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guksvault · 5 months ago

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HOUSE OF BALLOONS | JJK

02- & The After Party

synopsis: fleeing the pressure and pretense of your elite life, you stumble into the seductive chaos of the House of Balloons. There, Jungkook waits— ready to make you question everything you thought you knew.

w/c: 2.6k

warnings: drug/alcohol references/usage, jk is a big ol' meanie pt 2, reader grows some balls, lil intro to how the boys met!! brief mention of suicide & death.

a/n: jjk made todays lil scrapbook!! isnt he so!! <33!! (making each chapters scrapbook is sm fun!! gives u another pov of the characters me thinks!!) i also have like 8 more chapters written already :/ anyways!! enjoy!!

!minorsdni! // masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You climbed the stairs with one goal in mind: find Yoongi and get as far away as possible from the creeper downstairs whose stare had made your skin crawl. Usually, being stared at wasn’t a problem—if anything, you were used to it. Admiration, curiosity, envy—you’d seen it all. But this? This was different. This was the kind of look that made you want to shed your own skin just to escape it.

At the top of the stairs, four closed bedroom doors greeted you, each one a gamble you weren’t willing to take. Walking in on Yoongi mid-hookup—or worse, anyone else—was not on your agenda tonight.

Relief washes over you when you see a bathroom tucked to the right of the landing. Slipping inside, you took a moment to collect yourself, fix your appearance, and prepare to call it a night.

Jungkook hadn’t stopped watching you since you first hovered outside the house, pacing the street like you didn’t belong here—which, to him, you didn’t. He told himself it wasn’t personal, just habit. You were too polished, too put-together for a place like this, and that Chanel purse you clutched like a lifeline? He was half hoping you’d leave it unattended, knows you probably have a heavy amount of cash in there— wouldn’t notice if he helped himself.

His eyes tracked you as you disappeared up the stairs, slipping into the bathroom at the end of the hall. Before he realised what he was doing, he stood, following you upstairs. He stopped just short of the bathroom door, leaning against the wall opposite it, waiting—though for what, he wasn’t sure.

He was surprised you were still here. He’d bet against himself earlier, figuring you’d last an hour—two, tops. But it was nearing 3 a.m. now, and somehow, you were still here. Still out of place. Still unwanted.

Inside the bathroom, you finished your touch-ups, smoothing your appearance with a determination to leave, to put this entire night behind you. But the moment you opened the door, you froze. There he was—leaning against the wall, arms crossed, shadows playing over the ink that curled along his skin. The light caught his face now, more defined than before, and you couldn’t help but think how unfair it was that assholes always got the prettiest faces.

“Fuck, sorry,” you blurt, assuming he’s waiting for the bathroom.

“Daddy know you’ve got a mouth like that?” Jungkook muttered, his gaze locked on yours, tongue playing lazily with his lip ring.

“Does yours know you’re kind of a cunt?” you shoot back.

He scoffed, his eyes dragging over you—slow and deliberate—before meeting your glare again. “I can tell Yoongi you had to leave. We both know you don’t belong here.”

It was your turn to scoff. “Have I done something to upset you, Jonathan, was it?”

His jaw tightened, and he let out a sharp exhale through his nose. “Jungkook,” he corrected, his voice low. He shook his head, stepping closer. “Yoongi left that world for a reason. He doesn’t need it following him here. Matter of fact, none of us do.”

You tilted your head slightly, as you turned to fully face him. “Good thing I didn’t ask if you wanted me here, then. Don’t really give a fuck either way.”

You knew exactly what you represented—a constant reminder of everything they didn’t have. But how many more times did they need to throw it in your face?

"If Yoongi wanted me out, I’d be out,” you said evenly, your voice calm despite the sharp edge beneath it. “Don’t think he needs some little coked-up emo to speak for him, hm?” The way his jaw clenched told you it landed exactly as intended.

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, yeah?” Jungkook snapped, his tone venomous. “Might be worth something back in Seoul, but here? Where you are right now? No one gives a fuck.”

“You seem awfully invested, though,” you replied, feigning a pout as you shrugged nonchalantly before turning on your heel.

Without looking back, you made your way downstairs—not to the battered, god-awful couches, but to the table by the kitchen. Grabbing a shot, you downed it in one go, the burn somehow soothing you as you leaned casually against the counter.

The crowd had thinned out, with a few stragglers passed out here and there, cups and balloons still littering the floor. The music that had once blasted through the house now played softer, dark instrumentals, a haunting contrast to the earlier chaos.

An arm slung over your shoulder, and Yoongi’s voice distracting you from your thoughts. “Still kickin’, Bee?”

“Apparently.”

“Welcome to the House of Balloons,” he snorted, a proud smirk tugging at his lips as he stuck a cigarette between them.

“House of Balloons?”

Yoongi nodded, lighting the end of the cigarette. “Throw these fuckin’ parties every weekend. People love the fuckin’ balloons.”

"Every weekend, huh?"

Yoongi nodded, explaining it was a tradition. He told you they’d never missed a weekend since they started, but left out the why. He didn’t tell you how much he fucking loved it either—but you could feel it. There was a light in Yoongi’s eyes now, something he didn’t have when he was attending galas and charity events, though that could’ve been the snow racing through his bloodstream.

Once upon a time, around the moment Yoongi gave you your first blunt, you thought maybe, just maybe, you and Yoongi would’ve ended up together. You had the fattest crush on him, but he’d shattered that when he lost his virginity to Kim Soyeon in a bathroom at the Four Seasons during some High Society gathering.

He looks over to you. “You really thinkin’ ‘bout leaving it all?”

You shrug slightly. “Not if it’s gonna lead me here. No offense.”

He laughed, nudging your shoulder before taking the cigarette back from you. “Do it better than I did. Get your hands on some cash, keep your contacts. I ain’t got shit now, never been happier—but fuck, it could’ve been easier.”

You stood there with Yoongi, letting him mumble about his music. Fucker could barely string a sentence together— Head was rolling, his jaw too.

It only takes another 20 minutes—one uncalled-for squeeze to your ass by some horned-up freak and a death stare from Jungkook—before you realise it’s home time.

“Another party tomorrow night. Always welcome here, Bee. Friday through Sunday, the House of Balloons will always love to have you,” Yoongi says, offering you a lazy grin before closing the door to your Uber

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

It’s half past 5 by the time you arrive back at the penthouse.

Quiet. Clean. Bright. All the things the House of Balloons wasn’t.

The only sound is the chef in the kitchen, preparing far too much food for a Saturday breakfast.

You manage to slip into your room without your parents questioning where you’ve been or why you’re strolling in at fuck-ass o’clock.

You lay in bed, soft noises coming from the vanilla bean diffuser refreshing the room. Eyes on the ceiling. Thoughts on the House of Balloons.

What the fuck was that? Why did I see 4 people getting it on in the open? Did I really look like a hooker? I would make a decent hooker- no. Shut up. Wouldn't go to Daegu if I was a fucking hooker. What hooker wears Hervé Léger pulled from the archive specially for you? Was the party still thriving?

It was. Yoongi wasn’t lying when he said Friday through to Monday. It’s simple, really;

Friday rolls around, the house opens at 9 p.m., and people start filing in for the night. The place is usually cleared out by 8 a.m., except for the few passed out around the house or the girls letting the guys use their bodies.

Repeat on Saturdays.

Sunday’s come-down day. Still a rager, just fewer pussies who can’t handle it.

By 10 a.m. Monday, the house is clean and ready to prepare for the next weekend.

Hoseok’s uses the weekdays to work on his set, DJing from a shitty deck he stole from a college music room he broke into one night. The House of Balloons wouldn’t be the House of Balloons without his dark, seductive mixes and occasional throwbacks to early 2000s and 90s club bangers.

Yoongi organizes the drop-offs from his dealer. The money everyone throws into that rusted bucket? That’s their Snow Stash. The House of Balloons wouldn’t be the House of Balloons without its fair share of coke, weed, and god-awful cheap booze.

Jimin’s mostly in charge of the crowd that comes to the parties. A charmer, he knows how to make the night feel like it’s worth more than it is. He tells a desperate stranger, who tells a friend, who tells another. The House of Balloons wouldn’t be the House of Balloons without a crowd full of depressed, desperate delinquents.

Joon was in charge of creating the vibe. He’d taken a liking to interior design, spending too much time organising layouts and finding little decor pieces (most of which he definitely stole from someone’s yard or a store). The House of Balloons wouldn’t be the House of Balloons without its grunge, dark, and chaotic atmosphere.

And Jungkook? He’s in charge of—well, being Jungkook. The women stroll into the House of Balloons, see him, and decide that showing up every weekend is worth it just for a glimpse. The men want to be him, the women want to be with him.

Which is no problem for Jungkook—he can’t stand sleeping with the same girl more than once. He hates the idea of getting comfortable with someone. Prefers to spend the night learning their body and then never having to revisit it again.

The House Of Balloons isn't the House Of Balloons without Jeon Jungkook.

He loves it. The feeling he gets when he’s inside the walls of his house, shaking from the bass, his vision slightly warped from the white powder he snorts or the girl he’s picked from the crowd on her knees in front of him. He thinks it’s the best feeling in the world. Nothing compares. This must be what love feels like—the feeling people spend their whole lives searching for, all in the palm of his hand.

And just as deeply as he loves, his hate will always run deeper. Whether it be, losing, things being out of place or you.

Well, not you, exactly. He doesn’t give a flying fuck about you. But he hates people like you—those who come from money, stability, with a safety net waiting below them every time they slip. You just happen to fit perfectly into that category. Your fault, not his.

Jungkook was raised by a single mother after his father abandoned them and later died from an overdose. His mother worked two jobs just to afford food. At the age of nine, Jungkook lost her when she took her own life, leaving him to live with his grandparents. Four years later, they were killed hand-in-hand in a hit-and-run.

A life of loss and grief led him here. Right to the doorstep of the House of Balloons. Well, technically, it led him to Jimin.

Jimin and Jungkook met when Jungkook, desperate and hungry, tried to steal food from Jimin’s father’s rundown (but undeniably delicious) Korean BBQ restaurant. Jimin spotted him, made him a plate, and from that day on, they became inseparable. Best friends, partners in crime.

By the time they turned 17, they met Namjoon, a local cannabis grower. Joon, just two years older, promised them endless smoke sessions in exchange for Jimin convincing his dad to feed him. It was an easy deal.

The three of them started hitting up shitty house parties—none of them really any fun. More like places to find someone to empty themselves into, or, if they were lucky, find something lying around to steal and sell for some quick cash.

Half the reason they kept showing up at these parties was because Jungkook had taken a liking to the DJ’s music.

Hoseok, on the other hand, was practically begging people to let him spin at any party that was the spot for the night. He held onto the hope—maybe, just maybe, someone would hear his talent, and someone who knew someone would pull the strings to set him up for life. Hopeful, but desperate.

Jungkook had extended an invite to Hoseok to join them for a meal, wanted to convince Hoseok to teach him how to DJ. Wanted to be cool like him. Quickly realised he much rather listen to music than make it.

Then, two years ago, Yoongi entered the scene. He introduced himself at a party, and it didn’t take long for him to bond with Hoseok over music, with Joon over plants, and with Jimin and Jungkook over drugs and women. Jungkook and Jimin had initially planned on jumping him when Yoongi casually mentioned where he was from, but they decided against it after realising he was just as broke as they were.

The five of them, inseparable now, living in a rundown shitbox they somehow scored together with Yoongi’s last bit of cash. They threw their first party and it was everything they’d dreamed of. A hit. It stuck, became their thing. And so, every weekend after, the same mess, the same faces.

So, sue Jungkook for hating you and your lifestyle. Ungrateful for running away he thinks. Too scared to actually run away, is sure he won't have to see you again. If he has to see another pink dress shining in the crowd of monochromatics, he might just rip his own eyes out and stomp on them.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Jungkook is enjoying his night. Saturdays are always a little more chaotic than Fridays or Sundays—more people, more drama, more women, more orgasms.

He’s sprawled across his usual seat, the brown leather couch facing the entryway. He can see everyone who enters, eye the options, spot any potential danger, and catch the glittering pink that dares to stand out.

He’s listening to Joon dramatically rant to anyone within earshot about how some asshole swiped his bike last night. He’s convinced he’s going to track down the sneaky prick and shove the handlebars up their ass. He won’t, though. He’ll just steal someone else’s. The circle of life.

Jungkook’s half-hearted interest evaporates the moment he spots the door. There, standing like a spark in the dark, is a glittering nepo baby in a baby blue dress. Corseted at the waist, it flares just above her thighs.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Jungkook breathes out, the smoke from his cigarette swirling around his face.

Jimin and Joon, along with a few girls huddled nearby, glance over to follow his gaze. You. Dressed for a tea party with the elite, but standing here with the delinquents of Daegu.

“Round 2? More interesting than I thought.” Joon shrugs and goes back to rolling his blunt.

Jungkook’s eyes are locked on you, watching as you laugh and toss back a shot of vodka with Yoongi. His jaw is clenched, the cigarette burning down to the filter.

“Why the fuck do you care so much? About her?” One of the groupies, still trying to score a second lay from Jungkook after two weeks of failing, speaks up from beside him. “Did she reject you or something? Ignore her. It’s not like she’s here for good.”

Jungkook’s eyes snap to her, his brows pinched together. “Fuck you just say?”

She straightens up a little. She’s been begging for Jungkook’s attention for weeks, but not like this.

“No, no, I just mean… you seem worked up,” she stutters. “Maybe we could go upstairs? Not seeing her, focus on someone else—could help?” Her fingers run through the back of his slightly curled wolf cut, her voice laced with hesitation.

He scoffs, sucks his teeth, and elbows her arm away. "The only place I want you to be is somewhere not fucking around me. Fuck off."

"What? Jungkook, baby-"

"Fuck off."

And off she fucked. There was no point arguing or begging him to let her suck him off to show him how she truly didn't mean to upset him. That was never how it worked with Jungkook. Once his mind was made up about you, that was it.

“Bit harsh, J.” Jimin smirks, tossing him a fresh cigarette after the last one burned to the filter and put itself out.

Jungkook lights it up, exhaling sharply. “Be back in a few,” he mutters before walking straight through the sliding door, barely hanging on its hinges, into the backyard.

There’s less noise out here. He heads towards the back of the garage, which Hoseok had turned into a makeshift bedroom slash studio for his mixing.

Quiet. Less stuffy. The air is breathable—everything the opposite of what he usually craves. He blames you. You’re the one piece that doesn’t fit.

And it only makes him want to bring his clenched fist to his own face and knock himself out when he looks up from the ground and sees you standing in front of him.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

#bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook ff #jungkook and reader #jungkook series

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forecast0ctopus · 21 days ago

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Okay I have a lot to say here, but I’m gonna try to make it brief (which is really hard for me, sorry)

WOAH DAWG. Your art has inspired me more than I can even express. My hardcore Star Trek phase started right around this time last year. Like, obviously I knew what Star Trek was, but I’d never seen it, so I started with TOS, and after the first three episodes, I was like, yeah, okay, Spock and Kirk are super gay, but their boyfriend Bones is obviously their boyfriend, too.

So I looked up the fated “McSpirk”, and your art popped up. Boom. Life changed.

To make a long story short, I practiced and practiced, and slowly (kind of) learned how to draw them (totally based off of your style, yeah, I’m sorry bro there’s like a lot of plagiarised versions of your drawings in old sketchbooks. 😬Don’t worry though, they’re really bad, so no one would mistake them for the original)

And ALSO like a good chunk of my fanfiction has been inspired by your art. So… thank you!

Now, I think, I’ve developed a style of drawing them that’s just far enough from yours that maybe it’s not too obvious that I learned how to draw McSpirk from meticulously studying your art? Probably not, though. But the point is basically: your art is fantastic and so soo edible.

Ps. I ACTUALLy am a liar, because I’d seen your reanimator fanart before your Star Trek stuff! I was waaayy into reanimator a while ago (still am, just more fixated on other things), and your art was all over my pinterest. And you draw American Werewolf in London, and Merlin, and Psychonauts, and Twin Peaks?? Holy cow dude, you’re the whole damn package.

Okay, so that was more of a five-paragraph essay than an “ask”. Sorry, not great at tumblr.

In summary: you’re iconic. There is no McSpirk fandom without you bro. Please never stop drawing, because the day you do is the day I eat the sun like an evil pagan god. 💪💪💪

WOW :0 firstly, thanks so much!! i really appreciate all of this and im glad to know you like my stuff so much :D anyways longish answer for a longish message under the cut..

now i just wanna say – absolutely no issues with copying other people's work to learn, its not like trying to pass things off as your own and its just part of the learning process.. even less of an issue with art styles, you kinda just look at things and go hey i like the way that looks im gonna figure out how to draw [whatever specific element] like that now.. and eventually you frankenstein so many techniques together that you get your own thing out of it lmao. for example i learned how to draw hands from danny phantom and im afraid im stuck with that for life dgfhj anyways i think it rules that youve been drawing them and im kind of honored that you like my stuff enough to use it to learn... and if you've got any links to the art and fics youve mentioned, id love to see 👀 also ive gotten the comment abt finding my stuff on pinterest a bit and IVE LOOKED idk how you guys find them fgdjh i think ive found on there a couple merlin things ive done and thats it... dont mean to sound conceited or anything but i just think its fun when i see my art places i dont post..... incredible when it pops up in edits occasionally love it when people have the same array of interests as me since they all kind of feel entirely unrelated to one another in genre and subject matter so i never expect it.. ESPECIALLY psychonauts augh ive been trying to convince people to play that game for 11 years and ive only gotten through to like maybe three people fsbhjk anyways guess weve both got great taste in media 🤝🤝🤝 thanks again for such a kind message, i appreciate it more than i can articulate!! <333

#the day i stop drawing is the day i. uhhh. become more unemployed ? idk but drawing.. big fan of drawing..... <333 #nice reprieve to get this in the midst of wrestling with my taxes 😬 lmao throttling paypal with my mind #ask #blackknightpancakes

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quibbs126 · 4 months ago

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So I also ended up making this this afternoon

So basically the story behind this is that I decided “eh screw it, I said I’d try making that megop kid idea, might as well try making some helm designs to start out with”. And I made a bit of one for TF One, though specifically inspired by their cogless designs since I’ve drawn them a fair bit

But then it dawned on me that outside of TF One, I haven’t actually drawn that many Megatron and Optimus designs. Like I drew Animated Optimus like a couple times when I was starting out, but that’s it. And also the idea itself doesn’t really work with TF One, since as it stands the war hasn’t technically even broke out yet. It works far more in a series where it’s actually been happening

So I figured, I should start at the basics and get myself some practice on g1 Megatron and Optimus, since you know, they’re the classic designs

Also side note on g1 that isn’t really related but I wanted to add in anyways, today I got the complete set of the g1 cartoon (minus the movie but that’s okay). It was a Christmas present that was supposed to come earlier but finally came in today. And I learned my PS4 can play Blu-Rays (which really shouldn’t be a surprise, I’m aware that’s what made the PS2 sell so well, but I didn’t realize they kept doing it), so that means I am now able to watch g1 on an actual TV, legally, with presumably higher quality, and possibly even subtitles

So you know, I’m doing pretty good right now. I’m glad my dad is supporting my Transformers fixation and the fact that I’m insisting on using a DVD player (for the movies at the library, but still), which means actual DVDs

Anyways, side tangent aside, back to the drawings

I think they turned out fairly decent, they don’t really bother me. I do kind of wish I added shading/lighting so the drawings weren’t so flat, but regardless

Admittedly I think I do need to work on actually doing poses and things with these designs, I’m doing a whole lot of nothing with them right now. I need to pose those cubes

Also there’s some colors shared between the two. I don’t know if this is something actually done in the show, and maybe it makes the colors look inaccurate, but I think it’s neat to use the same colors elsewhere

Now on to random things about the characters’ designs I just wanted to mention

First off, this isn’t really a character design thing, but these were the pictures I used for references, outside of some concept art I have for full body basic anatomy (getting screenshots from the show is my preferred form of reference), and I gotta say, it took a fair bit longer to find a picture online with a proper look at Optimus’ head than Megatron’s

Like it didn’t take that long, like 1-2 minutes, but I just noticed how a lot of screenshots don’t really focus on his face, unlike Megatron. I assume because in g1, he doesn’t really have much of one, given his mask covers half of it

Also while Megatron’s helm itself is relatively basic looking and doesn’t really have a lot going on, the rest of his face has got a fair amount of details

Like he’s got defined cheek bone lines (I think), but he’s also one of the few (again I think) characters to have the shadow around his eyes that becomes more common later on

Then there’s also that whatever he’s got going on above his eyes. I’d say it’s eyebrows but I don’t think that’s what it’s supposed to be, given these characters don’t really have those yet

I saw someone, aka the person who makes Transformers Until One, granatu888 (idk if I should tag them here or not), turn the thing into a battle mask that drops down onto his face, and frankly I think that’s really cool, and that’s what I now choose to believe it is. Hasbro, make that what it is

Anyways, moving on. I don’t really have a lot to say on Optimus other than his helm being a lot more simplistic in its shapes than I’m used to, as well as very triangular. Like compared to TF One Optimus, who’s got a lot of details going on, his is super simple. I also didn’t make his antenna full triangles going down because I thought it looked weird, now they’re more like TFA Optimus

Also one last thing, but I swear the way I drew him looks just like that how one artist does, the one who draws Sparkplug (sorry, unlike the last mention I don’t actually remember the artist’s name, probably because I don’t follow them. Which tbh I should probably rectify, I like their Sparkplug stuff). Sorry it was just something I noticed afterwards and can’t unsee it. This also applies specifically to the face, they draw the actual rest character much better than me

Anyways, back to Megatron. Random thing, but he’s got a whole control panel on his torso. I’ve known he has it, because he has it in TF One, but why does he have it?

This kind of goes hand in hand, but random other thought I had today that connects, his design in general is a bit off compared to other characters because in g1, he doesn’t transform into a vehicle, he turns into a gun. Like that’s not to say he looks out of place (I mean I still think his helmet looks weird), but like, he doesn’t have a lot of kibble because of it. Like he’s one of the characters with no glass on his body because guns don’t have glass

Also does he have two guns? One on his shoulder, another on his back? I don’t know, I’m only now realizing that. They probably combine together when he transforms. Also I think his fusion cannon is just supposed to be his scope in gun mode, which ironically I’m pretty sure aren’t actually involved with the damage part of shooting. I don’t know, random observation

And uh, I think that’s it. It was mostly just random design details, and honestly not as many as I was expecting. I didn’t really have much to say on the art itself, mostly since it was just me trying to draw the g1 designs

But yeah, it was neat, I think I have a better understanding of their general designs, at least here. Now to actually use them in any way

#don’t know if I will be using these for the original purpose I outlined #but you know it was good practice anyways #transformers #transformers g1 #my art #megatron #optimus prime

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raainberry · 2 years ago

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Moonflower - II

« In literature, the moonflower has been used as a symbol of love, mystery, and enchantment. »

Sana x gn!reader

Not fluff, not angst, but a secret third thing

synopsis - your job is still flowers. she's still not sure how she got into this mess. but maybe you could get her out of it.

- part.I - part.III -

wordcount - 1.8K

TW - like one (1) soft cuss word

A/N - i had to divide and rearrange what i’d written in the drafts for pt.2 bc it was so long so now its a three parter. you can expect it shortly🤭

Truth was, Sana had been looking for a way to break off this engagement.

A quick, effective and good reason.

She wasn’t necessarily proud of it, but cheating was at the top of her list. It had all gone too far anyway, leaving as the bad guy didn’t seem so bad to her anymore.

If anything it was the best way to go.

If she wanted to leave it all behind for good, this was the way to do it. No one would want a cheater back, right?

In the past couple of weeks, she’d thought of a few ways to do it. Kissing a stranger at a bar, sleeping with a cute encounter at the club, blaming either on the alcohol or even the other person… all classics that appealed to her, but not enough to make her act on the thoughts.

No, those were too easy. Too nice.

She needed more.

She’d lost too much in this wedding embush. She felt trapped in a relationship that should have ended weeks before that damn proposal. If only she hadn’t been such a coward…

She was done with that act, though. Something in her snapped as soon as she realised just how deep into this mess she was.

It was the day she had been monopolized to taste-test tens of different cake flavours. She couldn’t tell you if it was due to the amount of sugar she ingested, or because of having to witness her fiancé and mother-in-law act more couply than she ever did with him�� but she had never felt so nauseous in her life.

That night, her bathroom mirror bore witness to her tears as she cried for a good hour.

She hadn’t even meant to. Seeing her own reflection so worn out and unfamiliar was enough to push her over the edge. The tears kept dragging themselves out through her labored breathing as she desperately tried to stay quiet.

The last thing she needed was for anyone, much less her so called fiancé, to see her so miserable. Even she didn’t want to see it, which didn’t help her case at all as part of the many reasons she was crying.

It was a weird, twisted vicious cycle. All of it. Something she could only escape through sleep.

The next day she woke up feeling revengeful. Like the self-pity had drained down the sink along with her tears. She was set on walking away from it all, she just had to figure out how.

Her escape needed a perfect plan. A grandiose one that would cause utter chaos and misery, matching that mix her life had turned into because of it all.

That morning, her bathroom mirror bore witness to her most vile promise to date.

She wanted to ruin it all.

She was going to ruin it all.

And she needed to enjoy the fall.

Simply sleeping with someone wasn’t the way to do it.

But she did need someone else’s help.

She saw potential in you. In other words, she noticed the way you looked at her. You were cute, seemed reliable—easily charmed, sure— but just as charming, which she looked at as a redeeming trait.

Should you accept it, she figured you’d make a great partner in crime.

“What are you doing this weekend?” She had asked before leaving your flower shop empty handed.

She wasn’t surprised when you actually did accept, and met her at a coffee shop she’d suggested in order to think up a plan.

You never thought you’d ever have to brainstorm ways to effectively ruin a wedding. It’s not a common expectation in one’s life, but that’s what made it exciting.

Weirdly exciting.

You knew this was wrong to some extent, but it was for the greater good. That’s what you kept repeating to yourself every now and then. It was reassuring.

“So the best thing we have is basically running away.”

You stared at the sheet of paper in front of you, all scribbled with options, some circled, some wiped out, some straight up barred… There barely was a blank space left, and the most visible part were two underlined words written in a corner.

“Run away.”

Sana felt her chest tightening as she read the words over and over.

Run away, her mind echoed.

They sounded too familiar. It was loud, overwhelming with each resonance, she was suffocating at the mere sight of the idea.

She didn’t like it. It sounded weak and cowardly, like everything she didn’t want to be anymore.

Surely, there was another way. There had to be.

“Sana?” You called out, noticing her trance.

Placing your fingers in between the subject and her eyes, you snapped them.

Her eyes felt dry, letting her know she hadn’t blinked in a while. That caused her eyelids to flutter as she turned to look at you.

“Are you alright?” You raised an eyebrow.

This was new. Granted you’d only met her a few days prior, but still. She’d showcased such a range of emotions already…

“Yeah. Just…” She looked back at the paper on top of the table. “Do you really have no other idea?”

You glanced back at the words too, hoping to see something that would enlighten you about her behavior. However you only saw the most obvious staring back at you.

This was the only way. The only sane one at least.

You looked back at her, and the silent pleas of her gaze caught you off guard. The sight made you want to lie again. Maybe her eyes would return to the vibrant brown they sported when she asked to meet you here.

“I don’t… have anything else in mind.” The truth came out your lips, hesitant but victorious.

False hope was probably the last thing she needed at the moment. It was the right thing to say. So why did her reaction feel so wrong to see?

You watched, uneasy as she let out a defeated sigh. You swore you’d seen her pout before she stood up and left the booth you’d been sitting in for the last couple of hours.

Startled, you jumped to your feet and left an amount of cash on the table that hopefully surpassed the actual bill before hurrying after her.

“Wait! Where are you going?” You called out as you pushed the exit door open.

She was way ahead of you already. Enough to make you think she was running away from you

Ironic.

You were convinced she was, and you only put that thought on hold because she actually turned back to you.

The world around you seemed to have stopped. Or maybe you just were in a slow part of town. The point was, you could only see her.

Yet again, you found yourself unable to do anything else other than respond to the way she pulled you in. Your feet took a few hesitant steps towards her, and you only followed. When they came to a halt, you could see her better.

The first thing you noticed were her strained features. Her furrowed eyebrows were a little blurry, but they looked awfully familiar. You’d seen that same expression up close just days ago, at the flower shop.

The sight had you racking your brain again, trying to remember the way you’d managed to see her smile. Had it been as hard as you found it now? You nearly gave yourself a headache, but the sound of her voice spared you.

“Thank you for trying, Y/N. But I think I’m just gonna go home.”

You felt your heart drop in your chest. You couldn’t help but scoff at what you’d heard, staring at her in as if she’d said the most sense-deprived words ever—which in a way she kind of had.

That was it? She was giving up already?

“Why?”

You didn’t mean to question her decision. All you did was as simple as the question itself. You only wondered, and externalised it.

She didn’t answer for a long while. Long enough to let you think she hadn’t heard you. And while you wondered whether or not the question had actually left your mind; she thought.

She thought about her answer, but nothing came up.

That in itself was an answer, no?

She took a deep breath, refueling her confidence enough to walk up to you. You could feel it surrounding her again, the bold and rebellious. It was shy, though. As if this time she did try to put on a façade.

Her steps slowed down as she reached you, leaving a couple feet in between the two of you. Now that she was even closer, you could tell she’s been holding herself back. You just didn’t know whether it was from crying or from actually running away.

“If I say I don’t know…” She started, and you looked at her expectantly. “I should go through with this, right?”

You blinked, your eyes not leaving hers as you lost yourself in them the longer you stared. You knew she wanted you to agree. She expected you to. And if you didn’t, she made sure you’d reconsider.

All with a single look.

That’s exactly how she got you here in the first place.

“Do you really need my input?” You asked, taking her aback. “You’re the one that put the idea on the table. It seems to me you’ve made your mind up.”

“Maybe I did.” She said, stepping close enough to grab the collar of your jacket. She feigned to fix it for you, barely throwing it a glance before meeting your eyes again.

They hadn’t left her, and a smile almost gave away her thoughts. Thankfully, you were too focused on trying to see those through the supposed windows of the soul.

What a load of crap. You couldn’t see a thing.

“Why would you write it down if you weren’t willing to actually consider it?” You asked, opting for the more straightforward way. No professional boundary could stop you now.

“I can consider it.” She said, tightening her grip on your collar. “I just don’t have the guts to do it alone.”

That didn’t sound too good. Or did it?

In all honesty, you felt a little excited at the idea of helping her. Almost as much as you felt nervous.

She was unpredictable, borderline manipulative. Your heart raced just hearing her speak, and knowing her words were directed at you… it was thrilling.

The good or bad kind of thrill; you couldn’t care less now that she stood this close to you. As dangerous as she could possibly be, you found yourself willing to risk it all to find out.

And if she wanted you to help her run away from her own wedding, then you would. A few questions asked, but you would.

So you let her climb into the passenger seat of your car, sighing as you held the door for her.

This might be your worst decision yet, but alas.

It was for the greater good.

#twice x reader #sana x reader #sana imagines #twice imagines #twice sana #minatozaki sana

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whatevertheweather · 10 months ago

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Hi hello. I miss y'all. That is my own fault but it's still true, and I'm writing this on saturday night and feeling maudlin about how wonderful and talented and dear this fandom is and how I never join in anymore, so I'm making my little post okay.

I'm going with Musical Chairs again because it's so far past time for that to be done. And I've said this before, but it is approaching done. And I'm gonna get into that, but it'll all be behind the scenes rambling, so it's below the cut, and for those who don't want to delve that far, here is some freshly written Penny POV.

“Ah,” Shepard smiled, “a good deed wasn’t motive enough on its own?” “Not when it’s for a stupid reason.” “What is your un-stupid reason?” “Un-stupid?” Penny repeated. She turned resolutely to her drink. “Nevermind. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” “Hey now,” Shepard said, ducking into her line of sight. “You struck me as someone who prefers being honest.” It was a job not to smile at that, but Penny put the work in.

Now for the mess.

It's a good mess I think. I have a new section in my miscellany document, tucked in between nine (9) sections of ramblings and cut scenes, and the new section is called "we got it this time boys," and I think it's right. I've written a full draft of the scene that's been holding us all back. It's there in its entirety, it just needs to be edited. And I'm so scared to reread it, because every time I think I got this scene right I come back and it's wrong. Which I've decided to be fine with, because so what!!! So what if I got 36k right and there's 5k that doesn't quite hit the way I want it to!!! The earth will keep spinning!!!

Anyway, "we got it this time boys" is 3 pages of what is technically kind of an outline for 5 pages of story, and every time I read the header it's in the voice of someone from some black-and-white hardboiled detective noir, which brings me the joy that might be the only reason I feel I've gotten it right in the first place. The outline is all written about as cohesively as it starts:

I think maybe, and gosh haven’t I said this a million times, I just need to stop trying to go that way. Stop trying to go any way. Like always “how do I get them to this moment” instead of “what would they do in this situation.” Unfortunately, the latter requires I connect with them on a level I’m not sure I can right now. But I guess let’s try. Actually let’s go for a walk, I can see the sun setting on the top of the house across the way and it’s lovely. Okay nice, it was lovely. Relaxing, refreshing. Saw a stump that looked like a beaver. Saw a cat. Thought of the opening to something I’m never going to write. So anyway,

It also sort of ends with:

Oh shit came up on an obstacle immediately. [Redacted]. This does not actually open the door for Baz to say something that can incite “[Redacted].” Fuck god okay whoops already going completely back on all I’ve decided and thinking maybe we could keep some of the new exchange I’d written, maybe he does reveal the ugh no stop I hate this. Just figure out a transition to bring in [...], what would Baz say to that other than what I’ve written him saying to that which doesn’t work for what I’m trying to do. I guess it could just be, like…he murmurs incorrigible. Or something. With a raised brow, a la baz. Sure let’s do that, however, I’ve laid down to do this and learned I’m actually quite sleepy, so let’s do it another time. Hopefully I don’t come up on another immediate problem and despair. Just remember not to start combining things and rereading things yet, okay. Please.

This would be alarming if I hadn't already gotten past this point and written the thing. So I'm going to go into editing it with the mindset that nothing substantial shall change and boohoo to me if I want it to, and once that's done we're pretty much home free.

Now tags.

Gonna dip a toe back into being melancholy and wistful about this fandom k, I really do miss it even though I'm the only one keeping me out. You're all my friends even if that is a surprise for you to hear because we haven't talked in months or maybe ever, but I love each and every one of you x

@fatalfangirl @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @moodandmist @cutestkilla @artsyunderstudy

@bookish-bogwitch @aristocratic-otter @mooncello @noblecorgi @alexalexinii

@rimeswithpurple @ivelovedhimthroughworse @basiltonbutliketheherb @whogaveyoupermission @facewithoutheart

@martsonmars @iamamythologicalcreature @run-for-chamo-miles @thewholelemon

@forabeatofadrum @youarenevertooold @ileadacharmedlife @monbons

#remember when this was supposed to be the fun one shot I worked on when I didn't have the energy for other things #ha ha #btw I checked myself #this scene that's been stopping this train on its tracks is 2k #2 k #stopped the whole show #six sentence sunday #my writing

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it-happened-one-fic · 7 months ago

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Hours in the Moonlight: Guileful Nightfall - 4. No Harm in Being Cautious

Summary: A vampire feast…. It certainly wasn’t anything you’d ever planned on attending. But, you’d already agreed even if you weren’t entirely sure why you’d done so. With any luck, you might uncover something that would be useful to you in your upcoming investigation.

Series Type: Gender-neutral reader/ Vampire AU/ series/ romantic/ angst/ angst with comfort/ fluff/ sfw/ platonic interactions too!

Trigger Warning: Vampire

Word Count: 1439

Hours in the Moonlight Master-List

True to his word, Jamil came and got me as soon as it was time for the feast. But I was no closer to figuring out what had happened earlier or coming up with a game plan for investigating the Scarabia clan.

Based on his seemingly friendly demeanor, Kalim might be open to questioning, but I didn’t know how helpful that might be.

Somehow, I felt like Jamil had quite the hand in the running of the clan, so he might be better to talk to. But I didn’t know how open he would be, plus I was even warier of him now than I had been before.

I followed Jamil in silence, toying with my fingers as my nerves set in. The longer I’d sat in the library, the worse of an idea staying for this feast seemed.

It was true that, so far, everyone here had been very welcoming and beyond friendly, but it was also true that me, being a person who vampires apparently thought seemed tasty, being at a feast where they would be eating would possibly be risky.

It was a massive change from when I’d been avoiding vampires. And, to be honest, I’d never been around any of them eating, so I had no idea what to expect.

And then there was whatever had happened just a little bit ago to think about too….

I forced myself to relax as we entered the room and I saw the goblets sitting out. Letting them know I was uncomfortable wouldn’t be a good idea anyway. I needed to keep up the idea that I was a perfectly competent and confident Hunter.

Kalim waved at me happily before patting a red cushion on the floor next to him, “Come sit here, Y/n!! I’m glad you could stay!”

Glad I could stay???

I almost turned to look at Jamil as I thought back to how he’d implied there might be trouble for him if I hadn’t stayed for the meal.

Kalim’s words certainly didn’t make it sound like that would have been the case, but Jamil only nodded at me before gesturing towards the cushion Kalim had just patted, “I’ve already gotten your curry out. Please, enjoy.”

I nodded slowly, barely able to keep the confused frown off my face as I sat down before smiling awkwardly over at Kalim, “Thanks for inviting me….”

Even as I spoke, I was thinking about how Jamil was acting oddly like a waiter or something even as he sat down next to me.

“Do you like curry?” Kalim’s eyes were practically sparkling as he leaned over, all but seat dancing on his cushion and causing me to smile more genuinely. There was something endearing about how overwhelmingly happy he was.

“Well, I didn’t actually know what to request, so I just took Jamil’s suggestion,” I chuckled and shrugged slightly, but Kalim only bobbed his head excitedly.

“It’ll be great! I promise it will. Jamil’s an amazing cook, I do remember that!” I felt myself go still at his words, their implications causing me to stop in my tracks as I considered them.

Remembered…. They must have known each other while they were still alive.

It was strange though. I didn’t actually think that often about what various vampires' lives might have been like before they were changed, but at least I now knew that Jamil and Kalim had apparently known each other for quite some time.

I smiled though, nodding my head at the exuberant young man, “I’m looking forward to it then.”

Kalim beamed, his reactions at odds with Jamil’s sigh, which had me twisting to look at the other young man who was currently shaking his head. He glanced over, looking past me towards Kalim, “Really… It’s just a simple curry. There’s nothing special to it.”

I tilted my head, finding myself smiling slightly even despite the varying suspicions and questions I had, “I’m sure it’s wonderful.”

Jamil’s gaze flickered over my way before he abruptly looked away, seemingly trying to hide his face with the edge of the hoodie as Kalim started to laugh next to me.

“Alright everybody! Let’s dig in!” The clan leader’s jubilant shout was met with cheers of assent from the other vampires assembled, who all raised their goblets as one, and I did my best not to think about what they were drinking.

I could only assume the blood was obtained from some place like a butcher, but I preferred not to think about that either.

I’d never even asked Vil about that and had never been able to decide if the question seemed rude or not….

The evening rolled by fairly smoothly without any trouble and Jamil’s curry was, indeed, quite delicious even if he wasn’t entirely accepting of the compliments and only grew more flustered when I leaned over and quietly told him it was wonderful.

I shifted slightly, waiting for an opening until Kalim finally glanced my way with a bright grin.

“Thank you again for having me stay, and,” I paused and glanced towards Jamil, “for fixing me something to eat.”

The white haired young man nodded happily, the beads that wrapped around his headband jingling in a way that only seemed to accent his smile, “Of course! You’re our guest and we were thrilled to have you! Right, Jamil?”

From my other side I could Jamil quietly murmur, “Of course,” but I was more busy bracing myself for my next words than focusing on his response.

“Thank you, but I’m afraid it’s time I got home,” Kalim deflated almost immediately at my words and I almost felt bad as he nodded slightly.

“I see…. But will you be alright? It’s already late out and you do seem to-”

“There are vampires out and, as you know, many of them are not in complete control of themselves. Since it is still dark out, and will be for quite some time, perhaps it would be best if you stayed here after all,” Jamil cut in smoothly. Shooting a look at Kalim before he looked back my way.

I faltered at his words as Kalim immediately nodded his agreement, “That’s right! It’s too dangerous for you to go home, Y/n. You should stay here, at least until the sun has risen.”

His hands wrapped around one of mine as he gazed at me, red eyes shining with utter worry that had me faltering even more as I met his gaze, “It’s alright, I can make it home fine and-”

“We aren’t doubting your abilities; it’s just better to be safe than sorry,” Jamil’s hand landed on my shoulder, and I looked his way, meeting his gaze and feeling an odd sensation sweeping over me.

Almost like I was suddenly growing sleepy. And his words did make sense… But shouldn’t I go home? Wouldn’t that be best?

And what if Vil, Rook, or Epel showed up? They’d be worried if I weren’t there……

My thoughts were slowly drowned out as Jamil spoke again, his voice soft and reassuring, “There’s no harm in being cautious, and you’ll be safe here.”

Jamil’s gaze held mine steadily, and it was oddly impossible to look away. Instead, I just found myself nodding slowly as even the other sounds of the party… Kalim’s words, the music, and the laughter all faded out until all I was left with was Jamil’s words and my own voice that seemed to be pulled right out of me as I responded in a way that was perfectly opposite my plans, “You’re right. It might be best if I do stay… Would that be alright?”

Jamil smiled, his eyes narrowing in a smug fashion before he nodded and shifted to look past me, breaking eye contact as he did so.

I blinked, half-dazed and beyond confused as to why I’d just agreed, yet again, to something I hadn’t actually wanted to do as Jamil continued on. Sealing the deal before I could really object.

“Kalim, I’m going to go ahead and show them to their room. I’ll be back shortly,” His voice was firm, and I twisted to see Kalim nodding.

The young man looked my way, smiling sympathetically, “You do seem tired, Y/n. You go on. Sleep well!” Distantly, I nodded, still utterly confused even as he let go of my hand.

Jamil stood from his seat next to me before looking down at me, “Y/n, this way, please.”

I looked up at him, frowning slightly but nodding and standing before obediently following him. My mind still a haze of confusion as my body seemed to follow him on autopilot.

If you would like to read more:

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beautifulpersonpeach · 1 month ago

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hi! I’m sure you’re tired of the questions on this topic, but I figured I’d ask given the PI result today. I’ve always assumed that the NJ/Ador case was really just going to be about the amount of the termination penalty, and nothings really happened that has changed my perspective. So that’s where I’m coming from on my question. I think there’s a decent chance that NJ has an outside investor that’s outside of Korea, potentially China, thats willing to pay that penalty and relaunch them in the next couple years. Part of the way that the girls spoke about the Korean media and Kpop environment in their recent interview with TIME made me think this more. Do you think there’s any chance that NJ decentralizes from Korea, or would that just be incredibly damaging for them? I know they have a strong base of fan support in Korea, but I find their positioning interesting.

***

(I've been out of the loop for a bit so it took me a while to read up on the case to reply to your ask.)

Hi Anon,

Honestly I have no idea. I almost wish and hope NJ has an outside investor, but I also haven't seen anything that indicates that they do.

If you look at how this conflict has developed, it's clear that MHJ and NJ never intended to actually leave HYBE. At least not while MHJ was still bound by HYBE's non-compete clause. Then HYBE kicked out MHJ and with her NewJeans' core team, and suddenly they had to sink or swim. The impression I have of NewJeans and Min Heejin is that they're just making things up as they go.

MHJ didn't have an 'outside investor' in 2024 and I doubt she has one now. And if she does, it's likely very small seed investment not something big enough to settle a penalty in the hundreds of millions. Because again, this dispute would've gone very differently if they indeed had a solid backer.

So... you're right this case will likely come to down to negotiating the penalty because the court system generally sides with k-pop agencies over idols. We've already seen how the first judge has dismissed all the claims NJ brought forward without issuing a comprehensive judgement (i.e. without looking at the evidence collectively which favours NJ, but by evaluating the claims in isolation which favours HYBE).

The only times I've seen the courts rule in favour of the artists, is if the idol hasn't been paid for years or if the idol suffers physical harm requiring hospitalization. And even then, k-pop corporations still hold the balance of power. It really speaks to the depravity of this system where k-pop idols aren't seen as workers with rights, where the threshold of corporate neglect/breach of trust is an idol being borderline penniless or physically abused beyond recognition.

I hope people who love NewJeans aren't too hurt when I repeat that, far as I can tell, these girls are done. If HYBE gets its way, they're toast both in Korea and in the US. China isn't a market that's easy for k-pop groups to break into, much less use as the core target market as seen from SM's several failed attempts, so there's limited hope there.

This is one situation where I sincerely hope I'm wrong and NewJeans somehow manages to leave HYBE without paying a penalty and is able to release music and perform with their team as soon as this year.

That's a bit of a pipe dream though.

Options now as I see them:

NewJeans loses injunction objection but appeals to higher court - Easily 2 - 3 years of legal and political limbo while accruing legal costs and yeah potentially paying the penalty. The k-pop machine is ruthless and I honestly don't see them surviving unscathed (mentally and otherwise) even if they win eventually. And by that point, HYBE would've replaced them with ILLIT anyway. So, said another way, the only winner in this scenario is Bang Sihyuk.

NewJeans loses injunction objection and attempts to return to HYBE - This will just be a mess lmao. Their core team is gone, NJ never worked with HYBE/Bighit's in-house producers so their music will be gone too, MHJ's creative direction that set NJ apart will be gone as well. And that's aside the extreme hatred NJ will experience from HYBE fandoms and possibly their peers. Basically, there'll just be a frankenstein version of whatever NJ was supposed to be and their core support will never recover. And while that's better than 3 years of legal limbo, it's still a special kind of death.

NewJeans wins injunction objection while main case proceeds - This is where we could start to see what an NJZ re-brand really looks like. We'll get first glimpses of their label and investor too. I agree with you that it's possible the girls focus on China and SEA markets because even if they are loved in Korea, it's only a matter of time before HYBE seeks to change that. HYBE controls the largest k-pop fandom in the world, is the largest k-pop conglomerate with extensive backing in the industry. We've already seen the KMCA come forward to single out NewJeans. It's possible NJ deals with covert and overt blacklisting in Korea even if the court rules they can participate legally in independent activities. But even with all this, even if NJZ have to pay the penalty at the end, it's likely the most favourable outcome for NewJeans at this point.

At least far as I can tell.

NewJeans are loved in Korea that's true, but the k-pop apparatus is a well-oiled machine greased by the failed dreams, sweat, and blood of the idols in that system. As I've said before, even before NewJeans left HYBE their position in the company was fraught, now that they've dared to leave there's honestly no way HYBE doesn't seek its pound of flesh. The k-pop industry never looks kindly on idols who act out, and by 'industry' I mean both the companies and the fandoms / k-pop stans that support this system.

Much as it pains me to say, it's just how it is.

#newjeans #new jeans #kpop #hybe #min heejin #bang sihyuk #music #music industry #njz

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confessionsofkotlc · 1 year ago

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To the person who asked why Keefe is complex, I thought I’d try to give my two cents on the matter.

Also it’s totally fine if you dislike Keefe! He’s just complex, is all. You can dislike him anyway, this is soley about why I think he is a complex character. Not an attempt to sway you to like him or anything!

He’s introduced pretty early as though he’s going to be a silly, funny, flirty side character, and a lot of that falls away as the series goes on. He’s always had avoidant defense mechanisms, which used to look like deflecting with humor and as his trauma worsens turns into a lot of literal running away. We learn in book one that he has really bad parents and it’s like oh, okay, so he has a hard childhood and covers for it with humor. Pretty classic way to round a character out, but it works. Sure. But he wasn’t too complex THEN.

I think the way finding out his mother was with the neverseen impacted him was far worse than the fandom gives it credit for. It was a huge turning point in his life. He breaks down more. He can’t keep up his defenses as much.

Did you hear that? He can’t keep up his defenses as much. Deflecting isn’t working.

And then, at the end of Neverseen, he literally runs away.

Direct correlation.

He goes to be a “double agent” and hopefully be able to help his friends from the inside. But really… he wants to do something useful without having to face his friends. He’s avoiding. He’s running.

The reveal of his mother being with the neverseen was also more than figuring out his parent was a villain, which is bad enough. He also learned that the parent who had always been slightly better, slightly kinder, slightly more caring was actually the evil one. It isn’t talked about nearly enough the amount of trust issues he must have gotten from that. It also adds an extra layer to every time he’s betrayed a friend’s trust or told a lie. He doesn’t think it’s right, but a part of him is still processing what happened with his mother.

He searches through his memories like crazy. He wondered how he, an empath, managed to miss that his mother was evil. He questions everything the knows. How does he know if someone is lying? He doesn’t. He doesn’t know if someone is lying. He lies. He lies and lies and lies.

He holds on to every scrap of paper with every detail he’s ever remembered about his childhood and his mother and questions everything. This is actually a huge part of what makes his character complex, since that’s the question—the way he clings to every. Single. Detail. Because he’s NOT just avoidant, he’s also unable to let go, and somehow he is absolutely both at the same time.

Constantly running from the painful things he clutches close to his chest.

That sentence alone might actually explain what makes him complex, but I’m going to go further.

I think his execution of research and ideas and reckless plans without telling his friends, betraying them and lying to them, is both a product of the fact that he’s never considered himself someone who gets listened to seriously and the fact that he’s still processing his mother’s betrayal. (Let’s not gloss over that. He’s still grieving from that.)

“Are you afraid of me, Foster?” It isn’t a question. It’s a realization. In this moment he realizes what he’s really done. He has flashbacks to the mountain, to finding out about his mother, and he wonders if too much of her is in his blood. Of course he rushes to explain his double agent scheme, but he’s in pretty deep and this isn’t going to be his last betrayal. The scene where he steals the alluveterre crystal and Alvar might be his worst betrayal. But there’s so much behind it.

So many complexities.

So many underlying thoughts, some of which I don’t think he’s even aware of.

He’s trying and he knows he’s wrong but he does it anyway and focuses on everything right about the wrong.

Being literally, physically changed by his mother so that he has new abilities that could actually hurt people is another huge turning point. Now it isn’t, “are you afraid of me, Foster?” It’s “you should be afraid of me, Foster.” All pretense of laughter and humor and jokes is gone. The Leo Valdez side has evaporated.

If he was worried that too much of his mother was in his blood before, well, he’s definitely worried about it now. Because she changed him and he hates it and he’s afraid of himself.

He’s afraid of himself and he’s afraid for his friends (because even amongst all of this he cares, he loves his friends and he specifically loves Sophie) and his deflection is once again entirely gone and he does the thing we should have all seen coming.

He runs away.

But I think unraveled will show us that once again, even in running away, he can’t let go of the things he wants to leave behind. They stick to him and he takes them everywhere he goes.

In unlocked he writes in his journal that Sophie deserves someone like Fitz. He hates himself for having betrayed her and having made her lose faith in the good of the world. He loves her enough that even when he wants her to be with him, when he believes she’ll be happier with his friend, he wants that for her.

(He can hardly believe it when Sophie chooses him. “I don’t want to mess this up,” he says. “Please don’t let me mess this up.” He knows he’s a mess. He’s worried he’s too much of a mess to preserve the one thing he’s always wanted.)

And even in the end of Stellarlune, he takes the knife from Sophie to attack his mother, without telling her. In that moment I wonder if he was even thinking about his own stupid bad patterns, or if he was so determined to end things with his mother that he didn’t even consider that in some small way, he was sort of doing just the sort of thing he swore to himself he’d stop doing.

So what makes Keefe a complex character?

The way he cares so impossibly deeply for his friends while also doing things he knows will hurt them and feeling in his mind like maybe he can’t even stop it, maybe he’s just a mess that can’t be fixed and the best thing he can do for his friends is never see them again—

The way he runs, avoids, escapes, NEVER confronts his issues, but also is never able to leave them behind, dragging them with him wherever he runs, every single detail running through his head—

The way he’ll never say it out loud, but some part of him is worried he’s too much like his mother, wishing she’d get her hands off his life and stop changing him before he can’t deny it anymore—

The way his bad habits mirror each other even as he changes and develops as a character—

It’s not just his trauma and his coping mechanisms, or his feelings for Sophie and his friends. It’s the layers upon layers in his character, thick as shadowflux and so buried that even Keefe doesn’t know about some of them. (Even I can’t articulate them all. I’m able to really get into a state of feeling his character but these are the only things I’m able to get into words.)

This is about as much of his complexities as I can explain using actual words in the English language and not just transferring emotions. To the anon who was wondering how he’s complex, I hope this helps!

#kotlc confessions #kotlc #kotlc fandom #keeper of the lost cities #keefe sencen

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sweetjulieapples · 4 months ago

Text

Dear Commander - Chapter 23: From Ferelden, With Love

Cullen x Trevelyan

AO3 MASTERLIST

The Inquisitor and Cullen are on opposite sides of Ferelden but still on each other's minds.

Full chapter below:

Sera stopped me at first. I was making my way to the old tavern where I had a bedroll ready. In hindsight, I should have ran. Maybe then I could string together some semblance of a cohesive thought.

Maybe if we had just stood still, things would be different. But she followed me as I walked down the steps and in her jumble of curses and pessimism, she made some sense. I listened, that’s what the Inquisitor should do, right? She's scared like the rest of us. She just expresses it in a much more colourful way.

Then I heard his voice. Firm and authoritative. It was far too late in the darkness of the courtyard but he was working by candlelight. I sometimes worry that he pushes himself too far.

I tried to avoid him, to resist the temptation to approach, but Sera would not stop talking. Over and over. She must have found a dozen or so creative ways to say the name Corypheus without actually saying it. I shouldn't blame her, this is my mess and mine alone.

Then he looked up and it was too late to turn back. Sera left and I was standing there alone with no excuse. He appeared startled for a moment, then he looked away, throwing himself back into whatever it was that seemed a far greater priority than a decent night’s sleep. I was already there, his scouts looking at me as though I deserved his attention, looking back to him for some response. I didn’t know what to say, I just stood there like an idiot and then he just started telling me things. He didn’t say ‘hello’ or anything; instead, he rattled off all the things that he’s done and all the ways he’s keeping Skyhold secure. It felt so strange, almost dehumanizing. As though I am no more than an authoritative figure that expects military summaries in place of normal conversation. I froze, I didn’t know how to respond to that. So I laughed, because if I’m laughing, then nobody can be laughing at me. But I should never have poked fun at him for taking his role so seriously. It was shamefully unbecoming of me but I didn’t know what else to do. He clearly hadn’t been taking breaks or time for himself, but I said it anyway—the silly question: ‘Do you ever sleep?’ Of course he sleeps, at some point…at least I hope.

I hope he knows that I was joking and that I actually do believe he sleeps, because he didn’t say anything about it. He just turned back to what he was doing and attempted to justify his caution, saying that he couldn’t let anything happen. He was taking it so seriously that, for a moment, I could have sworn I saw him begin to shake. He was leaning all his weight into that little makeshift desk, it was starting to worry me. He turned to face me and he gave me the most piercing look that left me breathless. “We will not run from here, Inquisitor.” - is what he said and he meant every word.

Then it dawned on me that perhaps this is how he rests. He said it with so much pride. He doesn’t seem the type to sit by and let things happen. Maybe he’s more at ease planning and taking control than he could ever be if he were tucked up in bed.

I love really admire that about him. He's honorable and hard-working. The fact that he’s handsome is a nice bonus. Ugh, it hurts to even admit that. And that's the problem.

I find myself thinking of him all the time, far more than I did before. I feel like I’m starting to lose my mind. Even now as I sit here writing this, I wonder if he’s on his way back to Skyhold. I don’t doubt that I’ll receive word soon. For once, a mission report that I’d take joy in reading.

Oh, but my mind keeps wandering back to that night in the courtyard. I tried to keep my wits about me, to maintain composure and act in an appropriate manner. When he looks at me like that and speaks in that softer voice, my brain just stops. I tried to tell him that I appreciate all his hard work, offer my gratitude for rescuing me in the avalanche, and, more importantly, that I’m glad he survived—but I couldn’t find the words. I stumbled over my thoughts, cowering mid-sentence into some meaningless, vague statement that implied he was no more important to me than a random villager.

He looked away and whatever progress I thought we were making vanished just like that. It was so incredibly awkward that I just wanted to run away. I might have rolled my eyes at some point, I don’t even know. Then he stopped me. He touched me, grabbed my arm to stop me from walking away and promised that he wouldn’t allow the events at Haven to happen again.

“You have my word.”

He promised and it felt like that promise was just for me. The way he spoke, the intensity in his eyes - all for me.

Not because I’m The Inquisitor or The Herald of Andraste, but because I am me.

What if I’m wrong? If I let myself believe this…

“Inquisitor!”

The officer’s voice startled Juliette, making her flinch and drop her quill. Her heart raced as she took a deep breath, pressing her hand over her chest to calm her nerves. She had become a little too lost in thought, for a moment forgetting the attention that her duty demanded.

“I’ll be out in a moment,” she called, slamming the journal shut, the ink likely smearing before it had a chance to dry. She tucked it securely into her bedroll, her hands trembling slightly as she wondered how likely it would be that someone could happen upon it.

With one last glance at the journal, she stepped outside of her tent, greeted by the persistent drizzle of rain and the unmistakable stench of the bog that clung to the air. A crack of thunder rumbled above, as if to remind her that nothing—least of all her secrets—were safe here.

She scrunched her face in a dramatic manner just in case anyone had missed how much she hated this place. The dampness clung to her skin, the ever-present gloom made the world feel suffocating, even during the day. How anyone could call this home was beyond her understanding. The few days spent in the Fallow Mire were already far too many.

Her eyes lit up at the sight of a group approaching their camp -several scouts in Inquisition armor, one in particular that she had been eager to speak with.

“Harding!” Juliette called enthusiastically, weaving her way past the smoldering campfire. A few of the officers shot her curious glances as they rested, weary from the trip.

“Inquisitor,” Harding replied with a slight nod as Juliette approached. The rain pelted against her face, soaking her hair and cloak, but she barely flinched, her focus entirely on the Inquisitor. The other scouts moved ahead, sensing the need for privacy.

“What is it?” Juliette asked in a gasp, catching her breath from her sudden dash across the camp. “Did you find them?”

Harding’s expression darkened. “Not yet, Inquisitor. But we did find one who had escaped.” She passed Juliette a note with a regretful look. “Aubrey. He was a good man.” “Was?” Juliette asked, her voice wavering in sorrow as she pulled the note underneath her scarf to protect it. She motioned towards the tents with a tilt of her head, eager to get out of the rain.

As they reached the annex, where a loosely propped canvas offered little more than minimal shelter, Juliette unfurled the thin sheet of paper. She skimmed it swiftly, her attention flickering between the text and Harding’s words.

“We found his body in a cave. He likely passed away from his injuries.”

“Maker rest his soul,” Juliette replied, bowing her head in respect. “I’ll see that Aubrey is honored for his bravery.”

Harding gave a short nod. “He tried to warn you not to come here, but his letter never made it out of The Mire.”

Juliette glanced up from the letter, brow furrowed in confusion. “The Avvar want to challenge me to win favour with their gods…” Her voice trailed off, rising at the end as if she were still trying to make sense of it. “Because I’m the Herald of Andraste. That’s it? They think this will somehow disprove Andraste’s existence and... what?” She pressed her palm to her forehead, shaking her head. “This makes no sense.”

“Personally, I think their leader’s just a boastful little prick that wants to brag he killed you,” Harding said bluntly. ”Well,” Juliette said with a mirthless chuckle. “That’s fame for you.”

“They’re holed up in a castle called Hargrave Keep—what’s left of it, anyway. We’ll lead the way once you’re ready to depart.”

“Thank you, Harding,” Juliette said, casting a quick glance over her shoulder. “We need to move soon, once we’ve resupplied.”

“Getting to the troops won’t be easy. You’ll have to fight your way through undead,” Harding said, gesturing towards the murky water. Juliette shuddered at the thought. “Wait—you're not squeamish about undead, are you?” Harding teased.

“No, no, not at all,” Juliette replied, her voice dripping with mock enthusiasm. “Right at the top of my list of favourite monsters.”

“You’ll want to stay out of the water, then,” Harding said.

“If you can even call it water,” Juliette replied, wrinkling her nose. “It’s quite the smell.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Harding chuckled.

“I’ll make sure to let Josephine know that you need a raise once we’re back at Skyhold.”

“I might just hold you to that” Harding smiled. “Maker willing, The Inquisition’s people are still alive.”

“I am not letting the Avvar butcher our people,” Juliette said with determination.

“I appreciate it,” Harding smiled, nodding respectfully as she began to walk away.

Juliette hesitated, wrestling with the decision to bring up the operation at Denerim Palace. Her fingers tightened around the fabric of her scarf as she stepped back into the rain.

“Harding, wait!” she called, quickly closing the distance with a few quick steps.

Harding turned, watching curiously. “Yes?”

Juliette smiled awkwardly, tugging her scarf tighter over her head to shield herself from the rain. “You wouldn’t happen to know how far it is from Skyhold to Denerim, would you?”

“That depends,” Harding said, her voice wavering slightly, as though she could sense there was more to the question. “Are you talking distance measured or days traveled?”

“Days traveled. For a small army,” Juliette replied, tilting her head slightly, her thoughts already drifting elsewhere.

Harding considered this, squinting as though she could already see the journey laid out before them. “Maybe two weeks, horseback,” she shrugged. “It would depend on injuries, how many times they’d stop for supplies, that sort of thing.”

“Two weeks,” Juliette whispered to herself, nodding as she stared into the distance. He departed four days before me, seven for the mountain trail, another three for Redcliffe…

“Uh…is everything all right, Inquisitor?” Harding asked cautiously.

Juliette blinked and forced a smile. “Oh, yes,” she said, straightening her posture. “I just… like to keep track of where our people are, and what they’re… doing. It doesn’t matter.” Juliette began to quickly walk away, her head lowered and eyes focused on her feet. “We should hurry along,” Juliette added, her voice slightly more urgent now. “We have a big day ahead of ourselves.”

“Yes, Inquisitor,” Harding replied, though her gaze lingered on Juliette for a moment, still puzzled.

The next day they made steady progress as the Inquisition scouts moved farther ahead through the marshy bog of the Fallow Mire. Nearing Hargrave Keep, The Inquisitor and her party took a moment to rest after defeating a horde of undead. The scouts, seizing the moment of rest, moved ahead to assess the path before them.

The distant rumble of thunder filled the air and sparse rain drops made heavy splashing noises as they fell in the nearby lake. There was an eerie sense of calm while they waited for the scouts , until Cole decided to speak.

“Juliette?” His voice held a certain innocence, as if her title didn’t matter at all.

"Inquisitor," Cassandra snapped, her tone sharp enough to make him flinch.

"No, it’s fine," Juliette said, stepping closer to him. Her voice softened. "He can call me Juliette. I rather like it—it makes me feel like a person again."

Cassandra folded her arms tightly, her eyes narrowing as she watched Cole, as if measuring every word he spoke. Cole blinked up at Juliette, rising from his crouch. His oversized hat wobbled as he moved.

“But you are a person,” he said, sounding baffled.

Juliette sighed, her boot kicking at the dirt beneath her. "Sometimes... it doesn’t feel that way." She met his eyes with a forced smile. "Did you have a question, Cole?”

"Why do you hide your words underneath your pillow?"

“Oh!” Dorian gasped dramatically, his eyes lighting up as he swiftly crossed the space to Juliette. “Did I hear that correctly? Our lovely lady Inquisitor has a secret journal?” He grinned widely, clearly enjoying the moment as he waited for her reaction. Juliette sighed, shaking her head as she lowered it, her cheeks flushing slightly.

Dorian leaned in closer, trying to get a better look at her expression, his teasing grin only widening. “I packed so lightly for this trip, you know. I was hoping we’d stumble across something interesting for me to read.”

Juliette glared up at him, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t suppose there’s much point in hiding it now that Cole has announced it to the entire party,” she mumbled, rubbing her temples in frustration.

“But why, Juliette?” Cole asked, his voice genuinely curious. “You understand the meaning of the words, but you don’t know what they mean.”

She dropped her head into her hands, groaning. “Please don’t say anything else that will embarrass me, Cole.”

With a tilt of his head he replied, “But how will I know that it embarrasses you if I don’t say it?”

“He’s got you there,” Dorian chimed in, highly amused by the situation.

Juliette scoffed, walking briskly towards the water’s edge. “I’ll burn the book as soon as we return to camp,” she muttered, half to herself.

“Pages burn, yet words remain,” Cole spoke solemnly, his gaze lingering on her.

Juliette crossed her arms and shot Dorian one last, pointed glare. “Let’s just move on, shall we?”

Cassandra stood opposite Cole, her distrusting stare intense. “If you are to fight alongside us, Cole, I expect you to follow orders. The Inquisitor believes you wish to help…”

Juliette wandered ahead, hugging herself tightly as the rain began to fall a little heavier. She looked up at the sky, black clouds stirring above as though they were there to taunt her too. She rolled her eyes when she heard footsteps approaching.

“Dear diary,” Dorian said in a mocking tone. “Too many Templars. Too little time.”

Juliette sighed. “Maker give me strength.”

Inquisitor, Our forces were able to prov

Cullen’s quill slipped, smudging ink across the carefully written words. With a heavy sigh, he crumpled the parchment and tossed it aside, starting over.

Inquisitor, Our

Again, the ink smeared beneath his trembling hand. He clenched his jaw and exhaled through his teeth, snatching another piece of fresh vellum.

This can’t keep happening. I’m wasting resources, he thought, frustration tightening his chest. His gaze lingered on his fingers, as though he could somehow will them to cooperate.

He paused, staring at the blank page, his hand shaking as it hovered over the ink. With a sharp exhale, Cullen removed his gloves, hoping that could give him a better grip and steady his erratic movements. One hand carefully spread the vellum over the crate that he used as a makeshift desk, while the other gripped the quill tightly. Holding his breath, he lowered the quill to the page.

Inquisitor, Our forces were able to provide assistance to Queen Anora

The first stroke was unsteady, the ink bleeding into the vellum before he could finish the letter. His brow furrowed as he concentrated, but each new letter came out shaky and crooked. His grip on the quill tightened, knuckles turning white, but the tremors only worsened.

Every movement was deliberate, yet his hand refused to obey. The letters began to lose their form, sliding and shifting into scribbles. His handwriting, normally precise and carefully penned, now appeared a jagged mess, almost as disorderly as his thoughts.

Frustration consumed him as he shoved the quill aside with a growl. He snatched the ink pot and hurled it at a pile of crates, splattering ink into the air, the faint scent of the dye lingering. He stood for a moment, chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath.

Nearby soldiers, alerted by the noise, glanced over in surprise. Cullen clenched his fists, turning away and forcing his shoulders back, trying his best to appear composed despite the fury raging inside him.

He hated this.

If I cannot complete a task as simple as writing a letter, how am I to command an army? What use am I like this?

Each breath came ragged, and he felt as though his head were spinning. The withdrawals hadn’t been this bad in months. He walked over to a barrel and slowly splashed cool water against his face, the shock of the cold momentarily pulling him from the fog in his mind.

He leaned against the barrel, tightly closing his eyes. It’s been days. How much longer until it passes? He took a slow, deep breath. I vowed to be better than this. To give more. His hands still trembled, and there wasn’t a muscle in his body free from aching. The Inquisition, the soldiers… Juliette — I can’t let them down.

He stood there for a while, gathering what little strength he had left. The soldiers would be waiting, the new recruits among them. He couldn’t afford to let them see him like this.

With a long, steadying breath, he rolled his shoulders, wiped his face dry with the back of his hand, and turned towards the camp. Each step felt heavy, but he pushed forward, determined not to break.

The sun was bright. It’s always too bright. Cullen squinted, shielding his eyes with a hand as he walked to the edge of the perimeter where messengers were stationed.

“Any word from the Fallow Mire?” Cullen asked as he approached.

“Still nothing, Ser,” the messenger replied, a formality to his voice.

“When you do hear something, anything at all, I'd like to be notified immediately,” Cullen instructed.

“Yes, Commander,” the messenger nodded. “Would you like us to send a message to The Inquisitor?”

"No," Cullen said sharply, turning to walk away. "I’m sure they’re just busy." He forced the words out through clenched teeth, the sunlight magnifying his headache, while his mind raced anew.

They should have been there by now. Each day without an update brought on more worry, more stress. With the constant travel, the steady influx of new recruits, and the lingering grip of withdrawal, Cullen barely had room to breathe, let alone manage the mounting stress of The Inquisitor’s whereabouts.

He gritted his teeth, his ink stained fingers twitching as the possibilities swirled in his mind, each scenario worse than the last. He couldn’t grasp one before another took its place—what if she was in danger? What if they had failed? If only he could write to her—just one letter, one reply to ease his mind.

Cullen turned back to the messenger, drawing in a sharp breath before speaking. “Perhaps write to the scouts. Harding should be able to inform us of their progress. She may know if the soldiers have been located…and if the Inquisitor has safely arrived.”

“Right away, Commander,” the messenger nodded with a fist raised to his chest. He scurried away, leaving Cullen alone with his thoughts—but only for a moment.

“Commander!” an officer called out, approaching at a brisk pace, a serious expression on his face. Cullen exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a moment to gather his patience before turning to face the officer.

“The bandits have been cleared, Commander. Giving ‘em swords... wasn’t such a bad call after all.”

Cullen raised an eyebrow. “The Sutherland lad that turned up at Skyhold?”

“That’s the one. Drove the bandits off, our patrols are clear,” the officer said proudly.

“He may have potential yet,” Cullen replied, folding his arms. His gaze drifted over the barren plains surrounding their camp, the dry earth stretching endlessly beneath the pale sky.

The officer stood at attention, waiting, but a silence fell between them as Cullen stared ahead in contemplation. The officer relaxed slightly, his gaze following Cullen’s before he spoke again. “Hard to believe this was all green once,” he muttered, sadness in his voice.

Cullen looked across, his arms still folded tightly. There was a moment of silence before he spoke. “You’re from Lothering?”

The officer’s eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, he seemed lost in the past. “Until the Blight,” he said quietly. “My family and I were lucky to make it out.” He pointed towards the west, his hand lingering on the air. “The village is out that way. Or what’s left of it, anyway.”

“I suppose Honnleath is much the same,” Cullen said quietly.

The officer nodded slowly, his gaze now distant. “Just a name on a map these days.” He sighed heavily. “I best keep moving. More recruits will arrive soon.”

“Well, with luck they'll know which end to grip a sword by,” Cullen muttered sarcastically. The officer chuckled, walking back into the camp.

Once more alone with his thoughts, Cullen looked over at the dry, empty fields that were once thriving farmlands. He often found himself wondering just how damaged his childhood home had become. Did it still stand, left abandoned all these years? He couldn’t help but think of his family. Memories of warm August afternoons by the lake. He could almost hear his siblings laughter as they tried to throw each other in the water. What he’d give to go back to those days. Simpler, happier times. It had been seventeen years since he left to join the Templar order. Most of his life spent away from home. It felt like another lifetime ago. Cullen looked down at his sword, the Inquisition emblem glistening on the hilt. His siblings had likely heard of Haven, everyone in Denerim seemed to know after all. No doubt he’d return to Skyhold with an angry letter from his sister waiting. He didn’t feel ready to face his past, nor consider a future beyond this. He drew in a long, deep breath, the cool air filling his lungs. His hand rested against the pommel of the sword and the tremors eased. A habit he’d grown into over time, a strange sense of comfort. He had a duty now, and no matter the cost, he would not falter.

Juliette slowly pulled herself to her feet. The ringing in her ears was almost suffocating, a harsh, high-pitched sound that blurred her thoughts. Her vision swirled, three green glowing palms waved before her face, splattered in blood. Her blood, she realized, her stomach twisting. She coughed, the wind knocked from her chest, and forced herself to stay upright. Cassandra’s battle raged nearby, her sword flashing as she clashed with three Avvar warriors. The sound of steel meeting steel was accompanied by Cassandra’s grunts, each strike an explosion of power, but it was the crackling buzz of electricity nearby that seized Juliette’s attention.

Dorian stood just out of her reach, his hands crackling with magic. The Avvar warrior nearest to him was writhing on the ground, his body spasming from the brutal electrical shocks coursing through him. His sadistic laughter rang out, a sickening chill. Hand of Korth, he called himself, taking pleasure in his own suffering, each crackling surge of magic seeming to delight him. It was as though each strike against him was a moment of defiance against Andraste. Juliette shuddered at the thought. He could stay there, writhing in agony, a little longer.

Juliette raised her hands to the sky, the staff in her grip flaring with searing flames. With a wave, she conjured a barrier of fire that encircled the battlefield, flames crackling and swirling in a wall of blazing heat. Cassandra retreated, her enemies igniting in the inferno. Their screams echoed in the air, but Juliette's focus quickly shifted.

Her heart skipped a beat as her gaze fell on Cole, motionless on the ground, his daggers still tightly clutched in his hands.

“Hold on, Cole!” she yelled, racing towards him. As she kneeled before his limp body, a wave of confusion washed over Juliette. Does he heal? Will a potion... Her heart raced, her thoughts clouded with panic. “Cole!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “I don’t know how to heal you!”

With trembling hands, she pulled a vial of healing potion from her belt, her fingers fumbling as she tore the cork from the bottle. She held it under his nose, her breath frantic. Can he drink?

“Cassandra!” Dorian yelled, just seconds before the deafening crash of the overhang collapsing echoed through the air. Juliette scrambled to her feet, the healing vial slipping from her fingers and shattering against the ground. She froze, her eyes wide in horror as she watched Dorian rush to clear the rubble from where Cassandra lay trapped beneath. Did…did my fire do that?

Juliette struggled for breath, screaming out “Is she all ri—”

“Finish him!” Dorian shouted, fierce urgency in his voice with a glare over his shoulder. Juliette’s eyes darted to the Avvar, that so-called Hand of Korth crawling towards her with a twisted grin. She grabbed her staff, her breath quick and ragged. Too close, too close for fire. What do I do?

She stepped backwards, desperate to create some distance, to find enough space for her fire to rage without consuming her as well. Before she could react, he grabbed her ankle, yanking her to the ground. Her staff clattered against the stone as it fell beside her. A frightened squeal escaped her as the Avvar dragged her across the rough stone, his cruel laughter echoing in her ears as he muttered, “Weak. Weak is Andratse’s Herald.” Juliette snatched for her staff, her fingertips barely gripping it as she fumbled it into place. She raised it, hoping to smash it against his face, but his reflexes were too fast. In an instant, he grabbed the staff and bent the iron in half, a terrifying display of strength.

He laughed, shaking his head. Before Juliette could defend herself, his hands were wrapped around her neck, squeezing and choking while she clawed at his fingers, feeling herself slip away.

Suddenly, his grip loosened. A vacant expression crossed his face, followed by a slicing sound as he collapsed forward, falling beside her. Juliette sat there, eyes wide in shock, her breath shallow. Her fingers trembled as they instinctively moved to her neck, feeling the bruises forming beneath her skin. Cole stood before her, expressionless, blood-soaked daggers gripped tightly in his hands.

The walk back to camp was tense, the silence broken only by the steady rainfall, occasional thunder, and the distant groans of the undead. The Mire had mostly been cleared of danger by now, thanks to the closure of rifts and a reduced Avvar presence.

"Cassandra’s angry," Dorian observed loudly.

"I’m not angry—" she tried to object, but Dorian cut her off.

"Juliette’s angry." There was a pause, and the Inquisitor didn’t say a word.

"Tell me, Cole. What’s on your mind?" Dorian asked, his voice carrying a teasing lilt that went unnoticed by Cole.

"Relieved. Safe now. The Herald came for us, I knew she would!" Cole responded, his voice full of praise, mirroring the gratitude of the rescued soldiers.

"Yes, yes, she always takes all the credit," Dorian muttered sarcastically.

Juliette groaned, her boots thudding against the muddy ground as she stomped ahead, finally reaching the camp.

The Inquisition’s presence had nearly doubled in size during their absence. More soldiers, scouts, and officers swarmed the campsite, some planning, others preparing, and a few resting.

“What’s going on?” Juliette asked, her expression unusually stern as she moved into the center of the camp.

“Inquisitor!” an officer greeted her, bowing slightly. “Reinforcements were sent from Skyhold, your worship.”

“Why?” she asked, her voice laced with confusion. “There’s no need. We’re clearing out of here.”

“Commander Cullen sent us,” he explained cautiously, sensing her irritation.

“Well, it’s a little too late for that,” she snapped, throwing her ruined staff to the ground with a sharp clang and placing her hand on her hips. Her frustration flared as she let out a heavy sigh, her gaze shifting back to the officer. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… I’m just—” She faltered for a moment, stress getting the better of her. “Apologies, but you need to leave.”

Her eyes scanned the camp, and with a raised voice, she added, “You all need to leave. We’ve found the soldiers. Let’s just get out of this horrid bog of a—” She scoffed, shaking her head in frustration. Without another word, she beelined for her tent, the urgency of her steps mirroring her desire to escape the watchful eyes of the Inquisition. Dorian strolled into the camp, one arm supporting Cassandra as she limped beside him. Juliette glanced over her shoulder. That must be driving her crazy. Maker, she must hate me right now.

“This arrived for you, Inquisitor!” The requisition officer stepped in front of Juliette, holding a burlap-wrapped package.

“What is that?” Juliette asked, her expression softening slightly as she looked at the package with a flicker of curiosity.

“The soldiers brought this down from the Commander,” she explained. Juliette hesitated for a moment before extending her hand, taking the package with a quiet sigh, unsure of what to expect. Her breath caught for a split second, a fleeting warmth in her chest. She quickly masked the reaction, hiding the heat creeping along her cheeks, forcing her face to remain neutral. That was until she heard Dorians voice, in which she hung her head with a defeated sigh.

“A gift?” Dorian asked dramatically, stepping closer to Juliette. “From Commander Cullen?” he whispered, but his voice was far too loud, carrying more than Juliette would have liked.

Juliette clenched her jaw, her fingers tightening around the package. “Thank you,” she said curtly to the officer, her voice strained as she dismissed her with a stiff nod.

“Whatever could it be?” Dorian wondered aloud, his tone far too gleeful for Juliette’s liking. She ignored him, ripping open the package with growing impatience.

“Flowers?” Dorian suggested with a dramatic tilt of his head.

“Flowers?” Juliette echoed, her nose scrunching at the absurdity of it.

“Jewelry? …Ah, a book.” He paused, looking at the item in her hands with a theatrical sigh. “How predictably dull.”

“Would you stop?” Juliette snapped. “You’ve been particularly irritating today.”

“Oh, I’ve hit a nerve,” Dorian teased, his hands raised defensively. “Don’t drop a building on me!” Juliette scowled, brushing past him with a sharp movement, her steps quick as she neared her tent. “You could at least tell me what the book is?”

“You wanted something to read?” she snapped, spinning back to face him. “Take it!” She threw the book at him and stormed off.

Dorian caught the book easily, an amused grin spreading across his face. “Tale of The Champion?” he read aloud. “I don’t think I’ll bother… Oh, a note.”

“What?” Cassandra shrieked from across the camp. With a limp she hobbled over quickly, anger flaring in her eyes. Juliette stepped forward and snatched the note that fell from the book from Dorian’s hands. She glanced down at the paper, skimming the words as Cassandra’s voice grew louder with fury.

“That bastard! I knew it!”

“What?” Juliette said, confused. “What did Cullen —”

“Not Cullen, Varric!” Cassandra snarled, her grip tightening on the book as she ripped it from Dorian’s hands, her gaze fiery.

Juliette looked back down at the note.

Inquisitor, Varric is up to something and if Leliana’s suspicions are correct, you should know what you’re in for. While I can’t say that the story is true in it’s entirety, the events mentioned are accurate where it matters. Ignore any mention of me, he was exaggerating I’ve marked the sections that are relevant. If Hawke is indeed making his way to Skyhold, then this may give you some insight, if not a fair warning. Cullen

Juliette looked up, meeting Dorian’s watchful gaze and Cassandra’s piercing stare. "Well," Juliette said, her voice uncertain, unsure of what else to say.

Cullen sat by the fire at the camp on the outskirts of Redcliffe. The soft crackle of the fire was a welcoming sound among the loud bustle of the camp. He held Juliette’s letter, his hands far steadier today.

Cullen, There’s nothing like some light reading amid the ambience of torrential rain, suffocating darkness and the persistent groaning of undead. I beg you, never send me here again. Not that the mission was a complete waste of time, however. I’m happy to report that we have managed to free our soldiers. All but one are accounted for and are in good health, a little shaken, but I consider it a victory. Interestingly, not all the Avvar were hostile - just the few dozen that wanted me dead. The challenger has been dealt with. There is no reason for The Inquisition to return here. Please don’t send any more of us here. With love, from the most miserable bog of Southern Ferelden, Inquisitor Trevelyan p.s Your attitude sounded foul, but Varric’s description of your hair was glorious.

Cullen let out an exasperated sigh. “I should have just tore out the pages,” he mumbled to himself. His eyes wandered back over her handwriting. With love. She’s being dramatically sarcastic. A small smirk tugged at his lips. I tried to warn her not to go there, he thought, his fingers tracing the edges of the letter. He could almost hear her voice, that mix of dry humor and underlying defiance. I’m certain she’ll have plenty to say once we’re both back at Skyhold.

#cullen rutherford #dragon age inquisition #dragon age #commander cullen #cullen dragon age #cullen romance #cullen x trevelyan #dragon age inquisition fanfiction #dai fanfic #dragon age fanfiction #cullen fanfic #dai #cullen x inquisitor #dai cullen #cullen dai #dai fic #cullvelyan

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toomanyteefs · 2 months ago

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So a while back I made a big version of my oc clone boy, Stitch, and ordered a 3d printed clone head from Etsy. Well oddly enough, instead of sending me a back up of the one I ordered, I was given that head AND a clone wars Echo head. As it so happens I’ve been writing a lot of Echo stuff lately (and aside from Fox he’s my favorite of all the boys) so after having a bad day and an emotional meltdown I broke and spent money I shouldn’t have on getting the black series Echo since I already had the head.

I actually really dislike like the way they sculpted TBB’s faces for the black series toys, I think they look neither like themselves or like Tem and I kinda hate them. I have Tech and just keep his helmet on rather than looking at his weird face, so since I have the clone wars head I figured I’d just switch Echo’s out instead. First though, I had to paint said head.

Here’s the blank:

And here is the painted version. I’m still not super good at model painting, but I think this is the best one I’ve done so far!

And then today the boy finally came!!

For some reason his hand isn’t molded to have his index finger fit in the DC-12’s trigger guard like the other figures I have, so it’s crooked when he holds it, and irritatingly his kama is made of plastic so he can’t sit and his legs aren’t really all that posable, but oh well, nobody is perfect.

Anyway after realizing his helmet had a clip in the back to keep it on, that his neck was actually three pieces for some unfathomable reason, and having to use pliers to get the main portion of his neck detached from the head, I stuck his new head on! His helmet even fits over the new head perfectly!

Here he is with helmet on and off!

And here he is on my shelf with his squad (the ones of them I actually have that is). I love him, blorbo from my shows!

#arc trooper echo #the clone wars #the bad batch #my figures #custom figure #star wars merch

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leelreallylikespersona · 1 year ago

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Decaying Godhood (Persona AU)

I've been rambling and throwing ideas for this AU for a good bit now, here's a much more cohesive post about it!

Shoutout to @the-squeege and @artekai for discussing ideas with me, it was super helpful o(*°▽°*)o

Spoiler warning for P3, P4, P5/P5R, P5S, and P5T!

So let’s meet the main characters and their arcana!

Nyx (Tower)

Ryoji (Death)

Izanami (Empress)

Izanagi (Emperor)

Yaldabaoth (Devil)

Satanael (Justice)

Emma (High Priestess)

Salmael (Lovers)

Azathoth (Hermit)

Adam (Strength)

I’m omitting Pandora, Nyarlathotep, Clockwork God, and Enlil since I haven’t played the games they’re from… I don’t know enough about them to include them properly.

I’m scrapping the usual typings and giving (almost) everyone new typings… mostly because I have no idea who I’d apply fire, wind, etc to, none of these guys scream any particular element. I’m still working out the typings but what I know for sure so far are the “typeless” ones:

Adam: Strictly physical attacks

Azathoth: He is strictly a healer in this, and has no offensive attacks

EMMA: Navigator, can occasionally use almighty attacks

I’m leaning toward making their typings relating to humans, somehow.

As for the plot, at least a quick summary of what I’m thinking so far… all of humanity has come to a standstill. As in, time has stopped progressing for them. However, effects of leaving a living thing out to the elements are still occurring. In other words, humans are kind of just rotting away. It’s a very slow, magic mixed with organic decay kind of process that’s going on here. The appearance of this rot becomes more and more obvious as our group of unlikely heroes progress.

The gods, with the exceptions of Nyx, Thanatos, and Izanagi are dead, so how does this work? For this AU, none of the final bosses really die… their physical forms are abolished and their concepts are left to wander a nothingness, endlessly reflecting on what they’ve done. For Adam’s case, he stuck with Maruki until he died, then he took on a human form and lived among people for many years. Now would be a good time to mention that this takes place years after the events of P5S, so any human characters are long gone.

Let’s start from the beginning of the AU. It focuses on Nyx, Ryoji, and both P3 protagonists. These four are kind of just in a white void. Ryoji is able to move freely, he can see, he could leave too, but doesn’t want to leave Minato and Minako. They’re depicted as statue-ish figures, with a few features a deity would have. Their positions after the events of P3 caused them to go from humans to some sort of gods themselves. They are still mostly human though, this is important for the start of the plot.

Nyx’s sealing is visualized here as having been chained to these two. Until now, she couldn’t move, she was paralyzed along with having actual restraints. Therefore she couldn’t see, her eyes were forced shut. She couldn’t speak either. She could hear though, and the only thing she could do was listen to Ryoji speak to Minato and Minako. Some days, he’d talk to them as if they were still around. Other times, she could hear him mourn. Initially, she didn’t understand it at all. Sure, that’s her kid, and she cared about him somewhat, but she didn’t understand why he’d cry about them so much. There’d be times too, where Ryoji would talk to her, usually it would be him saying he wishes she could understand humans like he did, or sometimes he’d yell at her. Over the course of years and years, Nyx comes to understand Ryoji’s feelings… somewhat, anyway.

This brings me back to the chains she has. Now, all of the sudden, she can see and move again. And these chains, which were once really short, are now much longer, allowing Nyx to walk pretty far from them. This happening is meant to show Minato and Minako’s humanity being affected by the Rot, which is causing them to lose their grip on Nyx.

Upon hearing some movement, Ryoji is quick to become aggressive, but Nyx is still disoriented from suddenly being able to see and speak again, so she doesn’t return any hostility. You can imagine the arguing taking place as they try to figure out what’s happening. After a while, they realize they are able to see into the human realm. That’s when they notice the state of humanity.

Of course, they don’t notice the Rot yet. These two are the first to venture into the human realm to investigate what is going on. It’s mostly Ryoji that wants to figure things out, he takes Nyx with him to keep an eye on her.

This brings me to the motivations of each of the characters… Ryoji going out of his way to help humans makes sense. He did live as one, and made a lot of friends who he cared a lot for. For others, they hate humanity (cough Yaldabaoth), so why’re they here? Simply put, after humans rot away, the realm of gods is next. Also worth mentioning, everyone now has a humanoid form (if they didn’t have one already), so this is something of a second chance for these guys too.

I’ll go through each character:

Nyx: After spending years only listening to Ryoji talk to the twins and voice his affections for humanity, she gains a better understanding of them and obtains a sense of self (much like how Thanatos/Death became Ryoji during P3). She feels like she owes it to Ryoji to help him now.

Izanami and Izanagi: After the events of P4, these two really didn’t feel like doing anything else… Izanami was unable to do much anyway. They are later dragged out of the realm of nothingness they were hanging out in. Izanagi’s time with Yu makes him far more inclined to help out, Izanami is a little heartbroken that after the Investigation Team proved humanity’s worth, they fell into this state.

Satanael: He ditches the Phantom Thieves after Yaldabaoth is taken care of, and left to go cause minor bouts of chaos, nothing too drastic. He doesn’t outright try to end humanity, he just likes “poking fun”, so when everything comes to a standstill, he’s alarmed. Satanael is more neutral compared to everyone else, he does care about mankind, not to the extent that Ryoji and Azathoth do, though. He doesn’t hate them either, so he (probably) helps them for a selfless reason.

Yaldabaoth: For sure is only saving humanity so he also doesn’t rot away. Perhaps by the end, he’s changed a bit, but now that he’s given a physical form again, who knows what he’ll get up to.

EMMA: Upon being defeated, she spent her time watching over Sophia and Ichinose. She chooses to help humanity because of how well the PTs treated Sophia.

Salmael: Toshiro’s anxiousness rubbed off on him a bit… As the god of stagnation, this halt in humanity seems like it’s his doing, but it isn’t. He ventures out thinking that he somehow accidentally did it, and is horrified by the Rot..

Azathoth and Adam: These two genuinely care for humanity, their motivations are completely selfless. While Azathoth can suspend his emotions, Adam spent more time with Maruki, living as a human for years, so he’s much more emotional over the whole situation.

None of these guys are able to have Personas, but are able to “summon” their deity forms as an extension of themselves (so there’s a split-consciousness situation happening). Awakenings are still required for them to be able to do this, though, similar to Persona awakenings.

This ability requires one to first of all realize that their status and power as a god is due to humanity’s perception of them, but then they also must accept that. Only then they can “break free” of their restricted humanoid forms to use their more powerful forms. These forms look similar to their in-game designs, but there’ll be some differences, as I want to give them fun new(ish) designs…

Acquiring this ability is much easier for some than others… Ryoji and Adam as an example, are really quick to accept this once they understand the idea initially, but then a few others refuse to accept that humans are responsible for their power.

As for enemies, Shadows are present due to humans being unable to pass properly. For major bosses, the Rot left some human bodies as empty husks that became aggressive. These husks are attracted to the power the gods have.

Some side characters I also want to include… Jose and Sophia run the shop that provides weapons and other equipment! There’s also the Velvet Room that has specifics I’m trying to figure out… I might make Yu and Ren the attendants.

I think that’s all I have for now! I’d still like to figure out the order in which each god joins the team… It starts with Ryoji and Nyx, Salmael probably second since he’s already out investigating (he can be the navigator before Emma joins), then it’s either Adam since he’s also around, or Emma. This is still a wip! So if anyone has any comments or anything, feel free to send an ask! I'm already doing some doodles for this so hopefully I'll have some art for it soon (❁´◡`❁)

#Persona 3 #Persona 4 #Persona 5 #Persona 5 Royal #Persona AU #P3 AU #P4 AU #P5R AU #I honestly would love to see the final bosses come back somehow...#But that'll never happen so I'll just have this AU to keep me entertained (●'◡'●)#P3 spoilers #P4 spoilers #P5 spoilers #P5R spoilers #P5S spoilers #P5T spoilers

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girldragongizzard · 8 months ago

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Chapter 1: How I wanted it to go

When I awoke one morning from uneasy dreams I found myself transformed in my bed into a mythical beast.

It wasn’t really that long ago, and I’m still getting used to this, but the circumstances strike me as so similar to the opening to Franz Kafka’s Metamorphosis I feel I have to start this account with those words.

I’d be lying if I said it took me by surprise, though.

Even if you live in a world, as we do, where the magical and the miraculous don’t tend to happen, if that world has always felt so Hellish and unbearable as it did for me, and you’ve spent your whole life since early childhood yearning with every molecule of your being for the truth that you feel in your very soul to become reality, when it happens I can report it just makes sense.

Everything feels like a ridiculous impossible dream, absolutely.

I cannot convince myself that any of this is real, yet. But I am not at all surprised by it.

I was so done pretending to be a man. It’s good that I no longer can.

You’d think it would cause all sorts of problems, too. But so far it isn’t.

Socially, I mean. Legally.

You’d think somebody would call animal control, or the national guard.

But once again, this morning, after puttering around my apartment in my true form, experimenting with ways of making and eating breakfast, and getting used to drinking coffee form a large wide bowl, I crack open the door and poke my snout outside to taste the air and determine if anyone else in the hallway before I can even catch sight of them.

And, once again, it is my neighbor, Rhoda. Her perfume stings my tastebuds briefly.

I push my head further out, tentatively, and tilt my skull so that I can put her door in the center of my left eye’s sight.

She’s leaning against the door frame, teacup in her right hand, left arm clenched across her lower ribs, holding her robe shut. Her simple wooden cane is hanging from her left elbow. And she’s smirking.

“Good morning, Sleepy Head,” she says. “Still a dragon today?”

Obviously, I am.

I can’t exactly smile with my mouth, and keeping it closed makes it far less threatening than opening it into any sort of grin, so I once again take a cue from cat body language and slowly squint my eyes at her and lift my head a little.

I’ve been practicing all sorts of things alone in my apartment, and I’m on the verge of figuring out how to talk again. But not quite yet.

I can make a pretty wide variety of awful squawking noises and phenomenally deep rumbles. And I’ve managed something that comes across as similar to a glottal stop, but it’s happening much deeper in my chest than anything I’ve got that resembles a glottis.

So, I’ve taken to answering her questions by giving her a cat smile for “yes” and turning my head away for “no”, and she obliges by asking a lot of relevant questions. It’s worked pretty well so far.

She knows not to call me by my old name anymore, even though I can’t give her a new one.

There’s no evidence besides her recognition of who I am and her bizarrely calm reaction to my presence, but I do suspect that Rhoda might be at fault for my transformation. Or, to credit for it, rather. I don’t know how. She doesn’t look like a witch. But when I first exited my apartment to find her waiting for me, it was the first thought that popped into my head, and it’s still there.

The thing is that I can go down to the coffee shop on the corner and the baristas will greet me with smiles, grins, and cheers, and serve me my usual but in the widest cup possible. And I don’t know why they’re doing that. How do they know who I am?

Anyway, today is going to be fascinating, because it’s the date of my first counseling appointment since my transformation, and I have no idea how it’s going to go. But I’m absolutely going to keep it.

It is, after all, one of the many requirements I have to continue to meet in order to continue receiving rent assistance and keep my apartment in my name. Also, SSI and medicare hinge on it as well.

They shouldn’t, but the government is like that, you know.

Anyway, before moseying toward the stairwell, I pull myself fully out of my apartment to rear up and close the door as carefully as I can, and then turn to Rhoda to give her my full attention, in case she has more pertinent questions that might actually teach me a few things about my new state.

“Can I get you anything?” she asks, taking a sip of her tea. Her face is glinting in the hallway light, fresh from her morning routine, and her hair is still in her favorite silk bonnet.

In turn my head to the side, still smiling.

“Are you sure?” she prods.

That honestly deserves a shrug, so I face her again and lower my head. It’s the closest thing to raising my shoulders I can manage now. I don’t really have shoulders anymore. Not like a human.

She looks me up and down, reading me with a smirk on her face, and says, “I’ve been thinking about AAC options for you. Your claws are going to make using a tablet really hard for you. But I bet you could use that tongue.”

That is, actually, how I’ve been using my own hand-me-down tablet. Typing with my tongue really sucks, but I’ve been able to respond to emails by selecting the suggested responses that gmail offers. So far. It’s how I’ve confirmed today’s appointment. But I hadn’t thought of AAC.

“I’ve got a sample app on my phone,” she says. “Would you like to try it?”

I widen my eyes and make a point of smiling again. I have the time.

The problem is that I don’t have very good eyesight right in front of my nose. Humans don't, really, either. Try typing with your own tongue on your phone. It causes a bit of eye strain at least, I wager.

And I do have pretty powerful binocular vision that gives me great depth perception, but my eyes work a bit more like an eagle’s, now, I imagine. I don’t really know. I’m guessing, but it’s definitely different. I have way more peripheral vision, and I have to turn my head to look at different things. No eye muscles.

So, when Rhoda loads up the app and then places the phone carefully on the hallway floor in front of me, I have to do a whole routine for each word I want to say.

I look at the screen with one of my eyes. I tend to default to my right eye, close enough that I can focus on the glyphs and read the words below them to pick out the one I want. Then rear back to put that glyph in the middle of my vision, to target it with my hunting instinct. And then stick my tongue out and dart my head forward to gently attack it. And then do it again for each word or command.

I’m really not used to this, and I don’t like it, but it is much easier than using a keyboard to try to spell things out. It is exactly the same thing I’ve done to reply to my counselor, only with a dedicated app.

“Works,” I report, the phone serving as my voice. I keep it really simple, “Thank you.”

“I bet that would be so much easier on your tablet,” Rhoda says.

I smile in my way.

“But if I install the full version of this on your tablet so you can talk to people, how are you going to carry it around?” she asks.

I look at her pointedly, tilting my head.

She smirks, raising an eyebrow and tilting her head down at her phone that’s still lying on the floor.

I make a point of rolling my head in an exaggerated gesture like someone rolling their eyes, then go about poking at her phone with my tongue again. It takes a while.

“Not idea,” I manage to reply. It was sort of a mashup of two different sentences I wanted to say, but where my frustrations led me to choosing the primary components of both and mushing them together, “not know” and “no idea”. I started with “not” but then couldn’t find “know” and went with “idea”. Next time, I’d just go with “no idea”.

I guess that’s what learning is, and I’ll get better at this with time. Faster, but not as fast as talking with my voice.

Rhoda holds her cup close to her face and taps it a few times with her left index finger, then says, “I’m thinking that I’ve got an old purse that would hold that old tablet of yours. You’ve still got it, right?”

I smile.

“Good. So we put that around your neck and then put a sign on it, saying something like ‘AAC inside, please place on floor for me.’ If that’ll fit. I could paint that on the purse with nail polish until we’ve got a better solution,” she mused. “What do you think?”

I hesitate. This is sounding like a lot of work to set up, and I suspect she’s planning on doing it right now. And I do want to go for a fly before my appointment. But, it would also be a good idea to have a better way of communicating with my counselor.

But now that she’s got me thinking about AAC, I realize I have been manipulating things with my claws surprisingly well. My foreclaws are a lot like the claws of a parrot. And they aren’t much bigger than human hands. I’m a small dragon, by dragon standards, I think. I just can’t operate a tablet with them because the claw itself gets in the way of my fat pad. Or, oh shit, I could use a knuckle! Why have I been doing this the hard way?

I guess I just think of my mouth and tongue first now for most things, and claws second. It’s just reflexes or something. But now have the idea in my head and I can do it all better and faster.

But then, also, I’m thinking that if I had a tray of kinetic sand, I could just write words in it with my claw.

Ordering that from online with my knuckle will be so much easier than doing it with my tongue.

Or I could find and go to an actual store. I think there’s a toy store with kinetic sand in town.

Rhoda watches me think about all this, and says, “You know you’ve got to be able to tell the world what it’s like to be a dragon, right? It’s your right! It wouldn’t be fair if you couldn’t. Let me do this for you.”

I fall back on my haunches and lift my head. Then I skootch aside to let her past to get to my door, which I now leave unlocked because I just can’t with keys anymore. And we do this thing.

If anyone is going to skulk into my apartment to steal anything, they’re going to be stealing from a dragon, and anyone around here has got to know that by now. And I haven’t seen any hobbits. But getting to carry my tablet around is going to rock.

And then, while she’s got the polish out, Rhoda asks me if I wanted painted claws.

This is really eating into my flying time, but I just can’t pass it up, so I tell her yes.

And she works on painting all of my claws, even the ones on my wings. And she apologizes that she doesn’t have enough polish for my horns, but I wasn’t expecting her to do those too.

Then, when she’s done, she pushes my tablet toward me, face up on my coffee table.

“What’s your name, Hon? What should I call you?” she asks.

Now that she’s got me thinking about AAC and I’ve figured out using my knuckle, I realize I could have done this on the first day.

I hit home and pull up the Tumblr app, then hit the link to my blog and make sure it’s scrolled up so that she can see the name I’ve been using for myself there for the past ten years. The full name is in the bio. She also sees the URL, of course.

For Reasons, I haven’t shown this to anybody I’ve known in person before. But, it feels less embarrassing now, and I think I trust Rhoda.

After staring at the screen for a second, taking it all in, including my profile pic of a dragon from an ancient illuminated manuscript, she sits back, turns her head to the side, and looks at me out of the corner of her eye.

“Girldragongizzard, huh?” she asks. “I have to admit, I didn’t know that about you. But I like it. OK, so, she/her for you?”

I blink, and then nod like a human, long and slow, then smile.

I didn’t realize quite how nervous I was feeling about that until that shock of recognition and excitement I felt throughout my gut and chest when she said that pronoun.

I have a moment where I feel confused and dizzy, because I’m a dragon. Human gender isn’t really supposed to be something that makes sense to me. Maybe I lay eggs now? I’m not sure. I’ve been assuming I don’t, that I still carry spermatozoa, and can deliver it with a cloacal kiss or something like that. And I thought I was OK with that because I wasn’t feeling my physical dysphoria anymore. Who the heck knows exactly what’s going on.

But, apparently, I’m genuinely trans? If that was gender euphoria, I guess I am.

I’m fifty years old. I was a big guy as a human. I’d just been playing girl on the internet for as long as I can remember to keep myself functional and reasonably happy, I guess. But I’d never actually considered transitioning.

This transformation is the transition I always wanted, anyway. But, then I get gender euphoria from she/her still.

I think, momentarily, about someone trying to misgender me now, and I end up grinning like a human.

“OK, woah,” Rhoda says, lifting up both hands. “That’s a lot of very sharp teeth!”

I carefully close my mouth, smile like a cat again, and lower my head, to indicate to her an apology of sorts. Which she seems to accept.

“Anyway,” she says, “I really like your name, Meghan the Dragon. I see it says that Meg for short is OK?”

I indicate a yes.

“It’s unusual for a trans girl name, from what I’ve seen,” Rhoda says. “But I bet you’ve been sitting on that name for years and years.” She leans back and puts both her hands on her knees. “Well. I bet you were going somewhere. Now that you can talk a little more freely, I probably shouldn’t keep you any longer.” Then she looks around at what’s happened to my apartment since my transformation, and says, “Hm. Do you want me to help you dragon proof this place?”

—

I don’t go flying before counseling, but I do make my appointment on time. And I’ve got an agreement with Rhoda to work on my apartment together later this evening. I’ll get my flying in after the appointment and before that. Also, some coffee.

But now I’m standing in front of my counselor’s door, wondering if this is a good idea.

So far, I’ve had no trouble with anybody.

It’s bizarre.

It’s like they’ve all expected this and recognize me anyway, if they’ve known me. And if they’re a stranger, they don’t really give me another glance. Unless we’re doing business or something, in which case they’ve all given me a considerable amount of patience and understanding.

And the longer it goes on like this, the more it makes me nervous that the other shoe is going to drop. Or it’s all going to fall apart. Or I’ll wake up and discover it’s a dream.

And I do worry a little, every time I meet someone who hasn’t seen me as a dragon yet, that they’ll react badly.

But what’s eating me, and keeping me from trying to figure out how to open this door with a round knob, is that I’ve realized that maybe today is the day I come out as trans to my counselor.

I’ve been hiding that from her, and waffling on whether or not to go through with it. That is, when I’m not in denial, and I let myself even think about it.

But I really, really like being called Meg in person, and I don’t think I can stand to hear my government name anymore.

So this is a dilemma.

But it turns out that the previous client has been taking longer than usual and running into my time, and the door opens as they emerge from the office and come face to face with me.

This solves the dilemma of whether to open the door.

I’m presented with a short, fat person with pink hair, jeans, and a navy blue t-shirt that says, “I am Nimona” on it.

Their side cut coupled with that shirt causes me to flash them the peace sign.

Which they silently, meekly return.

Then I do my sideways shuffle to get out of their way, and they edge carefully by, eyeballing me the entire way.

They keep an eye on me all the way to the elevator.

This is the first time anyone has done this.

I’m watching them, trying to figure out if they’re scared of me or what, when I hear my counselor.

“Come on in,” she says.

But I keep watching long enough to see the other client bite their lower lip as the doors of the elevator close between us.

---

#writeblr #original fiction #serial fiction #dragon #transformation #transgender

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stevenbasic · 2 years ago

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Growing into the Job, Post 347: A Sunday at Melissa's, p5

We were there in my bedroom for - how long? An hour, more? Bonding, dry nursing, gazing into one another’s eyes with him all bundled up on my lap. Time went so quick when we were together! All I know is that I’d heard my mom’s weird clock chime at one point; otherwise I didn’t pay too much attention to time...we had alllll Sunday, just the two of us. It was rainy outside so there was nothing better to do today than snuggle snuggle snuggle together. Bond bond bond him to me. He certainly seemed to be liking it so far! All cuddled up into me like a bug in a rug, he’d finally calmed down and seemed at peace after his almost-dying in the pool earlier. My nipple in his mouth helped I think haha. He was getting so good at this, dry-nursing, relaxing, zoning out into my breast, and I was getting the hang of exactly what parmo…phairm…perfumes to use, which ones to release out of my nipple and breast to keep him relaxed and happy and focused on me while he did this. It was like I could watch and feel his brain cells responding to me, lining up for me, changing and starting to behave like good little boys for me. Meanwhile he just sort of nuzzled and cooed and suckled and when it all became too intense for him I’d let him rut his little hips into me, through the towel I’d swaddled him in. He’d come against the weight of the underside of my breast, or against my hand and it felt so nice, tingly. I could feel the bliss shivers in the girls, too; they’d all gone home but I’m sure they appreciated this haha. Maybe he did that twice, maybe three times, and dozed in and out a bit after, once woken by more chimes. My insides would get all gooey, just watching him wake up next to my nipple and immediately go back to sucking.

Aren’t you the lucky little man? Being with the hot, big-boobie mommy giantess wifey you’ve always wanted? Because that’s what I’m turning into for you, aren’t I?

I swear I could have sat there with him like this forever. Eventually, though, I’d heard his little tummy start to rumble and as much as we were enjoying ourselves, I’d figured I should pull him off and get him to eat for real. I wanted to dress him up cute in some of the comfy stuff I’d picked up for him on my shopping trip with Shanette yesterday, a new pair of gray sweatpants and a matching top. But the new little underpants I bought him didn’t fit around his, um, penis. He seemed to be getting smaller everywhere but there! Maybe if I wasn’t in the room, and it wasn’t quite so hard all the time, he’d have an easier go at it. But in the meantime…

“Ohh honey with you all excited like that, you just don’t fit in the cute little underwear I bought you. You’re such a big boy down here! Come here and let me help you put on your pants,” I giggled. We’d stood, and he was standing there all naked. “I don't want you to hurt yourself trying to stuff it inside." With that I pushed him back onto the bed in front of me. He looked so surprised when I lifted his little toosh so I could get the sweatpants up and over his thighs and his hips and his nngh hard I want to do that again but it’ll have to wait. Breakfast first! "You’ll just have to go without underpants until we come up with something else.”

The look on his face was too much when I gave him a little slap on his bottom.

Omigod if I had my way I’d dress you every day! You’re too adorable! Watching him blushing like that just got my mommy-juices flowing, and made me really laugh.

Anyway, I was still feeling overprotective of him all through cooking him breakfast. I’d immediately regretted sitting him up on that high stool at the kitchen bar, worried that he might fall and hurt himself. Silly, right? But still, I wanted him to watch me cook, fixing up the eggs and sausage patties I was going to make into breakfast sandwiches and perched there at the bar across from the stovetop he’d have a perfect spot to watch me cracking eggs. Just like I’ve done to you this weekend, huh? Cracked you open? He watched, and he even yelled at me to be careful when I put my hand right down on a still-orange-hot ceramic burner. I pulled it right back, on instinct - it was warm for sure, but really didn’t hurt at all! He was a little freaked out by it, eyes as big as saucers, not believing what he was seeing. I guess you’ve got a fireproof girlfriend, huh? I was tempted to put my hand right back down on it, palm flat, look him in the eyes, show you what I can do. Anyway, I was more worried about him - those seats were so tall! He could slip off and fall! But, yes, I guess I was just being a nervous nelly because he was fine and finally I got to sit alongside him, on his left, on a stool of my own, to make sure he stayed safe.

“You haven’t drank any of your juice,” I commented nodding at the little glass I’d filled for him as I cut up his sausage patty into teeny tiny pieces, “I could pour you some milk but you should get your vitamin C.” After a little thought I’d figured it’d be best if he just had his eggs and sausage like normal on a plate, not a sandwich. Easier to eat and chew and not choke.

“Yeah huh,” he mumbled, like he was distracted by something, like my not-burnt-up hand got him thinking too hard. Since I’d sat him down, and as I cooked, I’d felt he was a little distant. He was definitely being quiet. So as I sliced up his food next to him, I made sure to take in a nice deep breath and swell up my boobs in my top, a black tank with white piping. If you’re going to be distracted by something, I want it to be me.

“Is everything alright?” I asked. Wow, so serious. I don’t know if I like that. Just look at my boobies.

He finally spoke. “Thank you for saving my life today.”

Oooo. That’s what was distracting you? Me being your superhero? Well, that’s okay haha.

“Oh, it was my pleasure!” I laughed, waving him off. I didn’t want him to think that I thought it was a huge deal. It’s just what I do now. But it did fill me with a little pride, knowing I had his life in my hands like this, that it’s only because of me he’s still breathing. “But maybe I deserve a raise!” <giggle!>

To that he gave me a funny look, But just then, suddenly, she was on the counter, between us, the little ball of fur.

“Tiger!!” I exclaimed, thankfully remembering the right name even in my surprise, “Bad boy!” I pushed her away - she’d immediately gone for his meal - but she was obviously hungry and persisted. “Shoo! Don’t be such a brat!” I said, as I reached with my left arm across the bar to grab another small plate and slide the platter of extra scrambled eggs and sausage towards myself. “Don’t worry I’ll feed you,” I said, as I forked over a patty and some eggs, about the same amount I’d served to him. I began to cut them up into teeny tiny pieces. She was now staring at the plate, trying to be patient. “What a hungry boy this morning, huh?” I said.

Watching me make a plate for ‘Tiger’ that looked just like the one I’d made for him, Jay spoke up. “You do know that's a female cat, right?" he said, like he was telling me something new.

"Oh of course!” I said, “I just like to tease her!”

At that, he shrugged and set to pushing his food around his plate with his fork, satisfied with my explanation. I’m sure you��re thinking ‘that's really weird’. But that’s me! Yep you’re stuck with the crazy girl!

I set the plate of cat food on the floor - “No kitties on counters!” I told her, just to piss her off - and she jumped down for it. Me, myself? Yes! I was hungry! I’d loaded two sausages and eggs onto some toast and started digging into it sandwich style. It was actually pretty good - I didn’t burn anything! My cooking skills were improving haha!!

Now that I was done cooking, I let him watch me eat. Feeling him watch my jaw, my throat muscles, how my neck moved gave me a warm dominant feeling. He watched my hands, so big around the sandwich. He watched my lips, my teeth, my nom nom RAWR mouth haha just open up reeeeeal wide and BITE. He had such an intent look in his eyes, I loved it. And when I put my sandwich down to reach up and release the loose ponytail I’d put in, his jaw sorta haha fell open and he watched my hair cascade down around my shoulders.

“Y-your hair looks longer,” he said.

“Yeah I didn’t cut it yet today,” I replied, reaching behind my neck and fluffing it out, letting it all fall now halfway down my back. His look was so precious! That obviously confused him: who needs to cut their hair every day? Me! I do! Ever since I met you.

“You’re still not drinking your juice,” I finally said, trying to keep my concern from making me sound too nitpicky. “You’ve had a big weekend, you need your energy,” I continued, pressing him. He just sort of looked at his little glass, not really saying too much, so I took it and gulped it but didn’t swallow. In my mouth for a moment I let it warm up or whatever, watched him watching me, and spit it all back into his glass.

“You know what to do,” I said, as I slid it back to him with a soft smile. I know, baby. I know what you need, it’s okay.

Without much delay at all - well, maybe a little, he looked embarrassed - he drank it. A few sips, then a bit more. OOOoooo that was exciting, so funny, watching him! I could feel my eyes sparkling, eagerly. That’s where we are, honey, you and me. It’s fine. You need me for this sort of thing. “Would you like more?” I asked.

“No thank you.”

"Baby you have to eat, get some energy" I cooed in his ear as I leaned in closer to him, blanketing him with my perfumes. "It will help you keep up with me. Don’t you want to be able to do that?" I looked down at his plate, which was basically untouched. I promise it wasn’t me! My cooking was actually now pretty good! With his fork I speared a piece of sausage, one I’d cut for him into a little morsel, and chewed it up a bit, more than I normally would. He let out the cutest little moan as he watched me chew. Do you know what’s about to happen? Then, my free hand went behind his head and I leaned in for a kiss. “C’mre, baby,” I said, around the bit of sausage, right before our lips met, “give me a kiss.”

The sparks, yes, as usual - our kisses were always so exciting! - but I used my tongue to push the chewed-up bit of sausage into his mouth. I felt him stiffen, a little shocked or surprised, but when I sealed my lips back up and backed off a bit, I knew he knew what he needed to do. I watched as he chewed it a bit, even though he didn’t need to, and swallowed,

Oh my god I’m chewing his food for him now!

Without even letting him get the chance to talk, to complain or argue or feel embarrassed, I forked and chewed up another bit of sausage, this time with some nice soft buttery scrambled eggs. Mushed all up, I kissed and pushed it into him again. This time, he didn’t even try to chew on his own; he just swallowed.

“You…you like my cooking, huh?” I said, getting a little - haha, omigod! Look at your face! - hot under the collar, warm in my chest. It was, now that I think back on it, the first real feeling of the swelling in my breasts that would get to be such a part of my life soon. When he nodded, acknowledging that yes yes yes you liked it, I waved my hand over my chest, fanning myself. “Sorry, but…you got my mama juices flowing all over again,” I told him, with a giggle.

I’d taken another forkful, a bit more this time, and had started to chew. He looked at me, his eyes all confused, and leaned back in his chair a bit. He wanted to show me something. He looked down at his own lap, and I did too. Oh my god! His penis was so hard! Sticking up, between his elastic waistband and belly, out from his gray sweatpants. It nearly got up to his, like, ribcage!

He only said one word. “W-w-why?” he asked me.

To that, I giggled, I laughed a little, and shrugged. I didn’t really know, but it all made sense!

“I d-didn’t used to be like this,” he said, his voice all small and little and nnngh making me want to just forget the eggs and eat him up!

I could only come up with one thing to say, as I stood up. ”That was then,” I told him as my hand took hold of his erection, still chewing a bit as I - standing over him now - took his jaw in my other hand and raised his chin. I leaned in again to feed him, giving him a nice, purposeful squeeze down below. “This is now.”

I could feel the hunger pheromones (that’s what they’re called!) totally pouring off of me. His mouth widened right up for me, his neck craning. “That’s right, open up for mama bird,” I said, and just opened my mouth to let my mouthful of food empty into him as I sealed my mouth around his. It sounds gross, maybe? But omgggggg it was so hot, feeling him take it, feeling his little neck and throat working, swallowing my offering.

“That’s right, take the food I bought for you, with my money, the food I cooked for you,” I said, as I lifted back up again, “Now the food I chewed for you.” What’s next baby? What’s our next step? What else can my body do for you? Help keep you fed and nourished?

Oh god I couldn’t help myself I took a big bite of my own egg and sausage sandwich and as I chewed it for him and made it extra mushy I hugged his head to my chest with one hand, and as I dropped my mouth again to his open one I started jerking him off.

Feed from me feed from me feed from me babyyyyyyy

He jerked a bit - actually a lot, his body went all stiff! - as I pushed even more of my wet, chewed food than before into our big kiss. I squeezed his face into my boobs and stroked and stroked and felt the warmth from him and even more in my chest swelling it was like almost tender-getting and I felt him swallow and he groaned and then he was exploding again in my hand oh god making a new mess.

“That’s good, baby, that’s so good,” I purred, feeling him shudder against me, “come for mama bird.” I also felt the girls out there all cooing and clucking in the Bliss, and I was so happy here knowing I wasn’t only feeding him but them too. I - me, Melissa Monroe, Melissssy - I could provide for everybody!

I can’t wait!

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#growing into the job

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mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 2 years ago

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Touch-starved - the cuddle service AU

This is a gift for a very special someone on a very special day - so, everyone, say happy birthday to @sasukimimochi!

I hope you get the best of birthdays today and that you make the best memories! Don't forget that you are cherished by a lot of people and we are all glad to be in your life!

Enjoy!

Warnings: a lot of fluff and slightly suggestive content

Light peeks gently through the gap in the dark curtains, the first warm rays of the morning sun trailing over the blankets covering the two sleeping figures in the large bed. The distant hum of the waking neighborhood filters through the room, birdsong and the occasional indistinct voices, the old motor of the lawnmower the family two houses down refuses to replace, the rare car passing through.

The chill of the night persists despite the sunlight, and warmth beneath the blanket is comforting and familiar, like a little pocket of respite and happiness. And though Lan Wangji has been a morning person ever since he could remember it, leaving his bed right as his body awoke him, today he does not feel like doing so.

In fact, he has not felt like doing so in years - three, today, actually - and he does not mind this change in his routine in the least. If he’s honest, it’s the best part of his day - to wake up holding the love of his life in his arms (in various states of undress, mind you, but that’s for a later time) and be happy he gets to spend another day with him, being his. Being each other’s.

All due to a happy coincidence… and his brother’s scheming. Well, mostly to his brother’s scheming. And though Lan Wangji found his plan ridiculous back then, he’s grateful now.

Because all of three years ago, Lan Xichen made an appointment he couldn’t get to, for a service he definitely didn’t need, using an excuse that was definitely deceitful - and unknowingly sent Lan Wangji into the arms of the love of his life… literally.

–

“A…cuddle service.” Lan Wangji repeats, half incredulous that such a thing exists, half confused his (very much in a relationship) brother rented one.

“Mn, I made the appointment forever ago but I completely forgot about it!”

He looks as unapologetic as one could without leaving the planet. Lan Wangji sends him a suspicious look.

“Anyway, it’s way too late to cancel now, I checked the company policy already…”

How convenient of him, very much knowing that’s the first thing Lan Wangji would’ve done. “And I paid quite a hefty sum for it, it would be a shame for all that money to go to waste…”

As if they aren’t old money.

Lan Wangji’s eyes narrow as he sips at his far too bitter cup of tea. He doesn’t like where this is going and he has a feeling it’s only downhill from here.

“So, I was thinking you could go in my place!” Lan Xichen’s smile brightens, mischief hiding behind the otherwise friendly gesture. Not even he believes any of his words and probably does not even expect Lan Wangji to either - still, he tries. Admirable… kind of. Lying is not admirable, though.

“Am I allowed to refuse?”

“Yes… but I’d hope you wouldn’t.” And Lan Xichen’s demeanor changes to something that could only be described as a pitiful baby animal. “I do not wish my mistake to reflect badly on the person that I picked for your - my appointment.”

Lan Wangji is starting to see how premeditated this all is, though he can only be surprised that such an option even exists. “You picked them.”

“Well, of course. I couldn’t just allow anyone to get close to my - to me!”

Lan Wangji drinks the entirety of his terrible tea as if it was a particularly strong shot of alcohol. Though he does not indulge in that kind of thing, sometimes he wishes he did. Now is one of those moments.

“Then, it’s settled!”

Lan Wangji didn’t get to say yes.

–

Wei Wuxian stirs in Lan Wangji’s arms, and mumbles something that sounds like his name before burrowing further into the sheets and his lover’s chest, covering the bit of his face that the sunlight kisses.

Lan Wangji can’t help a fond smile, indulging Wei Wuxian’s wordless request as he tightens his arms around the man, their legs interlocking beneath the blanket. It’s always a struggle getting out of bed in the morning whenever Lan Wangji has to work, because it always feels tedious to find where Wei Wuxian ends and he begins, a tangled mess of limbs, wild bedheads and love.

It’s a wonderful kind of tedious.

But today is Saturday, so Lan Wangji doesn’t have to go to work - not that he hasn’t taken days off randomly just because he couldn’t bring himself to leave his husband alone in bed… but Lan Wangji feels like if he does it again, his uncle is going to retire off into the mountains and revive the myth of Big Foot.

Lan Wangji leaves a kiss over Wei Wuxian’s forehead, fleeting and soft, and through his sleep-addled mind, Wei Wuxian makes a happy sound, much like a kitten’s chirp. They have adopted a family of kittens recently, and Wei Wuxian has been spending a lot of his time with them, so he must be taking in their mannerisms - the thought brings a sweet, amused flutter to Lan Wangji’s chest, and he kisses Wei Wuxian’s forehead again.

He does pick up on the mannerisms of their pets a lot, now that he thinks about it. Whenever he’s unhappy about something, he scrunches his nose like a scorned baby bunny, and when he’s excited, he hops a little bit in place, just like their bunnies do - and sometimes, when he’s being childish and whiny, he stomps his foot (but laughs immediately after as he realizes).

Lan Wangji feels warmth spread through him, like a little ball of light has replaced his heart and his bloodstream sings with it. Every time he remembers (as if he could forget!) just how much he loves Wei Wuxian, it never fails to make his whole body shiver, electricity climbing up his body in a hurry only to stop in his tear ducts. It overwhelms him, sometimes, and it materializes into happy teardrops - Lan Wangji doesn’t remember when it was the last time he’s cried for anything rather than happiness.

Lan Wangji had expected something like a dingy hotel in a back alley - but the cuddle service location is actually quite nice, a cozy little place near the suburbs. It looks like a very well-kept motel, with a lush garden and homey decor, welcoming if not a little bit stereotypical. There are pictures of smiling people on the walls alongside paintings and the occasional quote about how people have always been meant to be close to one another, social creatures in need of touch and comfort.

The irony does not escape Lan Wangji. A place one pays for affection to speak of how natural it is for humans to seek it.

The receptionist smiles at him in a friendly way, though she appears tired behind her large, mahogany desk. “Room 13, please. Do not be wary of the number.”

Lan Wangji nods. He’s been unlucky enough to get into this situation - him, touch-averse extraordinaire - might as well be stuck in Room 13 for an hour with a stranger he’s supposed to be cuddling with. What else could happen.

Lan Wangji walks the long corridor lined with dark brown, wooden doors, and finds Room 13 at the very end of it. Ominous, despite the warm lighting and the pretty artwork on the walls.

Lan Wangji finds himself staring dumbly at the door. Should he knock? Or just walk in? There could be someone else in there still… it would be rude to interrupt. But then again, it’s not like anything indecent is going on… right? This business isn’t a front for something else, is it?

Lan Wangji sighs. No, his brother wouldn’t send him to a brothel, and this place looks nothing like one. Not that Lan Wangji would know what that would look like, but -

The door opens.

–

“Lan Zhan… it’s so early…” Wei Wuxian whines against his husband’s collarbones, “Your Lan schedule is terrible.”

Lan Wangji hums, suspiciously sounding like a laugh before leaning down to kiss the tops of Wei Wuxian’s cheeks. “Did I wake you?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. I like waking up with you.”

“You sound accusatory.” Lan Wangji laughs openly this time, caressing the side of Wei Wuxian’s face gently. He leans into the touch, nuzzling against Lan Wangji’s palm, and he reminds Lan Wangji of one of their kittens again - the black one, with only the tip of its tail white, that Wei Wuxian named Chilli.

“I am being accusatory! Do you know how terrible it is for me to wake up without you here? I nearly die every time!”

Lan Wangji kisses the tip of Wei Wuxian’s nose in response and tries to smooth some of his bedhead (that he caused).

“You’re not taking me seriously, Lan Zhan! You’re laughing! I could die without my daily dose of affection, and you’re laughing!”

He tries (and fails) at holding in a chuckle. “I am not.”

“You are!” And Wei Wuxian pouts, and wraps all the blankets around himself in mock anger, flopping onto his other side, his back now facing Lan Wangji. However, he did quite a poor job cocooning himself, and most of his back has remained uncovered, the soft skin still bearing last night’s marks.

Lan Wangji scoots over, and decides he’s not going to let the opportunity to tease his husband pass him by.

—

“So, you’re my 5pm appointment, right?” A smiling, young man asks, and Lan Wangji’s first thought is that he’s beautiful.

His second thought is that this beautiful man will be in his arms, and he will be in his - and his ears burn as if they’ve been set on fire.

“C’mon, it’s nicer inside, follow me.”

The room is, indeed, nice. There are books on tall shelves, a calligraphy kit on the table, and a few other trinkets - keys, a phone, and some amulets - on a night stand. A bed is placed by a large window overlooking the garden outside, the sheets dark red, and incense burns from the windowsill. Soft music plays from somewhere in the room - and Lan Wangji finds this place a lot more intimate and… romantic than he’s expected.

“By the way, my name’s Wei Wuxian, but you can call me Wei Ying.” He grins, and Lan Wangji once again finds himself thinking how beautiful he is. “You must be Lan Wangji, then, otherwise I took someone else’s client.”

Lan Wangji realizes two things: one, Lan Xichen is a filthy liar, the appointment was never in his name; and two, he doesn’t like the word client.

Still, he nods to confirm his name, and Wei Wuxian smiles, noting something down in a notebook on his desk - of course, this is a business after all, employees must keep a registry of their… visitors. Weird how easy it is for Lan Wangji to forget this, and he’s only been here for 5 minutes.

“Right, so,” Wei Wuxian begins, closing down the notebook, “I’m guessing this is your first time here, right?”

“Mn.”

“Well, how about we sit on the bed and get to know each other a little bit first?”

–

Lan Wangji leans down to kiss a trail down Wei Wuxian’s spine, delighting in the gasp he lets out and the goosebumps that bloom on his skin.

“Go away, I’m angry with you.”

His words carry no bite, and Lan Wangji finds them more adorable than threatening, so he doesn’t obey, wrapping a strong arm around Wei Wuxian’s waist, now kissing down the side of his neck, deliberately pressing harder on the kisses he’s left there the night before.

Wei Wuxian tries to keep in any reaction, but his breaths come out shaky no matter his attempts, and when Lan Wangji finally bites him, finding the tiniest unmarked place on his shoulder, Wei Wuxian moans and arches into it.

“Doesn’t seem all that angry to me.” Lan Wangji comments as he lets go, and Wei Wuxian glares at him over his shoulder.

Lan Wangji finds it in himself to wink in response and bites him again.

–

“Is there anything in particular you’d like?”

“I’m not… knowledgeable in these matters.”

Wei Wuxian laughs, the sound melodious, unbridled. “Knowledgeable! What a word to use! This isn’t an exam, you know? Relax a little!”

Lan Wangji huffs, flustered, and looks away and out the window. He feels Wei Wuxian poke at his cheek. “Why are you being like this? Didn’t you book me?”

“No. My brother did.”

Wei Wuxian laughs again. “Then he must’ve thought we were a good match, right? Work with me here, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji feels so embarrassed he could die. In fact he hopes he does, maybe the ground opens wide and he falls in some endless hole inside the Earth. “Well, I’ve never…done this before.”

“I know, we’ve already…” but the way Lan Wangji stubbornly refuses to meet Wei Wuxian’s eyes and clenches his fists on his knees, ears red, finally click in Wei Wuxian’s mind. “Wait, you’ve never cuddled anyone before?”

“...no. Do not make fun of me.”

Wei Wuxian pats his head as if to comfort a crying child. “I would never! But lucky for you, I’m the best person to take your cuddle-virginity!”

“Wei Ying!!”

–

“You know a bite or two won’t get me less angry with you.” Wei Wuxian tries, but the arousal in his voice melts away any of his (rather poor) acting.

“What would, then?”

“I don’t know, figure it out. Grovel a little.”

Lan Wangji sneaks a hand underneath the mess of blankets that Wei Wuxian has bunched over himself, a clear destination in mind.

“Should I beg for forgiveness now?”

Wei Wuxian’s response is lost in a helpless moan, and Lan Wangji feels like biting him again.

He does.

–

“You’re stiff as a board.” Wei Wuxian clicks his tongue (and he has no idea how right he is, actually) as he tries to position himself and Lan Wangji in a simple, sideways hug, “Try to relax. Would you like another pillow or something?”

“No.”

“Alright…”

He wraps an arm around Lan Wangji’s waist, and their bodies are so close now that Lan Wangji can smell his perfume and see all the details of his beautiful face, the few freckles dotting his cheeks and the specks of color in his dark grey eyes.

“For someone that’s so embarrassed to even put a hand around my shoulders, you sure like eye contact.”

Lan Wangji hasn’t even realized he’s staring, and he tries to look away but it seems like, for some reason, all that he can pay attention to is Wei Wuxian.

And, as difficult it is for him to be so physically close to somebody, it feels right with Wei Wuxian somehow - like he’s safe and comfortable… no wonder this is his job. His presence is soothing, he knows how to be exactly the way Lan Wangji needs (even when Lan Wangji himself has no idea what he needs).

“Is there something you’d like to talk about? Or do you just want us to sit in silence?”

“What do you usually do?”

“Well, it depends on the person. I’m fine with anything. I’m a pretty good conversationalist, if I do say so myself.”

If Lan Wangji could describe his smile, it would feel like…

“Why are you… working here?”

“You’re asking me like I’m a prostitute or something.” Wei Wuxian pouts, playfully, before he takes on a more serious stance. “But to answer your question, it’s because I want to help people. I find that a lot of us have a hard time asking for affection, especially the physical kind. Especially the kind that’s not a prerequisite for sex. It’s vulnerable and it feels weird to ask for it, as if you’re being needy or demanding - so, for some, it’s easier to accept it if they pay for it.” He reaches to tuck a strand of hair away from Lan Wangji’s face. “There are also people that are too busy or uninterested in relationships, but still want affection, and they visit every now and then to take what they need.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Most of the time, yeah.” He smiles, “I’m a very touchy person and I love hugs and cuddles, so I’m always ready to share some. Of course, some people are rude or misunderstand the purpose of this service, but that’s rare. Often, I get people that need a listening ear and a hug.” A teasing look, “And the occasional fuddy-duddy, like you.”

Lan Wangji pinches him, and Wei Wuxian yelps from the feeling of it, but also the joy that Lan Wangji is finally opening up to him.

“Now that you’ve asked me questions, I should get to ask you something too, right?”

“Mn…”

“So, why’d your brother think you need me?”

Probably because you’re everything I didn’t know I wanted in a partner - but Lan Wangji doesn’t say that, because it’s creepy since they’ve only just met (not to mention, this is a service, not an actual date or anything like that, so Wei Wuxian has to be like with everyone), and also because it’s too embarrassing to utter such words out loud.

“I… am uncomfortable with physical touch, and I need to work through that.”

Wei Wuxian sends him a sympathetic look. “I get that. You don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable, but did something… cause that?”

“My mother was very physically affectionate when I was young… but then she passed away unexpectedly and affection felt… empty without her.”

Wei Wuxian lets go of Lan Wangji’s waist to take one of his hands in his, comfortingly. “That sounds heavy… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories…”

“It happened a long time ago. I am working through it.”

“If you want me to let go of you at any time, let me know, okay?”

“I do not.”

—

Wei Wuxian is done pretending to be angry at his husband, turning his head to kiss him in what he hopes is more than a mess of lips and tongue. He should be excused, considering he’s currently being thoroughly wrecked by said husband, so he doesn’t worry too much about whether he’s doing well.

He’s run out of mental space for that, all he can focus on is the pleasure Lan Wangji is giving him so relentlessly, and, to be honest, he can’t find it in himself to care about anything else. It’s mind-numbingly good, and if Wei Wuxian ends up screaming his orgasm out loud enough for the neighbors to call the police on suspicion of domestic violence, then so be it.

—

Lan Wangji finally finds the courage in himself to place his arm over Wei Wuxian’s waist, a mirror of the other’s gesture. It feels… foreign, but not unpleasant, and he finds himself dragging his body closer to the other’s.

“See? It’s not that bad.”

“Quiet.”

“I’ve been harping on about myself forever now, it’s your turn. Tell me something I would have never guessed by looking at you.”

“I can play the guqin.”

“That’s really cool, though you do kind of look like someone sophisticated enough to be able to do that.”

Lan Wangji’s ears pink up.

“Try again.”

“I spend a lot of my free time in the gym.”

Wei Wuxian smiles in a way lan Wangji has learned is mischievous and teasing. “Not hard to guess, with this muscle I can feel. Try again.”

Lan Wangji decides not to address the new compliment and continues. “I can cook very well.”

“Really? You look like the kind of guy that has a private chef.”

“My brother does. I personally enjoy cooking.”

“I like to cook as well, though I’m told my food isn’t edible because it’s really spicy.”

“I do not handle spice well.”

“What a shame, everyone needs some spice in their life! I bet I could cook you something that would make you fall in love with spice!”

–

It’s far too hot under the blankets now, after the strenuous activities that just transpired, so Lan Wangji has opened the window to let fresh air in. Unfortunately, the sound of the neighbors’ old lawnmower does not make for pleasant background noise.

“We should gift them a new lawnmower for Christmas or something, that thing sounds like a Diesel motor with tuberculosis!”

It’s a funny description, although it is very accurate. Wei Wuxian stretches his limbs, and flops into the bedsheets like a starfish. “One more day and we can finally bring A-Yuan home! I can’t believe I’m excited for a Monday!”

Lan Wangji feels that overwhelming warmth in his chest again, the thought of his and Wei Wuxian’s family becoming complete filling him with joy beyond words. A-Yuan fits right into their home, into their hearts, and so adopting him has been a long, though pleasant journey where they all got to know each other and build trust and love to last forever.

Lan Wangji’s heart feels so full as he imagines him and Wei Wuxian raising the boy, and living through the simplest of days together in their domestic bliss.

He has always wanted this, a family he could provide for and love, his own safe place in the world, away from everything else. Soon, he will receive it.

The sound of scratching and meowing at the door interrupts Lan Wangji’s musings. Wei Wuxian laughs from his comfortable spot on the bed. “Looks like the babies are awake. And hungry.”

Lan Wangji redresses and puts his hair up. “When aren’t they hungry?”

“I don’t know. But I am hungry too!”

–

“Brother, I am never going there again.” Lan Wangji declares as he returns from the cuddle service appointment.

Lan Xichen raises a curious eyebrow. “Was it that unpleasant?”

“It was not. But I am not going.”

A wide grin stretches across Lan Xichen’s features. “Wangji.”

“Quiet. No.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“I know what you-”

“Someone’s got a crush!”

—

Lan Wangji returns to his and Wei Wuxian’s bedroom about half an hour later, carrying a generous tray of breakfast choices, alongside coffee and tea. Wei Wuxian kisses him softly as thanks before digging in, and Lan Wangji is only a bit jealous.

“What would you like to do today?” Lan Wangji asks, as he drinks his morning tea.

“Stay in bed with you.” Wei Wuxian replies, as he flirtatiously bites into a piece of strawberry.

Lan Wangji pulls him into a kiss and steals the piece of fruit from right between his lips.

“You make everything taste sweet.”

Wei Wuxian turns red. “Lan Zhan!”

–

“Lan Zhan, we need to talk.” Wei Wuxian starts as Lan Wangji walks through the door for yet another cuddle appointment, his streak having long reached double digits.

“What is it?”

“You’re spending a lot here - time, money… why? It’s - you can just ask me to meet outside work, we’re basically friends by now-“

“I don’t want to be friends…”

Wei Wuxian’s face falls, but he controls his expression once he realizes it. “Yes, I’m sorry, um, I was presumptuous, I didn’t mean to imply there was something more and…”

Lan Wangji pulls him into a kiss, and Wei Wuxian is all too eager to return it.

“I don’t want to be friends. I want to be more.”

–

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji do have an anniversary date, the date they got married - but to Lan Wangji, they have another one as well: the day of his first cuddle service appointment, when he walked through the doors of the establishment expecting to come out the same as he went in. Oh, how wrong he had been to think so!

And how glad he is to have been proven otherwise!

Holding Wei Wuxian in his arms, long retired from his job as a cuddle provider, watching some romantic comedy as they snack on takeout, Lan Wangji realizes just how great it is to be wrong sometimes.

And how everything in his life now feels right.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #writing attempts

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