#sorry for being so convoluted and writing an au its just in my head so bad

[kaseyskat]

hmmm. 22 or 24 for lovesong? if ur still doing these no rush or pressure tho :-)<33

(#22- a kiss in a rush of adrenaline- #24 a kiss in danger)

(for context: because i don't want this one to sound too similar to the other lovesong prompt, i ammmm going to set this in RWBY au! i'll explain some terms in the notes for yall so nobody is too lost :) my apologies)

~~

It isn't often that team TGLNS gets separated for missions. After all, the whole point of being teamed up is that they learn how to work as a team, and yet...

... well, they were told this situation required delicacy. They were split three-ways in the cover of the night: Lark would go on his own, completely cloaked by his semblance, while Grant and Terry covered them from behind, leaving Nick and Sparrow to pair up and secure the base they were sent to protect.

Fighting at night is always harder. Already, Grimm lurk in the shadows, and it is only the faint way Sparrow is glowing that wards them off for the time being- Nick is fairly positive that if she weren't using her semblance, they would've already been attacked.

Sparrow is quiet for once, though her hand trembles in Nick's own as they walk through the forest path towards the base. Her semblance - her own personal superpower, the way she can turn herself into light - certainly comes in handy to make her the world's prettiest night light, but it's a little unnerving to see the way she trembles ever so slightly in the dark.

"Hey," Nick whispers, squeezing her hand. "What's up?"

"I wish Lark were here," Sparrow admits, and she shivers as the breeze catches them both, ruffling her hair and his jacket sleeves in one gentle wave. "I'm worried about him."

"Your brother is gonna be fine, he's a total badass." Nick reassures, and he resists the urge to throw his arm around her, to hold her the way he's been longing for weeks now. "And he's entrusted your safety to me, so give him that same faith, huh?"

"I could kick ass without you," Sparrow retorts, but the silly quip works; she's not shaking so much, and her light is a little steadier as they approach the base.

Crazy that this is the base that criminals use. Nick swallows thickly as they stare at the door, the sounds of Grimm getting closer faint but not far off. "Your grandfather could be here," he murmurs, the words getting stuck in his throat. "Are you... okay with that?"

"My grandfather is a piece of shit who wants to make the world harder for everyone except himself," Sparrow scoffs, and she drops Nick's hand to summon her gauntlet, her form getting a little brighter. "I hope we run into him, so I can kick his ass properly."

Grimm are on their tail now, no longer warded off by Sparrow's semblance, and even though Nick is sure that Grant has their back from the trees and Terry is ready to spring to action if they need him, he can't help but vibrate with adrenaline- brothers above, he loves the thrill of a good fight, especially when he's in such good company. "Looks like the Grimm might get to us first," he warns, even as he summons his spear, his own semblance thrumming underneath his skin, waiting to be used. "Seems we won't get into this place without a fight regardless."

"Let's hope Lark's beaten us there, then," Sparrow says, and she clenches her gauntlet into her chest, spinning on her heels to face Nick. There is something dark in her eyes, even as her glow gets even more intense. "Ready for Operation Flash-Bang?"

"We were born ready," Nick grins.

Before he can use his semblance though, Sparrow does something completely unexpected: she leans up on her toes and draws Nick into a kiss. It isn't the first time they've kissed, but the way that Nick's heart is already beating rapidly from the oncoming fight coupled with how Sparrow's non-gauntlet-ed fist comes to tangle in his hair has him heady, faint.

"For good luck," Sparrow whispers while still against his lips, her breath warm and sending shivers down Nick's spine. "Let's kick some ass, shall we?"

"If you kiss me before every battle, I'll have to fight more often," Nick whispers right back, and he can't resist the urge to lean back in for one last quick kiss, lingering in her taste, her scent.

"Don't get too cocky," Sparrow teases when he straightens back up, but her cheeks are flushed, the light of her semblance doing little to hide it. "Now come on: it'll be embarrassing if Grant takes out more Grimm than we do from the trees."

"Pretty sure that's his job," Nick points out, but as Sparrow leaps into danger, gauntlet held in front of her and glowing brighter than ever, it's all he can do to follow her lead and activate his own semblance, his spear splitting in half as his form splits in two.

It's still a long shot, three against... however many Grimm face them in the woods, not to mention the White Fang rebels they might find in the base. But as long as they're together... Nick has no doubts that they'll be victorious.

[kismetconstellations]

@sockdooe You absolutely do not need to apologize, ever, for "dumping" rants in the tags of my posts. I happen to love reading everything you have to say, and look forward to these "dumps", every time I see your username pop up in my notifications.

People are allowed to write and headcanon whatever they want (Looking at you, "Black Paladin Lance" AUs), but, it's concrete, indisputable canon that the Black Lion and Shiro had the strongest bond of any human Paladin and Lion pair.

Yes, Lance was the first to have a connection with a Lion, and the Red Lion came to Keith's aid of her own volition, just as the Green Lion likewise rushed to protect Pidge. That in no way negates just how much focus was given to building Shiro's bond with Black, and establishing him as the Paladin she chose, because they understood, valued, and trusted one another. Sure, the Black Lion absorbing Shiro into her inner quintessence might very well be a reference to the episode of Neon Genesis Evangelion where Shinji Ikari's body is similarly absorbed by his EVA Unit. Goodness knows there are plenty references to NGE and other anime scattered about. Shiro's Season One/Two design seems to have taken some heavy inspiration from Guts- shock of stress-induced white on a head of black hair, strong, square jaw, prosthetic arm, distinct lateral scar across the bridge of his nose-

-and he was originally intended to marry Roy Focker.

Nevertheless, it speaks volumes that this ancient, sentient force looked at a traumatized, battle-scarred, yet still extraordinarily gentle man with blood on his hands, sins to atone for, and feelings of self-loathing and desperation to prove himself worthy, prove that every fight in the Arena and every life he took to keep himself alive, every precious second of time he was able to steal back from Death's inescapable grip meant something if he can do good with all of the evil that has touched him, permeating the very essence of his being, and decided Him. He's the one I want. To the point of holding onto whatever she could of him after he died.

And, as much as this show tried to undermine that with Keith and the Clone Shiro being able to pilot the Black Lion, and later showing the previous Paladins also being preserved by their Lions' quintessence- inside of Haggar/Honerva's mind, despite the fact that she killed them outside of their Lions, because Season Eight's writing is an absolute convoluted mess- it will never, ever diminish the fact that Shiro is so special, not one, but two magic-powered sentient spacecrafts adopted him as their Person.

(I do wish the Atlas's interior wasn't so dark, dreary, and dull, though. They couldn't have given this poor man a ship with white walls and turquoise accents, or something? It had to be dingy gray and Galaxy Garrison orange?)

Even if we ignore the fans who hyperfocus on Lance and Keith, determined to turn them into the ultimate tragic heroes/victims of the universe/hyper-competent badasses/supremely empathetic Hearts of the Team (sorry, but that title belongs to Hunk. It will always belong to Hunk)/discount Shiros, the treatment of Shiro by the fandom has, since its inception, been dubious, at best.

He's a cheerleader for Keith/Lance. He's an obstacle to Keith/Lance, so we'll pair him off with Allura. No, wait, never mind, he's twenty-five, and therefore, absolutely off limits to every single one of the Paladins, and Allura, as a potential romantic partner, and anyone even slightly okay with one of these ships deserves to be harassed and indiscriminately labeled a "pedophile", including Shiro's voice actor. (We'll completely overlook, of course, that Keith is also a legal adult, and shipping him with any of the younger Paladins should, by those standards, be verboten, as well.) Shiro is the "Token Gay" who we'll cast aside in favor of Keith and/or Lance, but throw him the meagerest scrap of bone in the form of pairing him off with either the (dead) man who canonically ended their relationship on poor terms because he couldn't handle the emotional strain of another one of Shiro's medical scares, or the piece of glorified set dressing with no personality to speak of who Shiro barely interacts with, and whose name is never once spoken onscreen. Wait, no, Shiro's actually not gay enough (because he's not a mincing, flamboyant stereotype?), so we'll complain that we were "queerbaited" over a ship featuring a canonically heterosexual teenage boy that was never, ever going to happen.

And, the fans who do gravitate toward Shiro tend to sexualize him to the extent of discarding- or fetishizing- his trauma to get him naked and railing (in the most Out of Character portrayal imaginable), or being railed by, their character of choice as swiftly as possible.

Disgusting.

I can only hazard a guess that Shiro has been afflicted with so much extensive, irreversible trauma, fanfiction authors who are simply writing for fun with the intention of living vicariously through these characters don't want to have to confront the ugly, less than titillating reality of that trauma, or so much as touch it with a thirty-nine and a half foot pole. So, they choose to pretend it doesn't exist, or gloss over it, in exactly the manner the show, itself, does. This includes his illness, which, if we take Lauren Montgomery and Joaquim Dos Santos at their word, was written into Shiro's character from conception, along with his homosexual identity.

"I think a lot of his backstory was created independently, even from his sexual orientation, ‘cause that was just a part of who he was but it wasn’t necessarily a discovery moment. So the vast majority of the conversations of his backstory were around figuring out what else is there, the illness and those aspects of it. Him being gay was just something that we had always wanted to do with him from early on."

And, in the case of fans who try to turn their favorites into Shiro, which is one of the strangest, most inexplicable phenomena I have ever encountered in all of my years on the internet in fandom spaces- why designate a character as your favorite if you desperately need them to be someone else, instead of accepting them as they are?- they have to be slapping a prosthetic on those characters purely for the cheap angsty aesthetic.

Which is to be expected when people steal distinct traits from another character to apply to their favorite like a patchy, uneven coat of paint layered over top of what was already there. They don't understand why that other character had those traits, to begin with. They, presumably, see Shiro with his scars, his personal history with Sendak, Haggar, and Zarkon, the three most powerful and intimidating villains in the series, the physical and emotional evidence of the experimentation and torture Shiro was subjected to while in captivity, his relationship with the Black Lion, his irreplaceable presence and role on the team as a firm but gentle guiding light, and decide, "That's unique and makes him stand out as someone special and important. My favorite deserves to be special and important, too! So, I'll take what he has and give it to them!" It really is like a kid wanting another kid's favorite toy because their own isn't "good enough", and I can honestly say I've never seen this sort of behavior in any other fandom. If Lance and Keith fans, as they tend to be the prime perpetrators, recognize that Shiro has innate narrative significance and desirable qualities, why not adopt him as their favorite, instead?

It all comes back to the fanbase's rampant ageism, the ages of the fans, themselves (you'd have to be pretty darned young to think a twenty-five year-old is old enough to be a teenager's "dad"), and, I think, the fact that Shiro is a conventionally masculine gay man, rather than a skinny twink, so it isn't as easy to project more effeminate characteristics onto him.

Lance uses skin masks and moisturizes.

Shiro either doesn't sleep, or wakes up inhumanly early to do push-ups.

Characters with more reserved, subdued personalities also tend to be cast aside and written off as "boring" in favor of overtly loud, flashy, mostly comic relief ones. There is nothing wrong with preferring one or the other, and both have their place, especially in stories aimed at child audiences where a bit of levity is necessary after watching characters go through high stakes and intense emotional strain. But, it has always been my opinion that people who overlook the guarded, noble, self-sacrificing leaders who voluntarily bear the weight of the world on their shoulders have poor taste. That sort of frank dismissal demonstrates an unwillingness to peer past the supposedly "uninteresting" surface and see what makes these characters pillars of leadership, virtue, and heroism, in the first place.

Like reaching out to a kid the rest of the world has given up on, and offering him a helping hand.

Like being willing to paint yourself as a bloodthirsty savage and attacking a scared friend to keep him out of a fight where he surely would have lost his life.

Like offering encouragement, guidance, and support to the people in your care, so they come to trust you as a friend, and confidante.

And, never hesitating to protect someone who can't protect themselves.

Takashi Shirogane is beautiful, inside and out.

The "fans" who don't understand or appreciate that, and especially the ones who think this show could have possibly stood to benefit from killing him permanently, have objectively rancid opinions. And, should almost definitely steer clear of trauma survivors, because they fail to understand what Shiro means to us as a representation of the kind of person we all could be if we're willing to never give up on ourselves, and try.

Let him be showered in all of the tender forehead kisses, get to sleep on the comfiest plush mattress, and be surrounded by an army of soft and fluffy plushies. Forever and ever.

[moosemonstrous]

btw I have now put links to both the tag here and on AO3 in my bio bc I got sick of scrolling through tumblr 😌 Full disclosure - I have met lab people who act like small animals caught in the middle of a road whenever someone dares to enter their domain.

Ghost Rider Pacific Rim AU - sticks and stones

“Can’t promise the spot will stay open,” Kwok tells him apologetically. “But this is good, no? All the young’uns want to go to the academy!”

Robbie would bet his working eyeball that none of the young'uns would be so keen on it after ten minutes alone with Major Brooks. “So I keep hearing,” he mutters. “Sorry for the trouble. I appreciate you taking me on in the first place.”

“Navos is good people,” Kwok shrugs. The Shatterdome functions on a rather opaque network of favours and IOUs. ‘Good people’ seems to be a fairly high praise. Not quite on 'one of ours' level, but high. “You remember me when you are a ranger up in the dome and we’re even.”

And just like that, the transport maintenance chapter of Robbie’s career closes with little fanfare. Technically, he didn’t have to come speak to Kwok in person – his assignment has already gone through and the man would’ve been notified either way. He doesn’t want to leave a bad impression, though. For all he knows, the battery of tests he’d been fast-tracked through the day before will spit out some convoluted reason for why the drift activated on its own and he will be back on the job market before the end of the week. At least there are plenty of positions open – it’s easier to hire someone inside the base and train them up than wait for the paperwork to clear for an experienced worker from the outside.

He remembers the last time he let himself think things were finally turning around, though. He’s not going to make that mistake again.

At least his head is clearer after half an hour in a giant magnet and a full night’s sleep. He’s still unable to hold a conversation with Ivanov without some truly strange thoughts popping up like bubbles on the surface of a pot – the more tired or angry he gets, the harder it is to ignore them. He knew he was going to pay for running on fumes for weeks, and being sedated for nearly three days must have knocked something loose, but. Nothing proper sleep hygiene and some semblance of a routine won’t fix.

Or maybe you’re just noticing stuff, because you ain’t an idiot. Huh? Could it be that?

Or maybe this whole business with The Charger is extremely weird and Robbie should be packing up and running for the hills. Unfortunately, his and Gabe’s permits only work in Hong Kong and when he last checked how much it would be to fly back to US, he had to sit down for a long moment. Even if he was willing to risk taking a ship, where would that leave them? Back on a decimated coast, hoping the wind doesn’t blow over nuclear fallout, and struggling to find enough food for both of them? Queuing at state borders for days or weeks, hoping they’ll be lucky enough to get through on the increasingly stringent rules? Nevada already stopped letting in anyone without immediate family members or sponsors in-state.

Looks like the only way forward is through.

His wristband scans through to the R&D wing now. The soldiers standing guard give Robbie odd looks, but don’t make a move to stop him, so he forces his shoulders down and walks through the armoured door like he knows what he’s doing.

He has no idea what he’s doing. Cho said, ‘come find me in R&D before noon’. There are at least fifteen labs just in this one corridor and none of the doors have anything approaching a comprehensible naming convention. Some signs are just a piece of printer paper with a name scrawled over it, some have the original writing taped over with a KEEP OUT sticker, some seem to list the people working inside. None of those list an Amadeus Cho. It’s half past eleven.

Eventually, Robbie sticks his head in a room labelled ‘HMT DES’. Inside, there are three circular podiums with a mannequin each, showcasing variations of the PPDC hazmat suits. There are three people inside; two hide behind the middle suit as soon as they notice him, leaving the third to fend for herself.

“Can–can I help you?” she asks nervously. She has blue hair and wears fishnet sleeves over a tank top. Not exactly the nerd attire Robbie was expecting.

“I’m looking for Amadeus Cho,” he explains, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. It’s the opposite of what he usually tries to achieve, and she looks like she might be having an anxiety attack. “Any idea where I could find him?”

The girl listens to some frantic whispering from behind the suit. “In the bone lab,” she squeaks. Then blushes so hard Robbie worries she might actually pass out. “Up one floor, two doors down on the left, thankyouseeyoulater.”

What the hell.

He closes the door.

At least with the directions he finds the right room in less than five minutes. The label indeed reads ‘bone lab’. He’s pretty sure the music blasting from the inside is Dead Kennedys. When nobody answers his knocking, he prays he isn’t about to embarrass himself further and pushes the door open.

Cho is standing with his back to him at a table completely covered in… either huge chunks of dirty plaster or – more likely and vastly more disturbingly – massive bone fragments. He’s holding a metal training staff. Before Robbie can call out, he brings it over his head and smashes one of the chunks. When it doesn’t break, he adjusts his grip and tries again. And again. And again, until the greenish-grey surface cracks, at which point he gives out a little whoop.

“Cho?” Robbie risks. The music is too loud, coming from a small bluetooth speaker at the edge of the table. It’s shaped like a cat head. “Hey, Cho!”

Cho whirls around with the staff ready to smack the intruder. He’s wearing thick safety goggles. When he sees Robbie, he drops his weapon to the table with a clatter. “Good news!” he shouts over the music, like it’s normal both for people to just show up in his lab and to start a conversation from the middle. “You don’t have brain cancer!”

Well. That’s definitely good news.

“Was that a–?” He waits for Cho to lower the speaker’s volume through his phone. “Was that a risk?”

Cho is busy checking his messages, frowning. “Did you break my outfitters?”

“What?”

“Hazmat lab?” The frown becomes a grin as he scrolls through a bunch of texts. Robbie feels like that’s worse. “Good job getting on their good side, they might be designing your drivesuit soon.”

“I just–“ Can we get to the point? This kid is missing a screw. “You said to come find you?”

“Yes! Come on, take a–“ he picks up a hammer from an office chair before sliding it towards Robbie. “There you go. I was hoping we could talk without the grown-ups hovering around.”

The grown-ups. Robbie can already feel a headache coming. He takes a seat while Cho leans on the table, untroubled by a pile of skeletal remains inches from his back. “Talk about what?”

Cho scrambles around for a remote and points it at one of the screens at a wall behind Robbie. He flicks through several output sources – one is most definitely a cartoon show Gabe used to love back in L.A. – until he finds what looks like the Hell Charger’s blueprints.

“That,” he says, suddenly serious. “What do you actually know about this jaeger?”

“I already–“

“Yeah, but that can’t be all,” Cho cuts him off impatiently. “I found your records from before your mom took you and your brother off-base. You were eight. Your dad never took you to the hangar?”

Not really. Mama didn’t want you losing fingers in the machinery.

“Wasn’t a place for a kid,” he mumbles. There are records? “I don’t really remember much from that time. Weren’t all the records sealed?”

I told you Ivanov is full of shit.

“Oh, they were,” Cho smirks. “But the last guy in my role had access to some of the classified stuff, and nobody ever revoked it. You know how it is.”

Robbie has no idea how it is. “What do they say?”

“Nothing!” Cho groans. “Just that you and your brother existed. That’s why I’m asking.”

It’s both crushingly disappointing and a perfectly good reason for Ivanov to just say there was no information available. Keep deluding yourself. You’ll see I’m right sooner or later. Still, Robbie doesn’t really have much he can – or wants to – tell Cho.

“Sorry, I can’t help,” he shrugs. “I’m told we left before it was decommissioned. Mom never talked about it.”

Cho lifts up his goggles to his forehead to rub his eyes. He seems frustrated. “No weird work anecdotes? No drama about close calls?” He huffs when Robbie shakes his head. “Great. Another dead end. What did Ivanov tell you?”

“Just that my dad used to be a pilot. That he died killing Daggerblight.”

There is a long moment where Cho watches him like he’s waiting for Robbie to crack and admit to some vast conspiracy. When nothing happens, he blows the air out of his cheeks. “Bummer. Oh well, let’s go find Montesi before she starts wondering where we are.”

Robbie feels the bottom of his stomach freeze over. “We were supposed to be meeting her, too?”

Cho is already walking over to the door. He holds it open with a stupid little bow. “Yep. We better hurry.”

Robbie kind of wants to punch him. He’s beginning to suspect this will be a common occurrence.

[katierosefun]

convoluted superheroes but make it disaster lineage au, some thoughts on their origin stories and how they would become a team: 

“caroline shouldn’t you be writing or reading for your irish lit class” 

“yes but i had a thought” 

no, this isn’t necessarily a marvel au because i feel like crossing.......the mcu and star wars, which are already big franchises, just messes with my head? plus,,,,the mcu just has such distinct character archetypes that i can’t really fit neatly with the clone wars, so here’s just a super convoluted au that could honestly just work as an entirely different story on its own and probably only has enough in common with tcw by like,,,,a thread, but ANYWAYS I AM HERE WITH MORE THOUGHTS OF AN AU AND YOU JUST HAVE TO SUFFER WITH ME!

okay, so anakin’s story is kinda bizarre: 

i mean, he’s the chosen one in star wars and all that with all these freaky far-reaching abilities with the force so i’m not gonna take that away from him--so idk in this universe i’m just gonna say that he’s gonna be like....a mimic. i feel like he would be the kind of person who just steps into a room and absorbs / can mimic the abilities of any other powered human in the room, only like,,,amplify it. he’s tricky to catch because of that, because no one knows what power he might absorb next. 

but i feel like while anakin can certainly show off with this, i think he’ll also at least attempt to be a little private about this? (lmao we know he’s gonna fail though, because  ily anakin  but you’re the worst at keeping secrets). i feel like he would compensate for all the fancy gadgets + stuff, or sometimes just swing into rooms and be like “anyways guys i came up with a new thing” and everyone always stares at him because for some reason, everyone forgets that anakin skywalker is, in fact, a genius who doesn’t necessarily need his powers to be extraordinarily powerful. there’s more to him than just his weird powers, you guys. 

right, so obi-wan: 

every superhero team needs the wise intellectual, and i feel like obi-wan will always be that one person. i feel like his powers would have to complement anakin’s rather well though, since they’re,,,y’know. the team. oh wait shit-- 

okay okay okay (sorry, this is me really just kinda liveblogging my stream of consciousness), but like?? if anakin can amplify powers, i think of obi-wan being the one to muffle them. like, i feel like just touching someone and suddenly boom, no more powers. you’re now forced to fight obi-wan on even ground (lmao). obi-wan doesn’t necessarily absorb the powers like himself, he just...knows how to quiet them enough so that for the next little while, the opponent is absolutely useless. 

i feel like a lot of people wind up underestimating obi-wan that way,,,at first. everyone makes that mistake, but then everyone realizes that oh yeah, anakin skywalker? dangerous dude. but obi-wan kenobi? if you don’t catch where you’re looking, you could very well end up dead if he wanted. 

our feral gremlin ahsoka: 

well, every team needs the youngster who everyone on the team loves, right? idk maybe it’s because of the togruta biology and something about togruta being more balanced than like,,,humans that makes me want ahsoka to be the ultimate stealth person. when i say this, i mean like duh she’s got incredible balance, but i think it would be super cool if she was able to just like.........move through walls. no one ever sees her coming because first of all, she’s kinda small, but second of all,,,,again: you could just be chilling at your computer and suddenly there’s a short girl standing behind you because she just phased through the wall what the-- 

like most teenage superheroes, ahsoka def. seems kinda excited about being the superhero? also mildly exhausted. idk dude, you try doing calc homework and writing a history paper when you’re also trying to keep the world from being taken over by....robots or zombies or whatever. 

some other thoughts that i have but have yet to flesh out because i should probably actually get back to work now: 

rex also absolutely has superpowers, but don’t you dare call him a sidekick. idk why, but i kinda want rex to be one of those people who creates literal earthquakes, kind of like quake from agents of shield. 

cody’s sole superpower is putting up with all the bullshit the rest of the team has. he doesn’t really care he doesn’t have powers, and tbh, everyone’s mildly terrified of the day cody ever gets hit with a freak accident that might make him have powers. 

well, every superhero story needs some reporter of some kind, right? ceo of some big news company padme amidala, who occasionally talks to anakin skywalker and absolutely knows his secret identity within like 2 minutes. 

actually, i totally forgot about whether the superheroes in this world would have secret identities.

i’ve decided. they all have secret identities. 

anakin’s the disaster engineer research person. no one really takes him seriously at work because he’s so freakishly young, but joke’s on them, because he’s saved everyone from evil robots at least ten times now. 

obi-wan by default is always going to be the tired english professor. he knows anakin because anakin’s research facility is literally within the same radius of the university campus. 

ahsoka goes to the high school nearby the school. she absolutely did not mean to meet anakin and obi-wan and rex, but okay, she just saw the fire in the school library and someone had to pull the students out, so it had to be her, and she might have tried to pull obi-wan and anakin out before obi-wan accidentally muffled her powers and then anakin got her powers, and then they were all SCREECHING AT EACH OTHER BECAUSE 

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO” 

“I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING” 

“WAIT YOU HAVE POWERS?” 

“WAIT DO YOU?” 

“CAN WE DO THIS LATER???” 

[house-of-cakes]

Jamais Vu

Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Prev || Next Chapter 22: And I Oop! 🤭 Jungkook x Reader: enemy to lovers AU

Word count: 1739

Warnings: Swearing, an over confident douchebag and Y/N and JK are major teases Premise: “There’s an opposite to déjà vu. They call it jamais vu. It’s when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first. Everybody is always a stranger… Nothing is ever familiar” – Chuck Palahniuk, Choke

AKA Jungkook goes in search of the girl who got him expelled.

It’s embarrassing how long this chapter took me to write  🤦‍♀️ If you would like to give feedback or be tagged in this story please send me an ask/message 😊 Tagged list: @inspinkyring​ @betysotelo18​ @kardia-apo-marmelada​ @casspirit0705​ @preciouschimine​ @therealsugababe​  @lucedelsole97​ @deolly​ @lexy9716​  @thesweetest-peas​ @sannsia​ ​ ​

STORY CONTINUED BELOW THE CUT

A large group of excitable females crowded one end of the bar as the man behind it took two bottles and spun it around with dramatic flare before pouring a generous amount of alcohol into a shaker. Squeals of delight erupted from the crowd as he threw a handful of ice cubes into the air and successfully caught them all behind his back. He finished off the flashy routine by placing the shaker top back on the canister and entertain his audience one final time by dancing in body rolls while he shook up his concoction.

“Who’s thirsty?” He yelled out and in an instant the females grew feral with enthusiasm as they pushed and shoved each other, trying to be the first person to gain his attention.

Y/N observed the scene from the other side of the bar as she waited for her turn to be served. A girl with fire engine red hair managed to wrestle her competitors off and secured the position at the front of the bar.  She patiently stood before him, hoping her pleading eyes was enough for him to convince him to invite her for a drink.

Y/N’s nose crinkled in distaste. While she didn’t know the red head by name (she went by the name Red), she had seen the girl around the Basement and knew enough to know she deserved better than him.  

“I’m absolutely parched.” Her tone was slow and drawn out in attempts to sound sultry.

Y/N couldn’t contain the fake gagging noise she made. In her eyes the scenario was completely cringeworthy…maybe Red did deserve him.

‘I wouldn’t be caught dead chasing a guy like BeatBox Jae.’ She thought to herself.

Unfortunately, the sound she had made was loud enough to catch Jae’s attention.

An overwhelming amount of excitement welled in his chest when he realised he had the Kim Y/N in his sights. He turned his attention back to Red and gave her the most charming smile as he could muster as he made another big show of slowly pouring out two drinks.

“Sorry, bar’s closed.” He said with no hint of remorse then picked up the drinks and made his way over to Y/N, leaving the humiliation to sink in with poor Red.

“Here.” Jae said as he set the frosty martini glass in front of Y/N “I made you a drink, Beautiful.”

Y/N scoffed in his face and pushed the drink to the side, her blatant act of rejection did not even damper his mood.

“You’re an asshole you know, right? I can’t believe you did that to her!”

Jae nonchalantly shrugged off the comment as he took a sip from his drink. He didn’t care about the feelings or problems of others…if he wanted something, he knew that as the Maknae of The Basement Boys there wasn’t much that was unattainable by him. With a face that looked like it was carved by angels and an ego that was extensively fed his adoring fans of guys and girls…Jae was a lethal combination of charisma and arrogance.

It was exactly this attitude that repelled Y/N from him. “Don’t be like, Beautiful…let me take you out on a date and show you how much I like you.” “Oh really?” Y/N leant forward so that elbows were resting on the bar and cupped her face in her hands, making sure to looked up at him from under her long lashes with a cute pout. “Tell me three things you like.”  

Y/N was never discreet about her dislike towards Jae which only made him want her more. The fact that she was now showing genuine interest, made Jae feel like he was finally getting a head in a race he was lagging in.

“That’s easy… You’re hot as hell.” He said with enthusiasm and raised his hand so he could count the reasons as he listed them off “…cute too and the most gorgeous thing in the world.” He grinned proudly to himself, feeling satisfied that he answered the question well.

“Is that all?” “You only asked for three…did you want me to say super sexy too?” His response was smug

Y/N had to force a smile to hide her grimace. Of course the only traits he favoured were those of her appearance. She knew better than to ask those kinds of questions, especially to someone like Jae but once in a while she had the unstoppable urge to remind herself that men were trash.

“Sorry I don’t date guys who fuck around while they have girlfriends.” Y/N pulled herself of the bar and broke the illusion of interest she had Jae under. Though her abrupt change of attuite was enough to give him whiplash he was able to recover quickly.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, Beautiful.” “That’s not how I see it.” The tension grew thick in the air as they stared each other down.

For regulars of The Basement, it was common knowledge that Jae was one to sleep around. However, with her sharp observation skills as The Shopkeeper, Y/N was able to piece together his hidden shame. From what she could piece together it seemed that only the members of The Basement Boys were aware of this convoluted secret and the matter was kept within the crew.

“Don’t be silly Beautiful.” Jae was the first to speak, breaking the tension by playfully ruffling her hair and returning back to his same jovial self “Besides if anyone has to worry about significant others it should be me…your boyfriend has been giving us death glares.” “What?” Y/N asked trying to figure out who in the world he was talking about. Nods his head in the direction behind her before revealing who he is talking about. “SeokJin’s big buff cousin over there.” she turned around spotted a Jungkook looking disgruntled standing a few people back in the line for the bar. Their eyes met briefly before he turned the other way, pretending he wasn’t watching Y/N. “That’s not my boyfriend.” she said rolling her eyes “He’s just angry because he’s a sore loser.” “Thank God.” Jae exclaims as he clutches his chest overdramatically “I thought I had competition for a second.” “You don’t have to worry about that.” Y/N reassures him with a smirk “You actually act to be in the race to have competition.” She cheekily blows him a kiss and leaves him, no longer interested in getting a drink.

Y/N was well aware of the type of person Jae was, so never in a million years would she fall victim to his charms. If anything, she found it enjoyable to shut him down.

‘That should take him down a notch.’ She thought to herself

Jungkook was still facing away from Y/N as she drew closer to passing him on her way back to the balcony, she had every intention to walk by and ignore his existence and yet she had the unstoppable desire to mess with him too. Still high off her interaction with Jae, her body moved on its own accord and before she knew it her body was crashing into his as she purposely tripped herself. As if on instinct Jungkook was quick to wrap his arms around her to prevent her from falling.

“If you wanted me in your arms, all you had to do was ask…there’s not need to trip me over” Jungkook’s eyes widen at her accusation which caused her to chuckle. His arms dropped from around her and he stepped back to create space between them “I don’t blame you though…I am pretty irresistible in my new shirt.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He spat out in disgust “I don’t want anything to do with you, especially after I saw you help humiliate that red headed girl.” “Um…Sorry what?” Y/N’s mouth hung open in disbelief, he didn’t really believe she had anything to do with that? “Don’t act like you weren’t involved in that. I bet you couldn’t handle not being the center of attention for once, that’s why you called that bartender over to you.” “Excuse you? I’m not sure what you saw there but you must really have your head up your ass if you think that I had anything to do with that.” “Oh pah-lease!” Jungkook’s arms were crossed defensively “You might have everyone fooled but I see you for who you are… you’re nothing more than a spoilt princess!”

‘A spoilt princess?’

That comment really struck a nerve with Y/N. She had been called many unfavourable things in her lifetime and she had never been offended because to some degree the things they said were true so it never bothered her…she felt there was no point in getting upset with the truth, she accepted every aspect of herself - whether it be good or bad. However to be called a princess and a spoilt princess at that really pushed all the wrong buttons within her.

Y/N refused to conform to her mother’s notions of the importance of beauty and the concept of using her physical attributes to have things handed to her. Y/N valued independence, intelligence and hard work…to have this stranger discredit her like that was deeply insulting to her.

“Look here you jerkfaced asshole.” Y/N’s eyes narrowed as she scowled up at the tall male towering above her. “Maybe if you were a better competitor, you’d be able to win once in a while and then you wouldn’t have to take your passive aggression out on me.”

Jungkook couldn’t hide the grin that had taken over his face, even when Y/N was losing against him she had always managed to keep her emotions in check. This is the first time he had seen her flustered and openly frustrated…He enjoyed seeing her lose her composure.

“Whatever you say…” Jungkook closed the distance between them so that he could lean closer to her “…Princess” 

Y/N stiffened when she heard his smooth husky voice whisper in her ear, stirring an unfamiliar feeling of anticipation and delight within her. Those feelings quickly turned to repulsion when her brain had finally caught up to her and realised who she had been talking to. She let out a sound of disgust and pushed him away from her.

“Go fuck yourself, Asshole!” she spat before turning to leave him.

Jungkook watched Y/N storm off as he buzzing with satisfaction of knowing he had be the one to get under her skin for once.

[ubemango]

commission 4: slow burn/best friends/college au w/  jin

(+or: we’re best friends and you’re literally So Great and i suck at knowing what i want but anyway i’m starting to think i like you ??????? au)

note 1: For my very very sweet and understanding friend @yeuj​ who helped me out when I needed it most .... I hope you enjoy 🥺🥺💕!!!!!! And thank you to Micah + Clove for helping me with my questions—thank you for your thoughtfulness, insight, and love!!!!! 🌷🌷🌷

note 2: I tried to make ramen-making as unboring as possible but it really is just....water and spice. If you’re confused about eating ramen at convenience stores please search that up on Youtube, I’ve exhausted my link resource skills (except for when I want you to listen to songs.) Also, the songs I mention are titanic/the end by cehryl and Subside by Eloise. I actually listened to Sweet Night on repeat while writing this so if u wanna listen to that... ;_;

note 3: everything about this story is in medias res. I realized I had no proper beginning or conclusion and I didn’t wanna change the flow of the story by concretely adding one or the other... so if the story feels incomplete/fragmented then please understand that this was a conscious and intentional decision done on my part :,) It’s slow burn!!!! I Love you ha ha!!

(i)

The library is open twenty four hours. The convenience store in the student centre is not.

“Please use your car,” you assert.

Seokjin huffs. “Then pay for my gas.”

It’s an empty threat. He’s got no business driving hard bargains when he has capital in the form of a rich CEO dad. He ignores your glaring, calmly closing his laptop, shoving it into his bag. Closing up shop after a derivative crisis you’d called him up for because he lives on campus, plus he never sleeps early. You appreciate that he gives into you so easily.

“Fine.”

So you go, searching for a convenience store that has those instant noodles you suddenly came up with a craving for this late at night. Seokjin’s used to it by now. You get things done when you want to, even if it means making a home of the pillowy chairs in the library you’d claimed for studying purposes.

The mathematical theory of chaos. You don’t want to think about it, and you click your seatbelt with a yell, throw your bag in the backseat with as much strength your anger allows for. “I hate school!”

“Please don’t scream in the car.”

“I hate it!”

Seokjin slots the key in. “Can you look up where the convenience store is?”

He tosses you his phone to unlock. You jab at the screen with more grumbling and colourful cursing, pulling up whatever Google Maps says is the nearest store open.

“Plug in the AUX cord,” Seokjin urges next. He merges into traffic, which is really only one car and the late night bus. A quiet night for your suffering.

“Can I play my—“

“Nope.” You sneer. Tapping open his playlists, you pass under orange lamp post after orange lamp post and scroll in silence before Seokjin groans. “I made a new playlist, pick that one.”

“What’s it called?”

You can see that he’s stiffened up. You don’t comment. “The one with the three heart emojis.”

Simple enough. You don’t care to sift through the songs, and the first one plays with one more indulgent tap of the screen.

Why don’t you tell her? I think you should. You know how you’re feeling, you can’t fight the truth…

Google interrupts the soft voice with the indication of the next right. Seokjin eases on the gas pedal. You watch him nod his head to the softness of the stereo. “I can’t pay for your gas.”

“I know you can’t.”

“I can pay for your ramen,” you suggest. Seokjin makes a quiet noise, like he’s amused by your generosity, or maybe he just thinks you’re dumb. You think it’s the latter.

“I don’t want you to pay for my ramen.”

“Then what do you want?”

The lamp post light striking Seokjin’s face gives way to the harsh red of the stoplight. In the stillness, he sends you a hard look. It makes you feel weirdly vulnerable, like he’s stripped you bare.

To make things worse, Seokjin says:

“Nothing you don’t want to give me.”

He doesn’t heed your confusion because he presses on the gas, looks straight ahead. You do too, and you try not to contemplate the cool brevity of his attention you suddenly want back. You push your uncertainty aside.

(He has a handsome face, you think.)

Seokjin interrupts, “So why’d you wait till now to study?”

“You know me.” Procrastination. The complete and utter mistake of underestimating the allotted time needed to get a successful grasp of concepts for your midterm. In not so convoluted terms, this class sucks ass.

“Yeah but that was—a lot of notes.”

It was. You probably pushed five weeks of material in the span of three hours. You can feel the very tips of your nervous system frying up as you pass through gas station-lit intersections. But there’s a real answer to his question, and you have the intense need to curl in on yourself in this leather seat.

“Well I would have started yesterday, but I was busy,” you counter.

“With what?”

“So you know Hyukjae from Psych?”

Seokjin pauses to listen to Google’s instructions, and immediately makes a left onto another main intersection. “Sure.”

“We went out yesterday,” you admit.

He hums a tight sound, tapping on the wheel. “Hm. How’d it go?”

It wasn’t bad. You shared butter tarts and laughed at his anecdotes and Hyukjae-from-Psych paid for your Uber home. He gave you a very weak hug before you slipped into the car. It was in that seat you’d decided you wouldn’t be sending him an I had fun! text that night.

“It was okay. Like, nice to me and stuff. But nothing…”

“…Worth revisiting.”

“Sure,” you mimic, and you wonder why he’s right.

“The guy’s okay,” he says. Almost like it’s with relief. “It’s—not to sound rude, but. Uh. I think it’s, uh—good. That you weren’t… interested.”

You think he’s gripping the steering wheel a little too tight. “Why?”

“Can’t trust guys with bad handshakes.” Seokjin chances a glance at you, and laughs at the confused scrunch of your eyebrows. “I met him during that networking conference in third year. Limp-wristed me. Like a chump.”

“Ew.” You can’t say he’s wrong. That hug Hyukjae gave you really was weak. The dude has noodles for arms. “But yeah, I guess you’re right. Wasn’t really my type.”

“Hm,” is all Seokjin comes up with. You watch him pass right through the turn Google tells him to take. “Oh shit. Sorry. I’m just. Thinking. About… limp… men.”

You snort. “What?”

“Like a man. A limp man. Hyukjae. Not me,” he clarifies fast—proudly— “just. Anyway! Back to you saying what your type was.”

“I wasn’t,” you accuse.

“Yeah well now I’m asking because I don’t wanna think about limp men. Your type, please.”

He sounds weirdly inquisitive. Demanding, almost. You chalk it up to the near-delirium of being awake past 1AM.

“I—don’t know,” you start. Somehow you feel like you’re messing something up. “He was kind, I like… kind. And soft. Sweet. You know Kim Taehyung? From Neuro? Like, almost big shoulders but not really. I like big shoulders. Yeah. Guys like Kim Taehyung-ish.”

Seokjin just hums again. There’s another song playing, and you don’t know how many you’ve rotated through in this playlist. You didn’t think it’d take this long to get to the store.

Google says it’s just two minutes away now. Seokjin says, “Cool,” and then sings along to the stereo.

You got me losing sleep over you… I usually sit still but now I can’t help but move… When I see you, I don’t know what to do…

(ii)

“Spicy or not spicy?”

“Whatever keeps my stomach lining intact,” Seokjin says.

You don’t say anything more and grab two of whatever ramen packaging isn’t scarily red. The convenience store is void of any customers, and the cashier rings you up with a very sour face for interrupting the show he’s got playing on his phone. His face shrivels up even more because all you can pay with is coins. Seokjin laughs behind you when you apologize for clattering the dimes too harshly on the counter.

“Enjoy,” the cashier announces, and he doesn’t mean it one bit.

The hot water machine at the back is a very intimidating thing next to the tiny display of cookies.  Too many buttons and knobs you don’t understand, so Seokjin takes on the chivalric role and prepares everything for you. He rips the plastic open with gentle hands. Dumps the powder with too much conviction.

You both watch the water stream hot into the noodles. “Do you like macadamia nuts in your cookies?”

“I guess,” you say.

“Wanna split a cookie?” He hands you chopsticks to stir the ramen with, gestures at the cookie display with a jut of his chin.

“Are you paying?”

“Can you imagine if I made you pay after I asked to split,” Seokjin spits at you. “Yes I’m paying.”

“Then I want chocolate chip.”

He freezes, then jabs smartly at his noodles for a tense ten seconds.

“You make me mad,” he finally answers. “Should we eat in the car?”

“The bowl is too hot to hold.”

The counter at the window it is. You’re sad that you didn’t buy pickled radish, but your coin purse has weeped all its coinage out. Seokjin leaves you as Noodle Guard, going off to pay for that bonus cookie with a crumpled five. In the next second you contemplate the evaporation of ramen soup, the cookie is duly dumped right next to you, and Seokjin takes a huge bite of what still appears to be extremely hot noodles.

He promptly chokes, and makes sputtering noises.

“Holy shit,” Seokjin cries.

You take a much, much slower bite. “You’ll be fine.”

“I thought I could be cool for you,” he cries some more.

“You don’t need to be cool for me. Who eats ramen in a cool way?”

Seokjin nods his approval, that tear of theatrics sliding down his cheekbone. He eats carefully. A noisy car roils on outside, and passes quickly outside your periphery.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you remember to say.

“I love standing at counters and eating things hot,” Seokjin retorts. He dodges the fist you aim at his abdomen with swift ease. “It’s no problem.”

“I—“ You don’t really know why but you need to talk. “You know—you’re really, um, kind.”

Foolery. Absolute foolery that sentence was, and the cashier probably heard that foolery, and Seokjin definitely heard that absolute foolery, and he’s laughing. Like really laughing, caught with the noodles dangling from in-between his teeth. That’s all you had to say? The guy drove you out to get cup noodles out of his own volition. That’s kindness maxed out, and he deserves better than you fumbling between your teeth. Your nerves have fried up so bad, you guess.

Seokjin’s giggles dwindle down. “Thanks,” he says, smiling small.

You blame the heat of your cheeks from the heat of your soup.

Neither of you are desperate to get to that last quarter of noodles to broth ratio. The knots of your shoulders loosen with the sound of your slurping combined, and silently you are reminded of Seokjin’s warmth, standing so close to you.

The easiest path to a nice ending involves a happy belly and Seokjin driving you home with nothing more than a goodbye and a thank-you as you slam the car door shut. This is not unknown to you, because you and Hyukjae-from-Psych took that easy path yesterday.

You just don’t do this often, contemplating all the routes of romance. When is it appropriate to laugh at a joke, to wipe your mouth on the napkin? To smile and peel at your heart and grant that person access to all your inner workings? You belatedly notice that Seokjin did not bring napkins.

(The moment in the car—nothing you don’t want to give me—you want to laugh at his jokes, and smile, peel and peel and peel at your heart, but slowly. Slowly, you put your chopsticks down.)

How funny it is to come to very sound conclusions within a split second, because all you know is that it feels good, being with him like this.

Seokjin, in your quiet realization, takes it upon himself to decide the cookie-eating rights.

“Want the first bite?” He asks, propping the chopsticks horizontally on his bowl.

You nod. Desperately you try not to look at him because you might make more realizations, and you don’t think you’re ready for any more unleashed and unknown emotions. “Please.”

He gives it to you. The right side decidedly has more chocolate chips, and  it’s a very nice explosion on your tongue. So nice you groan into it. “Oh that’s really good.”

He snatches the cookie away before you can take another bite. “I get bigger bites because I paid for it.”

“That—? Uh, that’s not how sharing works.”

“Yes it does,” Seokjin argues. But he just takes as normal a bite as ever. You can’t say you don’t focus on his mouth for too long, though—

—And you immediately seize up at the thought. Horrified, you shriek: “Actually just—have the rest of it!”

He looks alarmed. “O…kay?”

“You’ve got a nice mouth,” you blurt out next.

An absolutely awful feeling settles heavy in your stomach. Because almost immediately you realize that this is a kind and soft boy with nice anecdotes that have yet to be uncovered this night (he likes telling you stories) and he’s got wider shoulders than Kim Taehyung and you’re not sharing butter tarts but you’re sharing a cookie with him.

Another realization: does Seokjin have limp arms?

He puts the cookie down. (His arm looks very strong, doing that.) “I—thanks?”

“I think I’m losing my mind,” you note.

He watches you slump over the counter. Purposefully burying your face in your elbows to muffle your betraying mouth. “It’s late,” is all he says.

“Did that make you uncomfortable?”

“Not at all.” You don’t think you’re breathing. Your lungs have evaporated, like those steamy ramen noodles you just ate. Seokjin probably notices you’ve stopped moving, so he says, “Really.”

“Okay.”

“Did it—did it make you uncomfortable?”

“Not at all,” you say.

“Cool. Do you wanna go—“

You stand up straight, grab all your garbage before he finishes. You don’t look at him. “Yep, yep, please.”

(iii)

He puts the key in the ignition, and doesn’t budge.

“Somehow I feel like you wanna say something else,” Seokjin says.

You curl your hands into fists. “It’s late.”

“I’m aware.”

“I’m—I’m sorry.” You are acutely aware of how garbled you must sound. It’s starting to get on your nerves, how flimsy you’re being. “I’m not… thinking.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re being pretty articulate for someone with an empty brain.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Seokjin sighs.

The seat squeaks where you tense up. “I don’t want to think about your mouth.”

“Do you wanna know what I think?” You nod. Jesus. You’ll just let him do the talking from now on because your tongue can’t be trusted this early in delirium, late in the hour. “I—I…”

Seokjin struggles some more, then deflates. He starts laughing.

“I… don’t drive just anyone out to convenience stores at two in the morning for ramen. You have to know that.” He clears his throat. His eyes are shiny with the harsh glare of neon signs. “I guess I just—wanna know… what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking…” Your lips part. Searching for words feels like a physical thing—your stomach is swimming with what feels like a billion thoughts but nothing comes up for air. “I’m thinking I—don’t want to say the wrong thing.”

Seokjin turns to look at you. “I won’t make fun,” he whispers.

“I think. I think, you look—um—really… Good. Um. R-Really… good, right now.”

“Thanks.” He looks up like he wants to say something but his eyes harden where he gazes, locking in on the dust motes of the windshield. Your lungs swell small in the quietude. “I think you really look good, too.”

If baser compliments already have you burning then you don’t know what you’d do if he tried anything more romantically complex. Some people are meant for loud love stories and grand gestures and you—all you can do is think too much and you want to say more but Seokjin understands. He understands your silence, your ineptitude.

In a fit of controlled passion, you reach over the console, grasping at his knuckles till he flips his palm right into yours.

“Feels… ”

You wait for something to come to mind. A phrase, a proper thought to give utterance to, all the failures and successes of the night. Faithfully, nothing comes.

It just feels.

And Seokjin seems to agree. He holds tight between the grooves of your fingers.

“You’re very pretty and it hurts,” he says, and he doesn’t try to meet your gaze, and one feeling comes resolute: it feels right.

[mintgator]

MDZS fic ideas

Things I’d love to see in Mo Doa Zu Shi fanfiction. These are my notes for things I have told myself I am not allowed to write. I’ve read...so many fics for this fandom, like most of the archive, and I’m sad that I’m pretty much at the point of rereading/waiting for updates. These ideas have been swimming around in my head that I have no time to write, so PLEASE someone take them and gimme some new words to read, I beg you.  Of course, end goal should be wangxian in some way, because otherwise WHAT IS THE POINT, but I don’t have time to write these, so...here you go. Please let me know if you use them. I wanna read these, but I don’t have time to write them, so maybe someone else will want to.

*Time Travel AU in which WWX goes back and for some reason tells Madame Yu all the bullshit that’s gonna happen, so they team up and fix all the things. I just...really want Mama Yu to like WWX thanks. And dear god, LET JC BE HAPPY! I need so much more resolution on that front. Even the book did not satisfy me. I WANT MY BOYS TO GET ALONG! And I want Mama Yu to not be awful and abusive to WWX! I mean she had reasons for being salty but uh that is NOT good justification for the shit she pulled with WWX. Also, hell, let Jiang Fengmian get his core melted and have Madame Yu run the sect. WE NEED FEMALE REP.

*Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze live so WWX gets to grow up with his parents. He meets LWJ as a rogue cultivator or something idk. This would make a fun oneshot.

*LWJ’s mother lives! Honestly, I just want happy Lan-fam. Can I get that please? Just how much would it change the dynamic of the story if LWJ’s father led the sect properly and his mother wasn’t locked away in a goddamn building and actually got to spend more time with her kids? I am forever salty that we’ll never know why Mama Lan killed her hubby’s teacher or w/e. Somebody GIVE ME SOME REASONING.

*WWX gets taken in and claimed as heir by Wen Ruohan...and WWX doesn’t learn that their ways are wrong until he’s at least a teen (perhaps when sent to train at the Cloud Recesses?) and realizes how the other Sects really feel about them. Give him some convoluted morals that he has to unlearn. Make Wen Xu and Wen Chao hate him for being chosen over them. Change Wei Wuxian/Wei Ying into Wen Ying/Wen Wuxian and have it be a secret that he’s not actually a Wen. Have WWX actually not want the Wen Sect destroyed because despite how messed up its people are, not all of them are bad--mostly just those in power (it still baffles me that the other clans just DESTROYED an entire sect, like I know the Wens burned Lotus Pier but DAMN that’s cold!) Even some kind of variation where WWX influences Wen Ruohan and his children’s evil mindset would be really interesting. Otherwise, can you imagine WWX with Chenqing on the Wen side? Ouch. Also, this sticks WWX with Wen Ning and Wen Qing early on and I LOVE THEM, so there’s that.

*WWX doesn’t come back after his first death, and LWJ achieves immortality because he’s stubbornly still looking/waiting for WWX. Two centuries pass (we’re going to ignore any technological advancements and replace them with cultivation advancements or something) and LWJ ends up befriending a nice lady cultivator who falls for him, and even though he only considers her a friend, he agrees to marry her. They have 1 very stubborn gay daughter (only from consummation sex which brings up a boatload of other problems) who somehow stumbles across a reborn!WWX with all his memories--daughter is hella bitter that her father clearly does not return her mother’s affections and that he is apparently pining for someone who is so long dead that people don’t actually remember his name (ie - people remember Yiling Laozu but not that his name was Wei Wuxian). But without knowing who he is, the daughter ends up liking WWX until she finds out the truth about who he is and drama ensues. Can you tell I’ve wanted to write this one so badly? I mean I could just about draft an outline, but I HAVE TO FOCUS ON MY ORIGINAL NOVEL I’M SORRY.

*Time Travel AU in which Yanli alone gets a do-over with all the future knowledge and fixes everything just by being her amazing self. I feel like she’d be a really keen manipulator.

*The story from NHS’s pov. I wanna read all his manipulations and him putting them into place. Is there anything like this out there? Because oh my GOD I wanna know what’s going through his head sometimes. I really, really do!

*Jiang Cheng/Wen Ning - AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO THINKS THIS WOULD BE AN ENTERTAINING SHIP? Just...I sort of tolerate the JC/LXC and JC/NHS pairings because they’re commonly used, but honestly, I’m not crazy about either one. However, WN is such a sweetheart and JC is such a hothead and there is so much opportunity for drama there. Also, in some cases depending on timeline...WN is, yunno, a corpse--a fixable thing if you weave in WWX’s involvement and make him and JC get along again. GIVE ME THAT. Like I don’t read much other than wangxian focused fic, but I would read the hell out of this (also you could easily balance those two pairings).

*Somewhere in the waiting gap, LWJ is given three tasks by a deity of some sort who promises to bring WWX back if he completes him...but these tasks have to UTTERLY go against LWJ’s character and completely destroy his reputation as Hanguang Jun. Honestly, this could go cracky or painfully dark.

*No idea how, but Mo Xuanyu manages to bring WWX back fully in-tact and they both get to live. WWX of course takes MXY under his wing, and together they avoid the notice of even LWJ for a lot longer than WWX did in canon. I would love to see them figuring out the whole JGY plot in the background and LWJ tailing them around just a little too late to the party each time a major event goes down until finding out in some kind of dramatic finale that WWX has been back for a while. I have yet to see characterization for MXY that I really like. Most people make him either ridiculously whiny or so much like WWX that they may as well be the same character. :/ So, uh, maybe a different approach? I mean MXY is allowed some complaints, he’s had a rough time of things, but come ON.

*Lan Wanji never finds Wen Yuan and poor widdle Shizui manages to survive into adolescence living on his own in the burial mounds...accompanied by the fragmented ghost of his Xian-gege who very slowly is pieced back together by A-Yuan, who has sort of naturally started using demonic cultivation and somehow develops a heroic reputation as a rogue cultivator. Why? Because he’s Shizui, and Shizui is SO PURE OK? Maybe he has a fascination with LWJ, even though his memories of Rich Gege are kind of fuzzy. Shizui matchmakes his two ridiculous dads. Oh and inquiry doesn’t work on WWX cuz his soul is shrouded by the resentful energy in the burial mounds.

*The Wen clan burns the Cloud Recesses to the ground around the same time WWX has lost his parents, but LWJ somehow escapes. Reportedly, everyone in GusuLan is now dead, but he somehow ends up in the same town as WWX. They meet and bond immediately. Maybe LWJ saves WWX from the dogs. Anyway, JFM never finds WWX, so he and LWJ grow up together in poverty, eventually teaching themselves cultivation and night hunting, until their fame grows so much that they catch the attention of the Wen clan (or something). Have them ridiculously dedicated to each other, already in love and thinking of themselves as cultivation partners. I want their bond to straight-up shock people. LET THEM BE SHAMELESS. LWJ would have to have a fake name and wear something other than white.

*LWJ and WWX figure out their relationship stuff a lot sooner and end up building a proper sect in the burial mounds. I want LWJ wearing WWX’s colors. I want demonic cultivation to work hand-in-hand with regular cultivation. I want them to find artifacts or books or something in the burial mounds indicating a civilization used to be there that also studied demonic cultivation, or maybe they actually find some long forgotten god/dess of demonic cultivation who empowers them in exchange for worship.

*LWJ was not whipped for protecting WWX, he was imprisoned for life, not in GusuLan, but in some godforsaken prison that is so intense no one in the clans really likes to talk about it. I want him flung into some hellprison with ghosts and demons, where only his cultivation keeps him alive (and relatively sane) for that decade-ish gap until WWX’s fragmented ghost somehow finds him. Of course, WWX realizes LWJ loves him, which triggers in WWX a want to finally come back to life. He finds a way back to the living world and rains hell upon the people who decided it was a good idea to imprison LWJ until someone finally tells him how to get to the prison. He frees LWJ and helps him recover while all the JGY stuff is going on the background. Wangxian returns to the cultivation world in time to stop that catastrophe. (Before LWJ is imprisoned, he makes LXC promise to take care of A-Yuan of course!)

*WWX gets flung into the burial mounds and embraces demonic cultivation, but realizes he has somehow bound himself to the awful place and can’t leave. Over time, he lures stragglers and refugees to the mounds, where he welcomes them to stay and live safely. Outside, the Sunshot Campaign is a failure and what remains of the sects bow in subservience to the Wen clan. Inflicted with some permanent disabilities from the war and left to run GusuLan now that his brother and uncle are dead (sorry Xichen), Lan Wanji never gets the chance to go looking for WWX. Thirteen years pass and WWX has absorbed so much resentful energy from the burial mounds that he is practically a part of it. Finally, he is able to leave, but the world he finds is much different from the one he remembers, and his health fades fast when he is outside of the mounds. Somehow, WWX figures out that demonic cultivation doesn’t damage the body/soul/temperament if somehow counterbalanced properly with a golden core--and since he doesn’t have one, he and LWJ do a soulbond thing so that their cores (WWX: demonic and LWJ: golden) balance each other. Then he can take on the Wens.

I could literally whip out ideas nonstop, but these are the big ones that have been just...beating on the walls of skull trying to get out. Of course, they don’t always account for everything, so more thought is needed. Anyway, if you write any of these, please let me know so I can read them, and of course a shoutout would be nice. c: My username on ao3 is the same as here. Enjoy~!

[spectrumscribe]

Maybe something with Karai and Shinigami? I heard you liked Miraculous Ladybug, so maybe an AU with them?

i laughed for a solid minute when i read this ask. not in a mean way, just that its objectively hilarious that these two, these two, are Ladybug and Chat Noir in the AU, bc they’re the most brutal and destructive female characters possible and Hawkmoth would be so dead its hilarious.

Shini is a perfect Chat Noir. just replace the puns for jokes about being gay af and you have a match. Karai is a generic Ladybug- v determined about her job- just with a lot little more violence in her methods.

April skids as she pulls up short, narrowly avoiding being squashed by a car thrown by a tractor beam. She yelps and runs a different direction, trying to follow the progress of Paris’ two local heroes and her unfortunately possessed friend.

Ladybug and Chat Noire- the two super powered women chasing the Captain across the rooftops- seem to be having trouble pinning the akumatized villain down, what with how he kept either firing disintegrating lasers or tractor beams at everything.

April takes refuge behind a car, close as she dares to get to the action as all three individuals pause for a moment. The Captain is ranting about something- respecting the classics? April needs to talk to Leo later regarding his temper tantrum about having his stash of Space Heroes fanfiction discovered, this is way over the top a reaction- and April raises her camera to snap a series of good shots.

Chat Noire flips her hair over her shoulder, the long black tresses giving appropriate emphasis to how Done she is with the Captain’s shouting at her. “Excuse me, but as much as we’d liked to hang around and listen to you talk all day, I am unfortunately not nearly interested enough in any man to do that.” She then turns a besotted look on Ladybug, fluttering silky eyelashes April can see even from the ground. “But you, my lady, I could listen to for a hundred days.”

“Chat, this is not the time,” Ladybug says sternly. Chat Noire simply blows a kiss at the other hero, and both of them ignore the stuttering villain nearby.

Leo/the Captain colors fiercely, and April spares a moment of pity for her friend. He’s so sensitive about certain things, especially regarding people belittling his favorite shows. “Be as rude as you want, Chat Noire, but as soon as I capture your miraculouses, you and all of Paris will have to listen to me and respect the classic sci-fi that is-”

Ladybug takes that opportunity to vault across the space between them, and dropkick the Captain off the roof. April is pleased to get a shot of that, to add to the other few hundred like it.

The old Ladybugs, recorded in history as legendary figures of peace bringing master creators, were much less to the point about their methods to taking down enemies. The current one, with her short haircut and punkish mannerisms, is much quicker to the punch. Literally.

April hides further behind the car as the heroes finish taking down the Captain. A lucky charm later- and a convoluted series of events surrounding the use of a skipping rope- and April peeks back out to see her idols and her friend. Leo has been released from his akumatization and is holding his head as he groans, while the two heroes comfort him for what’s just happened to him.

Well, sort of. It’s mostly Ladybug, showing an unusual degree of concern for Leo as she helps him stand.

“Sorry for kicking you like that, L- citizen,” Ladybug says. And then more sternly, “But you shouldn’t let other people’s words bother you so much. If you love something, then that should be enough and no one else’s opinion matters. Keep that in mind the next time someone finds a stash of your private writings, okay?”

Leo looks at the notebook in his hands, and sighs. “Yeah, I guess so. Me trashing downtown was… probably an overreaction.” Then he gives Ladybug a confused look, like April has been. “Wait, how did you know that someone found my private notebook-?”

“Oh look at that! I have to go- uh- save someone else! Good day citizen, walk safely and stay in school!” And with that, Ladybug tosses her yoyo at the nearest building; launching herself into the air and disappearing too quick to get more than a blur shot of, much to April’s frustration. Chat Noire follows quickly after, trailing behind Ladybug with calls of “My lady, please wait for me!”

April emerges from her hiding spot as the heroes depart, sidling over to her friend. The streets are filling back up with the drama over and done with, and Leo gives her a only vaguely surprised look as she appears.

“You can’t keep away from anything big and dangerous, can you?” He asks dryly. April shrugs, gesturing at the big camera around her neck. Obviously not; the People and her blog demand it. He sighs, rubbing his face. “Okay, be real with me. How bad did I look?”

April grins. “You were wearing a cape, had a laser gun, kept shouting cliche lines, and were wearing skin tight pants. I think half of Paris got a look at your butt they won’t soon forget.”

“God dammnit.”

“I have pictures.”

“Of course you do.”

Somewhere above the ground, Ladybug- better known as Karai to her family- laments her little brother’s obsession with animated shows, and Chat Noire’s ceaseless flirting even during a fight. At least Leo is alright, even though Karai knows she’ll have to smack all her little brothers over the head once things settle down. Antagonizing Leo so much he’s targeted by an akuma? All three culprits of that are in for a smack down in their family dojo, that she promises.

Chat Noire- better known as the Shinigami online for modeling, and lesser known as Shiori at school- only laments she can’t kiss her lovely lady. Ladybug looks ever so beautiful when she’s kicking an errant villain in the stomach, enough to give Shiori flutters in hers!

It’s truly a shame she can’t express that properly to her lady. The view however, as Ladybug runs off, is none too shabby. Enough for Shiori to bid her love farewell until next time.

[theticklishpear]

WriteblrConnects December Festive Fun

@writeblrconnections did a month-long palooza of daily questions to get to know each other. They wanted us to blog the original posts to add on, but I didn’t want to spam you all with the posts every day, so instead, here are my responses under the cut, all at once, in case anyone was interested. (Sorry for breaking the rules, M3....)

Day One: Why did you pick your current Tumblr handle? Is there a story behind the handle? How did you come up with the idea for it?

I wanted to do something related to literature, but I also knew I didn’t want to be a blog solely dedicated to whatever it was I referenced. I didn’t have a reason for choosing Harry Potter aside from it being a series I grew up with and one of the reasons I started reading on a regular basis. I wanted something that wouldn’t seem too overt, but if you knew the books well enough, you’d get it. Add the original illustration for the moment in the books as my avatar to help pass the hint along, and there I was: theticklishpear.

Day Two: Where is your favorite writing spot?

The floor! Laying on the floor with a notebook and pen is the best way I’ve found to get myself unstuck and to ease myself back into writing after a long break. It puts me in stronger touch with the words themselves somehow.

Day Three: What is your favorite kind of music to listen to while writing?

Movie and game soundtracks! It’s got to be lyric-less. I don’t have specific playlists for different stories or types of scenes, though.

Day Four: Awful AU Ideas: Name one (or more if you’re so inclined!) AU idea(s) that would either have your readers crying (because it’s good but incredibly sad) or cringing (because it’s truly terrible).

I... don’t really get AU ideas?

Day Five: Post a GIF to describe your current attitude/state with writing (please keep it PG-13 or below!)

Day Six: Name your top three “bad” habits when it comes to writing. This can be anything that the “rules” (or any other common writing advice) say are “bad.” Think of this as flouting the rules!

1. “Just” and “very.” 2. Long, sometimes-too-complex sentences. 3. Ignore the idea of flaws. Not that they don’t have what some would consider “flaws,” just that I don’t put any stock in the idea of calling them flaws. They’re just another facet.

Day Seven: What do you find the easiest–first drafts, rewrites or edits? Which is the hardest?

Easiest is edits. There’s nothing subjective about those. Either it’s spelled correctly or not; either the comma belongs there or it doesn’t; either the sentence is convoluted or it’s not; either the sentence achieves something and belongs, or it doesn’t and it gets cut. Drafts and rewrites are more fun, but they’re also more work and more imagination and more effort. Edits are just factual.

Day Eight: Take a look at this amusing explanation of plot bunnies. Which one(s) do you struggle with the most?

Lethargic, easily startled, and dying bunnies are common for me. I often get an idea I love that I’m very enthusiastic about until I’ve written a portion of it, at which point it loses steam, and I have a hard time getting back into it, particularly if the bunny doesn’t come with an end-point for the story to move toward. After that initial steam, it takes a while for me to sit down and puzzle out what the story really is.

Day Nine: What’s your favorite way to break writer’s block?

Breaking writer’s block is never fun for me, so “favorite” is a bit of a misnomer. I hate dealing with it and I hate having to break it and none of the techniques are my favorite because I’d rather I didn’t have to do them at all. It hurts. Mostly I have to figure out what’s caused it to begin with, whether that’s overworking or a need to reorganize my priorities or mental health. I have to fix what’s keeping me from doing that, and it may mean continuing not to write until I am better. So, often times, it’s a process of healing, which involves waiting until my mind feels bright enough to write again. And then I stretch out on the floor with clipboard and pen in hand, and I give myself permission to start something new, to ease into what I want to write, not what’s been waiting for me or what I need to write. It’s as simple as that. Heal first, write what I want, get back to the other projects when I’m able.

Day Ten: What is your preferred beverage when writing? Coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate? Or something else entirely? BONUS: If your favorite drink is hot, how often does it end up going cold because your writing made you forget about it?

Tea, and it isn’t really fair to say that it gets cold every time I write, because it gets cold every time I make tea, regardless of whether I’m writing or not. I take forever to drink anything.

Day Eleven: What is your editing process like?

Forget about it! Do several read-throughs and make lists of things that are missing, loose, unnecessary, not well-articulated, repeated themes, and more. Rewrite or actually write those inadequate or missing scenes. Read through it again for continuity errors with the new segments, style problems, and other medium-sized things; and then read through it again, looking for small things like spelling and whether each line is holding its own weight.

Day Twelve: Share a snippet of one of your earliest pieces of writing (cringe-worthy or not!). If you’re not comfortable sharing an excerpt, share one of your earliest ideas!

My earliest writing was all done on disposable things--most notably napkins in restaurants--so I don’t have any of my earliest stuff, but I have a couple of early story starts, probably from twelve years ago or so. It’s a single page in an otherwise blank notebook, and I think it’s the origin of the first ideas for the Moonwater Series....

Jumping up, she took a small glass vial from a pouch, raced to the window, and threw it open. The sounds of the bustling market came in along with the dying afternoon light. It was just that time between afternoon and evening when the crowds of the day began to look up at the horizon, mothers snatch children to their sides, and men lead their families back to their homes. Leaning out into the cooling air, she uncorked the vial, waved it around a bit, brought it in, sniffed it, shook her head, waved it around again, then corked it quickly and with the air of one who has just made a fantastic catch. Tipping the vial upside down, she flicked the bottom, grinned, and flung the shutters closed for the evening. “You can never have enough good, quality twilight around. I think I just got the right aging, even. It’s either too early or too late, but I think this is just right.”

Day Thirteen: Do you write lots of stories at once or only one at a time?

I usually actively write just one, kind of dabble in writing a second or third, and then think intensively about three or four additional ideas.

Day Fourteen: The Muse of Writing comes to you and offers to grant you one wish in regards to your writing ability or style. What do you wish for? Do you want to write like a specific author? Improve one area of your writing?

I don’t want anything to change all on its own in regards to my ability or style. I’m pretty fond of my style, and I would prefer for my ability to grow through my own learning. What I do need is more time and energy throughout the year so that I can write. That, and the wider appeal of my writing/stories, would be most helpful.

Day Fifteen: Do you prefer writing by hand or on a computer? Why?

Both, in different situations. By hand when I’m having trouble focusing, have been in a long slump, or am puzzling through something. By computer when I need quantity over quality, like NaNoWriMo. I also have a bluetooth keyboard for my Kindle Fire tablet, which I use for write-ins and whatnot.

Day Sixteen: Describe your inner editor. What do they look like? Sound like? How do you usually shut them up (and yes, duct-taping them to a chair is fair game)?

A copy of me, but dressed in slacks, button-up, and an excellently-fitting suit vest. They usually have a pen hanging lazily from one hand and drawl a bit as though I’m slow to understand obvious things. “Unnecessary, nobody needs that, nobody even cares, extraneous, so many things you could do better, you know.” I’m fueled by spite, so my response is usually gritted teeth, a wave of the hand, and a, “Yes, I know, but it will be necessary, it is important, and I’ll show you!”

Day Seventeen: Secret Santa Event

Day Eighteen: Confession time: where do you get your best ideas? In the shower? At work? In the middle of the night while you sneak Oreos out of your roommates stash? What are you usually doing when you’re hit with inspiration?

I’m usually in the shower or staring at a blank page. Part of my writing process is just thinking, putting words together in sentences until one has a strangeness to it. I’m listening for double meanings or ambiguous phrasing that could be twisted into something unexpected. When I’ve decided to write on something new as a break from my normal WIPs, I just stare and think and listen to the way my brain puts words in order. There always has to be a moment of, “Okay, but why?” As soon as that happens, I’m off!

Day Nineteen: Who is your favorite character from each of your WIPs?

Moonwater Series: Cyrian is a lot of fun; equal parts cryptic and cheeky. Sheytana is easy and smooth to write, so she’s probably a close second because I don’t have to think much when it comes to her. She’s very natural.

Gran and Gwyn: Oh, Gran, for sure. Crotchety 83-year-old detective who is exasperated by everybody.

The City Docks: Quill is great because of his down-to-earth, practical perspective, but Fell is great, too, for all her wonder and excitement.

Day Twenty: Describe your dream writing environment. Castle in Ireland? By the beach? A trendy cafe? Don’t be afraid to have fun with this one!

Somewhere quiet, rain pattering off the roof, a window letting in the grey light, and beyond the glass, nothing but dripping woods and a distant, fogged lake. No other houses, no one to look through the window and see me laying on the floor dreaming, nothing to break the peace, quiet, and illusion of loneliness.

Day Twenty-One: If you could meet one author, living or dead, who would it be and why?

I’m a terrible conversationalist, so I’d want to meet him with low contact stakes, like, if I was part of a panel audience or something, but C.S. Lewis would be my guy. I grew up with Narnia--my dad was deployed overseas when I was five or six in the 90s, pre-digital, and he had more or less nothing to do over there, so my mother recorded herself reading the books, with voices and the whole bit, on cassette tapes to mail over to him to listen to on a walkman. My sister and I would lay on the hallway floor after we were supposed to be in bed, with our ears pressed up against the crack at the bottom of the door to listen to her do these, and then when he came home, he brought them back and I got them--still do!--and I used to listen to them as I went to bed. I’ve read and listened to Narnia so many times that I had them memorized for a long time, and my first email address--which I also still have...--was Narnia-related. So yes, I’d like to listen to C.S. Lewis talk about constructing story.

Day Twenty-Two: You’re hosting a dinner party and can invite any of your characters. Who do you invite?

Sheytana Roper, Baron Sinister of Thieves, and Cyrian Greystoke, former Baron Sinister of Thieves from the Moonwater Series, Pixel Constant and Cairn Shipstealer from The A Team world stories, the narrator from Singers of Sand and Sea, and probably a couple of minor characters from the Moonwater series like Keetan who runs the orphanage, Captain Adedayo from the pirate conglomerate of Anderlene, and matron Rada Kaye.

Day Twenty-Three: Have you ever participated in an activity or gone to an event JUST to make your writing more realistic? Share what you did if you’d like! If you haven’t share something that you’d LIKE to do as writing-related research!

Geez, half the courses I took in college were to make my writing better. Dad always wanted a justification for why I was taking classes not specifically for something, or why one class over another for the general requirements--not that he preferred one over the other, he just wanted to know if I was thinking about why I wanted to take courses, what I was hoping to get out of them.

“Why geology?” “For worldbuilding--to build better, more realistic worlds.”

Heck, my entire Anthropology minor was for the betterment of my culture-building, and that was 40-some-odd credits.

Day Twenty-Four: How old were you when you started writing?

I was an oral story-teller first, because reading and writing was hard, but I liked stories and I liked to tell them. Writing didn’t come into the picture until I worked harder at reading and started to actually like it, so some time after Harry Potter when I was 8. Writing in earnest as a Thing(TM) was 13 or so.

Day Twenty-Five: What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten on your writing? Who did it come from? Any fun stories behind how you got the compliment?

I don’t really get compliments on my writing, but I do get compliments on characters. The biggest indirect compliment was that both my fiction and creative nonfiction capstone classes in college had reading periods, and we were only supposed to read for about 10 minutes each before workshopping a piece. My creative nonfiction class always asked very excitedly for me to read and had literally visceral reactions to the stories; and my fiction class just unanimously decided once very early in the course that I could read up to 20 minutes. I’d read my 10 minutes, said, “And that’s my time. Thanks,” went to sit down for the critique, and the professor looked scandelized, the whole class groaned and he waved me back up, saying, “You have to finish the scene!” And from then on, I always got to read at least 15 minutes.

In that same fiction class, I did have several people say one of my characters reminded them of Han Solo, which, in retrospect, fits his character really well, so that was nice?

Day Twenty-Six: What’s the best writing advice you’ve gotten? What’s the worst?

I still stand firmly by the time a professor serenaded me with “Don’t Stop Believing” in his office as some pretty damn good advice. For real advice, that same professor taught me to think about whose story I’m telling to help center and focus the on-screen events.

I don’t think I’ve gotten bad advice, though. Bad critiques, yes; bad advice, no. Advice can’t be bad--they wouldn’t tell it to you if they didn’t think it had merit. Some techniques work for some and not for others, so the advice isn’t bad, just not right for you.

Day Twenty-Seven: SECRET SANTA REVEAL! Reblog this post with the writeblrs you are a Secret Santa for OR send a direct ask to the writeblr and reblog this post once you have!

Day Twenty-Eight: Do you ever set long term goals (think New Year’s Resolutions) for your writing? Would you ever consider setting those kinds of goals? Why or why not?

Rarely for writing aside from the vague “write more” kinds of resolutions. I have the Moonwater Series at a current “goal,” but it’s not a firm timeline or anything. I just want to keep moving. That’s the key.

Day Twenty-Nine: Name your top three “most loved” tropes and your top three “most hated” tropes.

Most Loved: Found family || close sibling friendship || snarky magical companions (usually creatures)

Most Hated: Friends of different genders can’t just be platonic friends!! They must be lovers!!! || incest or even might-be-incest-but-not-really-I-promise-haha!!! || protagonist is the most [adjective] in all the land, but they sure don’t act like it! Isn’t is cute and funny??

Day Thirty: The Muse of Writing pops back by again and gives you the ability to rewrite the plot of one book. Which one do you choose?

I have too many books of my own to care. The write wrote it that way for a reason that made sense and was satisfactory to them. I’m going to strive to do the same. I don’t need to rewrite somebody’s book. (But if I did, The Mermaid’s Sister would get a yank in the right direction.)

Day Thirty-One: What are your writing goals for 2018? If you don’t set writing goals, what project are you particularly excited about writing or finishing in 2018?

Annual call-out.... Finish Gran and Gwyn, finish Spirit Shores, plot out Book Five and start writing it (hopefully), work on City Docks, consider The Book Well and the Alchemy Engine. Maybe shop The Evening Road around again.

[bibbykins]

A Convoluted Code

A/N: This is hours late, but here it is!

Pairing: College au! TA! Taehyung (based off of 707 of Mystic Messenger

Genre: Fluff (Soon), Comedy

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Technological Special Agent, Kim Taehyung, never made mistakes... until he did, and that led him to you, a mistake he couldn’t live down

It started out as just another petty job so that he could buy another computer. As if the multiple screens that surrounded him in his office plus the five laptops lying around weren’t enough for him. However, he was the best, and he required the best equipment.

The job was simple enough, hack into this guy’s phone and see if he’s cheating, but even the best make tiny mistakes.

Usually all he needed to hack into a person’s phone, laptop, and any other accounts was just a phone number, this was thanks to how connected everyone’s accounts were.

Then Taehyung could sift through what he wanted to, report back, get the money, and call it day. The customers he worked with were usually fairly prestigious, so he figured that they would be intelligent enough to write down a stupid number correctly.

And with that foolish assumption concerning the snooty, the best had made a mistake.

It was somewhere between his third caffeinated soda and second bag of chips he realized he hadn’t hacked into Seung Chanwoo’s laptop, it was yours. However, he realized this only after hacking into your laptop camera, it was then the texts he had just read from you and a Soha had finally made sense.

You: Oh btw, I can’t close it anymore

Soha: What? Why not?

You: It’ll snap right in half, and I need it until I can find the money to get a new one… or a sugar daddy that’s around my age, whichever comes first tbh

Soha: Yeah right, have fun writing your little heart out

Maybe a man and his mistress wouldn’t be talking about getting sugar daddies.

This clicked when he was met with you sleeping on your bed, only wearing a tshirt and underwear, he immediately diverted his eyes. You were beautiful, and he wasn’t prepared for that. He was now looking at your wall with several rewards on it and your high school diploma on your wall reading Y/N L/N. With crimson cheeks, he exited out of your laptop’s view from your desk and decided to do research on you, because your number was off by only one digit, and he was thorough in his investigations, and he could swear your name was familiar.

After just a few hours, he knew just about everything about your past and current job. You went to a high school he’s never come in contact with, got decent grades, and you only joined journalism-related extracurriculars, a real recluse. Currently, you worked from home serving as a third-party editor for several magazines and newspapers both online and on paper, but nevertheless keeping up with reclusivity.

It was on his fourth bag of chips and seventh caffeinated drink he realized he was nearly late for his cover job.

Taehyung’s line of work was high-profile and unbeknownst to many of his friends, he often took care of government work. Plain and simple, he was special agent Kim Taehyung, basically a spy. With such a job, the government had suggested he take a cover job to keep him in plain sight, relieving suspicions other hackers may have, since hiding is the easiest way to be found in his world.

He chose to be a paid virtual Teaching Assistant at an average college for a variety of classes from Computer Science 101 to Economics 305, he just did all the electronic grading as instructed by professors he had more credentials than. Only time to time would he have to physically be present when a student requested tutoring and the professor wasn’t there or just didn’t feel like it, or the professor was out sick and he had to lecture.

Today, he had to lecture for Computer Science 101, which he dreaded the most. The students’ work was like grading kindergarteners on coding, just ridiculous. The class only had one lecture a week, but teaching beginner’s computer science is about as mind-numbing as reciting the ABC’s for two hours, especially since most of the students only took the class to avoid a proper math class.

He hated this class.

You hated this class.

Tech-savy was nowhere on your resume. Electronically proficient, maybe, but the 0s and 1s turned your brain to mush, it made an ironic sum of zero sense, but you would crumble in Calculus, so this was the only sensible choice you had. You almost regretted it. You didn’t know a soul in the class, nor wanted to, not to mention your laptop was five years old and beginning to quite literally come off its hinges, but luckily your professor was a slightly creepy yet understanding middle aged man who didn’t make you close it during a written test,like one you had today.

You weren’t worried until you walked in to see the fine piece of man that was Kim Taehyung, dreamy TA, and most likely unbeknownst to him, distractingly hot neighbor in your nice apartment complex. He was beautiful, made his own money, and a lot considering of the quality of the apartment building you only reside in due to the connections you have with very wealthy editors who offer discounts. Nevertheless Taehyung was amazing, smart, sort of kind, and completely ignorant to your presence. Not that you could blame him, you never really left your apartment safe for class or if Soha forces you to, and even in class you don’t make a peep and make average grades, so no real reason to cross paths.

But your worry didn’t come from the adonis’s looks, it came from the fact you had to formulate a sentence to him when he tried to make you close your janky laptop.

Okay, just let him know before class starts. Go to the desk and- or just keep walking like an idiot and wait to be called out- or spend a solid minute turning forward and backward repeatedly, that works too, idiot.

Finally,you mustered up the courage to utter a sentence to him, “Uh, my laptop won’t close,” You mumbled, cursing yourself that you didn’t offer any explanation. Taehyung typed away on his own laptop, not looking at you when he responded.

“Just pull the top screen down, it’s simple,” His response was snarky at best and you flinched.

Your face scrunched in annoyance, “No, it’ll snap in half if I do.” Your voice had gotten smaller.

Taehyung rolled his eyes, not caring to talk to any of these students longer than required, “Fine just put something over it and make sure it’s on sleep mode.” He said, never looking up at you. You nodded meekly and went to your seat in the very back of the lecture hall.

After a few minutes of everyone making sure their laptops aren’t accessible, Taehyung skipped roll call as he counted and everyone was here, so he administered the test to each student, and when he got to you, he was met with a terrifying view as a pseudo official.

You were in the middle of taking off your sweater to reveal only a black tanktop that brought attention to your cleavage, “What on Earth are you doing?” Taehyung deadpanned, making you jump, since you didn’t see him near you.

With heated cheeks, you quickly stripped off your sweater and put it on your laptop and as you placed it there you spoke, “Sorry, I got a bit trapped in there,” You explained as he just put a test in front of you. It was then you made eye contact and his whole word stopped, “Thank you,” You smiled as he walked off.

It was official, Kim Taehyung had made a mistake. What kind of hacker doesn’t check what university she goes to? Or what classes she’s taking? No wonder her name seened familiar. As if he hadn’t done so enough, he stared at her, wondering how it is he never seen her here before. He was usually very good at recognizing faces and being observant, but then you come out of the blue. Goodness, he feels creepy, but there’s something suspicious about you. Maybe it’s his pride trying to avoid the fact that he made a mistake, or maybe you are a fellow hacker trying to play him.

And with these grades, his pride diminishes. He started down at your test probably the same way you had. Your grade wasn’t horrible, but the mistakes you had made was horrendous. Okay, so maybe he was just losing his pride, but he couldn’t stop looking at you through your laptop camera.

You had been getting your makeup done by Soha, who was in beauty school and needed a test face, plus she thought you needed a confidence boost as you had been viciously dumped last week, leaving you even more of a hermit, “We should go out or something, sucks I have a date,” Soha pouted, “Hey maybe he can bring a friend for you?”

You shook your head, “I don’t need another boyfriend,” You stated as Taehyung researched your past one. He was average looking, but he seemed to have bounced back quickly after six months of you two being together, “I need a sugar daddy,” Soha chuckled at your words, “I do, this laptop is killing me-”

“I should be killing him,” Soha seethed, “Sex in the practice rooms are you kidding-”

“Soha, it’s okay,” You chided and scrolled through your phone to see ankther voicemail from an unfamiliarly familiar number, “That angry voicemail lady is still there” You shrugged, referring to the awkward calls and text you had been getting for a few weeks by some crazy women. You didn’t bother answering to correct her since you and Soha had agreed she’s probably just lonely and wants to yell, since Soha’s troubled mom would do that too in the past, “Anyway, there’s better guys around the corner.”

“Or next door,” She giggled and it was then Taehyung realized he hadn’t looked up where you lived.

Your cheeks heated up, “Shut up, like he knows I exist.”

“If I lived next to sexy Kim Taehyung, I’d let him know I did,” Soha stated dramatically at the same time Taehyung figured out where you lived, making him freeze.

Your eyes widened, “Shut up! The walls might not be as thick as-”

“He probably is?” Soha smirked and Taehyung wore a smug smile while your cheeks heated and your hands flew to your ears.

“Lalalala, I can’t hear sin, sorry,” You retorted as Soha rolled her eyes, continuing with your makeup.

“Don’t you have him as the TA in your computer science class? Does he give you the eyes?” Soha spoke dreamily as you snorted while her brush made contact with your eyebrows.

“And my English Lit class, but he probably doesn’t even know we’re neighbors. I’m pretty sure today was the day he learned my name just because I got stuck in my sweater like an idiot.” Taehyung chuckled slightly at the thought, “Anyway, any word from your sugar daddy- sorry boyfriend?”

“Stop being mean,” Soha huffed.

She was with a married shit stain of a man whose wife was most definitely catching on.

“I just think you deserve better than being a mistress,” You remarked.

Soha was a notorious party girl with an expensive appetite, so rarely was she ever in a progressive relationship in the years you’ve known her.

“Chanwoo promised he was leaving his wife soon,” Soha pouted and Taehyung perked up.

“Giving his wife the wrong number like a child is not leaving her, besides what did he even give her as his number?” You asked and Taehyung watched as Soha’s face went guilty.

“Well, he gave her one that’s just one number off,” Soha stopped putting makeup on you and looked for another product awkwardly.

“That’s super irresponsible. Shouldn’t it be someone you know that won’t bother correcting…” You trailed off as it clicked and you let out a humorless laugh, “You have to be fucking kidding me.”

This wasn’t the first time Soha roped you into her affairs, and you were sick of it.

Soha bit her lip as she packed up, knowing what was to come, “He asked me if I knew anyone that was-”

“Stupid enough to let you convince them not to correct their poor wife?!” You raised your voice, “God, Soha you heard that women she isn’t crazy, she’s suffering!”

“You don’t get it-”

You didn’t want to hear it. Lying like this was something you hated most. If someone is not happy, they should leave, it’s very simple.

—- one week ago

You didn’t want to work on your piano. You wanted to go home and sleep, but this class was required and it beat history work for the time being. The practice rooms were rather informal, but nevertheless you booked one anyway. The music building was basically vacant, which made the not-so soundproof practice rooms less of a nuisance.

Except the music building was exceptionally rowdy upon entering the practice hall. You had known the practice rooms were a popular place to hook up. This was due to the assumption they were sound proof, but most couples weren’t so stupid to be this loud.

You rolled your eyes, choosing to ignore it for the time being, thankful you brought your headphones and disinfectant wipes. All the other practice rooms were filled with people actually practicing, so you had no choice but to break up the most-likely unintentional baby making session, you considered it as saving a couple’s future for the time being.

With that mindset, you swung the door open to be faced with your semi-serious boyfriend and a semi-bitchy girl connected in a way you and him had never been.

“Oh, awesome,” They froze immediately when they heard you let out a humorless laugh, “You know these things aren’t actually soundproof, right?”

Your, now ex’s, eyes went wide, “Y-Y/n, I can-”

“Save it.” You seethed, slamming the door behind you as he struggled to pull his pants up to chase after you.

He was successful in his attempt as he grabbed your arm, “Y/n, stop running!” He shouted.

“Stop trying!” You shouted back, tears beginning to well up in your eyes, “You…”

“Don’t you dare make me out to be the bad guy!” He snapped, “I wasn’t happy, you didn’t make me happy-”

“Then say it, dumbshit! Dump me! Don’t lie like this-”

“I didn’t want to face your tears or hurt you-”

You scoffed, “You think I’m crying because I loved you so much?” His face dropped, “I’m crying because I feel like a fucking idiot wasting all this time on the world’s shittiest liar!”

—-

You scrunched your eyebrows as Taehyung took note of what makes you tick, “You’re disgusting, he’s disgusting, and before I say something that I just might regret you should leave, because I hate being sucked up into your mistress drama shit,” You seethed, “I love you, Soha, but I hate that you don’t respect yourself or me enough to not do this, let yourself out.” You took a deep breath as you turned around to go to the bathroom to calm down.

Soha looked down, sighing as she walked away. Taehyung concluded fights concerning the man he was supposed to be tracking happened quite a bit. With this and the texts he had gotten from the man’s real phone, he could wrap this up and never spy on you again.

When the door closed, you entered your bedroom again and then made a move that made him eat his words, you angrily slammed your laptop closed.

Taehyung’s visual of you went black and the room was silent for a while until he heard a resounding, “FUCK!” Which resonated through his walls, paired with a desperate, “No, no, no, no, not now!”

You panicked as your laptop now seemed to be a tablet and a keyboard, both of which could not be used separately. You had work to do, which all required a laptop. It was then you determined today was shit. You’re basically friendless for the time being, and now you cut off all shots of virtual friends and good grades and work and money and to top it off, you had started crying.

Five minutes into your ugly cry, you decided you had one option, and that was to go next door to the computer genius himself and beg to have him fix it.

Taehyung noticed you were oddly silent for quite a bit, and he shrugged it off until he heard a knock on his door. He opened it only to see a red, puffy-eyed you standing in his door way, “Hi, I’m Y/n, your neighbor, may I ask a question?” You sniffled and he nodded cautiously, “Hackers can fix computers too, right?”

Taehyung’s heart nearly stopped at your words. How in the hell could you have known he was a hacker?

“Who said I’m a hacker?” He leaned against the door, “I’m a TA.”

You tilted your head, “Yeah, but you’re also special agent Kim Tae-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” He had grabbed you by your collar into his apartment, pushing you against the door and using his hand to support him on the shit door.

“What leads you to those assumptions?” He asked trying to keep his cover.

“The walls are paper thin and all your calls are by speaker dumbass- wait why am I echoing?” You questioned and Taehyung realized your microphone still worked and your feed was still up.

“No you’re not,” He quickly replied.

You looked to his many screens, which he then put his arm on the other side to block the view, “Yes I am!” You struggled to see past his arm.

“No, you’re hysterical,” Taehyung quipped with a nervous chuckle.

“No, I’m echoing, why am I-” You caught sight of the window titled Y/n’s feed, “OH MY GOODNESS, EW!” You groaned.

Taehyung’s sense of composure was long gone, “No, let me-”

“WHAT KIND OF AGENT USES HIS SKILLS TO SPY ON-”

Taehyung clasped his hand over your mouth, “Seung Chanwoo’s wife hired me and gave me what evidently wasn’t his number to hack, okay?”  You were still mumbling a question through his palm, “I kept tabs of you just in case you were connected to him in any way, I didn’t even know who you were until today, understand?” You stopped struggling and nodded.

Taehyung sighed in relief, letting his hand drop from your mouth, “You know what? I don’t care. Sure, whatever, I digress,” You held up your hands, “Can you fix this piece of junk or not?”

“Not for free,” Your eyes widened at his reply.

“You watched me, without my consent, and now you’re going to charge me to do a simple fix?” You scoffed, “I suddenly remember why I don’t do one-night stands, a shit time with a shit payout.”

“Sorry, I need a new laptop myself,” Taehyung shrugged, “And I spied for business, okay?”

“You have three laptops on your couch, not to mention the plethora of monitors!” You seethed, gesturing around the room, “One of the laptops haven’t even been opened!”

“I’m very busy,” Taehyung crossed his arms, suddenly understanding why you don’t have many companions.

“You know what? Fine, I’ll offer free hand jobs outside the IT building,” You huffed, “Maybe a blow-job will get me a new laptop?” You pouted as your laptop full came off its hinges and the monitor fell to the ground, “Looks like I’m putting this virgin mouth to work tonight then,” You groaned as Taehyung awkwardly shuffled to help you, but you smacked his hand away, “Just get the door for me,” He nodded, opening the door wide open as he stood next to it.

Now, you don’t know why you did what you did next, but you couldn’t turn back. Usually, you would never do this you were rather nervous around people of Taehyung’s caliber, but you were having a shit day and a bad life, so to have someone like Taehyung spy on you and act like such a prick about it, made you lose all sensibility.

You dropped your laptop, grabbed the box with his new one, and ran.

Before he could even register what you had done, you had shut your door. You locked it as soon as Taehyung touched the handle, and he banged on your door, “Y/n! What the hell?!”

“Shh! You’ll disturb the whole floor!” You responded.

“We’re the top floor, it’s just our places up here!” Taehyung yelled, pounding on your door again.

“Hey, Taehyung!” You hollered back, clutching the box to your chest.

“What?”

“Shut up!”

“Give me the laptop back!” He yelled.

“Fix mine!” You responded.

Taehyung was taken aback, “Why would I? You can’t stay in there forever!”

You laughed, “I’m a girl who is pitied by my breakup, so I have class notes taken care of, I work from home, and I just got groceries, so try me!”

Taehyung let out a growl of frustration as he slammed on your door one last time, “Fine! I’ll have it done it two days!”

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

Ok I'm starting to feel like I'm using you for your wonderful writing skills but your fics are always so PERFECT & I just cAN'T HELP MYSELF I'M SORRY plz send help; anyway, what about sterek + “i’m sorry i kicked you in my scared haze in the haunted house, can i do something to make it up to you?” au?

Sorry this took so long, but who doesn’t like Halloween fics in the middle of January? Also on ao3!

Stiles had no idea why he kept letting himself be dragged into these kinds of situations. Then he remembered that he and Scott had known each other for literally their entire lives and it made a little bit more sense. Not much, but enough.

Enough to remind him why he went along with Scott's asinine attempts at wooing Allison and getting off the bench at lacrosse practice. Enough to remind him why once he got his driver's license he played chauffeur for Scott and Allison on almost all of their dates.

But it didn't make enough sense for him not to be suspicious when Scott came to him and asked for a ride to the high school's annual haunted house.

For the past three years of their high school careers, Scott had never once shown any interest whatsoever in going to the haunted house. He always said it was too childish, that he would much rather stay home and watch Halloween specials.

Stiles had a feeling that Scott's sudden desire to attend the Halloween tradition had something to do with Allison. And his dad had always taught him to trust his instincts.

Sure enough, when Stiles had pressed Scott about why exactly he wanted to go, the first word out of his mouth had been, Allison. Stiles didn't even pretend to be surprised.

Apparently, Scott's plan was to impress Allison by showing off how brave he was at the haunted house, all the students assured that this year it would be genuinely scary. Utilizing the same technique as people who took their dates to see horror movies in hopes of being the one their terrified date could cuddle up to, Scott planned to be the big, strong man whose arms Allison could fall into.

It was doomed to fail.

Because nevermind the fact that Allison was one of the most badass people Stiles had ever met, going on hunting trips with her dad every other weekend and starting an archery club at the school, that wasn't why the plan was destined for failure. It was going to fail because Scott was one of the biggest scaredy cats the world had ever known.

Just last week, he had almost fainted when Stiles had gotten a paper cut in English class, the mere sight of a few droplets of blood nearly sending him right to the floor. A few days before that he had gotten woozy from seeing a particularly rare piece of rib eye, blanching at the sight of dinner Stiles had slaved over for hours, just picking at a baked potato instead.

Stiles had told Scott as much, detailing all the times, just that week, that he had been scared shitless by the most plebeian, unassuming everyday things. From the microwave beeping to a dog barking in the middle of the night, Stiles had listed them in order of occurrence, going on for several minutes before Scott finally cut him off.

Invoking the bro code, Scott pleaded for Stiles to just come along with them, desperately in need of a ride with his mom using the car for work and his dirt bike on the fritz. After a few minutes of deliberation, Stiles had finally agreed to drive them to the haunted house, figuring he might get a little bit of entertainment out of it if Scott did, in fact, make a fool of himself.

Now, walking through the fog filled main hallway of the school which had been decked out in orange and black Halloween decorations, all by himself, he was regretting his decision.

After picking up Allison, her dad glaring daggers at him and Scott as though worried they were picking his daughter up for a threesome, they had driven over to the school. The outside of the building didn't look much different, a few fake cobwebs tossed over the shrubbery and windows and a large banner announcing the runtime of the haunted house.

At first, entering through the back entrance of the school, the haunted house had been just as boring and campy as Stiles had expected. Student and teacher volunteers randomly popped out of classrooms in cheap dollar store costumes to make people jump, the PA system playing spooky sound effect tracks full of thunder cracks and howling wolves.

He followed closely behind Scott and Allison, tapping his fingers against the spare inhaler he always carried with him just in case Scott had an asthma attack, hoping nothing scared him enough to trigger an episode. Because as they progressed through the school, it got darker, the scares more genuine, the decorations more gruesome.

The lights were completely shut off, plunging the hallways into complete and total darkness. It was deathly silent, the artificial sounds fading away as they walked further through the hall. Along the locker-lined walls, oddly real decorations adorned the hallway, raising the hair on the back of his neck.

Stiles had paused to investigate a smudge of disturbingly realistic blood on a locker when Scott and Allison apparently decided to ditch him. When he turned back around, they were both gone, leaving him all alone in the quiet, foggy hallway.

Cursing his friends for being such assholes, especially since he was their ride home, Stiles apprehensively continued on through the hallway. He didn't put it past Scott and Allison to try to scare him themselves, resigning himself to being the victim of some half-assed prank.

He just wanted to make it through the rest of the haunted house and go home, hoping to beat his dad to the leftover candy from the bowl they left on their porch for trick or treaters. But with his luck, his dad had already decimated the bowl and all he was doing was walking further and further away from the exit, stuck in the maze of hallways.

Sites was waiting for someone to jump out at him, glancing nervously at every door and alcove in the hall, chewing his lip. He was prepared for someone in a cheap mummy costume to pop out at him, someone dressed as Dracula or Frankenstein to scream boo!

He wasn't prepared for a werewolf.

It leapt out at him from around a corner, tucked out of sight until Stiles got closer, springing out from the shadows. A vicious growl bubbled up out of its throat as it swiped a clawed hand at him, narrowly avoiding slashing his throat.

Stiles shrieked in terror at the sight of flashing yellow eyes and fangs dripping with shiny spit, taking a few steps back in shock. Scared out of his mind, acting purely on instinct, Stiles did the only thing that he could think of and kicked the werewolf right between the legs.

The werewolf fell to its knees with a pained whimper, furry hands cupping its crotch. Furry hands which Stiles suddenly realized were gloves, fake black fur on plastic, the claws actually blunt white rubber.

Just like he realized that the werewolf's snarling face was merely a mask, albeit an extremely realistic one.

The bared teeth he had been worried would rip his throat out were nothing more than painted rubber fangs. The flashing eyes that had petrified him so much were just little yellow LED lights, the only source of light in the dim hallway.

Stiles could feel the blood drain out of his face as he abruptly realized that he had just kicked some poor person between the legs. He felt like he was going to throw up when, through grit teeth, the werewolf wheezed in a painfully familiar voice, "Jesus Christ, Stiles!"

Wincing, Stiles shook himself out of his stupor and rushed to the werewolf's side, dropping to his knees beside them. He reached over to yank off the hyper-realistic mask to confirm his worst fear ― he had just kicked his long time crush, Derek Hale, right in the nuts.

He had met Derek two years prior at the vet clinic while he had been waiting to pick Scott up after his shift. Derek had rushed into the reception area holding a small gray kitten in his hands, announcing he had found it on the side of the road and just wanted to make sure it was alright.

Stiles had been gone for him ever since.

"Oh my god, Derek!" Stiles gasped, tossing the grotesque mask over his shoulder, ignoring it as it thumped against the tiled floor. Laying a hand on Derek's shoulder, curling his fingers into the sleeve of Derek's shirt, he apologized, "I'm so sorry! I didn't know it was you! Not that I would've wanted to kick someone else! You were wearing that mask, which kudos to you is like super realistic! Did your sister make it? Because I know she's really into art and SFX makeup and stuff, so―"

"Stiles," Derek snapped through grit teeth, immediately silencing Stiles' rant before it could stretch out into something longer and more convoluted. Stiles snapped his mouth closed with a click, miming zipping his lips and throwing the key away, well aware of how annoying his rambling could be.

Forehead furrowed while he clutched his poor balls through his jeans, Derek let out another whine of pain, the sound driving a knife through Stiles' heart. Tightening his grip on Derek's shirt, Stiles leaned closer and murmured, "I'm sorry, Derek. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, Stiles," Derek grit out, breathing deeply through his nose to help alleviate the pain, a muscle in his jaw twitching. As though trying to convince both himself and Stiles, Derek repeated himself, mumbling, "It's fine."

Squeezing Derek's arm with one hand, Stiles tentatively ran his fingers through Derek's hair, brushing a few strands off his forehead. Smoothing out the furrow between Derek's brows, Stiles wondered aloud, "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

Catching a glimpse of a shy smile stretching over Derek's face, Stiles smiled himself, glad to see that Derek wasn't too furious with him. Running his hand over Derek's arm, Stiles insisted, "I mean it. Anything."

"Well, there is one thing," Derek announced, tilting his head up to meet Stiles' eyes, thankfully looking much less pained. Stiles just nodded eagerly, prompting Derek to casually suggest, "You could kiss it better?"

Stiles froze. Had Derek really just suggested something so crass? Was he really implying that Stiles should kiss him down there?

He yanked his hands back, severing all physical contact between him and Derek, jumping to his feet. He took a few steps back, wide eyes darting between Derek's face and his crotch where his gloved hands were still cupping his abused junk.

Curling his hands into fists at his sides, Stiles narrowed his eyes, feeling his face flush in humiliation as he watched the smile fall from Derek's face. He was sorely tempted to give Derek another kick in the balls, instead simply snarling, "Excuse me?!"

Apparently realizing what he had just implied, Derek raised his palms, looking horrified by his own words. Shaking his head, he insisted, "No! No, no, no! That's not what I meant! I just-I just meant―"

"What?" Stiles pressed, taking a step closer to Derek. "What did you mean?"

Derek's eyes immediately shot down to the floor, faking sudden interest in the pattern of the tiles. A light flush coloring his cheeks, he reluctantly admitted, "Maybe like...a kiss on the cheek...?"

"Oh," Stiles said simply, at a loss for words. He hadn't been expecting that.

Deflating as every last trace of anger seeped out his body, Stiles bit his lower lip, thinking about his next move. Feeling his own cheeks fill with heat, he formulated a plan he hoped wouldn't backfire, cautiously kneeling back down beside Derek.

"Forget about it," Derek muttered quietly, turning his head to avoid meeting Stiles' eyes, shifting to sit on his butt on the cold tiled floor. Hugging his knees to his chest, tucking his face against his legs, he miserably claimed, "It was stupi―"

Stiles cut him off with a kiss, cupping his cheek with one hand to turn Derek's head back towards him, tugging him closer with a hand fisted in the front of his shirt as he pressed their lips together on pure impulse. Derek hesitated for a moment before responding, curling a gloved hand around the back of Stiles' neck to haul him closer.

Stiles sighed almost dreamily against Derek's lips, having never even dared to hope that his first kiss could be with his crush. He shuffled even closer to Derek, wrapping an arm around his shoulders just so he would know what it was like to hold Derek.

He hummed high in his throat when Derek teased his bottom lip with a hint of tongue, swiping it across the seam of his lips in a barely-there glide. Kissing Derek was something he could easily become addicted to.

Reluctantly breaking the kiss to get some air, Stiles licked his lips, eyes still closed as he willed his brain to come back online. He could feel Derek's warm breath on his lips as they both panted a bit, winded from the admittedly short kiss.

"Better?" Stiles whispered as he slowly opened his eyes, unable to keep from feeling rather proud of the more pronounced blush on Derek's high cheekbones. He brushed the pad of his thumb over the pink cheek, feeling the slight prickle of stubble against his skin.

"Mmm... Much," Derek answered with a devious little smirk curling his lips to the side, the sight somehow infatuating Stiles even more than he already was. He opened his eyes a moment later, looking up at Stiles with a kaleidoscope of colors glittering in his irises.

"Go out with me."

They both paused, looking at each other in awe and confusion, having both blurted out the same thing at exactly the same time.

Stiles broke first, ducking his head and laughing at their simultaneously request. Raising his head, he nodded and announced, "Okay. How about next Friday at seven? You can pick me up at my house in your leather jacket."

"Alright," Derek readily agreed, grinning widely before leaning in for another quick kiss. It was merely a peck on the lips, a fleeting bit of contact that nonetheless filled both their cheeks with heat.

"So," Stiles began, scratching his nails through the hairs at the back of Derek's neck. "How the hell do I get out of here?"