but there's a whole commentary here on community and how people's sense of belonging has changed over time that I don't have the brain-power to make right now.

"Magicians in England are a peculiarly ungrateful set of men." I love this sentence. 'Magicians in England' - you mean the rich white gentlemen calling themselves magicians? Ungrateful? Perish the thought! XD

The fact that York is 'one of the most magical cities in England' with the possible exception of Newcastle is such an interesting piece of worldbuilding, and I can't help but wonder if that's a modern (to the book) thing, that simply scholars of magic happened to gather and set off a positive feedback loop, or if there is some in-world... concentration of magic. Given the connection of nature and magic, and the Yorkshire moors being so very iconic, there might be something to that?

Also, loving another little taste of the Raven King mythos, with the mention of 'the King's city of Newcastle'. Honestly, I've never been overly invested in English history (save for Arthuriana, but that's fantasy), but the way this book builds the fantasy on top of a skeleton of truth makes me much more interested in finding out about reality as much as the in-book lore of the place. (Much in the same way Assassin's Creed made me interested in finding out the truth of the history it depicts to better compare the story to.)

I might have to go on a wikipedia spiral about the history of places like York and Newcastle at some point. If these liveblogs don't swallow my entire weekend XD

"We do not care for men who build their reputations at the expense of other men's peace of mind." I do not like this man. (I know I'm not supposed to like this man, he is a representation of the worst sort of self-aggrandizing and complacent entitlement of rich white armchair-scholars, but it bears saying; I really don't like him XD Much respect to Segundus for not punching him in the face.)

"English magicians were only ever given common ivy." Ah, symbolism. I have a lot of thoughts about why ivy, honestly, and I definitely want to do some research on this later, but the phrasing here is so telling. 'Only ever given common ivy', making it so blatantly not some sort of accolade, but something commonplace and unremarkable. There's also the fact that ivy can be associated with neglect, as it's seen so often on old, crumbling buildings, and as a symbol of nature 'reclaiming' or even taking over that which people have built. (Again with the ominous whimsy of this book; the gothic imagery of an old house all over-taken by ivy matched with the tone in which the comparison is made making light of potential drama of the symbolism.)

There's also the correlation between ivy and lovers (ivy clings and binds and twines around things. And I recall reading somewhere about it being used for symbolism in the story of Tristan and Isolde?) but I don't think that's quite as applicable here, even though my brain does love to chew on it.

I'm noticing now, as well, that the author makes excellent use of 'show don't tell'. Instead of simply telling us that the room was noisy and everyone was shouting over each other, though we do get told that, we're also given the example of an old man being very passionate about some point that no one can actually hear over the noise.

I find it interesting because I've been reading a lot of things expressing frustration with the maxim because, I think, people take it too literally. That you must never tell, and only show, which of course will absolutely ruin your pacing and make your story very boring. But this, here, is what I think it means. Of course we could simply have been told 'it got loud as everyone argued', but the art of writing is not to simply tell people what happened, but to make them feel it. And by 'showing' us this little snapshot, by giving the noise a face in this old man who cannot make himself heard over the din, despite being very engaged in making his point, it makes the whole business feel much more real.

Oh, I feel so bad for Honeyfoot and Segundus in this part. Although I find it very interesting that we never actually got to see whether Norrell did do any magic for them. We cut from him confessing that he's a practical magician to Segundus and Honeyfoot leaving, and we don't actually know what happened in between.

And, of course, neither do Honeyfoot and Segundus. Which is deeply, deeply unnerving to me when I think through the implications. Not knowing where you are is one thing, but not knowing where you have been is a whole nother level of creepy. And yet, the narrative doesn't treat it as a particularly horrifying occurance. (Again with the ominous whimsy.)

There is something of a theme of this, too, in the book, with the truly horrifying things that magic makes people capable of being treated as a sort of just a thing magic can do, rather than lingering on the violations of privacy, personhood, and autonomy. Not to say that I feel that the narrative is treating them as inconsequential or in some way not as bad as they really are, but that it doesn't pass judgement on it, and lets you draw your own conclusions (which is a bit refreshing in this resurgence of purity culture in fandom at the moment).

Like, here, Segundus doesn't react with any particular horror or upset at his confusion and disorientation. Which, honestly, I find only heightens my own horror. He's just... sort of vague and fuzzy about it all, even in his emotional reaction to his memory being vague and fuzzy. (Like how someone with mind control telling someone to 'do a bad thing' is not nearly so horrifying as someone with mind control telling someone that 'you want to do a bad thing')

I find this part particularly gave me shivers, when Segundus and Honeyfoot are being questioned about the library and they're asked of the books:

"Had they been permitted to take them down and look inside them?" "Oh, no."

Like, everything else we hear from them is just... an obfuscation of the facts? There were a lot of books in the library, some of them were very rare, and that's the impression they've been left with even if they can't remember the specifics, but that? That, we know for a fact to be false.

Which then very abruptly throws Segundus's previous assertion that he knows for a fact that he hadn't seen any magic done into doubt.

Honestly I think that whole sequence is masterfully done. Because at the time, the way Segundus explains it, we're given no reason to doubt his assertion. He says he feels as though he saw magic, but knows for a fact that he didn't. Which can very easily explain away his awareness of the extra lighting and the... (I keep wanting to call it a maze-array, but that's the wrong fandom XD) directionlessness of the hallway, as him having the sense of magic, but not, actually, knowing for sure it was such because neither he nor us the audience were shown Norrell actually casting those spells.

Except then we get that blatant untruth, and suddenly that blank space of time between Norrell's confession at the end of chapter 1 and Honeyfoot and Segundus leaving at the beginning of chapter 2 just opens up with posibilities.

There's also the contrast between Honeyfoot merely being affected in the moment he tries to explain, and Segundus having felt 'heavy and stupid' for the entire week in between meeting Norrell and meeting with the Society. I do love how clear it is already that Segundus is sensitive to magic, the way he noticed so clearly the magical lighting and direction-obfuscation in the last chapter, and now this.

"Other men may fondly attribute their lack of success to a fault in the world, rather than to their own poor scholarship." "But what is my reward for loving my art better than other men have done? For studying harder to perfect it?"

Ooooo burn! He's so catty. What an asshole (affectionate)! Not to say that the Society (and Foxcastle in particular) don't thoroughly deserve it, of course. Everyone in this room is so ready to be offended, they're actively looking for reasons. Their lives must be so incredibly boring that this is how they choose to entertain themselves, holy shit XD

Oh, god. This attorney guy. Robinson. He is so... He's something, alright. "He was so clean and healthy and pleased about everything that he positively shone, which is only to be expected in a fairy or an angel, but is somewhat disconcerting in an attorney." No kidding. And during the whole scene he's so... blandly inoffensive and faux-innocent and defferential that it puts my hackles right up. He is deeply unnerving to me.

'This would be only fair' he says, of a deeply unfair and rigged agreement designed solely to punish them. 'Then surely they would recognise magic when they saw it' he says, as if he's not perfectly aware that they've just been given an incentive to fucking lie about it. 'All your friends have done it' he says, as the only argument he can come up with to try and coerce Segundus into signing the agreement. (Once again, much respect to Segundus for not punching this guy in the face.)

Yuck yuck yuck yuck yuck. Creepy motherfucker.

I love the descriptions of scenery and environment in this book so much, they're so damn evocative:

"The very voices of York's citizens were altered by a white silence that swallowed up every sound." "The winter gloom was quite gone, and in its place was a fearful light; the winter sun reflected many times over by the snowy earth."

Oh. Hmm. I can't be sure, but I think this is the first time the narrator has inserted themself quite so blatantly into the narrative. Things have been couched as observations before, but I don't remember before this the narrator actually referring to themself, or directly addressing the reader, or positing an opinion of their own? (I may have to go back and listen to chapter 1 again to check...)

"brooding blue shadows of the cathedral's west face" "sailing magisterially around the corner like a fat black ship" "he had a strong thin face with something twisted in it like a tree root" More great description and more adjective-adjective-noun phrases.

And then we come to Segundus and Childermass's second first meeting. Again, I feel so bad for Segundus, having his mind and memory messed with like this, but, if you'll excuse me a moment, -shipper goggles on- Segundus still remembers him! "I've seen you... I can picture you! Oh, where?" Can't remember so much as taking down the books that so enthralled him in the library never mind reading them, but he remembers Childermass.

"He thought John Childermass very insolent." Aaaaa, that's my blorbo! He's so cheeky, I love him so much.

"Several looked about them before going inside, as if taking a last fond farewell of a world they were not quite sure of seeing again." And we end the chapter on yet another absolutely magnificent line. Not quite the almost-cliffhanger of the first chapter, but still extremely tantalising, baiting the reader with questions about what, exactly, is going to happen next.

Hmm. Since this one isn't quite as long as chapter 1, I think I'm going to stuff chapter 3 in here, too; try and condense things a little bit XD

Chapter 3 - The Stones of York (February 1807)

"The cold of a hundred winters seems to have been preserved in its stones and to seep out of them." I have been in old churches and this is entirely accurate. I've said it before and I'll say it again, the description in this book is really top tier. Simple, but incredibly evocative and poetic.

"Bells often went with magic, and in particular with the magic of those unearthly beings, fairies." More symbolism, and this one I know less about, but at the same time, it feels right in a way I can't actually explain. Just that the vibes, the atmosphere it creates of bells being this ominous sound associated with something dangerous.

That being said, on thinking about it, I find it very odd that bells are symbols of fairies in this book for two reasons. One is the way that humans often get referred to as 'Christians' as a whole (I remember this gets explained later as a consequence of fairies being bad at telling the difference between humans, I think?), and church bells are the most commonplace example of bells I can think of. So why, then, are bells so specifically associated with fairy magic when there's such a strong connection to the way the book talks about the people who are not fairies?

And also, one of the primary uses of bells, with more significance in the past but with the tradition continuing on to this day, is to tell the time. To put order and structure on the otherwise abstract passing of the day. Which is in direct contrast to everything else we've been told about magic so far. Magic thrives in the places that are not structured to suit humans. Trying to impose scientific reason on magic kills it.

...Okay, I am definitely reaching here, but it just occurred to me that the other primary use of bells is as a warning. I can think of a bunch of examples; ye olden ships and fire-engines, castles and forts and such. All used to say 'something is wrong, action must be taken to avoid disaster'. And that makes me wonder if the bells are less a product of the fairy magic and more, perhaps, some other magic acting as an alarm.

And the only person I can think who could have cast such a wide-reaching, long-lasting spell would be the Raven King. And wouldn't that make sense? Wouldn't a King want to have a warning that some other being is trying to abduct one of his people?

...I'm reaching, but I really like this theory actually. Even though we knew the Raven King had no compunctions about stealing his own subjects away himself. (I still think it fits, as a King would feel entitled to privileges that others would certainly not be permitted.)

Which is a whole 'nother thing I have thoughts on. It's very interesting that the second real bit of information we get about him (after the bit about him having 'only three' Kingdoms being mentioned in one of Norrell's books. I think that's the only time he's actually directly named before this?), is that despite being an Englishman, he has the fairy habit of abducting people to other lands. And that ballad about it!

"The priest was all too worldly, Though he prayed and rang his bell, The Raven King three candles lit, The priest said it was well."

What is this? What does it mean? It does answer a bit of my speculation about bells, I think - they're used as a warning/warding off it seems (given that it's paralleled with praying) - but then there's that bit about the Raven King lighting candles and this, presumably, causing the priest to say 'oh alright then, do carry on'? I'm gonna have to keep my eye out for any more candle symbolism as well, I think.

"This land is all too shallow, It is painted on the sky, And trembles like the wind-shook rain, When the Raven King goes by."

-shakes fist at the author- You weren't content giving me chills with your description in prose, now you're doing it in verse?! -weeps- God. God. I don't have words for how this makes me feel. I am going fucking feral. I want to print this song out so I can eat it. Fuck.

And it's followed up by the narrator absolutely roasting the Magicians of York, which is making me cackle far more than it probably should because I'm still high off that absolutely unnecessary bit of poetry.

I love the way the narrative builds up to the magic. We get the bells, and then a voice, and then what it's saying, and then another one, and then that it comes from a statue, and then the rest of them, and between all of it we get these elaborate descriptions of the magicians reactions and fears.

Going back a little bit. The tale of the girl with the ivy leaves in her hair. This coming in the very next chapter after we were told that magicians are associated with ivy I think can't be a coincidence. And I wonder if the girl being a magician might not be a part of why the stones care so much about her murder? Not that I think murder inside a cathedral is all that common, but I find it hard to believe it only happened once in over 500 years.

"Kings, even stone ones, dislike above all things to be made equal to others." Hmm. Given how many Kings we have this story, I have a feeling this is Significant.

The fact that the stone statues that were to be repaired flinched from the chisel is... Oof. The idea of stone having a concept of harm, enough to fear it, is wild. And it raises the question of how... aware of what they are the statues are. Obviously we have the examples of kings bickering and quarrelling because they do believe themselves to be kings. But are they aware that they are statues of kings, or do the truly believe themselves to be those kings? The first statue seems aware, talking about how 'no one saw but the stones', instead of 'I saw'.

And if they know that they're stones, then... what does it say that they're afraid of the very thing that created them in the first place? Or is the fear of being 'remade' into something different? Is it particular to that statue, and another might welcome the chance to transform?

...Apparently I am my father's child.

My dad: But what is it like to be a tree??? -overthinks it- Me: But what is it like to be a stone??? -overthinks it-

I love this conversation between Segundus and Childermass. Childermass is coming at the thing so side-ways and sneaky, and yet... he's so blatant about it? It's so obvious right from the very start that he's leading up to something, and then he just... waits for Segundus to offer, instead of actually just asking? It's such a weird approach to take.

Also, the fact that we get another of those lovely poetic descriptions of the snow and the clouds as Childermass is waiting really gives the sense of a long drawn-out silence, and I can't help but laugh at the idea of this bizarre little stand-off, these two men just... staring at each other in the snow.

-shipper goggles on- "Until all the world contained was the falling snow, the sea-green sky, the dim grey ghost of York Cathedral... and Childermass." Perhaps it's an aspect of the audiobook that doesn't come through quite as strongly in the text, but the weight put on that last? Putting him on the same level as these... rather ephemeral, magical things, the natural phenomena of the snow and the sky, and the 'ghost of York Cathedral'? As well as the contrast of these... pale, dim, ghostly things, to Childermass who's so often described as dark and ragged. Even without that description here, it makes his presence so stark against this hazy, light backdrop. (And all this implied to be from Segundus's persepective =3)

And then there's all those compliments Childermass pays Segundus once he's gotten what he wanted, too XD (Even if I do kind of get the sense that Childermass doesn't necessarily mean them entirely as compliments. I don't think he thinks very well of people who are too obliging, tbh.)

You know, this is very much my brain veering off into the wilds here, but the thing about Mr Honeyfoot pursuing the tale of the girl with the ivy leaves makes me think of... this idea I've had for a while, mostly inspired by a JSaMN fanfic, On the March, where Childermass 'wakes up' the Yorkshire moors, and the notion of how magic, which in this book is so tightly tied to nature and the wild, could so easily be affected by the location in which it's done.

And if a place like York Minster can be aware of what's going on even when magic isn't being done upon it... then are the stones aware of Mr Honeyfoots efforts on their behalf? Do they see, for whatever value of sight they possess, him fighting this battle for them, and does this earn him anything from them? Can a stone feel gratitude? Is there some reciprocity or good will there? Does Mr Honeyfoot forge a bond of some kind with, or win the favour of, the Stones of York Minster?

There's a fic in this somewhere. (Mr Honeyfoot gets into a disagreement inside the Minster, and a stone drops onto the head of his adversary. Crumbly old buildings, you know, someone ought to check and make sure it's not going to happen again!)

'The Last Magician in Yorkshire' Now there's a phrase you could build an entire other story around. Another quite powerful end to a chapter, though not quite as gripping as the last two.

Well, I'm glad these two were somewhat shorter than all my thoughts on chapter 1. And I'm now more than half way through this week's chapters. I hope I'll be able to get 4 and 5 done tomorrow (or later this evening, maybe, if I feel like it?)

[that-irishman-fan]

one piece characters that give off bisexual energy part one!

( GIF is not mine, it belongs to @snippychicke and neither is One Piece or its characters mine in any way! )

Kuro/Klahadore

Arc: Syrup Village, East Blue, Vols. 3-5, Chapters 23-44

Headcanon: Kuro is bisexual biromantic, but I can also see him being sapiosexual too.

Thie Machiavellian butler himself serves both tea and cunt as the first contender in this series! Kuro was always interesting to me as a twelve-year-old reading One Piece for the first time. He was definitely a highlight when I was uncertain about the story as a whole. ( Keep in mind One Piece was the first manga and anime I fell in love with, after my grandparents had bought me the first volume from a flea market when we were visiting them on summer vacation. ) I've seen lots of people put him down as an antagonist for being a walking trope, lazily written, or just plain boring. I don't get it myself and I'll always be a Kuro stan. You couldn't have had a layered baddie such as Doflamingo or Orochi in such an early part of the story. It wouldn't have fit the tone. While there are some irksome qualities to Kuro and his motivations, I won't hop on that hate train saying he is somehow a terrible villain. Kuro was classy, snobbish, wicked smart, a scheming bad boy who I always pictured as belonging in Buckingham Palace laying out silverware for the royal family. Can I just say how fucking mental I went when they made his actor in the Netflix series English? I've always had a thing for villains, and he was no exception to me as a middle-schooler. I've had a plot bunny for a small one-shot involving Kuro as the main character; before he betrayed Kaya, just about his daily routine as a butler. I find anything to do with butlers to be absolutely fascinating-- I'm showing my autism and ADHD here. In it I wanted to write Kuro as being explicitly bisexual. I can't really explain why I get a gay aura off of him. Perhaps it's queer coding, a subconscious recognition or gaydar, or just me being ridiculous. I really got it when I reread East Blue again recently, and after I saw the live-action. The latter had a HUGE part in forming my opinion on Kuro being bi. This is more me joking, but can we agree being a cat person is inherently queer? I think either he's really overkill with the whole black cat theme, or there's something else going on. I also want to add I'm firmly convinced he'd be sapiosexual too. This is a man who prioritizes intelligence as a both strength and virtue. You can't tell me he wouldn't be looking for smarts as the defining trait in a significant other; somebody to match his own wit. Some characters I've chosen for these headcanons won't fit into one easy box, which is true to life as we don't all think, love, or view things the same way. I want to make sure I'm showing representation and diversity to our beautiful community, no matter how we identify.

So yes, Kuro/Klahadore is bisexual biromantic and sapiosexual in my mind! I should quickly write as an aside that I won't be going in any particular order with these posts. So, we'll be jumping across arcs to all kinds of characters. With that, thank you all for reading this, please let me know what you think! I'd love to hear your thoughts. Have a fantastic rest of your weekend and take it easy!

[respondedinkind]

|| Hello lovelies! ♥

As you might have noticed, I am slow at the moment; I am taking a bit of a writing break, and it honestly is doing very well for my mental health. I have been doing things I haven't done in a long while (mainly playing video games and I even started to draw again!) - the constant guilt about 'needing to reply fast' so as to not let you all down and perhaps 'lose you' along the way as a writing partner kept me on a schedule of sorts where other hobbies didn't get to take a lot of space at all.

Not to mention the whole mindset of 'ohmygod if I don't reply fast, everyone will leave and I will be forgotten and no one enjoys writing with me' - I still have that and I still feel guilty, but I am sort-of pushing myself to not let my brain do that. It's honestly so nice to do something else over the day and not worry about the whole 'oh gosh I have to write at least 3 or 4 replies today on blog 1, and then fill the queue on blog 2 with like 5-6 replies---'. I mean, I still worry about that lol, but I am kind-of 'forcing' myself to not let it take over.

So, that's why I am slow, and I hope you'll understand - I promise I *will* write, I love Khan (and Stephen too) and I am very much having a LOT of muse for them. I just realized that my whole day consisted of 'writing' whenever I had time and little else. I need to change that. Which means I'm going to be slow and 'allow' myself to do other things I am in the mood in (e.g. doing art!) and come back when I am wanting to write rather than 'needing' to.

---That being said, I *will* reply to some things quicker than to others. Some threads just really cause my muse to spark and explode, and to those I will get to much faster. I am sorry but it is what it is - and no, it's nothing personal 'against you' or whatever, but rather what I feel joy for at the moment. I have a bunch of threads on here where I know I will reply quick to. ♥

Again, I hope you'll understand.

And now, with this novel coming to an end (lol, finally, sorry for this massive post!) I'll send you all A LOT OF VIBES and GOOD THOUGHTS and hope you'll have a wonderful weekend. ♥

[silenttale22]

STRONG FOR YOU |PJM|

Idol!Jimin x Reader Genre: Fluff, Slight angst

Warnings: anxiety, slight panic attack Note: Hi there Sweetheart, thank You for being here! I still cannot believe what happened with Gguk one-shot but I am so, so thankful for all of you <3 And oh God, I promise I'll do my best and write even more because you gave me so much motivation aishh. So yeah, I hope you'll enjoy Jimin one as well! Thank You so so much one more time!

Your stress level is increasing again, and you don't know where the trigger lies. Is that a boss who walks around pointing out every single detail and driving you insane because none of this is your fault? Or perhaps it's the never-ending calls from an overprotective mother who questions you about everything and nothing even though you're almost 24. Another possibility is that you are experiencing anxiety because of a perceived danger in your head that is making everything around you seem dangerous. All of the muscles are hurting, clenching all the time from stress, and then returning to a relatively relaxed form for the next two days.

Oh, how you just wish for a day off, but not only from work, this is also a wish for your head. Because every other day it seems to be much darker than it used to be, and sometimes you don't know how to grip yourself. Even if everything appears to be perfect on some days, you may believe that things will improve only to wake up another night covered in blankets with lonely tears streaming down your cheeks.

You were almost pulling your hair out from the number of times you had passed the same shelves over and over, losing your way as you rushed through the counters looking for the "home" one. You didn't work here for long, only managing to catch up from time to time on weekends outside of your work at home, but you liked to have everything perfect. No matter how quickly you completed a task, your goal was to get the best outcomes as soon as you could. And because of that, your mental health suffered as a result of frequent, unnecessary stress and frustration. Inside, you were arguing with yourself because you wanted to have a sacred peace of mind, hoping that all the dark feelings in you would eventually die down, but you also added responsibilities or unnecessary worries to your head, which were often not even manageable. You are doomed to your thoughts, no matter how many times you tell yourself that they are not yours and that you don't need to listen to them so intently because they dwarf everything else.

And in fact, all you've wanted for the past few weeks has been to cry. Even though you've done it night after night, hugging a pillow still soaked with the perfume of your boyfriend, whom you now see once in a while, you couldn't free yourself from the feeling of something you couldn't define. On the one hand, you have the feeling that it's an endless emptiness, but it's also some kind of feeling, and it's tearing you apart from the inside, because you don't know whether you feel lonely, tired, or most simply broken into the smallest possible pieces. Your pondering over every little situation and considering other people's words that will probably never have any meaning in your life leads your senses to obsess over the things being said.

Although you badly needed someone's support, you knew you couldn't mention it in the presence of your boyfriend, who, like you, was able to drop everything to help another important person, and you couldn't blame him for anything, he never did anything to make you feel unloved, yet you still don't want to be a burden, and certainly not at this time. You saw him working hard day after day, from morning to night, on his album. He writes songs and focuses on composing new melodies, and you know that one word from you at least close to meaning pain would make him drop everything to help you. What kind of girlfriend would you be, throwing your problems on his shoulders, when he had his own?

You cursed under your breath as another sufficiently loud ringtone sounded inside one of the pockets of the company button-through smock while you were picking up one of the cartons at the shop after finding already correct counters. Then throws the boxes harshly on the floor with the knowledge that there were only towels and blankets inside, so nothing could be damaged by your sudden onslaught of anger.

“If this is another time you call to ask, how are you, are you at work? What are you doing after? Probably sitting on the couch again… then just hang up because I'm not going to listen to how unworthy and lazy a daughter I am.” You almost perfectly mimic your mother's voice and end up talking with a loud enough huff to make customers look at you with confused faces. You hated it. The constant phone calls, the questioning, the controlling… you had been sick to your back teeth. And you really were grateful for everything you got from your parents, but at times all you truly needed was peace and quiet. No intrusive phone calls or messages, but so what if the mere mention of it sparks a heated-up argument? Then unpleasant words are directed your way, and you end up eventually sobbing at night because you are ‘the worst daughter in this world’. Among other things, these were the very thoughts that most often led you to total amusement - I am the worst daughter, girlfriend, friend…no matter how hard I try, no matter how best a version of myself I will be, after all, it can always be better, can't it?

“Well sweetheart, I was about to ask the first three questions, and I would love to sit on the couch with you honestly, but I don't remember we talked about daddy thing and all,” you heard a little laugh from the other side, and your eyes softened along with tightened muscles. You had no idea how strong your need was to hear the melodious voice of your boyfriend. “And how could I even call you an unworthy and lazy daughter when you're like the sweetest one and doing everything the best you can?” Now you chuckled, hearing the feigned pretentious tone, and attempting to stifle laughter.

“Sorry Chim, It's been a rough week.” You sighed and fixed your gaze on the pillows lying in front of you in a metal basket, which had furry pillowcases and tempted you so hard to run your fingers over them to feel the pleasant material under your fingertips. Jimin was one of the few people who, with their voice, could calm your ruffled thoughts and bring you back to a relatively relaxed state. Even the shortest, quietest laugh from his lips could bring tears to your eyes from the sudden comfort enveloping your body. And you were never one to claim that another person could be someone's home or shelter, you usually thought we had to provide our own peace of mind. But when a slightly tipsy boy knocked on your door one chilly evening, with an uncertain smile and asked if he had found Taehyung, who, as it later turned out, was his best friend, you didn't think he would stay in your life for long. And you especially didn't think you'd ever have a romantic relationship with someone so popular. But now, after having Jimin by your side for a good few years, you can't imagine not having him around. "But it doesn't matter right now; how are the album recordings going? You work so hard, I'm so proud of you, Minnie.” You asked, not wanting to worry the boy.

“Meh, could be better. I'm kind of stuck. Also, entertainment forces me to do stupid Tik-Toks, and as much as I enjoy making them for the ARMY, I despise being forced to do them. I really want to focus, but they just think that I'm boring or something. And I miss you so much. Every night wishing to have you in my arms.” You could clearly hear the pout, and your imagination helps you picture his adorable face complaining about not being able to hold you.

That's what you loved most about him. His gentleness and openness in expressing his feelings. That is, in theory, what you didn't have. You rarely let it be known how frail you can be. You put on a mask of indifference and didn't so much pretend that nothing moved you as try not to brood over things in front of people. It was completely different when you were alone or after some time around Jimin. You could just feel yourself with him. His arm wrapped around your waist, his head snuggled into your shoulder as yours calmly rested against his, while your fingers slowly combed through his wet and soft mint-scented hair, further soothing your thoughts. You missed those evenings, and you missed him.

“And thank you, Y/N, I'm so proud of you too! You're still working on this new book translation? Is that why it's been rough? You should call me, you know I would come.” You heard his worried tone of voice, and a wave of guilt flooded your body. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid, and unfortunately, the boy's attention to every detail was one of the things you still couldn't get used to.

You knew very well that one phone call would be enough for him to show up at your door in less than 15 minutes, usually with some snacks so you could end up on the couch watching a movie, but the fact that Jimin put you first, even above his career, never ceased to amaze you, and at times terrify you. It made you terrified of hurting him; you had the feeling that the wrong words could crush him. There have been many fights between you during which both sides suffered heavily and could not get back together, mainly due to the neglect of health. The boy was overworking himself, so you intervened. Because the sudden overwhelm of all the emotions and stress would cut you off from him, he would frequently step in. But you, not being used to having someone else worry about you, would end up yelling and blaming him for your lack of personal comfort or boundaries, which was usually complete nonsense, because, in each of these moments, you need someone to hold you tightly in their arms and simply reassure you that everything would be okay.

“I know I could. But you were working, and I am aware of how important this album is. Besides, as you can see, we'll be able to meet, so I don't see a problem.” You mumbled because of the dizziness that forced you to grab the basket in front of you tighter. A sudden excess of overwhelming emotions and guilt, which your stupid head made even worse, made your body feel in danger, and cortisol levels in your body rose significantly in just a few minutes. Even though you talked to Jimin, who calmed your nerves, you were afraid it wouldn't be enough, and the panic attack would strike in seconds.

"Yeah, sweetheart, of course, we'll be able to meet, but you know, you can call me whenever you want, even without a particular reason; I love hearing your voice. And stop overthinking right now about me being worried; I know you're doing this, darling, and it's not good. I love you and I care about you; take a deep breath now because I can hear how hard your breath became.” And that was your Jimin, soft voice soothing you as always, the anchor was moored, and the excessive anxiety slowly disappeared. It's so good you had him.

“Thank you, Chim, and I'm sorry. Can we meet tonight? My shift ends at 7 p.m., so maybe at my place?" You asked with hope, but you were well aware that he was not going to refuse your invitation.

You immediately heard his light chuckle, which confirmed your words about the meeting. You talked for a while, agreeing on what to bring, and after a few minutes, you hung up to finish the tasks assigned to you in the store today, looking forward to seven o'clock.

A strong blast of wind hit your face when a few minutes past seven o'clock on your watch allowed you to let go of your workspace without further ado. You were tired enough, and the muscles in your shoulders were slowly starting to feel uncomfortable from carrying the boxes. With a quick step, you headed towards the apartment, and in your mind were only pleasant images where you cuddled worry-free into the arms of your boyfriend and no longer worried about the world around you.

However, halfway through, when the billboards above your head appeared in shimmering colors, repeatedly showing the face of your smiling boyfriend, your head began to go haywire. There was a slight dizziness and a sudden wave of guilt that you hated so much, but at the same time couldn't get rid of.

"Think of his fans. Think of him, Think of…" And here we go again, instead of focusing on yourself for once, you put the well-being of others above your own, and even the voices screaming in your head made tears glisten in your eyes and an unpleasant knot tighten in your throat.

Several hurrying people passing you impetuously hit your shoulder, making you lose your balance more than once, but still, by some sort of luck, you stay on your feet and take another step. Your breathing was becoming more shallow, and your attempts to catch gulps of air were coming out with great difficulty. Your hands were shaking, as you pulled out a phone from a pocket and tried to unlock the screen while staring at the smiling face pictured on your wallpaper, completely unfocused as you typed in the pin.

“13101995” you mumbled, trying, again and again, to do it right, hoping to not block your phone forever.

When you finally managed to unlock the phone and dial the right number, the sound of the dial tone only echoed in your head. But when your next three attempts to make the call ended without success, your head was flooded with another torrent of thoughts. "Stop being so damn pushy, enough already that he wants to meet you." You took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down, but another torrent of thoughts slid through your head "Just get a grip and go home, don't be naive that someone will come to your rescue".

A bucket of cold reality was poured over your head, and this was the time when your awareness returned, but was filled with tears. A few bricks were added to the wall that had been built, and the cement was being mixed up all over again. It was one of those moments when guilt stamped so much on your heart that you longed to cut yourself off completely. Your steps, still wobbly, sped towards the apartment, and even the heavy wind no longer bothered you. The only thing you would like to remove now is the uncontrollable tears streaming down your cheeks, blurring your vision the whole way. The lights of neon lights around you shimmered in your eyes, making you dizzy again. Oh, how much you hated living in the city center. How much have you longed for a small cottage on the outskirts, with easy access to nature and fresh air not filled with smog and polluted air…

Your phone had been ringing and ringing for several minutes while you were still moving along the sidewalks of Seoul to get to your place. And when you rushed into the apartment, the smell of soft vanilla and masculine perfume entered your nostrils, making tears stand in your eyes again.

“Oh my, tell me it's you. I've been sick worried.” familiar voice comes up to your ears, making you look up at the worried face of Jimin. When his eyes met yours, his face grew even sadder. The boy quickly came over to grasp your frosted cheeks in his hands, warming them with the gentle rubbing of his thumbs. Not a long moment passed when you felt his soft lips on yours, tasting the tomato sauce with which the corners of his mouth were covered as well as his cheeks here and there. “I am so so sorry I couldn't pick up the phone. It was connected to the charger in the bedroom, and we both know that the kitchen would be burned out if I left.” He looked at you, still rubbing your cheeks.

“It's fine Jimin.”

“It's not, my sweetest one, especially when you call me Jimin.” The boy grimaced slightly, but quickly returned to his smile, hoping you would forgive him for the missed calls.

As he stared deeply into your eyes, he noticed how they sparkled at the sight of his smiling face. Jimin was slowly filled with a warm feeling that made him embrace you even tighter as your hands gently tightened on his forearms to wrap around his waist in a moment and dip your head into his chest. It had been a while since you last met, so when your delicate floral perfume that he missed so much entered his nostrils, all the stress and anxiety that he hid exceptionally well finally began to float away. No matter how hard anyone tried, you were the only one who could bring him such strong comfort. You were his brightest light on the darkest days. Jimin couldn't even imagine himself without you beside him.

“I love you.” Your quiet voice, which was now even more muffled by how hard you pressed your head into his chest, reached Jimin's ears, giving him a new dose of pleasant butterflies.

"I love you too," he said, trying to hug you tighter, but you pushed him away gently to look into his eyes.

"But as much as I love you, I still wish I had my kitchen all safe and sound, and you - Park Jimin - are just burning probably my favorite pan." And a moment after your spoken words, the boy's eyes widened, and he disappeared into a nearby doorframe to eliminate the smell of burning meat and boiled sauce.

You took off your jacket bouncing your head not believing what just happened, and went to the kitchen looking at how the boy is fighting with the sauce, turning off the gas on the cooker. Coming up closer, your nose was filled with tomato aroma and a small hint of burning, that he tried to cover up - miserably. You let out a small chuckle and back hug the boy who after brimming over the dressing on the plates with pasta, started to scrape off dark trails of burning on the pan.

‘Leave it Minnie’ you mumbled into his tightened back, which almost immediately at the contact with your skin relaxed slightly.

‘But-’

‘Nah, don't stress over the dish. Are your hands okay?’ You stopped boy to take his slender fingers and watch them carefully, but he only took your cheeks and squished them adorably, and after leaving a few love-filled kisses on them he let you sit at the already-prepared table to taste his meal.

“I hope it will taste good, I tried my best watching Youtube tutorials.” He laughed taking the seat in front of you.

“Smells amazing” you smiled, couldn't really take your eyes off his soft, clean face.

“I know you can be kinda tired of Korean food so I wanted to make something more uh, yours.” he looked at the spaghetti hesitantly, but you only chuckled “But yeah, now eat up sweetheart.”

“I really appreciate it.” Your mouth was already watering just at the spreading smell, so when you finally tried the food after thanking the boy, you could feel heaven. Your stomach sang happily after not eating the whole day, the same as you, who not only could eat a portion of amazing food, but it was a dish prepared by your boyfriend with his whole heart.

‘It's so good! Damn, my Minnie is so good at everything.’ you said with a mouth fully filled only hearing how boys laughing and leaning over to clean the tomato sauce from your face with his fingertips.

“I'm glad my girl like it”

The rest of the evening was only you two, tangled together with some sort of blanket thrown over when you started complaining that you were cold. The K-dramas put on the TV playing in the background but the full attention was on your or his words. And it was always like that. After not seeing each other for long, even if you could talk about stuff on the phone, together sitting on the couch and talking about everything was your thing. And you loved it. How you couldn't run away from it and just stuck with him chatting till the morning sun welcome you two by the window.

“Namjoon Hyung helped me with that one, but I don't know. Sometimes, more than often, I think it's not enough,” you looked up from the sheet on which was the lyrics of one of the album songs with a raised eyebrow.

“And why my Minnie is again insecure about his hard work, hm? Baby, it's great, really I mean it.” you said quickly, reassuring boy he's doing a great job “‘Watch me go, Now, I sink down, all alone away, Where am I? A dark haze clouding up my eyes’. Can you sing this verse for me?” he did as you asked, and you were in heaven as his voice start to embarrassing you for even longer when he sang a whole song.

“Oh, it's gon' be a good night, Forever you and I” he sang again after a while, bumping your nose with a finger, and cuddling onto your side and the only thing you could do was leave a quiet chuckle and brush his hair softly.

“But why do some of the songs seem so, sad?”

“Sad? I think they kinda fun, with music presents better, I promise” he sends you a confused look, but quickly changes it into a smile.

“Yeah? Alone? Who are you trying to fool?” You said with tongue in cheek, while Jimin made a whining sound hiding his face in the crook of your neck wanting to hide from the world “I'm pretending to be okay every time. I'm so pathetic? Park Jimin?”

“I knew I shouldn't show it.” you slapped his arm lightly, making him look at you “Part of this lyric is old, how I felt without someone by my side, okay? Not all of this is…fresh,” he explained quickly, hoping this will resolve your doubts but you only send him another look, receiving another whine from his lips “I promise.”

“I'm just worried. I want you to know I'm always here for you, and you do not have to ‘Walk in your dark room alone, to say it was okay’ because sometimes we just do not have to be okay.” you said, brushing his hair again, knowing that it calms him down

“Fine, some of it was written when we were together. But only when I was far away from you, when you weren't there to remind me who I am,” you let out a deep breath and pressed your lips to his head, leaving a prolonged kiss on top of it.

“But I am here now. Not going anywhere,” you said, embracing his stronger inhaling his scent, being happy to have him by your side.

“I know. That's how I know it will be forever you and I. I am strong only thanks to you.” he said, sending you a smile and stilling a quick kiss from your lips

“No, no. You are strong by yourself, I'm just helping somehow with keeping it.”

“But you are the reason, so I am strong for you” he chuckled, melting your heart as he usually does.

And oh, if Jimin only knew how many times you wanted to give up, but his smiling face gave you the strength to stand up and fight again, being strong again. Your heart was so happy knowing that he is. That you are not so alone, because there is a person who understands you. Who loved you no matter how bad your condition could be…

Now lying together, your hands intertwined, and one of your hand still playing with his hair. The room is now quiet and you can hear only your heartbeat and his steady breath, knowing that he fell asleep in the crook of your neck but never letting go of your hand. He was always here to keep you safe. And he did it perfectly. With his body language, with his thoughts, with his voice.

Park Jimin was your refuge. The only place where you didn't have to be strong. The only place where you could drop your guard, and he'd hold you as tightly as he could, with a love you'd never experienced before. And you were grateful to have found arms in which to hide at your worst time.

[ambiguouspuzuma]

Constructive feedback

I'm a compulsive feed-backer. At least, I think that's the right word. It feels like the verb might be in the wrong place - one who backs feeds, perhaps, like a supporter of TV channels - but I'm not sure of the alternative. Back-feeder? Or does that make me sound like one of those oxpeckers - you know, the birds that ride around on kudu or wildebeest - or something else entirely? You can let me know, if you like. I certainly would.

I mean that I give feedback. Any chance I get, really - and you'd be surprised how many there are. The pop-up that you'd usually swipe away; the installation screens you scramble through. Am I willing to spare two minutes for a quick survey? You bet. Rate us in the app store? Don't mind if I do.

Sometimes they don't even ask for it. There's just a company email address on the leaflet, a pause in the spiel, and suddenly I'm giving more feedback than a microphone within an inch of its own speaker. I write letters to global corporations; I phone back their call centres; I scribble on marketing flyers and return them to sender. A compulsion, as I said. It's a problem, except that I'm not sure that it is.

I like to feel that, in my own small way, I'm improving the world. Most people don't have the patience for all of that work, and so it's down to the likes of me, the back-feeders, to spot the errors; to suggest the improvements; to do the silent work that makes everything we use a little bit better. I identify bugs, and I swat them away before they have the chance to land on your salad. You're welcome.

By and large, I find myself ignored, and that's okay. I'll occasionally feed that back in turn, for important stuff - when the council take too long to acknowledge my letters about potholes, for instance - but otherwise I'm happy to work in the shadows, offering up my free advice without the hope of recognition or reward.

They don't all have to heed my words. I know that I can be pernickety, a pedant, a perfectionist. Not all of my suggested improvements can be prioritised, and I appreciate that resources might be better spent elsewhere. I just give them the information, and leave the best course of action for them to decide.

That is, I used to. Until the start of this month, when I left a restaurant a two star review, and walked past later to find it had closed down. I felt guilty, wondering if I was responsible, although I hadn't thought my words too harsh; perhaps the proprietor had thinner skin than that which lay across the surface of his soup, I thought.

But then I called the local pet store's attention to the uneven drawing of its parking bays, and they vanished too: not even the shop, just the car park. I tried it with a park I visited, which needed more benches in the shade, and suddenly there weren't any benches, or even any shade. It felt like a petulant response, co-ordinated across the various powers that be, sick and tired of my complaining. It was like I was provoking them, or they were trying to provoke me.

I tried to cut back, of course, but you can't just quit the habit of a lifetime. I decided to redirect my energies elsewhere, starting a blog to vent my thoughts about life more generally, rather than risk upsetting any more people: I moaned about the way it always seemed to rain on the weekend, or how quickly my knees and back had gone with age, and suggested flaws in natural systems, like the strange way that animals and plants with warning colours now looked more attractive to humans, particularly young children.

One day I received a parcel in the post. I hadn't been expecting anything, and my immediate thought was that the postal service had delivered to the wrong address, despite my previous corrections, but it was my name on the label. Inside the box, I found another note addressed to me, atop a set of neatly folded golden robes.

"Go on, then," it read, in a language I shouldn't have been able to read, and therefore couldn't check for typos. "Let's see you do any better."

[palimpsessed]

The third annual! Questions by @captain-aralias .

Complete Fics for 2022:

I Can't Believe He's Not Butter

4,941 words

by any other name…

3,035 words

Simon Snow and Dracula's Curse, A Scooby Doo AU

46,064 words

In Progress Fics for 2022:

Slings and Eros

70,055 words added in 2022

Total:

4 complete fics, 1 fic in progress

Word count:

124,095

Thoughts:

I thought my output this year had really waned, but I only completed one more fic in 2020 and 2021. My word count has been pretty consistent, with this year's actually being higher than 2021 (107k) and 2020 (113k). So maybe I need to be kinder to myself. It's truly just having the specter of a massively long wip looming for a second year running.

Since I included SAE in last year's review, I'm going to stick with the three fics I haven't talked about yet. All I ever talk about is SAE anyway. However, I think this works better for writers with more fics to talk about because there would be less repetition in the answers.

best/worst title?

best:

I Can't Believe He's Not Butter

What else is there to say? This fic is about an emo syrup container watching an attractive tub of margarine being spread seductively over pancakes.

worst:

by any other name...

I like this but perhaps it doesn't pin down the point of the fic well enough. But I really couldn't lead with "dicknames" or "cocktail" so. Shakespeare it is.

best/worst summary?

best:

SSADC

"The gang is invited to spend Halloween weekend in famed seaside town Whitby, North Yorkshire. It's supposed to be a holiday filled with music, history, and more vampire fangs than Simon Snow has ever dreamed of. But when a flying fiend claiming to be Count Dracula himself shows up, warning tourists and locals alike to stay away from the famous ruins of Whitby Abbey, Simon and the rest of the Enigma Ltd. gang know they've got another mystery on their hands. Matters are only further complicated when Simon's longtime professional rival, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Grimm-Pitch of Pitch Paranormal Investigations, swoops in with perfect hair to steal Enigma Ltd.'s case.

"Will the gang manage to solve the mystery in time to save Whitby from the Count and his Curse? And more importantly, will Simon solve the mystery of his very confusing feelings for Baz?"

I could see this one printed on the back of a Scooby Doo DVD clamshell. (I absolutely do check out Scooby Doo DVDs from my library every Halloween.)

worst:

BAON

"Baz has been making a new list and he’s decided it’s time to share it with his unsuspecting boyfriend."

Again, I was being coy. This probably should have been something like: "Baz decides to give Simon's cock a worthy nickname. Unapologetic puns ensue." You know, after I did this last year, I actually revised my worst summary to make the changes that I felt would improve it. Maybe I'll do that with this one, too. Maybe.

best/worst first line?

best:

ICBHNB

"The existence (if one can be so bold as to call it that) of a blue plate diner denizen holds all the shine one can find on a cloudy-water-spotted soup spoon. There are occasional flashes of warm, bright pink neon ("open 24 hours") to give you the sense of a rose-tinted view, but by and large, the days offer little more variety and adventure than stuck-on food and creeping rust stains.

"In this place, soup spoons are to solitary condiments like myself what reflecting pools are to Narcissus."

Okay, maybe this is a bit too long to consider a line, but oh well. I hate writing descriptions of physical places. I would much prefer my characters just float around in a void and have endless amounts of banter-laden dialogue. But the diner was integral to this story and I think I did a pretty good job with it, introducing it along with our narrator, pancake syrup!Baz, and using it to set the mood.

worst:

SSADC

"It was a dark and stormy night."

This was obviously intentionally done, so I'm okay with it. Except for the fact that somewhere along the way, the period disappeared without me noticing so it just sat there with no punctuation for weeks. The very first sentence. Off to a strong start.

best/worst last line?

best:

SSADC

"Hey, Baz," she said. "How come you're not in costume?"

You need the context for this one to make sense, but trust me. I love how punchy it turned out, and also that it wasn't planned. I just knew in the moment.

Also, ICBHNB is somewhat open-ended, but I do really like how the last sentence revisits the opening of the fic and shows how much Baz has changed his mind about his "life" now that Simon is in it.

worst

BAON

"We never do get back to Baz’s list."

It's okay, but it's a bit lacking in impact after the repartee immediately before it. This was just my way of fading to black so I didn't have to actually write the sex.

looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, fewer than you thought, or about what you predicted?

Fewer. I thought I'd finally wrap on SAE and be able to tackle more of my other ideas. I had been determined not to write anything else until it was complete, but at some point I decided it was healthier for me to indulge a side fic now and again for the sake of my creative sanity. I didn't want to start resenting SAE because I couldn't work on other things. More to look forward to next year…

what pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

I didn't think I'd ever have cause to write pancake syrup/margarine. But here we are.

what's your favorite story this year? not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest?

It's so hard to choose. I'm really happy with all of them and they're all very different things. I suppose SSADC because I've been working on that concept off and on since I got into fandom and it was nowhere near as clever or funny in my early drafts and planning. I was frustrated with it for a long time, but then it ended up being so much better for the delay. And it's done!!!!! I'm incredibly proud of it.

okay, now your most popular story?

I never know what the best metric is to judge this by? I suppose kudos?

BAON leads in kudos for the year, so I'll say that. Which makes sense. It's the closest I came to smut.

story most underappreciated by the universe?

SSADC and ICBHNB are my least kudoesed(?) over all years so I think they just didn’t find their audience.

story that could have been better?

I know I said I wasn't going to talk about SAE, but damn it could be SHORTER. I find myself most critical of it because I've sat with it for so long. But I still wouldn't change any of it. I always kind of avoid this question.

sexiest story?

Hmm. It probably should be BAON since it is about cocks, but I kind of want to say ICBHNB because that margarine!Simon does spread on awfully smooth… How many fics can boast a completely appropriate use of the word 'nubbin' anyway?

saddest story?

None of my finished fics were sad, but SAE definitely goes there with the deep emotions, so that one gets the honor.

most fun?

SSADC

I wrote a theme song! Lucy the dog dashes into action against "Dracula" wearing a Dracula dog costume. Simon chucks bricks at creepy hooded cultists because Penny didn't let him bring his sword. Baz and Simon absolutely do not speedwalk race down the street to the Whitby library. Penny’s skirt has pockets! No one ever gives Baz a leaflet. BJ and the CUNTS! Penis window. I need to reread this fic.

story with the single sweetest moment?

SSADC

Simon feeds Baz pieces of mint Aero while they're sharing a bed. That was pretty sweet. (Get it, sweet?)

Honorable mention to ICBHNB for being sweetest fic overall, in that the narrator is literally pancake syrup.

hardest story to write?

SSADC

Which I've been trying to write unsuccessfully since very early 2020 (does anyone remember very early 2020?). This version of the fic did give me some hiccups along the way, but finally sorting out the POV and tone of the fic was key, as was the timely Dracula tie-in. It finally felt right this time and I look forward to continuing the adventures of Enigma Ltd. and Pitch Paranormal Investigations.

easiest/most fun story to write?

I'm being difficult and answering with all three fics!

Easiest is a tie between the one shots: ICBHNB and BAON. Short and also mostly crack. I'd had both ideas tossing around in my head for a while and once the mood hit for each of them, they came about pretty quickly.

Most fun: SSADC (for the reasons stated under the other kind of "most fun" above)

did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters?

I'm boring with this one and usually say 'no', but I will say that SSADC was my first time really writing the classic SnowBaz "enemies" to lovers dynamic. I think I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it, because I tend to shy away from that. Not sure if that will inform fic writing decisions going forward, but considering that nearly all of my ideas at the moment are But-What-If-SnowBaz AUs, the dynamics are mostly determined by how I'm adapting the worlds of the various AUs.

most overdue story?

hahaha

I can finally say SSADC and know that it's DONE!!!!!

did you take any writing risks this year? what did you learn from them?

Everything felt like a risk while I had a 100k+ wip. Staying in more lighthearted and cracky territory wasn't necessarily a risk, but certainly something that took me out of my comfort zone as a fic writer. Really, I think I just needed to give myself permission for it.

this year's theme and the story that demonstrates it?

Perseverance.

SSADC and SAE

I finished one and am determined to finish the other.

what are your fic writing goals for next year?

See above.

Seriously, though, my main goal is to wrap SAE and make sure it's satisfying for all the build up—for me and its readers. Aside from that, I have a whole list of prompts for myself and I think I'm really just waiting to get inspired about which one to work on first. I have my Bond AU pretty much entirely plotted out, so you'd think it would be that one. But I also want to do a second part for my Scooby AU. And maybe finally write that The Holiday AU. Or Galaxy Quest. Or Troop Beverly Hills. Or Bell Book and Candle. Or or or…

Here's a good goal: I would like to not write any more dactylic hexameter.

If you read all this way, thanks for taking this journey with me. See you for more words and more fics in 2023!

[jokeringcutio]

Send me Requests for imagines/Drabbles:

The Grabber (Black Phone) or Arthur Fleck (Joker) I'll accept them for Arthur Harrow (Moon Knight) as well Author Note: I still have a few prompts pending that need to be written, but my inspiration is waaaaay too much for small tales for them. Perhaps they still will become drabbles in the end...But I have different plans for them right now.

but I am currently making VERY SLOW progress with the Asylum Patient Arthur Harrow fic which is turning from noncon/dubcon into a fluffly romance. I didn't know I could do write that but here we are.... Slow, but I am making progress. Need a title, then I will post the first chapter. The Black Phone Grabber x Reader Fic is still being updated on a weekly basis on AO3. Usually on a Monday or Friday. I haven't posted all chapter update notifications on Tumblr. Sorry :P

Why else are you this slow atm? Health-wise: THEY FINALLY FOUND SOMETHING OMGOSH!!!! So that means I will get an inhaler and I am thrilled! Because if this works perhaps I won't be out of breath so soon, won't be tired all the time, will be able to dance and sing again. I AM OVER THE MOON. Otherwise: I have a deadline for next weekend and I try to finish Gaga's Harley Quinn costume for it (well, something that looks remotely like it, so wish me luck. )