#that that phrase was very much constantly on my mind while writing this.

[laatmaar]

S/N: RG-300-459-76-44

Okay so this is the first time I have ever written fanfiction for anything, or even just written any story this long, but fallen hero has quite the death grip on my brain. So truly any advice and such is appreciated. Anyway I'm absolutely fascinated by whatever the regenes and the farm has going on, and this is a little piece exploring sidestep's, or rather Matt's, first mission on the farm. I say little but it has a word count of 3K, be warned. Also be warned that this piece contains somebody being murdered, but nothing too extreme or unusual for fallen hero I think.

You stand before a door. This specific door is quite unassuming, it is brown and the dark patterns of shaky vertical lines interrupted with little ovals signal that it is made of wood. Which makes it quite unlike most doors you are acquainted with, but it is normal here. The door looks exactly like the doors you’ve seen in picture books.  Presumably, to hide anything out of the ordinary, anything horrible, insidious, dangerous, behind a passibly normal exterior. In short, Mr. Brown made it look like all the other doors in this hallway. You like this door. 

If all went well Mr. Brown will now be lying dead on the ground behind this door, and the only thing you will have to do is help unit 44 with disposal of the body. It has been a long day and your body feels heavy, there is a strange empty feeling in your stomach. You do not know what you expected of your first mission, but certainly not feeling so… tired. You place your hand on the doorknob. You turn the doorknob. You open the door.

"Oh, thank God!”

Mr. Brown moves toward you more quickly than you were prepared for. He only stops in his tracks when, presumably, the gun that is quite obviously pointed at his head catches his eye again. Mr. Brown is, evidently, not dead. You close your eyes, breathe out. You open your eyes. Unit 44, who you were quite sure should have killed Mr. Brown some five minutes ago according to the mission parameters you memorized over and over and over and over again, moves towards the door. It makes sure its gun never wavers from its target's head and shuts the door behind you. You hear the click of the door being locked.  

“Look I don’t care what goddamn government agency thought it worth to send a goddamn fucking regene to assassinate me or whatever but-”  Mr. Brown grabs your arm, in his thoughts you find only relief, and pulls you towards him “-surely you’re not programmed to kill innocent civilians.” At this he shakes your arm, which you’ve come to understand is actually quite a rude thing to do.

Unit 44’s face is impassive although the corner of its blue lip might’ve moved upward just a tiny bit. Its gun however has not moved at all. It looks you dead in the eye.

In your ear Mr. Brown whispers “Play along with me and we might both get out of this alive.” He leans even closer and unit 44 does not shoot him in the head. It should. “Trust me on this miss,” still whispering  “that thing is not human… blue skin and all that.” Places his hand on your shoulder, his mind churning with possible escape routes, “It’s a fucking ai but it will not kill us if they think it will cause a scandal… I’m sure.” His thoughts imply otherwise. “Just tell it your parents are nearby or something, I mean what are you sixteen.. seventeen?  Your parents must be nearby.”

You open your mouth to ask why unit 44 has not followed standard procedure, do missions normally deviate this much from the norm? You’re not sure you like the idea of that. Why is it that it has not shot Mr. Brown already, even though it had ample opportunity. His fingers are digging into your shoulder in a way that is really becoming uncomfortable and the desperation and fear in his mind make it difficult to think. You are tired. You remember that you should report to your handlers in about 10 minutes and how does unit 44 think it will ever complete the mission in time. You already relayed all information you gathered from Mr. Brown’s houseguests during the party to your handlers. You’ve already done your part, why is it refusing to just do its part. Why do you have to be part of this. However unit 44 says, “Close your mouth.” and you obey.

Unit 44 is after all the senior unit out of the two of you, and the most senior unit on a mission is in charge in the unlikely event that your handlers cannot be reached. You paid attention during the briefing. Your handlers cannot be reached because Mr. Brown went to great lengths to design this room. Sound-proof, signal-proof , everything-proof. A perfect room designed for complete privacy, something Mr. Brown is often in great need of. You have recently learned what the concept of ironic means and you think that it applies now. That this room should be his downfall, or at least was supposed to be if all went according to plan. If unit 44 had paid attention. It had not. You had seen its eyes wander.

“Killing an innocent human being is sure to cause a scandal!” Mr. Brown’s voice is pitched a bit higher than before, his fingers beginning to dig in painfully. That is going to leave a mark.

Now you’re sure, unit 44’s lips turn upwards. You do not know what it finds particularly funny, or where it even learned to smile. Smirk? Its gun aimed around two inches to the left of your face. At Mr. Brown’s mouth. Which is still moving.

“I know her,” he lies, “if she disappears” shaking you, again “her parents will be sure to raise hell! They’re important. Influential.” Those last words he emphasizes. You’ve learned that people will do this if they mean more than what they are actually saying. You however do not see the relevance or deeper meaning of your imaginary parents being important. His thoughts suggest that not even Mr. Brown is entirely sure what he means. He just needs to stay alive, from one second to the next. He knows he won’t be able to overpower the regene planted in front of the door, but.. he’s not dead yet. It is a miracle that he is not dead yet. You agree.  He is sure that you might be the reason why. He can use that. Talk his way out. He has talked his way out of failure and into success his entire life.

Mr. Brown talks and talks and there are still nine minutes remaining. His grip turning painful, and you just wish your pain gate would activate for more mundane matters than life threatening injuries. You need to finish this. Quickly.

You look at unit 44. Its lean body clad in a skin-tight suit and armour, its stance almost relaxed. Not quite, but almost. The heaviest armour is centered around its chest area, all its appendages left unobstructed. Under the armour the skinsuit peeks out, the black fabric making for a nice contrast against the blue skin of its neck. There continuing from the neck and covering its entire face are those patterns you are so familiar with, this time in a lighter blue instead of orange. All traces of what might’ve been a smile gone from its lips. Its eyes are still looking at you, expression once again completely neutral. It nods and lowers its gun just a bit.

“Restrain him,” it orders “on the floor, preferably.”

 You do not stop to question why unit 44 wants Mr. Brown restrained and not dead. Why it won’t just finish this job. Neatly. According to mission protocol. With a bullet, preferably. You do not question it because some irrational part of you is glad that it has lowered the gun. It might have decided to shift it about two inches to the right. Unit 44, you have suspected for some time, is unpredictable. At least the smile has not returned, that you can admit unnerved you.

Most of all you do not question it because you are glad to move. To take that hand from your shoulder and in one swift movement twist it around his back, kick his legs, push him into the ground, put your knee on his back, the other next to his hip, your free hand on his neck holding him down. This is a move you have practiced a hundred times. It is even easier than expected, normally your partners put up much more of a fight.

Mr. Brown lets out a yelp of surprise and pain. His mind is a potent mix of confusion, betrayal and fear. Mostly fear, there is something very wrong with the picture being painted. He has misinterpreted the situation, badly. But… since when did they put regenes in charge of people.

He makes an attempt at opening his mouth to ask, but you press his face into the ground and that gets the message through. He closes his mouth. On his neck your fingertips press down and the skin turns red. Your own shoulder aches and you squeeze, just a bit.

Unit 44 has moved next to you. Its eyes finally leave you and shift a bit to the right, so that it’s not looking down at you but Mr. Brown instead. Gun pointed to the side. It looks like it's contemplating something but its mental defenses are better than Mr. Brown’s and you are still so tired. Then in a move that should not surprise you as much as it does, it kneels next to you. Nothing should surprise you when it comes to unit 44. Still you cannot help the question forming on your lips when it replaces your hand on Mr. Brown’s neck and hands you the gun. “Well,” it says, and nobody should have taught it to smile. It’s misusing the ability entirely, nothing about this situation is funny. “time is running out. Shoot him.”

You feel your shoulders tense and your right shoulder ache. The gun feels slippery in your hands. The temperature in the room has not risen even a degree since you’ve entered it and yet your hands are sweating. An uncomfortable heat spreading through your body as you look at unit 44, that stupid smile still on its face. Its expression still so calm. Your jaw aches with the effort it takes you to not open your mouth and say something. Anything. Scream. You don’t know.

Eight minutes remaining, and approximately a second has passed since unit 44 gave you the order. Mr. Brown’s thoughts are quickly turning from incomprehension to panic. He struggles under your knee and unit 44’s strong hands. Hurting himself. His panic full blown now, and maybe his thoughts are the reason you can’t seem to think straight on this matter. The fact that your hand is trembling without your input. Mr. Brown should have been dead for ten minutes already. His breathing ragged, and he might be crying. “Goddammit you’re human you don’t have to listen to it!” he screams. You shoot.

There is something unpleasant about the way blood drops roll down your face. You’ve experienced many new situations and sensations today. You don’t want to experience anything else ever again. You want to go home. You never want to leave this room.

For the last minute or so unit 44 has been opening different cabinets and drawers in search of something, you don’t particularly care what for. You have been sitting next to a corpse. His eyes still open, staring at you. You stare back, and in the corner of your eyes you see unit 44 approaching. It hands you a packet of wet wipes and makes a gesture at your face. You obediently wipe your face, your makeup coming off. The lipstick has mixed with blood and turned a bright red, it was supposed to be a neutral colour. Presentable, but not attracting attention. While the other units were putting on armour they had dressed you in a nice off colour white dress, now ruined. They had shaved your face and applied all sorts of cosmetics. You don’t know exactly what. They had made what, you gathered from the laughter, were supposed to be jokes. Something about if only they had prettier models and the money they could make. They had sent you off to a party, and you had completed your task. As unit 44 should have completed its.

It is fiddling with the closure of your dress. At your questioning look it shows you some kind of gel. “For your shoulder,” it clarifies. It has gotten the button open and pulls the zipper down. There in contrast to the bruised skin on your shoulder the orange tattoos appear completely unblemished. Nothing ever damages that familiar pattern. You quickly reach out and close Mr. Brown’s eyes. Unit 44 looks at you for a moment, and you feel your face heat up. It has no right to judge you, but it merely smiles. Blue patterns moving.

It puts some of that translucent gel on your shoulder and, far more gently than you think is medically necessary, begins spreading it out. Looking back you should’ve known something like this would happen. You should’ve known because unit 44 had not been paying attention to the briefing. Because it had looked distracted when putting on armour. Because two days before the mission it had not been as efficient as it could’ve been at training. It had hesitated and you had not let it out of your sight since. You should have known because small disobediences lead to bigger disobediences later on. You lean back, just a bit, into her cool fingers. Its cool fingers. Its blue fingers. The same colour your bruise is beginning to take on, and that was not your thought. You feel sick to the stomach, and you are so tired and you never wanted to have anything to do with this in the first place. You did your job, and so you stand up.

You begin trying to zip up your dress, and you must look like an idiot when you can’t reach the zipper. You take Mr. Brown’s jacket from the desk chair and put that over your shoulders instead. A small burst of panic shoots through you. There are only two minutes remaining.

Your first mission is a complete failure, two minutes isn’t enough time. The blood pools beneath Mr. Brown’s head seeping into the wooden flooring. It is splattered on the walls, and on your dress. On your hands. You do not have enough time to clean it all.

Unit 44 makes no attempt to move from where it’s still seated on the floor. It looks relaxed in the way it’s leaning back on its hands looking at you, observing you. It looks resigned, like it does not care about any of this. Does not care about the consequences of not following mission protocols. Does not care about Mr. Brown lying dead on the floor eleven minutes too late. Does not care about you. You suppose its actions have proven that it doesn’t.

Under your gaze unit 44 finally stands up.

“We have one minute,” it states. “Now tell me exactly, what did it feel like?”

For the first time in quite a while you open your mouth and speak.  

It is only in Dr. Morgan’s office in preparation for your second mission that you dare to subtly ask about unit 44. Of course she knows many unit 44’s, 44 being only the last two numbers of a longer serial number, but she seems to understand which one you’re talking about.

“Hmmm, I get why you would be anxious about working with that particular unit again. After that disaster of a mission last time.” You had known it was a disaster, you had not known everybody else thought so too. “That it would wait to kill that Brown figure for so long, and then to do it so messily too.” It had taken the fall, you had suspected as much. “I had already said to Marcus there is something wrong with that unit. He even acknowledged it in that irritating way he always does, but actually listen? No. Never.” 

She is not truly talking to you, merely monologuing to herself and you are an unfortunate victim. This is why you asked her. She likes hearing herself talk, and her colleagues do not like listening. 

“He was all like let’s see where this goes. It would be a shame to have to start over again, blah blah blah. I said the nice thing about regenes is that we get to start over again. Its body is young and we can simply reuse it. Let’s just get it over with, but no. One more mission.” You wonder how many units had heard her complain about this in the days preceding the mission. Whether unit 44 might’ve. “So one disaster of a mission later and now it’s been decommissioned all the same. Marcus still won’t admit I was right though. Asshole.”

Unit 44 is dead. She walks over to you and injects something in your upper right arm. The bruise on your shoulder has healed faster than a normal human bruise would. You’re beginning to miss it.

“Well anyway its chip has been taken apart, and you won’t have to worry about ever working with it again. Sounds good?”

There is something ugly and sour rising in your throat. You force your face in approximation of a gentle smile and nod.

Later when you’re in the dorms lying on your stomach on your bed, you wait and listen. It is deep in the night and you’ve waited very patiently until you’re sure that most of the others are asleep. Or at least that the ones still awake are not paying any attention to you. You’re pretty sure you look convincingly asleep, you have not moved an inch in two hours. Your telepathy is not as strong as others, so you play defense instead.

In your mind you open the door. Step into the room. Lock the door behind you (unit 44 is not there to pick up the slack anymore). Check the room for anything unusual (ignore the body). Feel your own body on the mattress, muscles relaxing. Keep at it for another two hours. Convince yourself you have obtained some fraction of privacy. Some fraction of Mr. Brown’s room, his dead eyes never having left you. Only then, when you’re balancing on the edge of consciousness just about to fall asleep, do you allow yourself to imagine; her blue fingers spread out against your shoulder.

[revelboo]

An idea for the Metroplex x reader fics in the long term, it’d be interesting to consider the reader finding a way to merge with him sometime down the line! It might be difficult to explain with a human reader, but a little plot convenience never hurt anyone.

If you haven’t read the Windblade comics, merging is where a regular cybertronian connects with a titan, sharing one mind and also having access to their entire frame. It’s cool stuff. When Windblade does it, she does see a vision of Metroplex (relatively regular sized) holding out his hand to her.

I’ve been thinking about titans a lot and I think while merged Metroplex would be able to feel as if he’s being held like a normal bot, even if that’s not really happening. I ramble on. The Windblade comics are so good I recommend them to everyone, that is my message. Thank you for delivering us top tier fics with lightning speed 🫡

Looks they’ve pulled the IDW TF comics from Kindle aside from what I already own. I need to track down a copy of the Windblade series and drag the bulk of my physical comics out to reread.

I Can Feel You Pt 5

Metroplex x Reader

• It’s a slow process. One word at a time. Repeating yourself until he slowly, painstakingly responds. Simple things since that’s all you’re really capable of with the limited phrases in the educational files, writing a question and repeating it out loud for the massive Autobot. Then quickly copying down his response to try and translate it. You spend all night that way, stretched out on the floor, the aching in your back and shoulders distant as you focus on Metroplex. On talking to him, needing to let him know you see him. He’s not alone or forgotten.

• Centering himself with the feel of your heartbeat, he watches over you as you sleep, cheek on your outstretched arm where you’d fallen asleep waiting on him to form a response as day broke. All night speaking to him, that knowledge spreads warm through his spark even as exhaustion drags at him. Making such small things, detailed things, so difficult, sapping his energy and ability to focus. But to be able to talk to you, it’s worth it. Do you understand how much the effort means to him? That you’d tried at all when no one else bothers?

• It’s mid afternoon when you wake up, body aching from laying on the hard floor. Pushing yourself upright, you lean back against your berth. Reluctantly pulling yourself to your feet, your sleepy mind almost doesn’t notice the dark rectangle of missing floor in a corner. Moving closer, you peer into the darkness below, seeing stairs winding down and as you look, biolights flare, running like circuitry in the walls. Did he want you to go down there? He must, but your nerves jangle as you lay a hand against the wall, faintly uneasy at the claustrophobic space and darkness. He can’t know how much you hate small spaces, but he’s reaching out again. You can’t just ignore him. “Okay,” you whisper, skin prickling as you start down the stairs. Realizing he’s leading you into his massive frame and unsure how you feel about that.

• Your palm slides along him as you move slowly down the stairs and he can feel you trembling faintly. Afraid? Why now? Flaring biolights for you as you keep going, he’s aware of the way you keep looking up toward the rectangle of light, of the way your breathing is becoming less steady. Trusting him enough to keep going, though. But so silent. He’s so used to you talking to him constantly that he’s very aware that you’re not talking. Just a little further, though. Deeper inside the labyrinth of his frame. He’s not even sure if this will work, but wants to try. Needs to know.

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[sweetcherryharry]

lunch

based on the song 'lunch' by billie eilish.

pairing: harry styles x reader

from the first moment i listened to the song i NEEDED to write something based on it. tbh it wasn't edited, so sorry if there are mistakes. hope u enjoy!

(masterlist)

I could eat that girl for lunch Yeah, she dances on my tongue Tastes like she might be the one And I could never get enough

The bustling energy of the party swirled around Harry, a kaleidoscope of laughter, music, and conversations. Yet, his gaze remained fixed on Y/N across the room. She stood amidst a circle of friends, her vibrant laughter ringing out like a melody that cut through the noise.

His eyes traced the elegant curve of her neck, the way her hair cascaded over her shoulders like a silken waterfall. She gestured animatedly as she spoke, her hands painting vivid pictures in the air.  The way her eyes sparkled with amusement, the genuine joy radiating from her every inch of skin, made his heart quicken.

"I could eat that girl for lunch," he murmured to himself, the phrase echoing a sentiment far deeper than the words implied. It wasn't a physical hunger, but a craving for the essence of her – the wit, the warmth, the intoxicating energy that drew him like a moth to a flame.

The thought of Y/N danced on his tongue, a symphony of flavors that he yearned to savor. She was sunshine and spice, a tantalizing mix of sweetness and intellect that left him wanting more. Each encounter with her, each shared laugh and stolen glance, was a morsel that only fueled his appetite.

As he watched her toss her head back in laughter, a sudden realization struck him. Tastes like she might be the one. The thought resonated within him, a profound truth that he couldn't ignore. It wasn't a fleeting infatuation or a surface-level attraction. It was a soul-deep connection, a recognition that he had stumbled upon something rare and precious.

Their friendship had blossomed over time, a tapestry woven with shared jokes, heartfelt conversations, and unspoken understanding. Yet, from the very first moment their eyes met, Harry knew there was something extraordinary about Y/N. She possessed a magnetism that pulled him in, a captivating aura that left him utterly spellbound.

A slow smile spread across his face, a warmth blooming in his chest. And I could never get enough. The words whispered through his mind, a mantra that encapsulated his desire to delve deeper, to explore every facet of Y/N's being. The thought of spending more time with her, of unraveling the layers of her heart and mind, filled him with an exhilarating sense of anticipation.

I could buy her so much stuff It's a craving, not a crush, huh "Call me when you're there" Said, "I bought you somethin' rare And I left it under 'Claire'"

Harry found himself constantly thinking of ways to make her smile, to surprise her with little gifts and tokens of affection. It wasn't just a fleeting infatuation; his feelings for Y/N had blossomed into something deeper, more profound.

One afternoon, while browsing a vintage market, he stumbled upon a delicate silver locket engraved with intricate floral patterns. It was a piece of exquisite craftsmanship, a rare find that whispered of timeless elegance. He knew instantly that it was meant for Y/N. The locket seemed to embody her essence - delicate yet strong, beautiful yet unassuming.

With a surge of excitement, he purchased the locket and carefully placed it in a velvet-lined box. He imagined Y/N's eyes lighting up as she opened it, the surprise and joy radiating from her face. The thought of her reaction filled him with a warmth that spread through his chest.

He couldn't wait to give it to her, but he wanted the moment to be special, away from prying eyes and flashing cameras. So, he decided to leave it at her favorite coffee shop, tucked under the name 'Claire'—a playful code they had developed in the early days of their friendship to protect Y/N's privacy from the ever-present media. It was a secret only they shared, a testament to their unique bond.

Dialing her number, he waited for her to answer, his heart pounding with anticipation.

"Hey, Harry!" Y/N's cheerful voice filled his ear, instantly calming his nerves. "What's up?"

"Just wanted to let you know I'm thinking of you," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of mystery, hoping to pique her curiosity. "And, oh… I might have left you a little something special at our usual spot."

"Really?" Y/N's voice rose with excitement. "What is it?"

"You'll have to find out for yourself," Harry said with a chuckle, enjoying the anticipation in her voice. "Let me know when you get there."

He could practically hear the smile in her voice as she replied, "I'm already on my way!"

As Harry hung up, he couldn't help but grin. The thought of surprising Y/N, of giving her something that reflected his deep affection for her, filled him with a warm glow. This was more than just a crush; it was a craving, one that he knew would never go away.

So now, she's comin' up the stairs So I'm pullin' up a chair And I'm puttin' up my hair

A light knock on his apartment door pulled Harry out of his reverie. A wave of anticipation washed over him as he crossed the room, his heart beating a little faster. He took a deep breath, composing himself before opening the door.

There stood Y/N, her face flushed with excitement, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You wouldn't believe what I just found at the coffee shop," she exclaimed, holding up the velvet box.

"Oh really?" Harry feigned surprise, a playful smirk on his lips. He stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter. "Come in, tell me all about it."

As Y/N walked into the apartment, Harry's eyes followed her every move, admiring the way she effortlessly filled the space with her energy. He felt a surge of warmth and affection, a longing to make this moment perfect for her.

"So," he said, pulling out a chair for her at the small dining table, "what did you find?"

Y/N eagerly opened the box, revealing the delicate silver locket. Her eyes widened with delight as she traced the intricate patterns with her fingertip. "Harry, it's beautiful," she breathed, her voice filled with awe.

"I'm glad you like it," Harry replied, his heart swelling with happiness at her reaction. He wanted nothing more than to see her smile like that, to be the reason behind her joy.

"I love it," Y/N corrected him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "It's the most thoughtful gift I've ever received."

As she reached for the locket to fasten it around her neck, Harry noticed a few strands of her hair falling loose from her ponytail. Without thinking, he gently tucked them behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her skin for a moment longer than necessary.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes locking with his. A moment of shared understanding passed between them, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken emotions that hung in the air.

Harry's heart pounded in his chest as he realized that this was more than just friendship, more than a mere crush. It was something deeper, something undeniable. He wanted to be the one to make her smile, to cherish her, to be her safe haven in a chaotic world. And as he gazed into her eyes, he knew that he would do everything in his power to make that happen.

Baby, I think you were made for me Somebody write down the recipe Been tryin' hard not to overeat You're just so sweet

Weeks had passed since the night of the locket, and the once unspoken feelings between Harry and Y/N had evolved into a palpable tension that hung in the air whenever they were together. Their friendship remained strong, but an undercurrent of longing and desire pulsed beneath the surface.

The pair –along with their group of friends– were illuminated by the dim lights of the bar, a lively mix of laughter, clinking glasses, and the rhythmic pulse of music washing over them. Harry leaned against the bar, a half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand, his gaze fixed on Y/N right next to him.  She was close, their knees occasionally brushing against each other, sending sparks of electricity through him.

"Baby, I think you were made for me," Harry finally blurted out, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them. The alcohol had emboldened him, giving him the courage to voice the sentiment that had been echoing in his mind for months.

Y/N turned to face him, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. The playful banter on her lips faded as she met his gaze, a flicker of recognition dancing in her eyes.

"Very funny," she retorted, her voice barely a whisper above the din of the bar, though her tone wasn't as lighthearted as her words suggested.

Harry leaned in closer, his eyes holding hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. "Who said anything funny? I didn't." His voice was low and husky, sending a shiver down her spine.

A moment of silence hung between them, the air thick with unspoken desires. The music seemed to fade into the background as their world narrowed to just the two of them, their bodies mere inches apart.

"Why would you say that?" Y/N finally asked, her voice barely a whisper. "That I'm made for you —I mean?"

Harry's hand found hers on the bar, his fingers intertwining with hers. He took a deep breath, the warmth of the whiskey emboldening him further. "Because it's true," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I think we both know it."

He paused, his thumb gently caressing her hand. "We fit together, Y/N," he continued, his eyes searching hers for a sign of reciprocation. "In a way that I've never experienced with anyone else."

Y/N's heart hammered in her chest. She had felt it too, the undeniable connection that sparked between them every time they were together. The way their laughter intertwined, the way their thoughts seemed to align effortlessly, the way their silences were never uncomfortable but filled with an understanding that transcended words.

"I...I don't know what to say," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "But I do understand what you mean– I also feel like you're meant for me."

A wave of relief washed over Harry, his heart swelling with happiness. He squeezed her hand, a silent reassurance that he understood her unspoken feelings. "You don't have to say anything," he whispered back, his eyes filled with love and adoration.

At that moment, words were unnecessary. Their shared gaze spoke volumes, a silent symphony of affection and desire. Harry leaned in, closing the distance between them. His lips met hers in a tentative, tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with longing, a culmination of months of unspoken desires and a shared understanding that had deepened with each stolen glance and whispered conversation.

The kiss was electric, sending shivers down their spines. It was a moment of pure bliss, a confirmation of the undeniable connection that had drawn them together from the very beginning. As they pulled apart, their eyes met again, filled with a newfound understanding and a shared secret that only they knew.

"Finally!" one of their friends cheered from across the table, breaking the spell that had momentarily enveloped them.

Harry and Y/N turned towards the sound, their cheeks flushed with embarrassment and a shared secret. A wave of laughter erupted from their drunk group of friends, a joyful celebration of the love that had finally blossomed between them.

I'll run a shower for you like you want Clothеs on the counter for you, try 'em on If I'm allowеd, I'll help you take 'em off Huh

As the night went on, the air between them grew thick with unspoken desire. Every stolen glance, every accidental touch, ignited a spark that threatened to consume them both.

"Stay with me tonight?" Harry whispered, his voice husky with desire as he leaned in closer.

Y/N's eyes met his, a silent question in their depths. A smile tugged at her lips as she nodded, her heart pounding with anticipation.  While she had been to Harry's apartment many times before, it had always been as friends, platonic. This time felt different.

With a final lingering kiss, they reluctantly rose from their seats, their hands intertwined as they made their way towards the exit. The world outside seemed hazy and distant, their focus solely on the promise of intimacy that awaited them in the quiet sanctuary of Harry's apartment.

As they stepped inside, Harry kicked the door closed behind them. He turned to Y/N, and without a word, they melted into each other's embrace. His hands found her waist, pulling her close as his lips met hers in a passionate kiss. Y/N's fingers tangled in his hair, her body responding to his touch with a fervor that surprised even her.

They moved as one, their kisses growing deeper and more intense as the pent-up desire between them finally found an outlet. The world narrowed down to the taste of him, the feel of his hands on her skin, the sound of their breaths mingling in the quiet apartment.

But as Harry's hands began to roam lower, Y/N gently pulled away, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of desire and hesitation. "Harry," she whispered, her voice breathless, "maybe we should slow down."

He looked into her eyes, understanding dawning on his own. He nodded, a tender smile gracing his lips. "Of course," he murmured, his thumb gently tracing the outline of her lips. "Whatever you want."

The tension in the room shifted, morphing from fiery passion to a gentle intimacy. They stood there for a moment, their foreheads resting against each other, breathing in unison. The unspoken understanding between them deepened, a silent promise of a night filled with love and tenderness, a night where they could explore each other's souls as well as their bodies.

"I'll run a shower for you like you want," he offered, his voice barely a whisper, a gesture of care and intimacy.

Y/N nodded, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of shyness and excitement. The anticipation hung in the air, thick and sweet.

Harry led her to his bathroom, turning on the shower and adjusting the water temperature to her liking. He laid out a fluffy towel and a set of his clean clothes on the counter, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"Clothes on the counter for you, try 'em on," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And if I'm allowed, I'll help you take 'em off."

Y/N laughed softly, her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue. "We'll see," she teased, her eyes locking with his, the air between them crackling with electricity. The night was young, and the possibilities were endless.

She's takin' pictures in the mirror Oh my God, her skin's so clear Tell her, "Bring that over here" You need a seat? I'll volunteer Now she's smilin' ear to ear She's the headlights, I'm the deer

A warm glow from the bathroom light spilled into the hallway, illuminating Y/N as she emerged, wrapped in a towel. Her damp hair curled around her shoulders, her skin luminous in the soft light.

Harry's breath caught in his throat, marveling at her natural beauty. He longed to reach out and touch her, to trace the delicate curve of her skin with his fingertips. 

But more than that, Oh, I just wanna get her off, he thought, the primal urge surging through him like a tidal wave.

Y/N caught his gaze in the mirror, a sultry smile playing on her lips. She let the towel drop, revealing her silhouette against the soft glow. "What do you think?" she purred, her voice husky with invitation.

Harry's eyes darkened with desire. "Come over here," he commanded, his voice low . He patted the edge of the bed, a silent invitation for her to join him.

Y/N walked towards him, her movements slow and deliberate, each step a tantalizing promise. She perched on the edge of the bed, her eyes never leaving his.

"Need a seat?" Harry offered, his voice thick with anticipation. "I'll volunteer."

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken desire. Y/N's breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. She leaned forward, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "I think I'd rather have you."

Harry's smile widened, a predator's gleam in his eyes. "And you shall," he murmured, his hand reaching out to caress the side of her face.

Their eyes met, and in that moment, all pretense vanished. The air crackled with electricity, their connection undeniable. Y/N was the headlights, blinding him with her beauty and allure. And Harry was the deer, caught in her irresistible pull, ready to surrender to the passion that consumed them both.

I've said it all before, but I'll say it again I'm interested in more than just bein' your friend I don't wanna break it, just want it to bend Do you know how to bend?

"I've said it all before in other words, but I'll say it again," Harry began, his voice low and husky, "I'm interested in more than just being your friend."

His eyes searched hers, a hint of vulnerability flickering beneath the desire. "I don't want to break what we have," he continued, his hand cupping her cheek. "I just want it to bend, to evolve into something more."

He paused, his gaze unwavering. "Do you know how to bend?" he asked, his voice a soft whisper.

Y/N's heart fluttered in her chest. She knew exactly what he meant. The question wasn't just about physical intimacy; it was about their relationship, their connection, their willingness to take a leap of faith together.

A soft smile bloomed on Y/N's lips, her eyes filled with a warmth that mirrored his own. "I think I do," she whispered back, her voice barely audible.

With a shared look of understanding, their lips met once again, their kiss deeper and more passionate this time. It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken truths and a mutual desire to explore the uncharted territory of their relationship.

Harry's arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer as their bodies melted together. Their kiss was a symphony of longing and desire, a dance of lips and tongues that ignited a fire within them both.

Time seemed to slow down as they explored each other's mouths, savoring the taste of forbidden fruit. Harry's hands roamed over Y/N's back, his touch sending shivers down her spine.

Y/N tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as their kiss deepened. She felt a sense of liberation, a freedom to express the emotions she had held back for so long.

He knew it was just a hunch, but as he held her in his arms and had her taste dancing on his tongue, he knew just one thing; she is the one.

[tragedytells-tales]

Brooo I love your writing so much!! It’s literally so great😭 can you write the brothers (or just Lucifer and Satan if that’s too much) with a teen!mc (platonic obv) that is VERY gen z. Like if they’re able to have their phone while in Devildom then they would constantly be talking about stupid internet drama while using strange terms. They know the stuff they say is weird but that just encourages them to be even more unhinged and chaotic. I just thought it’d be funny :) thanks if you decide to do this!!

"I hear you loud and clear! My apologies for this taking so long, I was only able to come up with something for Lucifer and Satan."

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

Lessons in cringe culture

Notes - Teen!MC, Headcanons, Shitpost, comedy just pure comedy

Characters - Feat. Lucifer and Satan

Summary - MC has a few ideas on how to make these ten million years old demons more modern. Are they good ideas? Who knows and who cares

Warnings - Not proof read

TW - None

Lucifer:

[ New word to vocabulary - Gyatt ]

- So MC teaches him gyatt. And not actually on purpose, but not on accident either. They had the thought of saying it out loud around him just to see if it would be a good enough substitute for "god" that they could say it without almost smiting the Avatar.

- They had the thought about a week ago and completely forgot about, but they couldn't just sit there silently when they got jumpscared by the newest update to celestialdrop Valley

"You can now drink mayonnaise."

- Either way he is scared of teenagers of MCs variety because he was sitting in pure silence, minding his whole business while MC did something on their phone, until suddenly they screamed from the top of their lungs

"GYATT DAMN?! LEVI YOU WON'T BEEEEELIVE THIS!"

- Not only did they startle him out of his old ten million years aged bones, and dared to swear in his presence, but then before running to show Levi whatever it was that sparked this outburst MC turned to him and asked

"Are you all good?"

"...Yes? Why would I not be?"

- They give him the most evil of smiles before leaving. The smile was so evil that it sent shivers down his spine, for a human it was a devilish little smile that he knew meant nothing but trouble.

- The things he'd give for a single one of his technically adopted family to be normal ( <-- He literally handpicked everyone in the house, and he's no better but he's also the oldest so )

- He asks MC about it later and gets a proper explanation, only thing is that now he can't ground them for the improper use of language because the use of "gyatt" was surprisingly clever and smart

- Damnit MC, stop getting the braincell!

- He genuinely starts using it in secret whenever he wants to say "goddamn", he dare not utter it around his brothers lest they start bullying him

- Jokes on him, he gets drunk and slips up in the group chat!

Satan:

[ New phrase to vocabulary - It's my turn with the braincell! ]

- Speaking of. One would think that because he reads so many things and has so much knowledge and is technically the youngest of his brothers that he would know at least a bit of funky phrases

- He does. He knows Devildom phrases specifically. But he's also stupidly smart, smart stupid if you will, so he takes things MC sometimes says a tad to literal

- So imagine his surprise when they say "Hey, it's my turn with the braincell. I need it for algebra, hand it over!!!" While studying with their friends

- If you imagined very, very surprised then you are correct

- Aka: he's worried about the amount of concussions MC must've had for them to lost so many brain cells that they need to borrow and take turns with them from others

- He would've also questioned where and how they’re getting the brain cells they’re borrowing if he weren't so concerned in the first place

- He genuinely asks them what kind of brain cells are they missing to see how he can help

- They tell him "My brother in christ, I'm simply jesting about" and now he thinks MC is a sickly Victorian child with a lack of brain cells who got cursed

- Congratulations MC, you've tricked the smartest person in the house, but at what cost?

- The cost of him texting the group chat that MC has lost brain cells and needs to borrow some, that's what. All because they're too busy laughing to properly explain, and now Levi and Belphi are clowning on everyone else because they ALL fell for it too

- The price of living with beings who are over ten million years old is a steep one

- He steals the phrase and instantly starts telling his brothers to borrow brain cells btw, he's adapting

- He's been stealing phrases from MC for a while now, but this one is his favorite

- ( They taught him "fuck this thing, fuck that thing, fuck you, fuck you, you're cool-" last week, they’re not allowed to be friends anymore )

AN - The idea of teaching Lucifer "gyatt" made my lungs hurt, but then the thought of Asmo learning "down bad", Beel learning "bussin", and Mammon learning "L + Ratio + you fell off + fatherless" also made me lose it. I just wasn't sure how to go about that. ( Also thanks for the compliment!!! I hold it ever so gently,,, )

[oharaslove]

HI LOVIEESS!! Hope you enjoy this preview of my first series!! For some reason I love the concept of soulmates (bwoah, some reason, I know why, but let's stay mysterious for a while, haha), so I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it and thinking about it.

word count: 900 summary: What happens when someone who believes no one can love him meets a person who only desires to love and be loved? disclaimer: All the events of this story happen after Spiderman Across the SpiderVerse (more info in Chapter 1) warnings: MiguelxSpider!Reader (also latina), soulmates, eventual smut? (still debating this, not because I don't want to, but my abilities to do so), eventual angst, fluff, injuries, talks about death (I'll update as I go on)

Also, I'll be putting songs in some Chapters, or all of them if I can find music that I find fitting (Even though I am trying to stick to Sleep Token). Anyway, the song to start it all:

<Masterlist>

𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬

Earth-928B

Spiderman 2099, Miguel O’hara, the leader of the SpiderSociety, one half of a whole. Nobody knows it, but he possesses an indelible mark in his body. For many, only a simple birthmark, for him, a constant reminder that there is someone out there who is his supposedly other half. The idea so stupid he stopped thinking about it, constantly at least, after he learned the truth about his biological father, Tyler Stone. 

In this Earth, in the year 2099, equal to the downfall of the “heroic age” where there were lots of superheroes, it was also the debacle of soulmates. There was an era where everyone was destined to meet the “love of their lives” and live happily ever after. Each person was assigned a match at birth, that was supposed to be their half, together being and feeling complete, represented by a distinctive mark. Only the children of soulmates could posses this “power” or destiny, or as Miguel liked to call it, a curse. 

As time went by, the people of Nueva York and all Earth-928B grew tired of waiting for that special person, and as a consequence soulmates started to disappear. For Miguel’s disgrace, Conchata and Tyler Stone were soulmates, which is part of the reason why he hates them so much. 

The mere idea of having someone destined to be with him repulsed him. He isn’t opposed to having a family, hence why he took the other Miguel’s place, but after losing Gabriella, he doesn’t trust himself. He isn’t capable of loving again, trusting someone, or so he thinks. 

There isn’t a reason why he thinks the universe (or universes) would give him someone to love him unconditionally. Miguel thinks that if his soulmate really exists, they will be like his mother and Tyler, destined to be apart, a love that never was supposed to happen, it would be a mistake, like HE is, in his mind.

Furthermore, he is Spiderman, he has a duty. Not only does he have to keep Nueva York safe, but also prevent the Multiverse from becoming shambles.  There is no time to care for someone, there is no time for love. “With great power comes great guilt”, a phrase he will never let down. He knows what he has to do, he is aware of the power he possesses. There is no time to mess around, and there is definitely not a second a day that he can waste trying to find someone who would, NO, will definitely hate him, doesn’t matter if they were bonded together or not. 

Even though he tells himself this every sleepless night, there is always a part of his heart or mind that yearns for comfort, for love, or at least, someone who can understand him. He knows it is impossible, or at the very best, improbable, given the fact that his so-called soulmate is probably only a regular human, so she will never understand, but deep in his consciousness, there is hope. Everytime he saves someone he believes he is a step closer, but there is always disappointment. So he drowns himself with work, trying to forget, trying to erase the idea that he was born to belong to someone, but instead fate gifted him with loneliness on this Earth, and in many others. 

Earth - 129

Y/n Y/Ln, the only Spiderwoman of Earth-129, the other half of a whole soul. Since you have memory, everyone has told you how important the weird shaped mark you had in your body was. It meant you had a soulmate, like almost everyone in your universe. Soulmates in your universe were sacred, as in Miguel’s, only children of soulmates could possess soulmates, but as the vast majority married and had kids with their own, most people have them. 

Obviously, your parents were each other’s soulmates, and you had the opportunity to hear how much they cared and loved each other. As you were growing up, you couldn’t wait to meet your other half, the person who was supposed to understand you like no other, to love you unconditionally. 

When you were born, unfortunately, your mother died, which caused your dad great pain. In your Earth, soulmates can feel each other’s pain and strong emotions, so your father felt how your mom slipped out of his grasp. He had hope they would leave this life together, as he didn’t know life without her, but fate had other plans. 

Even though this broke your heart, you never stopped looking for your soulmate, and your father never stopped encouraging you.

Now, in your twenties, 28 to be precise, everyone your age you know has met their soulmate. Friends, cousins, everyone!. Your friend was worried for you, he even started to think that something bad happened to your soulmate, because of the weird shape your mark has, but you still have hope. 

You’ve never been with anyone, so you don’t know how love feels, well, romantic love, but you know you have a lot to give. You can’t wait for the day you meet him. Every time you save someone during your patrols, you hope that it gets you closer to getting to know your soulmate. But you haven’t had luck yet. You only wish for your friend to be wrong, and your soulmate is somewhere on this Earth.  One of these days, you'll meet him, you feel it.

<Chapter 1>

Well, he isn’t on your Earth, is it darling?

Hope you liked it!! Let me know what you think!!

TAGS:

@oscarissac2099 @cupcakeinat0r @greensagephase

[odusseus-xvi]

hi!! this is kinda a weird question but ur post about characterization for french ccs is rlly helpful for writing, so i was wondering if u had any like . tips or advice about speaking patterns or like. common terms or phrases they use and stuff like that. i have a lot of issues with auditory processing and other hearing stuff that makes it like . hard for me to always understand speech patterns or just like . what people are actually saying so if u have any like . advice or info about like How They Talk that u could put in text or like specific that would be cool. no worries if u dont/cant btw i completely get it i just remembered that u were the one w the previous helpful post ::D

Yeah, no problem I could try ! :D Now keep in mind again I'm not necessarily an expert, and I'm just doing this because it's fun. I still might make some mistakes, and miss some important details, but 'Ill do my best. SO

Let's go for HOW DO THE FRENCH (and swiss) CCS TALK :

Let's start with

ETOILES : So I feel like it might be the easiest because he's the clearest to me. He tends to speak at a normal space and in english with a noticeable slighly french accent, but not an extreme one. He likes to crack jokes constantly when he speaks with other people (most of the time hyping up others, and self deprecating, you know the "You are a legend, I am dumb".) . He can drop pearls of wisdom randomly through ridiculous metaphors ("You don't need to worry, My name means stars, that means that when you look I'm here." "It's like crossing the road, you have to, and there is cars, you need to be careful, but it can't be all you focus on. Wait I'm not sure about that one...") and sometimes actually genuine and inspiring, but more often that not in the tone of discussion, it doesn't sound like he's dispensing "wisdom of the elders", he's just a humble guy talking with you and giving a random advice. He often says in french "Wow a flop" when something doesn't work. Or "c.s.c." (Contre Con Camp, a football term meaning scoring against your own team) when he comments on someone being a tryhard for example ("WOW such a tryhard (csc)"). He'll often makes the joke that nobody likes him when they don't answer in chat to himself, (or chat) and will directly tell them "You want me to die irl don't you?" ensues a myriad of "holy shit you want me to die for real" answered by the "NOO" of the other one. Two last details that came to me, he rarely actually answers by "no" or "yes", he often use "Yeh yeh yeh", or "no no no". He also uses a lot of "euuuuh..." when looking for his words when speaking.

AYPIERRE : He is fairly simple too. He has a very relaxed tone, speaks slightly slower than most people, and has slightly noticeable french accent but less so than others. His tone differenciate between three states : Focused (while building or infiltrating a base), relaxed, and humourous. Note that he's never fully serious, he has that constant gremlin energy and smile that makes him want to make jokes that will make everybody cringe (his favorite pastime.) The only time he's been serious and slightly upset was when he earned gegg died or when he learned that the federation was trying to replicate his wine (there you can see his priorities). Most of the time people are assuming the worst when it's his countless time he starts a conversation with "So, I did something..." and is the type of guy to say "*known illegal act* is a strong word, let's say it's more like *not necessarily better*". I don't follow him as much, so I currently have no other mannerism in mind.

BAGHERA : I feel like she is a bit harder to pin down. When speaking in english she has a very noticeable accent, especially when she is tired. And talks a bit fast, especially in french. Though she doesn't crack jokes constantly, she has a constant chaotic energy that makes her say random things at times. She often say "Oh Yeaaaah" when she is happy or hyped about something, mostly when she is with other people to show them she is happy too. When she is ashamed or not understanding something she likes to take a voice we call the "Antoine Croute" voice (a character she played in a Rp series on GTA V), it's high pitched and really shy. (imagine a little "wut... ?"). She can be really serious, especially when investigating. She almost nver express vocally, in tone at least, her anger. Instead she sounds incredibly cold, like she was with ElQuackity. Her voice when serious drops a bit, and she speaks a bit faster. There is probably plenty more but I'm starting to get tired.

ANTOINE : He is the hardest to me because it is even hard to pin down in french. He has most of the time a very serious tone, while he ironically constantly making either dark jokes based on irony and cynism OR a pun. Because of this, it's sometimes hard to pin what's a joke and what's serious. His accent alternates between horrible french accent OR almost ProPeR eNgliSH. Even when discussing absolutely batshit insane things he sounds serious (he is not in reality, but it's a form of humor in itself). OCCASIONALLY he'll break and cracks a smile, and sometimes, even the heartiest laugh you've ever heard, a very vocal and deep "AHAHAHAHA" that you can hear a mile away (but it happens rarely.) Though I didn't specify, most people, including the french, stutter at least a little bit, and search their words, (like I said for Etoiles' "euh".) but Antoine tends to have a very clear speech, only occasionally looking for a translation. In the same vein, he also has a very quick reaction and can answer with a pun almost instantly (very impressive, especially when it's not his native language.)

That's pretty much all I can think of right now, and I'm tired. Maybe it's not exactly what you asked, but it's what I can muster. Hopes that helped :D

[gffa]

hi Lumi, your posting about star wars books made me want to start reading them, which ones would you recommend?

Hi! There are a lot of Star Wars books out there and there's a lot I enjoy about them! Sure, I'll give a warning that I'm picking out the best moments and a lot of the books are not always great in their entirety, especially depending on how much you want to stay 100% true to Lucas' story.

A lot is going to depend on what you're looking for--are you a prequels fan? Are you more interested in original trilogy books? Jedi-centric books? Bounty hunters or pilots instead? Etc. Generally, I assume if you're asking me, you're here for the prequels books, but I have a more generalized list of recommendations here or you can browse my novels recs tag.

But I always generally recommend starting with: - Revenge of the Sith novelization by Matthew Stover isn't a perfect book, I could nitpick some details here and there, but the heart of this book remains unchallenged as the best SW book there is, imo. It elevates the story it's adapting (already a high bar for me, I love ROTS), Stover knows how to turn a phrase to dig deep into a character's motivations, and there's a reason why we're all constantly quoting that book. It adds so much to the story and it's a compelling tale on its own, it makes me love the characters and hurt for them all over again, and there's approximately a thousand lines in this story that you could write an entire essay on.

- Padawan by Kiersten White cannot dethrone the ROTS novelization, but I would say that I think it wound up being my favorite of the Disney era books, because it's such a straight shot to my id. It's definitely on the lighter side, it's a happier look at Obi-Wan's childhood (which I think fits his character better), he struggles and has a lot going on, but overall he's pretty well-adjusted and happy, plus there is an absolute ABUNDANCE OF CUTENESS in this book, it was so delightful and whimsical and adorable, it just made me happy.

- Light of the Jedi by Charles Soule if you're at all interested in The High Republic. This is still my favorite book of the entire series, I think it set the stage incredibly well, it had some absolutely banger lines for someone with prequels brainrot like me, and genuinely made me excited for the entire line-up.

- Dooku: Jedi Lost by Cavan Scott, which is an audiodrama but has a script version available if you're hoh or just don't like them. It's a solid look at Dooku's time as a youngling and why he left the Jedi Order and backstory with Sifo-Dyas that'll break your heart. I prefer the audio version here because the Asajj framing works so much better with the actress' voicework, it really digs into her feelings about all of this as well, making it a nice gut-punch of a story.

And now I would add Padawan's Pride by Brian Q. Miller (audiobook only, unfortunately) because it's a lovely, charming look at Anakin's time as an apprentice. It's very deliberately written as a lead-in to the Obi-Wan & Anakin comic (which I think you're supposed to be keeping in mind as you read, so I'd suggest reading in release order rather than chronological order), showing the conflict between Obi-Wan and Anakin, between Anakin the Jedi way of life, yet all the love that's growing there and the hope that they weren't wrong to hold onto. Just the right amount of crunch and sweet.

I recently read The Living Force by John Jackson Miller and, while I have a couple of issues with it (it was less spiritual than I'd like, some clunky "attachment" discourse moments that clash against Lucas' definitions, etc.), overall it was a book I loved. It was laugh out loud funny at several moments, it showed the Jedi as deeply caring, it gave time and page space to Jedi who don't usually get much focus, it had some knockout administrative worldbuilding details, and a genuinely fun experience of a story.

There are more that I personally loved (Force Collector was really good for me but not an easy one to recommend, The Legends of Luke Skywalker was very dear to me for being so in love with the galaxy far, far away, Obi-Wan & Anakin: Choose Your Destiny is a Choose Your Adventure style book that's not going to be for everyone but I adored and got so much out of, that's where Theater Nerd Mace Windu came from, the first and third From a Certain Point of View anthologies had 3-4 incredible stories in them each, the ESB one didn't impress me, etc.) and a lot of comics that I think are just as good to read if you haven't started on those, but I think this is a good starting place for prequels nerds.

(I stuck mostly to Disney continuity, it's what I'm more familiar with, and the only Legends books I fully recommend are Revenge of the Sith novelization and Dark Rendezvous, not even my beloved Wild Space comes without a bunch of caveats, but if you're interested in Legends, let me know!)

[mahomadjicks]

Been seeing some posts about the Q and A the clash writing team did and man…

((WARNING: light rant below; mostly me rambling about worldbuilding aaaa))

I’m not fond of what the writing team wants to do, especially since it seems like they’re hyper-focusing on the kudos/street managers. It’s this section in particular that’s got me thinking and worried.

MAN does this phrase here have a lot of food for thought. Not just because of the horror fanfic i’m making, but now things clearly seem to be taking a large turn into the ‘Manager-focused plot’ I feared Clash would write themselves into.

Idk. The way i’m thinking about it, it’s a bit self destructive writing wise for suits to be in inherent ‘tiers’. (Grunt cogs have less personality/free will than managers, ete.)

If one of the goals is to show how COGs Inc exploits and mistreats their workers, isn’t it shooting yourself in the foot saying ‘COGs inc is a horrible company to ALL its workers’, but then turning to say ‘oh yeah, all those cogs aren’t as sentient compared to THESE ones’—

Like, in the case of ‘grunt’ cogs, wouldn’t these cogs be the ‘ground zero’ of the atrocities the company commits? Literally built for one purpose in life, in a cycle of being destroyed and rebuilt constantly without any say or agency. Being held under the thumb of a dubious company that in all technicality owns you, so you can’t really leave unless you’re fired?

If the grunt cogs were just as self preserving and sentient as the managers, then the message would be hammered in better. THEY’d be the ones constantly put under all the pressure for virtually nothing. Instead, the writing team has introduced the dilemma of ‘who is aware/deserving of company rights’.

If these (grunt) suits are inherently ‘lesser’ than their manager counterparts, then it changes the gravity of the situation from ‘discriminatory company practices’ to ‘changing a piece of machinery.’ No real loss, and its business as usual. The very problem i’d imagine the writing team wants to warn and help players to recognize in the story.

While not treated much better, it’s been shown/implied that manager cogs (specifically kudos/street and Litigation) get a lot more benefits and free time than anyone else besides bosses.

Removing personality/preservation from ‘grunt’ suits changes this element in the story from ‘They have higher positions, thus better work benefits,’ to ‘They get those benefits because they KNOW that they have them in the first place.’

In general, lot of the managers seem to have the luxury of being built without a specific company in mind, having childhoods, and ultimately CHOOSING to work at COGs Inc. Many seem to forget the whole reason the kudos/street managers were hired in the first place was in response to Atticus Wing’s death.

They weren’t randomly ‘dropped in’, and now the story needs to be changed to accommodate them. There already was an explicit reason, and it doesn’t seem to conflict with any manager lore after the fact. Why bend over backwards to force them into the story rewrites more?

I understand the managers are super popular, and have been a game changer in terms of story and gameplay, but I honestly feel they’re also blinding people in terms of prior lore and potential lore avenues. There’s no need to break the story/lore further to make the ‘special’ cogs even more ‘special’.

At the end of the day, I get the writing team wants to add more flavor, and I commend them for doing all this for free! Writing isn’t easy, and this isn’t me hating on them at all. I’m just not fond of this manager-centric mindset gripping people. I’m certainly looking forward to all the future content they wish to add, specifically rewrites in toon NPCS.

Anyway just had this in the back of my mind for a minute, feel free to throw in your two cents if ya like.

[roachfun]

This is probably a wild thing to get but your “Gojo should stay dead” post has got my unmedicated ass vibrating.

(I’ve only read jjk0, besides that literally all of my exposure has been via 3 video essays and fanfic… I basically got into the series backwards and tbh it’s an interesting experience…)

And tbh I agree with you more than not. Even though the view I have of the character is so fucking warped because jjk fanfic is too the gills filled with smut.

Because what I’ve gathered from the video essays and the few bits of fanfics that actually tried getting into his mind… is that the man is gd tired.

A god complex the size of the sun, that’s only ever been challenged once by one of the few people he ever formed a genuine connection with, and it was challenged as that person was leaving him. That incident may have motivated him to change, but that change was predominantly if not exclusively external, he didn’t really do much self reflection.

After Geto left, Gojo did better (became a teacher, warding Megumi, not letting Yuta be executed) but he didn’t work on being better (god complex, recklessness, belief that his way is the only way with no real consideration for the effects those decisions have on others)

He’s selfish, arrogant, and reckless, he doesn’t seem to take much of anything seriously and that may be a persona (again, I haven’t actually read jjk yet… the ending of mha did the characters, narrative, and audience so gd dirty I need to know how jjk ends so I set my expectations accordingly) but I can very much see this man never really developing his sense of empathy because he never really had any stakes… like he has some understanding, but the god complex and the fact people around him constantly reinforce it… he can’t put himself in other people’s shoes, there’s a detachment from reality that would read as delusional for anybody else, but he has spent his entire life being told he is the strongest with nothing ever being able to prove him wrong.

Than on the flip side of that god complex, honestly for a good while, and still sorta kinda… to me he reads as passively suicidal. (I know “Word of God” can be controversial regarding character analysis because of its absence in the base text) but the fact Gege’s rough rundown of Gojo’s daily schedule was basically “he sleeps for about 3 hours and spends the rest of his time working, his sweet tooth is actually somewhat practical as he uses sugar as a stimulant.” That’s not good for your noggin. Add the isolation caused by his status and his god complex, I see him coming to the conclusion that the only way he should die, is in battle.

And he did! Even if wasn’t in the “final sacrifice that ensures he becomes a legend” sort of way I think he would’ve hoped for.

But that also felt… right? (Certainly not fair, Gege openly admitting he kills off fan favorites for the shock value does dampen the possible emotional impact that could’ve been achieved… but I digress)

Every time Gojo fights, and I mean properly fights, he’s smiling, it’s a game to him, a chance to show off, to assert his dominance and reaffirm his status… so him dying so suddenly that his legs are still standing as his upper half falls to the floor, he’s lying there choking on his own blood as he bleeds out and Sukuna saying it “cleared his skies” (weird phrasing, but I think that’s a cultural/translation thing) it could’ve been a gut punch of a tragedy that amped up the stakes of the final conflict! The protagonists’ trump card is gone in a handful of panels and a flick of the wrist! He’s bleeding out on the ground as the big bad seems to reach a moment of genuine inner peace! But the backtracking and Gege’s history lessened that significantly

tbh I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out that Shonen Jump had something to do with it… the motivations for Gege’s writing choices are questionable to me (it feels spiteful and cheap) but they’ve been consistent until now, what changed?

Anyway it is… 5:45 am… I should be asleep, but I’m here vomiting character analysis based on partial information in your inbox… I hope you have a good day/night/whatever is appropriate for when you receive this

I hate that you had me read all that, but I couldn't agree more with most that you said (except maybe where you call him selfish and I lowk think geges killing system is fair and I like it a lot but🤷).

Anyways, I don't know how to really respond to this since you basically did all the talking lol (plus I'm tired from reading all that and just got out of school).

I do have a question tho. how did you start with jjk0??? Like how does something like that happen. Also you haven't watched the anime or anything😭???

Anyways, thanks for dropping this essay on me have a good day/night or life in case we never speak🩵

[babyhatesreality]

Hi honey🍯🍯

May you can do daddy stucky x little reader x little Peter where the reader refuse to eat her meal bc she got called fat that day and when they are trying to feed her she cries and ran to her room and cries in the corner with her stuffy after a while petie goes to her and ask her why she won't eat and she tells between sobs that she's called fat today and don't wanna eat and he conforts her with cuddles and falls asleep after that petie tells daddies what happened after awhile she wakes up and daddy bucky hug her and tells how perfect she is and goes to dada Steve and petie and maybe they get her to eat (she isnt really fat)

Just much comfort and fluff 💖 it's actually on a true Story bc i get called fat often and sometimes I get Afraid to eat soo I just need some comfort about it

My darling honey bee <3 I'm so, so sorry that that happens to you. I have a lot of the same struggles myself, all the time. Let's get some Daddy Stucky comfort to deal with these mean thoughts, shall we? I'm tackling this as a head canon and writing away some of my own issues. I'm right there with you, babe.

From the moment you heard someone else at school talk about "that fat girl", your anxiety kicked into high gear. Didn't matter that they were talking about someone else- all you heard was the word "fat".

As you went through school and college, you were constantly aware of the pressure to "stay thin but not too thin" and kept hearing the phrase "you'd get a date if you lost some weight" in your head on repeat.

You developed some not-great eating habits as a result of the constant pressure and anxiety.

When Steve and Bucky came into your life, it was one of the things that you asked them to help you with- after much, MUCH lengthy discussion.

You'd held the secret for so long that telling anyone else your fears was incredibly nerve-wracking.

Your super soldier daddies took it on as their personal mission.

Steve was a stickler for healthy eating anyways, so this was right up his alley. He was always sensitive and caring about it, but his firmness and structure really helped you find your footing and start to enjoy and not just endure food.

Bucky was all about the healthy food too, but he also taught you that it was okay to indulge every now and then. The both of you had issues with feeling that you didn't deserve good things, so by splitting a cupcake every now and then, you two worked through that side by side.

Every now and then the insecurity would rear its ugly head, and you found yourself sobbing, curled in a ball, feeling like you were too fat and therefore in your mind so ugly that you'd lose everyone who ever loved you.

Steve and Bucky would just hold you in these moments, whispering to you all the good you were doing for your body, how healthy and beautiful you were, reminding you that it didn't matter what the world said about exterior beauty. THEY thought you were the most beautiful little baby they'd ever seen. They reminded you that you were loved and always would be, no matter if you gained or lost weight. You were perfect to them.

And over a long period of time, you began, very slowly, to hear what they were saying. They'd never lie to you. They love you, and always will.

[tangyangie]

Hii! Honestly thank you for all your works!, they’re so good and feel so accurate, you embody the characters so well😫‼️.

I dont know if ur taking requests right now but i was wondering if you could do a karma x enfp reader head-cannons? I saw you did an isfp one, idk if you’ve done any other, but Thats alright if not of course!

Reader is really bubbly and loud, she makes alotta dirty and crude jokes with Rio and similarly, she has good grades she just doesnt try. She’s girly (loves being feminine) but that doesnt stop her from getting dirty, Shes very much a hopeless romantic and goes feral for some loving.

— 𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀 𝐗 𝐄𝐍𝐅𝐏 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ⊹

desc. karma x enfp!fem!reader, who's loud, playful, and talkative, yet stubborn, smart, and romantic.

notes. i'm preeeetty sure i'm an enfp (or infp), so a lot of these traits reminded me of myself!! so, this one was pretty easy to write, and i hope you like it!!

he's drawn to you from the beginning.

you're funny and joke about everything with him. oh, someone fell out of a tree? oops, you guys are literally on the floor.

you guys never have a dull moment. you always have something to talk about, and your conversations usually end up lasting hours.

physical touch is biggg for you guys. it's rare to see you guys not hugging or being close in some way.

he loves your outfits. no matter what you wear, though, he will be completely infatuated by you but he does like seeing you in dresses.

he picks you up a lot. piggy-back rides, carrying you bridal style, over the shoulder... any way that your feet aren't touching the ground.

you guys bounce around a lot. like, people mistake you as children for how energetic you guys are—you're constantly running around places.

you guys are constantly texting. it's kind of funny how much battery is wasted, even though you two are in the same room.

you guys also play gamepigeon a lot together. you've both gotten really good at the word games, and you're constantly competing. your screen is lit up like a christmas tree because of just how much you guys play together.

karma and you are both stubborn, and so you guys are like a rainbow brick wall with bubble guns at the top. it's the most accurate description of your personalities together that i can give.

when it comes to school, you guys are one and the same. you've got good grades and stuff, but you do not pay attention.

you will have an assignment that was given at the beginning of the week, and you're finishing it literally morning of. and then you get a perfect score.

you guys spend a lot of time outside together. whether that's looking for cats in sidewalks, going to playgrounds and parks, or finding a lake and skipping rocks together. you guys definitely feed the ducks, too.

you kiss him a lot. he definitely doesn't mind—he welcomes it. while, of course, throwing in a few teasing phrases.

you guys make a lot of dirty jokes together. it's crazy you guys haven't been reported to the police for the amounts of looks you guys have gotten.

you guys collect stuff for each other. you collect stamps and he collects rocks, so you guys trade each other stuff. if someone doesn't have enough to trade, you pay in affection.

you guys climb on stuff a lot. it's a normal occurrence to see you guys on the roof or hanging off a window of a 6-floor tall apartment building.

notes: every time i write these i get reminded of my nonexistent social life 🫶

also i'm so sorry for taking so long ☹️ been feeling v unmotivated to write but i did see the spider-man movie so i'm feeling much better (and in love w miles oh m y god)

[release-the-sheep]

Very glad you reblogged thst ask game because I was secretly hoping you would.

Wednesday Night Fever: Where did the title come from?

And I'm also going to take this as an opening and ask what brings you to your characterizations of Maura and Jane in a romantic context (because I think it's absolutely spot on)?

oh my goodness yay! hi!

So, WNF was originally going to be a shorter, much more pwp-esque affair wholly inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's song Espresso, because I listen to music while thinking about my blorbos and my brain grabbed onto the idea of that as a Maura song and then proceeded to go brrrr about it. So it was gonna be called something like "Isn't that sweet? (I guess so)" in classic songfic fashion. But then I was thinking about how they would end up in a scenario where Maura is teasing Jane who is trying, for whatever reason, to hold back, only not really trying and just getting desperate and losing her mind a little, and plot happened. And at that point it felt improper not to have the title be related to the case.

Honestly, I find titles Hard. So I was looking for an easy out of some sort, and I figured, the murder happened outside a club, what's a phrase that's easily recognizable as being club-related... Saturday Night Fever. okay but get a little silly with it... different day of the week. Sure. That's how it happened, lol.

As for your second query........ what indeed. Very good question. I don't exactly know. I know my writing of Jane's Figuring It Out is heavily informed by my own experience of that, but that's not really what you asked. A lot of my characterization of them together is informed and maybe cribbed from (franken-cribbed from, I guess, since it's a lot of sources) All of the fic that I read upon first watching and continue to read now. That includes yours, btw. A lot of DanteBeatrice77's stuff as well, and coolbyrne, and @domini-porter, and @julieverne, and more recently @doomsday-dj and..... so many. god there are so many great writers in this fandom. I'm forgetting more than one for sure and I'm sorry to those folks but man there are so many.

I also have a very wonderful fiancée ( @vocallife) I have been mentioning in the majority of my comments lately because we've been using fic as bedtime stories and I read to her, and sometimes our dynamic matches with Jane and Maura's so I do draw on that, too. It's the whole service top/power bottom thing, I find it fairly consistently transposeable to our favourite detective and chief medical examiner.

And also my characterization comes from the fucking performances put on by Angela Michelle Harmon and Sasha Alexander. There are so many gay, gay choices those two made all the time constantly on that set and I simply want to explore them

[indignantlemur]

I was wondering if you had any advice for beginners writing a long fanfic?

Thank you.

Hello! I actually do have some advice, though of course I must stress that what works for me is not necessarily what will work for others.

I'll break this down into two categories - general and specific.

🖊️GENERAL WRITING ADVICE:

🌟FIRST: Find a process that works for you to stay on track.

Some people find making a diagram or a mind-map of ideas and plotlines helps them stay on track. Some people make a bullet-point list of what they need to accomplish in each chapter. Some don't even bother making a list at all, and write on the fly.

Personally, I've found that making an outline helps me immensely. I can flesh out the outlined points as I need to, throwing in possible bits of dialogue or descriptions that come to me when I think about a scene I've planned, and I can move each plot point around as needed. Not only does this keep me organized, but if I need to take a break from writing, I'm not left floundering when I come back to it. I can pick up the threads right away, because I know exactly how and where I left them and what they're meant to tie into. I keep all of my plot notes on a separate document that I can switch over to (or keep open on a second screen, or even just open on my phone, really) and I reference it constantly.

I do this for shorter stories as well as longer ones, and the key to make this approach work is understanding that the plot points and tidbits I have prepared are guidelines. Only the bare bones are set in stone, and even then I give myself as much flexibility as possible. Sometimes, the scene develops in such a way that I can't include the dialogue or descriptions I'd hoped to because now it doesn't make sense - and that's fine. I save the defunct bits, cut and paste it to a junk drawer document where I put all my missing and cut scenes, and see if I can reuse them in the future. No writing is a wasted effort.

🌟SECOND: Get a second pair of eyes on your work.

Find a beta-reader, or a very good friend who isn't afraid to tell you when something needs work. Ideally, both. Beta-readers are worth their weight in gold twice over (I love you @emilie786!) and will help you with the grammar and the flow of the scene, often catching mistakes you miss. Some beta-readers only want to proof-read, and some want to be more involved in your writing process - clear communication about goals and expectations is key!

Likewise, a writer-friend who's willing to look at your work while it's still rough and give you feedback on it (becoming your alpha audience, as it were) is an amazingly helpful person. They can help you by suggesting different takes on a scene, or alternate phrasing when your writing feels a bit awkward in places, or even workaround for plot problems and any difficulties you run into. I frequently chat with @the-lady-general about our different writing projects, and it's been immensely helpful for both of us.

🌟THIRD: Be prepared to kill your darlings.

So, you've written a thing. You worked hard on it, poured your heart and soul into it, and you love it to pieces. Of course you do! Only... your beta-reader had torn a scene or a character to shreds, however kindly, and now you have to cope with rewriting it.

A kneejerk response a lot of new writers have to this is to get defensive and upset - I've been guilty of this myself, in the distant past when dinosaurs still roamed the Earth. I'll tell you now what someone should have told me then: sometimes, a person has to be cruel to be kind. A beta-reader or a friend telling you a scene needs work is a gift compared to your story being panned by negative reviews after the fact, especially if you are the sort to put a lot of emotional value on your reviews (as many of us do).

When this happens, because it inevitably will, listen.

Step back, take a day or two to reset your brain if you need to, and then review what your beta-reader told you. Look at it objectively, without emotion. If you cannot, bring in a friend or mentor who can help you do so. Go over what's been said, the chief complaints and concerns, and open up a new document. Copy the scene. Paste it over. Rewrite the scene in the new document, taking all of the advice given to you into account. Once you're done, take a break. Make a cup of tea. Grab a snack. Go for a walk, even. When you're done, come back and read both the original and rewritten scenes.

You may very well find that your writing has benefited from the exercise, if nothing else, but I suspect you will find you like the rewrite a little better.

🌟FOURTH: Writing tutorials and guides are goldmines.

If you're struggling with writing a scene, or even if you just think it doesn't flow the way you want, look at what other writers who can write these scenes suggest. I struggle with action scenes, personally, and I've been referencing a lot of guides for Hoarfrost (which is still in the works but getting closer to completion!) to shore up those weak points in my writing.

Heck, I spent a literal week reading nothing but smut guides and writing tutorials, learning everything from phrasing to atmosphere-building, before I felt brave enough to try writing TSKW, never mind actually posting chapter 44 of Emigre. My ads haven't been the same since. The VPN did nothing.

Of course, a thesaurus is a valuable tool as a writer, but learning how to stitch your words together to create a scene is more than just knowing twelve different synonyms for the word "said." To that end, I would say that there is absolutely nothing shameful about taking inspiration from other writers and published authors, or from guides and tutorials. So long as you're not copying another's work or borrowing their ideas without permission, of course.

And, finally,

🌟FIFTH: Don't be afraid of writing badly.

I started writing when I was 8 - silly, nonsensical things with no particular plot or plan. Charming, but terrible. I got into fanfiction at 12, and the stuff I wrote was beyond cringe-inducing. Mary Sues, flat descriptions with no life to them, using too much emotion or too little, unrealistic reactions and irrational decisions from every character unfortunate enough to be involved - you name it, I wrote it.

All of this is a perfectly normal part of writing, even if I'd rather walk into the sea with a canon ball lovingly bundled in my arms rather than let any of it see the light of day ever again.

Through these horrible, absolutely godawful first steps into the world of writing, I grew. I got negative reviews, and supportive ones. I took breaks and tried again later. I wrote and rewrote. I erased entire documents and started from scratch more times than I can count (which I kind of regret, hence my advice to make a junk drawer document). I spent weeks, months, even years using my maladaptive daydreaming to hone scenes, refine characterizations, and tweak plot ideas. I have stories and worlds in my head that have been percolating for a literal decade or more, and they still don't feel ready to put onto paper yet - but if I don't start despite that, they never will be.

So don't be afraid of writing badly, and certainly don't let that fear stop you from writing at all. After all, churning out a rough, unrefined first draft is the first and most important step to learning how to write well.

✒️SPECIFIC WRITING ADVICE

The first, best piece of specific advice I ever got when starting out was this:

🌟Describe the scene as if you were describing it to a blind person.

(I always took this advice to mean someone who had recently lost their sight, rather than someone who would have no shared frame of reference for visual descriptions, but you're quite welcome to interpret it differently.)

The colours and shapes we readily think of when it comes to describing a scene are important, but what about texture? Scent? Taste? Scent in particular is hugely important to people because it's directly linked to our memories, but sound and touch are also very important for setting a scene. By excluding those details, you are robbing the audience of layers of immersion.

Think about the sights and scents and sounds around you as you go about your day. How would you describe them? The smell of coffee from across the room - is it earthy, bitter, burnt? Is Karen from accounting eating fish tacos again, despite multiple complaints, and now the cloying, oily aroma of microwaved fish has saturated the entire office? What about the warmth of sunlight streaming through a nearby window against your arm, the way the light catches on the hard edges of the furniture and the highlights in a woman's hair. What about the sound of your shoes against the floor as you walk, the click of heels and the shuffle and squeak of sneakers? Think about how you would describe what you're wearing, beyond bare facts. The softness of the fabric, the sturdiness of the construction, the weight of the material - how would you put them into words?

Spend time actively paying attention to the world around you, to conversations and scenery and people, and ask yourself: how would I write this?

The second piece of advice may seem contradictory, given the first, but it's worth hearing anyway:

🌟Sometimes less is more.

Descriptions and explanations are an important part of story-telling, enhancing the scene and building the world around it, but there's a time and a place. We don't need to know every single descriptive detail about the main character in the first paragraph, or even the first chapter. We don't need to know the entire history of the new alien species the moment we meet them, or even for years after the first encounter. We don't need to wade through ten pages describing how strange and bizarre the alien trees are, nor do we need three different descriptions of the shape of each leaf on every branch.

Learn to space out your expositions and descriptions. Treat them like sprinkles - they look better when they're spread out over the whole cake, rather than clumped in one spot.

My third bit of general advice is this:

🌟Don't rush it.

It's really, really tempting to rush towards that one amazing scene you have planned out in your head - the one with the big emotional impact, the plot twist, the big scene - but don't! Hold off! We, the readers, don't know about all the details that lead up to that scene. We don't know about the layers of meaning and all the build up that leads to that great pay-off. Without that, we simply won't get it. We won't understand what you're trying to convey, or why it's such a big deal.

Take the time to build up the story, to show us how your characters learn and adapt and grow with each challenge. That journey is important. It might feel tedious, like a slog you have to get through to get from Point A to Point B, but we need it! We need those scenes, those moments, in order to stand where you want us to stand when the big scene begins, to know what we need to know and feel what you want us to feel as we watch it happen.

And finally, my fourth and final bit of specific advice:

🌟Wish fulfillment is fun, but realism is what draws us in.

We have all made Mary Sues, Gary Stus, and every possible permutation of them, even if we never quite put pen to paper with them. Many folks who get into writing start by imagining a character who serves as a kind of wish fulfillment or power fantasy put into writing. It's perfectly normal - but the thing to remember is that those characters are a bit... bland. They don't struggle. They don't fail. They don't lose. Or if they do, it's not in a meaningful way. That kind of character is so divorced from reality that it breaks the readers' suspension of disbelief.

Everyone alive has a combination of talents and failings, weaknesses and strengths, insecurities and weird quirks. That's part of the Human experience. A perfect, flawless character defies that experience, and thus we cannot relate to them. The character becomes flat and uninspiring to the audience, and once that happens all that remains is apathy. When there are no stakes, there is no investment. Why should we care about a character who will never fail against even the most overwhelming odds? We already know the ending, because the character cannot lose.

So I urge you to really look at your characters. Some folks recommend taking "Mary Sue Litmus Tests" and such to get a rough idea of how your characters might be received, and those are certainly useful tools - but they are not the only tools at your disposal. Read constantly. Watch films and documentaries alike. Try out new show and book genres, even the ones you don't think you'll like. Really look at the people around you, at how they act versus what they do, and how their unique combination of personality traits and flaws coalesce into a perfectly ordinary person. Inspiration is literally everywhere around you, if you look for it.

Now, everyone creates characters differently. Some folks start with an idea, or a core concept, and build the character around that. Others make characters more procedurally (wherein those "20+ questions about your OC" posts are actually quite useful), and some even use generators to slap a bunch of traits together to see what sticks. Some characters seem to spring fully formed from the ground one day, and others can take years of tinkering to really come into being.

Look for inspiration everywhere, and you'll eventually find a way that works best for your writing.

...I know, I know. You asked for advice and I wrote you a book. If you've made it this far, kudos. Writing can be a lot of work, but never let it be anything other than a labor of love.

[dollyboned]

how destiny's child emotion and killugon are post-separation parallels; a very, very long analysis i wrote in 2h

hi! im danaë, an autistic person which sp-in is psychology and hxh, mainly killugon. i spent two hours yesterday writing about this topic instead of sleeping so enjoy it lol

WARNING!! if you didn't notice THEY'RE LOVE INTERESTS. this text isn't killugon-free, im proud of it AND im blocking everyone that cries about them being only besties. respectfully, no. thank you. (also, english isn't my first language. sorry for any eventual spelling mistakes!)

right on the first verse we hear "it's over and done / but the heartache lives on the inside / and who are you clinging to instead of me tonight?". this could apply to both gon and killua.

gon & "and who are you clinging to instead of me tonight?". killua left with alluka, he has someone to care about and protect. he has company. gon isn't the type to be jealous of a little girl (really, people need to wake up about it. he isn't), but he IS the type to be sad about not being cared even if he denies it. he's a kid; every kid likes to feel protected.

but the thing is, killua isn't happy about it neither. even if he loves to protect alluka, it's different. he loves her, of course, but there's the lack of the warmth of being mutually cared because gon ALSO cared about his well-being (and im fighting everyone who says he didn't). im not saying alluka won't care for killua, but she'll care like a little sister does, not how someone that love you romantically does — and that's good because killua would NOT be able to make it if anyone tried to be the tiniest bit of what gon was when they parted ways.

and then comes this: "and where are you now? / now that I need you? / tears on my pillow / wherever you go, go". oh, dude. this is so killugon i feel ashamed of trying to explain to hxh community /hj

they both were constantly hurting from being away, even though this was the best for them at the time. they wanted each other to be near, wanted and needed, but they couldn't. there is this thin and fragile veil of deep sorrow that would make them get so attached to the other that would be more sickening than the sadness of losing their "other piece" for a while. it's more worth crying over memories than losing their mind from being deadly (metaphorically and literally) codependent.

this links to the next phrase: "i'll cry me a river that leads to your ocean". crying alone is more safe than being next to each other. they'll cry over memories, as i said, and they'll cry about distance and they'll cry over everything that could've been different. they'll find the other in their tears, the hugs will come out of the bittersweet sorrow they carry around, but they'll be separated. they can cry rivers that lead to a valley of what it was and what could've been, but it'll be all. the sadness won't make them be together again.

there comes killua part: "you'll never see me fall apart". he needs to be the big brother now. he need to be alluka's point of safety so he can assure their existence, and for this killua needs to be strong as a rock, he needs alluka to look at him and think she can trust him with anything. he's the big brother, isn't he? emotions about a past that doesn't belong to him anymore aren't going to help with surviving. but he does break silently, while he is trying to sleep ("tears on my pillow"), when something looks to much like a typically gon thing, when memories crawl in. he's just a fragile boy needing to use the super strong hero facade again.

the first part of the next verse is "in the words of a broken heart / it's just emotions taking me over / caught up in sorrow, lost in the song / but if you don't come back / come home to me, darling". this is suffering. both of them are heartbroken, left "alone" to face worlds they feel they don't belong to anymore, wanting their partner in crime to make things less insufferable. they remember the other on daily little things — a song, a quote, a smell. but killua never comes to visit and gon isn't able to do it either — there's no home left besides each other's hearts, and they live there rent-free even if it hurts like hell. memories hurt, the past is like glass and salt being poured into an open wound to later be mixed with alcohol, but they aren't able to say goodbye to it because saying goodbye to the pain is like saying goodbye to the last tangible thing they've from each other — ironically, the pain of being separated —, and the last thing they want is to say goodbye again so they hold it close to their hearts like a trophy.

but as if they're bargaining, here comes "don't you know there's nobody left in this world to hold me tight? / and don't you know there's nobody left in this world kiss goodnight?". there's people, but there's nothing of what they need. they need someone that knows how to make them feel safe, loved, safe — nor alluka or mito can do this for neither gon or killua the way they need it to be done. they try to, but they can't because the type of sadness they're carrying is exclusively from a love that never had a true end; they parted ways, but never stopped loving each other even if their trust was a little bit weaker, and carrying a love that is technically in open hurts so much that no one can try to mimic how it was. a tight hug from mito or alluka won't be the same of a silly headpat from killua or a bright smile from gon because isn't about the act but who's doing it.

and then we've the last verse before the music repeats itself, that i truly believe that wraps up everything in killugon's love story: "i'm there at your side / a part of all the things you are / but you got a part of someone else / you gotta go find your shining star".

gon wanted to find ging and be back at whale's island; killua had to protect alluka. they felt so much love, but they had other people in their lives too that needed to be looked over. even if their story is forever intertwined at some point, both of them are mix of a lot of people and have small amounts of them inside themselves. this is what makes it a tiny little bit easier to go through not having each other near: other people. the tiny pieces of every person they've ever met that created their personality and their new horizons are what eventually make them heal from all the suffering and sorrow and finally be able to reunite again, friendship strong and a love so healthy like a daisy that just blossomed.

they're forever in love. the distance and the sadness was necessary for them to see that things can be hard to handle alone, but they're never alone as they have other people that care for them deeply and are willing to see them fully happy — just as in emotion's music video. when they learn to be complete by themselves, they can multiply together and form a relationship that adds up, not that is dangerously subtracting their mental health. they deserve to love each other when they're ready. ♡

end of the analysis. thx for reading this bible i wrote in 2h lol

[apotatomashedbybts]

Homecoming

✉ Pairing: idol!Seokjin × secretagent!reader ✉ Genre: fluff, angst, romance ✉ Trope: married au, flashback au ✉ Word Count: 6.5k+ ✉ Trigger Warning: mentions of gun, blood, injuries. suffocating feelings. ✉ Rating: pg13 ✉ Banner: @fleurguk / @sweetieguk [My loveliest, Sana! Thank you so much for making this beautiful banner for me! 🤍 ] ✉ Beta Reader: @eoieopda [I can't thank you enough, Jade, for reading and helping me through this writing! Without you this fic wouldn't be what it is today! Thank you for all the hard work you did for me and for all the little compliments you left(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) They mean a lot to me! Thanks for being such an amazing beta💜🌼]

✉ Disclaimer:-

↳ This fic is the revamped version of my first ever published fanfic on Tumblr 4 YEARS AGO ON OCTOBER 25, 2018.

↳ The secret organisation mentioned in the story is purely fictional. However, the other military organisations/groups do exist in real life. ✉ Author's Note(1): I remember coming up with this story, all those years ago, while doing living creature things in bathroom at night and writing this down as soon as I got out! To say that it was exhilarating would be one way to put it. But more than that I felt liberated and happy that I found something that I wanted to do! I wanted to write! And let people read It! While revamping this story I felt embarrassed about the way I wrote it all those years ago but it also reminded me of how I was so excited and confident about it and I didn't really care about criticism nor did I think I wrote bad. I miss that part of me... Now I am constantly worrying if it's good enough, continuously hoping for a little interaction... I hope I can go back to just loving my work... and not drown in self doubt. But, hey, it's all about growth, isn't it? ✉ Author's Note(2): In this story, there are a few parts where the flashbacks jump between times. I have included the times but I hope it's not too confusing.

✉ Author's Note(3): It'd mean the world to me if you not only like but also REBLOG and let me know about your thoughts on this! ♡⁠(⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠). Your feedback gives me the motivation to keep on writing ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧ ✉ Taglist: @sugarwithtea , @tangy-tangerine , @lonelystudio , @kuuipobangtan ✉ Crosspost: ao3 | Wattpad ✉ Extras: Book Cover | Homecoming Timeline

✉ Summary: When you breezed into Seokjin's life, he understood why the phrase "home is where the heart is" is so celebrated. Despite the cruel nature of your professions, both of you managed to live through it but Seokjin's worst fear clutched his throat when you disappeared unannounced for two years and he felt his very home taken away from him. However, promises are meant to be kept and one must return home at the end of the day.

OR

— where Seokjin waits for y/n to return home.

Seokjin's life is bountiful today. 

In his widely spread bright kitchen the air feels more forgiving than it has been for a very long time. The sunlight seems friendlier than usual and the incoming sounds from outside fall softer on the ears. 

Seokjin could enjoy all of these consciously only if he wasn't busy removing the last of the now crumbled architectural masterpieces of spiders from the side of the oven hurriedly. But what he does notice is the clamour of his friends — except the youngest, Jungkook — as they start to swarm the kitchen with bags full of all the necessary groceries that he had requested them to bring earlier.  

The third youngest whines while putting the bag he is holding on the counter, “Hyung! I want to stay with you!”

As much as Seokjin would have wanted to have them here, today is not the day. Today is a day that he wants to keep his mind full of you and only you. So, he pulls off a serious face that almost goes halfway to a pout and says, “No can do, Jimin.”

Seeing Jimin sulking, Namjoon intervenes and with a light tug on Jimin's left sleeve he says, “You know how it is, Jimin.” Then looking at Seokjin's ‘already back to being a busy body self' Namjoon smiles, “Let him be. It's for y/n.” 

“We will come back tomorrow. He won't mind us then. Let's leave for now.” Yoongi states matter of factly while standing at the door, preparing to leave and waiting for others to join him.  

Amidst the busy shuffling of them preparing to leave Jungkook comes back from the backyard. He informs while looking at Jin with his big doe eyes and pointing his right thumb outside, “Hyung, they have finished cleaning up the rooms and the porch. They said they’ll be done after a couple of hours, once they clean the pool and garage. Should I stay with them?” 

“Yeah, no. We’re leaving.” Namjoon grabs Jungkook’s one arm and Hoseok the other. Yoongi patters forward, lightly pushing Jungkook’s figure while Namjoon and Hoseok drag him backwards. 

Jungkook’s doe eyes become even bigger in surprise and confusion, “Huh? Already?” 

To which he gains nothing more than a quick “yep” from Yoongi.

Seokjin mouths a small 'thank you' to Namjoon and Yoongi for helping him out. Namjoon and Yoongi don't say much but with a slight nod they wave goodbye to him and leave with the rest of the boys. 

Closing the door behind them Seokjin heaves a heavy sigh and scurries back to the kitchen. He has a lot to do. Even though the day is still young, he feels like he doesn't have enough time to do everything he wants to. 

While sorting out the ingredients for your favourite sushi he chuckles at how this one thing has survived all these years on your list of favourite foods. And with that his mind takes him back to the day he first met you at the fansign seven years ago. 

 •••••••

Fansigns had always been Seokjin's favourite. He loved interacting with his fans and absolutely adored their cute and fun way of showing their appreciation.

That day wasn't any different. He was looking forward to receiving all the love personally from the fans but that changed when you showed up. He didn't expect to fall in love himself. 

He was the first member among them to meet the fans as he was sitting at the left-most seat. You greeted him shyly and handed over your album for him to sign. Jin looked at you and he noticed that even though you were kneeling you still looked as if you were almost standing. You knew exactly what he was thinking and when you were about to just say it he asked, “Sorry, but how tall are you?”

You replied almost immediately, lightly placing your palm on your forehead, smiling sheepishly at your own unexpectedly right guess, “6'3". It's hereditary.” 

The time given wasn't enough. While still recovering from the heat in your ears, you took out the huge insulated container, handed it over to him and said, “I made these sushi for you all. I hope you like them.” 

He made that surprised face accompanied with a 'woah' and a bunch of thank yous. Before you could say anything else you were told to move on to the next member. 

Maybe it was the lingering taste of your handmade sushi or perhaps it was your sparkling eyes when you spoke - neither of which he could choose between - that made Seokjin think of you more often than not. He regretted in those moments of remembrance that he couldn’t ask for your name. 

People say, when you want something with your whole heart then the whole universe mechanises itself to make it true for you. It worked for Seokjin too. 

In the next fansign, you were there - with your box of sushi and that sparkling smile adorning your face. 

When you knelt in front of Jin the second time, who was sitting in his usual, left-most seat, you couldn’t help but avert your gaze as you felt the gradual sensation of heat rising from your neck to your whole face at his words, “I have been waiting for you.” 

Years later, on your fourth year marriage anniversary, in the comfort of your couch in your beach house, you had told Jin, while reminiscing that fateful meeting that the wishfulness of it all made it harder for you to forget the smile that nearly took the shape of a smirk on his lips and the intent gaze with which Jin was looking at you while saying that. He’d set you on fire and you stayed willfully.

You had also pointed out how all the members craned their necks to look at him losing his usual composure over you. They had made fun of him for it later but in Jin’s words, it was a very small price to pay if he could show how much he admired you.

“What’s your name?” Jin asked while signing your album. 

“Y/n Y/l/n.” Your voice trembled in anticipation of all things happening around you.  

For Jin, on other hand, restlessness came to him after the fansign was over. He couldn’t stop imagining your reaction when you would discover his phone number written on the page he signed, accompanied by a cheeky little note under it that said - “looking forward to a text from a lovely stranger.” 

“That was super cheesy, honestly.” You had smiled, while reminiscing again while cuddling in the same couch as the sunset and the salty afternoon breeze both caressed your skin. 

Seokjin had looked at you and while taming away the strands of hair on your face he wished he could just look at your happy face forever like this silently but you were looking at him expectantly with those deep eyes and he had to say something back. 

But there was no taming the tempest of love he felt for you so he had cupped your face in his hands to fill it with kisses and nuzzled your neck while saying, “You loved it nonetheless, didn’t you?” 

“Yes, I did.” You had giggled under his touch. 

Falling in love with you was easy for Seokjin. 

About a week after giving you his phone number, while everyone was busy taking rest amidst the shooting of a music video, Jin had slipped out in the afternoon through the back of the residential building. 

The night before, Jin had told you through text how much he wanted to see you. For some reason, picturing his pouty face typing the text had made your heart burn. 

You had the day off so you drove to Chuncheon where they were shooting and called Jin upon arriving. 

You were sitting on the wooden platform over the lake, waiting for him. You saw Jin running towards you from a distance so you stood up immediately to wave at him so that he could notice you. 

In hindsight, Seokjin realised it was a bad idea to run at you with everything he had just so he could hug you as soon as possible, as you lost your footing when he all but tackled you; and both of you fell into the water.

In the split second before falling, you had braced yourself for hitting the cold water in this freezing winter but the water was surprisingly warm and it felt nice. 

You wiped the droplets off of your eyes to get a better look at Jin who just spat out a mouthful of water and was running his hands through his wet hair and face. 

The heart burn was back and you finally asked what you had been pondering over for a couple of days now, “Jin… Can I politely ask you to go out with me?” 

As awestruck as Jin was at your question, he didn’t miss a beat to answer back, “Can I… politely kiss you to say yes?” 

Falling in love with you was easy for Seokjin. But loving you and losing himself in your kiss was easier. 

He did get scolded when he returned to the shooting spot with all his clothes wet and make-up washed off. Everyone assumed that his red face and ears were a result of the cold and that he was smiling sheepishly because he felt guilty. The real reason was a well-kept secret between you two. 

It wasn’t easy dating an idol but you made sure to support him as discreetly as you could. 

Thankfully, due to the nature of your career, you were no stranger to discretion.

After finishing your three-month-long Winter Warfare training in Pyeongchang under SWC – also known as ROK-SWC which stands for The Republic of Korea Army Special warfare Command and is responsible for the army’s special operations forces – you had completed your year-long training for the 707th Special Mission Group — which was an elite counter-terrorism force made of only the best of the country. Being an ex-UDT/SEAL, it was easy for you to go through the rigorous, 10-day selection program and get selected for the prestigious team. 

You thanked your stars for having you go through all that romance-is-a-luxury stuff before you met Seokjin. 

Now, you had ample time on your hands before receiving your recruitment letter. So, you attended his showcases, visited most of his domestic shoots and spent nights, whenever he was available, in his apartment. You duped the hawk-eyes of lurking reporters by disguising yourself as a fast food delivery person - it was super effective. 

It wasn’t easy dating as an idol but Seokjin tried his best to do his part too. Whenever you visited him he made sure to take time out of his busy schedule to be with you. On his day off he visited you at your local sparring centre to watch you practice and hype you up. Sometimes he even showed up with banners to cheer you on just like you did during his shows. And all you could do at times like those was to laugh while covering your whole face, mirror his cheering movements and do well in practice. 

Since it was nearly impossible for him to take you on dates in public, sometimes he decorated his apartment like restaurants or picnic spots to give yourselves a normal dating experience.

After four months of secret meetings, longing for each other, countless kisses and innumerable laughs, Seokjin understood why people called a person their home. 

As the realisation hit him, he thought it was about time he asked you if you felt the same too. 

And Seokjin knew exactly how to make it special for you. 

One fine spring morning, he took you to a dog park that he had rented for the day. 

The night before, Namjoon had asked him if he was sure he wasn't rushing things. 

Seokjin had replied that he was afraid of it being too late.

The choice of place for an early morning date couldn’t have been better since you just adored dogs. You loved it even more because neither of you owned a dog. 

Like an unavoidable phenomenon, Seokjin came to you like a book that you must memorise, like a notebook that you must highlight and put sticky notes on.

And because you knew him so well, you decided not to squint your eyes at the oddity of Seokjin’s constant check-ins while you were busy playing with a border collie, his hasty retreating steps or the brittle grin that barely reached his red ears to assure you that nothing was out of ordinary.

You just smiled to yourself, preparing yourself amidst the loud colliding of your heart's beats that fought with each other like two racers trying to win first place. 

You knew of his intentions and you knew that your answer was going to be yes. 

What you didn’t know was that a very adorable golden retriever would grab the end of your long jacket and drag you to the only cherry blossom tree of the enormous park that stood mighty and beautifully in the middle of it. Now you understood why Jin had insisted you on wearing that in the morning. 

Under the cherry blossom tree were fifteen cute little corgis that sat patiently with their tongues out and wagging tails. Each of them had one placard hung on their necks with letters written separately which read, “WILL YOU MARRY ME?” 

It was a silly and tiresome feat to achieve. He knew you would have been happy even if he had proposed to you in some alleyway with a wildflower ring, but it was you; and if he could Jin would bring the whole moon to your lap to make you feel special. However, much to his pouty lips and flared nostrils, physics is an ass. 

There were a whole bunch of words that Jin thought he would be feeling for the next coming moments. But when you walked over to him with your hands covering your gasping mouth and your watery eyes amidst the timidly falling petals of cherry blossoms and uttered the word “yes”, none of the words he thought of sufficed. He slipped the rose quartz ring on your ring finger and hugging you he let the world surrounding him fall silent under the sound of your heartbeat.

“How did you even manage to do all that?” You asked while on your way home in the car. You giggled remembering how all the corgis charged at Seokjin, making him roll over the ground, and climbed on top of him when he was trying to give them treats after everything was done. 

He looked at you. His face was trying to do multiple expressions at the same time. He wanted to smirk, and act cocky; he also wanted to hold back his laughter. Ultimately all he could do was pout and say, “You know I could have done all of that myself but I was short on time so the people from KKA (Korea Kennel Agility) helped me.” 

You laughed at his reply, “I am not running away though.” 

Jin intertwined his fingers with yours and pressed a kiss at the back of your hand. His lips stayed a few seconds longer than a chaste kiss required, “Mhm.” 

 Two weeks after the proposal, the wedding was held secretly in Seokjin’s family home. His band members and your respective families were present. You moved into the new house that Seokjin had bought prior to marriage in a nice suburban neighbourhood. Before you let reality hit you, you gifted yourselves what you could: a breezy honeymoon getaway to the beach, for as long as possible, in each other's complete presence. 

The reality that hit you two was sad and lonely. 

Oftentimes as a human defence mechanism, they try to look over the harsh reality. They ignore its existence and keep it shoved inside a storage bunker above head until it comes crashing down. It was the same for both of you. 

While dating, neither of you thought about how hard it was going to be to have enough of each other and live as a family even after marriage… Especially after marriage. 

You were already training to be in the SWC’s 707th special mission group and Jin’s career as an idol was far from over. 

Two months after your wedding was still manageable. Then, one sweltering August morning, you got summoned at the SWC headquarters to receive your recruitment letter from your superiors. It wasn’t the one you were aiming for. You were taken on by an arcane and powerful organisation. It was led by a collaboration of several governments undertaking covert missions to address sensitive and violent crimes: the Organised Crime Control Association, or in short known as The ORCA. 

You were dumbstruck. Seokjin was proud of you. 

He knew what you were capable of, and even though he wanted you to stay close to him he knew where you would shine the most. To him you were as smart as Sherlock and more impregnable than Jack Reacher. 

You were silent and stuck after receiving the news - Jin pushed you towards your dream just like he had always done to himself. 

The reporting HQ of the organisation was outside of South Korea, and you had to depart within three days’ notice. You assured Jin that you would keep in touch as best you could. But your best wasn’t always enough. 

As soon as you arrived there, your internet presence was erased from every database except from the organisation itself. Being an ORCA member also required you to get rid of the phone you possessed and instead use a burner phone that they provided. 

Contacting family was an extravagance for everyone and you respected that sacrifice. 

Both of you lived on infrequent texts and even rarer opportunities to listen to each other's voices. 

Jin would tell you about his day and you would yours. Even the most mundane things would be the most exciting thing that you both had listened to in a while. 

“I have a day off today so I stayed up all night and played games. That’s why I woke up this late!” 

“I broke three pieces of training equipment today so I have to wash the dishes after dinner.” 

Daily flavour of monotonous life was delivered to the other side of the phone in a wrapper of - I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. 

Seven months of bone-draining training later you returned home on a much deserved vacation. It was a reward for having the most impressive evaluation result, nearly making up for the broken arm and the burn your back had sustained to receive it.

It took you a month to recover and Jin made sure that it took no more than the minimum time required. He was with you all the time - taking care of the littlest of your needs. 

You were grateful but seeing him always on high alert broke your heart. You wanted to tell him to relax his shoulders and peel off some of the attention he was giving to you to his own work. 

But he wanted you to be healthy as soon as possible so that you could lead your normal life.

Normal life… 

The life that Jin wanted for you wasn't your normal life. Your 'normal' life was out in the wilderness full of heinous crimes and the smell of blood and gunpowder. 

'This' was your vacation - a way out of the ordinary. 

You knew that once he heard about what really was going to happen he would break and protest. But it was necessary to let him in on some basic information so he could prepare himself for that. Moreover, you had already broken one of the core rules of the organisation by letting him know you were working for The ORCA. 

One evening, after your month-long healing period, you walked over to your husband in the dining room and back-hugged him. You rested your chin on his shoulder and called out to him with a sigh trapped inside the cavity of your chest, trying not to sound too sad, “Seokjin-ah…”

He knew that tone. You called him like that only when you needed to say something serious. 

But he acted clueless anyway and while setting the plates on the dinner table and placing a quick kiss on your cheek, he quipped, “What’s poppin’, good lookin’?” 

You couldn’t help but scoff at his attempt to lighten the mood. You needed to tell him before it was too late. “Come on, Seok! I am trying to be serious here.” 

“Yeah… I am sorry, poppins. I am listening now.” He held your arms and made you sit on a chair. Then he dragged another chair to sit facing you and held your hands in his, “What is it?” 

His thumbs drawing small circles on the back of your hands didn’t soothe you much but you tried to look relaxed, “My vacation… Um… I am going to stay here until they call me back. And they are going to call me sooner or later.” 

Your hands fell from Seokjin’s hold like a yellowed leaf from a branch. He couldn’t believe that you just said that you wouldn’t stay at home, that you wouldn’t stay with him, and you were planning to go back to a job that gave you a broken arm and burn marks just on the training! 

You placed your hand on his shoulder and called him softly, “Seok-ah…” 

His head hung low as he kept on glaring at the floor. Even if the dining room wasn’t so brightly lit, you wouldn’t have missed the teardrops that escaped your husband’s eyes and fell directly on the floor without getting the chance to glide over his quivering soft cheeks. 

Seeing him refusing to get his head up and look at you, you called again, replicating your previous tone, “Seok-ah… Please listen to me.”

“NO!” An almost scream escaped his parched throat. He looked up at you quickly with glossy pleading eyes before looking down again, “You are not going anywhere.”  

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead on his and held his face in your hands. Your thumb grazed softly across his cheek, swiping away the tears that slipped and stained them.

“Seok-ah…” you whispered. He begged, “please don’t go…” 

“Please, look at me. Listen to me just this once.” You pleaded and he adamantly shook his head, still looking down. 

“Please? Just once?” The teardrops dancing along the brim of your eyes threatened to fall.

His eyes finally met yours and your tears fell just like his. 

You inhaled sharply, “Seok-ah, I can’t just quit my job out of nowhere. If I tell you to quit being an idol and do a normal day-to-day job, would you be able to? Too many people depend on you - be it emotionally or professionally. It’d be unfair. Same goes for me… It’s too important to just… leave! And you know more than me what it feels like to chase a dream and finally achieve it. I… love my job. And I can’t let my abilities rot.” 

You paused. Jin didn’t say anything back; he simply continued to look at you with those big eyes waiting for you to say something more. Something convincing.

You continued, “I know you are worried and I know that this work is dangerous as fuck! I get unnerved more than I would like to admit. But if I am allowed to be a little arrogant, I am the best in my field, well — almost.” You rolled your eyes. “But still I want you to have faith in me that no matter what happens I will return to you. No matter how long it takes me, no matter what happens. Can I ask for this much trust from you?" 

"It's not that I don't trust you, poppins… I trust you more than myself. But… it's just that I am so…” He gently caressed your once-broken arm while looking at it, “Scared… I just need some time.” 

His eyes darted back to yours and you understood where he was coming from; if he was in your place you would be wary too. 

You finally let go of the sigh you had been holding and whispered, “Okay. Let’s do that.”

At night you felt a soft hold on your hand - it jolted you awake. 

But you relaxed immediately when your body understood that it was Seokjin. 

He flinched a little seeing you stir out of slumber. His voice came out rather croaked, “I.. I am sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up.”

You glanced at the watch kept on the bedside table - it read 3:56 am. 

You sat up. In the white light of the LED seeping in through the window from the outside, you finally made out his face - his eyes were swollen and shiny red. 

He didn't let go of your hand. Instead he held the other one as well when you called him gently, “It's okay, baby. What happened? Why are you up so early?”

His voice came out but a whimper, “I just couldn’t fall asleep.”

He sniffled to speak clearly, “Your hands are calloused.” 

“You know, the downside of practice,” you shrugged. You went on with the flow of his conversation. You knew he would speak his mind eventually.

There was a silence that hung around for a few seconds like that awkward friend in the group before Seokjin spoke up again,  “I thought about it a lot… and it’s just not fair. Neither to you, nor to myself. But I know you…” He paused to take a deep breath as if to prepare himself to say the next words, “Promise me that no matter what happens you will come back to me.” 

You felt relieved and grateful. It wasn’t like Seokjin owned you and you needed his permission to do what you wanted to do with your life but his understanding and support made the emotional burden a lot less gravitational. 

“I don’t know when I’ll be able to return…” You squeezed his hands as an assurance, “But I promise that I will. You need to promise me one thing as well.” He looked at you with questioning eyes and you answered, “That you will lead your life normally keeping this faith in your heart that I am doing perfectly fine. Can you please promise me that?” 

Seokjin was well aware that it was nearly impossible for him to continue living normally knowing that you could be in a life threatening situation at any given moment but if it would give you a little bit of relief, he wouldn’t mind lying. “Promise.” 

“Thank you,” you whispered, pressing your foreheads together. 

“Oh! I need to request you one more thing! You might come across me in the streets while I am on duty. Please ignore me and treat me as you would treat any stranger. Can you please do that?”

He nodded vigorously, and wiped his runny nose with the back of his bare hand. 

You smiled and brought out a wet tissue kept in the side drawer. With it, you wiped his hand and patted his nose gently. 

He kept on staring at you while you were doing so; and when you were done, with a smile that hung on his lips like a decade old incandescent bulb trying its hardest to do its job properly, he remarked, “I think I should get used to doing it myself from now on.” 

The call finally came - later than dreaded, sooner than hoped for. 

The thing with living in absence of loved ones is that you never get used to it, no matter how much mental preparation you had done for it. 

So, when you kissed him goodbye from the doorstep instead of letting him drop you off at the airport, Jin was devastated. 

Jin didn’t want to move away from the doorstep; the larger part of his brain was trying to convince the rest of it that you would emerge from the line where you disappeared and laugh at him saying that it was all a prank. 

Alas! It was not. 

It was summer again and Summer was sad that it had been demoted from being Seokjin’s favourite season to his most hated one. 

But in all of the stifling air that hung around and inside Jin, a notification sound brought a gust of sea-scented breeze to him - a text message from you. 

“Check the drawer under the staircase.”

Seokjin took a moment to blink away the surprise and then he ran inside, leaving the threshold behind. 

Inside the drawer was a multi-patterned cardboard box with a note on top that said, ‘one for each day you miss me’ and within it was a pile of letters - 366 in total, in case it took you that long to keep your promise. 

Days were going by.

You were keeping your promise though contacting each other while you were away was rare. 

Officially, you were granted two vacations yearly. It didn’t matter which times of the year you took them as long as there wasn’t any mission that required your input. The length of your vacation also depended on the presence of operations and requirement of personnel and expertise. 

To ensure coverage, the agents were given a form upon entering the organisation. It asked the agents which time of the year they preferred to have a vacation. You had filled it up as ‘I am fine with any time of the year’. Of course you had preferences in mind but the higher-ups didn’t need to know about them. The response turned out to be in your favour because some heartless asshole in the authority made sure that no agent got the vacation that they put as their preference. That made power harassment a hot topic at the dinner table among the rookies. 

Even though you had years of experience and you were proficient in your job, you were a rookie in the organisation and therefore assigned to easier tasks. It was convenient because you were able to effortlessly wrap up the work in time.

You always made sure that you were home for Jin’s birthday and your wedding anniversary. 

In the beginning you also secured vacations as long as seven days. As promised, you returned home unscathed. 

But as years went by your holidays got shorter. 

On your fourth year anniversary, you got three days for your second vacation of the year. Jin took you to the beach house where you had your honeymoon. 

It freshened up memories that you cherished. And you cherished the person in those memories. You wished to stay home forever when Jin kissed you by the bonfire under the stars and your toes curled in the cold sand.

Just like any other human whose primary instinct is to adapt and survive, you both responded to your situation likewise. You made sure to make enough memories while being together - in shapes of photos and videos, laughter and smiles, kisses and sparkling eyes - to hold on to and reminisce when you stayed apart. You were living and adapting. 

But life is cruel and it couldn’t tolerate that it was beginning to seem bearable to both of you. 

After the last goodbye in the summer, that marked the beginning of your fifth year as an ORCA agent, Jin continued living just like he had made himself live all these years - waiting for the phone to make that special ringtone set for unknown numbers; going through the photos and videos of you and the two of you together, working consciously for the sake of everyone and himself; taking care of himself so that he doesn't get scolded once you returned home; keeping up with world affairs to make wild guesses about where you might be right at that moment and reading one letter per day. 

It was hard at first but he had started to get the hang of it. 

Seokjin’s worry started when you neither contacted him nor came back in winter as usual. 

Things turned blue when even after the 366th letter his phone didn’t vibrate with that special ringtone and you didn’t return to him in spring like you were supposed to. 

Jin felt his consciousness shutting down like a gradual power outage - one by one, bit by bit. 

The members were worried about both of you, but if they were to show their weakness to their oldest brother then who would keep him sane? 

“Sane…” Jin chuckled to himself in the darkness of the living room and wondered if he was ever sane for even a single day since you joined that hell of a stupid secret organisation. 

Now he felt even more insane because the walls of every room in this big house were beginning to close in on him; the ghost of your presence haunted every corner of its existence.

He had to make an escape, he had to survive, he had to keep his promise. 

He started to spend more and more of his time outside the empty house, in the company building - working himself to the bones, making a cocoon in his studio. 

He also began to reread the letters, starting from the very beginning.

At night, he buried his screams in the wet pillow and prayed for you to be safe and alive and that you would come back to him. 

“Is this too much to ask?” He wondered, “it’s been a long time…” 

His prayers were answered one fateful winter morning when he was woken up with a start by the unfamiliar relentless ringing of his phone. 

He fell from his couch and fumbled to take the phone out from under the letter that he was reading last night — 210th — and opened your text - ‘guess who is coming back home finally? See you tomorrow, lover boy.’  

He blacked out for a good minute because of the sudden burst of serotonin in his system. 

The entire day, Jin couldn’t wait for their schedule to wrap up and he kept on pestering the staff by asking repeatedly after each task, “Are we done yet?” 

When finally they were free to go Jin rushed out of the building with Taehyung who just liked tagging along wherever Jin went. 

Upon reaching, the forgotten house greeted them with upset cob-webs, sad furniture and prideful dust that weren’t too happy about the idea of being removed. The dust protested by invading their nasal cavities resulting in a series of immediate coughs and sneezes.

“Damn, hyung! When was the last time you came home?” Taehyung asked in a muffled voice after covering his nose and mouth with his scarf. 

Jin’s forlorn gaze travelled around the space and his voice came out rather distant. “I haven’t, yet.” 

•••••••

The beeping sound of the microwave oven pulls Seokjin out of his reverie. The muffins are the last one of the dishes that needed done. All the other preparations are complete. All he needs to do now is to wait - which is proving to be the hardest of all the tasks. 

He is restless and he can’t stop shaking his legs and repeatedly checking the time. He is trying hard to convince himself that years are a lot longer than a few hours but he can’t make the anticipation in his heart go down with any amount of pep talk. He is finally going to see your face, hear your voice and hold you in his arms. He is finally going to feel your warmth envelope his lonely frigid heart. 

Just as the sun sets, leaving the house at the mercy of the moonlight, the loud sound of the doorbell starts to echo throughout the house. 

Seokjin springs up from the inner threshold where he has been sitting on the floor, and before the ringing can stop he opens the door. 

A tanned smiling face lined with days of trauma greets him and Seokjin doesn't miss a beat to hug you. Keeping his ears on your chest he listens intently to the beats that greatly solace him. He squeezes you tighter in his embrace as his head moves up and down rhythmically on your very-much-breathing bosoms.  

Your life is merciful today. 

The water touching your body is the perfect temperature. The hands massaging your sore muscles and helping you clean are soft and gentle. The clothes you are wearing are crisp and clean. Your stomach doesn't have to growl for long and the food in front of you is warm and inviting — finally you are going to have the sushi you were dying for.

Most importantly, the person you are with now is someone with whom you don't need to stiffen your shoulders and strain your senses. 

You don't realise until you see his face how much you longed to see it. Seokjin's face is like a resting place for your eyes - a balmy sight. Looking at him now reminds you of the three days straight you had once spent in the surveillance room. When you came out and saw the greenery outside the building, you cried because your eyes had felt so relieved. 

Lying down on the bed with Seokjin snuggling you  under the cosy blanket, the fatigue finally catches up to you and you feel yourself getting swallowed by the soft mattress. You don’t remember the last time you felt so worriless while falling asleep or the last time sleep came to you so easily, so caringly. 

With drowsy eyes you look at your husband who is looking at you with a faint smile and some residual longing in his eyes and you suggest in a sleeplaced voice, “Maybe I should take voluntary retirement now.” 

Jin watches you fall asleep right after making that comment. He knows that it’s most likely your body’s comfort receiver talking and you would return to your usual self after getting enough rest. Still, he can’t help but water the little seed of hope that you just sowed in his heart. 

He rests his palm softly on your cheek and gently caresses the space beside your eye with his thumb. He shudders while thinking about the countless sleepless nights those beautiful eyes of yours have endured and the innumerable grotesque things they have witnessed. 

His mind tells him that maybe he can try to reason with you again later but right now he must give his own tired body some rest. 

Lying in the comfort of your presence in the familiar room makes him release a slow content sigh - the walls don’t feel suffocating anymore. 

He scoots closer to you and places a kiss on your forehead before whispering, “We have a lot to catch up on, poppins.”   

His arm moves on muscle memory and finds its way around you anchoring itself. 

Seokjin has been running for a while, trying to escape from a part of his reality but now he can stop doing that and get some rest - he has come home now. 

— © 2023 apotatomashedbybts, all rights reserved. Reposting or modifying of any kind is not allowed. Translations are not allowed.

[merrymorningofmay]

12, 19 and 32 for the writing ask thingy please!

ohhh thank you!!

12. If you write in more than one language, what's the difference?

WOOF. well.

ukrainian being a synthetic language = longer words on average = different sentence flow (not necessarily slower, just. different)

this also means that there's less flexibility in word use (can't easily use a verb as a noun, a noun as an adjective etc), but more freedom in terms of word placement in a sentence

the repetition thing i've complained about, which is a pain in the ass but somewhat alleviated by additional pronouns (e.g. "той/toy" instead of "the other man")

pretty much everything related to pronouns and noun gendering is different (please we need our own set of gender neutral pronouns and verb forms that don't clash with it please the swedes did it and so can we)

ukrainian and russian are two similar languages that both live in my head, but also russian has been (still is) an existential threat to ukrainian and common sense demands i decouple them and favour ukrainian whenever i can, but also the line between the two is often blurry due to. how languages work, so as i write i have to constantly second guess myself and double-check if a word/phrase i'm about to use just naturally exists in both ukrainian and russian, or if it's a russian word that comes quicker to my mind but that i shouldn't use, or if it's a normal ukrainian word Now but not before the soviets decided to weed out the more distinctly ukrainian vocab from our books/dictionaries and promote the more russian-sounding synonyms instead, and what i should do in that case (there's no definitive answer much of the time). i have like 5 dictionaries open in my browser whenever i'm writing in ukrainian while with english i can get by just googling "define [word]" or "[word] synonym" every now and then

writing in ukrainian feels a lot more vulnerable, for the obvious reasons (foreign language offers a degree of separation between the words and the emotions and makes talking safer), but also with ukrainian i become very aware that i'm not just blabbering into the online void but trying to Say Something to real living people, to my people, that i need them to hear it and will be upset if they don't. this awareness is an inhibition more than anything, but that's a me thing

tldr writing in english is much easier To Me, but the easy path isn't always the right one

19. Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

hehe

32. Do you have a word/expression that you always use in your writing?

not really, but i'm incurably addicted to fluid imagery and if you entrust me with writing An Emotion you bet everything's gonna be leaking and flowing and seeping in and washing over and such. sorry

pspsps ask me stuff