#there’s a reason people chose something else. It’s not strange to want your time to yourself.

[imperialinquisition]

Aldrete et al., (Reconstructing Ancient Linen Body Armor (2013) do a complete labor study of the time it took to make a linothorax, a Greek style of linen armor, including fiber preparation, spinning, weaving and sewing. For the roughly 65,000cm2 amount of (admittedly quite rough) linen required (which in turn required 12,600m of thread), they figure it took 25 hours to break, scutch and hackle the flax, 575 hours to spin it into thread, 75 hours to weave the thread into fabric (including loom setup time), and 8 hours to measure and cut the fabric (alas, the linothorax is laminated, not sewn, so they have no data for the sewing portion).  Eve Fischer has done a similar calculation (but with back-of-the-envelope estimates rather than a detailed study) estimating that 41,804cm2 (5×1 yards) of fabric would require c. 8,230m of thread which would in turn demand something like 7 hours of sewing, 72 for weaving, 500 or so for spinning. J.S. Lee (op. cit., 51) figures a 14th century weaver (with those fancier looms and spinning wheels) could weave around 2 yards of fabric per day from roughly 6lbs of spun yarn while a given spinner might spin about 1lbs of yarn per day; assuming a 12-hour work-day that comes out to about 6 hours per yard weaving (a little more than twice as fast as Fischer of Aldrete’s vertical loom weavers) and 36 hours per yard spinning (three times faster than the hand-spinners). Using the average of Aldrete and Fischer’s figures (erring a little high to account for Fischer’s lack of preparation time) we might figure something like 2,683 hours to produce our 220,000cm2 minimum requirements. Our upper ‘comfort’ level might be three times this or 8,049 hours. Put into working terms, the basic clothing of our six person farming family requires 7.35 labor hours per day, every day of the year. Our ‘comfort’ level requires 22.05 hours (obviously not done by one person). These figures come way down once we get the spinning wheel and horizontal loom, but what seems fairly readily apparently is that women did not necessarily work less so much as produce more, selling the excess via the ‘putting out’ system we mentioned last time and using that to support their families.

I've had a hard time articulating to people just how fundamental spinning used to be in people's lives, and how eerie it is that it's vanished so entirely. It occurred to me today that it's a bit like if in the future all food was made by machine, and people forgot what farming and cooking were. Not just that they forgot how to do it; they had never heard of it.

When they use phrases like "spinning yarns" for telling stories or "heckling a performer" without understanding where they come from, I imagine a scene in the future where someone uses the phrase "stir the pot" to mean "cause a disagreement" and I say, did you know a pot used to be a container for heating food, and stirring was a way of combining different components of food together? "Wow, you're full of weird facts! How do you even know that?"

When I say I spin and people say "What, like you do exercise bikes? Is that a kind of dancing? What's drafting? What's a hackle?" it's like if I started talking about my cooking hobby and my friend asked "What's salt? Also, what's cooking?" Well, you see, there are a lot of stages to food preparation, starting with planting crops, and cooking is one of the later stages. Salt is a chemical used in cooking which mostly alters the flavor of the food but can also be used for other things, like drawing out moisture...

"Wow, that sounds so complicated. You must have done a lot of research. You're so good at cooking!" I'm really not. In the past, children started learning about cooking as early as age five ("Isn't that child labor?"), and many people cooked every day their whole lives ("Man, people worked so hard back then."). And that's just an average person, not to mention people called "chefs" who did it professionally. I go to the historic preservation center to use their stove once or twice a week, and I started learning a couple years ago. So what I know is less sophisticated than what some children could do back in the day.

"Can you make me a snickers bar?" No, that would be pretty hard. I just make sandwiches mostly. Sometimes I do scrambled eggs. "Oh, I would've thought a snickers bar would be way more basic than eggs. They seem so simple!"

Haven't you ever wondered where food comes from? I ask them. When you were a kid, did you ever pick apart the different colored bits in your food and wonder what it was made of? "No, I never really thought about it." Did you know rice balls are called that because they're made from part of a plant called rice? "Oh haha, that's so weird. I thought 'rice' was just an adjective for anything that was soft and white."

People always ask me why I took up spinning. Isn't it weird that there are things we take so much for granted that we don't even notice when they're gone? Isn't it strange that something which has been part of humanity all across the planet since the Neanderthals is being forgotten in our generation? Isn't it funny that when knowledge dies, it leaves behind a ghost, just like a person? Don't you want to commune with it?

[sonicboomseason3]

a brief recap of what has been going on with the sonic movieverse in the past several months:

paramount has come out in public support of israel

keanu reeves, a man who has publicly rubbed elbows with none other than benjamin netanyahu, reportedly gets cast as shadow for the upcoming third movie

james marsden, the guy who plays tom, got exposed as having written a letter of support for a convicted pedophile

there's fucking??? zionist propaganda in the knuckles series???

kind of connected to the last point but adam pally, the guy who plays wade, is evidently pro-israel too

this is a complete and utter joke.

EDIT AS OF 4/30/24: if people see this version of the post, i'd really appreciate it if you reblog it instead of the other versions, as it's the most updated one with all the information that i want included. thank you :]

you know, it's been a few days since i've made this post, and some of you (not most) are staying determined in defending/justifying/giving the benefit of the doubt to keanu for that photo with netanyahu, whether it's because "it was a decade ago," "him being civil to someone he ran into at a party one time doesn't mean anything," "he's probably just silent because his pr managers won't allow him to speak up," etc. i've made my thoughts on the matter quite clear by directly responding to these people, but at this point, i'm tired of both seeing them in my notes and repeating myself, so take this as my final word on the issue.

i can't help it if you don't think the photo with netanyahu is damning, and i'm done engaging with everyone going out of their way to tell me that. i obviously disagree, especially after finding out that 1. the host of the party, arnon milchan, is a former israeli spy who has a history of developing israel's nuclear program and promoting apartheid in south africa (information that had broken out a few months prior to the party and thus would've been fresh news around the time keanu chose to attend) and 2. keanu has been caught hanging around at least two other weirdos, but if you don't find any of that to be cause for reasonable concern, then there really is nothing else i can say afaik.

with all that said, i'm beginning to realize how strange it is that these people's first instinct when seeing this post is to start debating about keanu's political stances without ever acknowledging any of the other bullet points. you guys realize that this isn't just about him, right? i know tumblr reading comprehension is known for being piss-poor, but like… you realize that i was trying to make a point of how there are MULTIPLE terrible things that have broken out about the people and company involved in the sonic movies, right? and yet, a lot of the people leaping to speak on keanu's behalf in my notes are completely ignoring the parts where i bring up paramount, pally, etc. all in favor of zeroing in on the singular point about keanu and making bad faith assumptions about me for holding him accountable. really makes one wonder where your priorities lie if, in a post that talks about so many other things, me accusing an a-list celebrity with, according to google, a net worth of almost $400 million is where you draw the line and apparently the only thing worth your acknowledgment.

ultimately, what i'm trying to say is that the intention of this post was just to gather up everything that i had been hearing for the past several months and put it all together in one place. there were a bunch of people who didn't know about at least one of the bullet points before seeing this post, and i'm glad that i could help inform them, that was what i was hoping to do! but as for the keanu thing, i've said pretty much all i can say for now, and i don't want to derail the original post even more than i may have already. unless something new comes up, i'm done talking about him.

[missblissy]

Domestic Astarion x Reader HCs

A/N: UwU just wanted to add to the married life headcanons after the events of the game. Fluffy good stuff below. GN!Tav, no class/race. Enjoy!

Some days always started better than others. But that’s only to say because someone didn’t need as much sleep as you, and had a life time left to learn new skills. One of them being cooking. Sure Astarion can’t taste and it’s a useless skill to him. But you? He would do anything for you. And that includes learning to cook for the sheer simple act of spoiling you with a warm and home made breakfast in bed.

It’s strange to say you two never had a wedding. That’s not to say you two weren’t married. “Oh…?” Astarion isn’t sure how to explain this when someone asks, “Well, you see, my darling little love here found this-” He holds up his hand and wiggles the ring in his finger, “On a rotting old skeleton then found the matching one, get this, on another smelly corpse!” Most people wouldn’t look fondly on something like that. But no, Astarion wasn’t most people. He’d smile and swoon, “And I suppose since then we’ve been married,”

It doesn’t help that back then when you did find those rings, you quite literally told him, “We’re married now,” As a joke. It wasn’t joke….

Astarion has a habit of leaving you poems to find in the most hidden of places. Like little lost treasures. Or maybe he just knows the looting demon you are at heart with your little grabby fingers going for anything they can touch. So it always comes to a surprise to you when you open a book and a poem written years ago flutters out… but the love and truth still rings pure despite the yellowing of the pages.

Crimson sons, vermillion daughters. Quivering maroon, burgundy, cardinal. Short fainting strokes Fester a broken carotid Free from feathers Unbound By the serpent's head no more.

His way of saying thank you for everything you've ever given him. And then some. No matter the message you cherished each treasured poem you would find.

The man had a knack for spoiling you, unconditionally, and most importantly, endlessly. If you saw something out in a shop that caught you eye, but you were just to stubborn to get it for yourself. Surprise, surprise when you get home and find it there with a man beaming proud like a puppy with his bone.

But that didn’t mean affection was off the table either. Astarion spoiled you with kisses, big ones, little ones, some on the back of your hand as he opened a door for you. Others on your cheek, gently but with sorrow as he left for some few weeks for whatever reason. He had his own things to do and sometimes you couldn’t go with him. But that just meant when he got home you could throw your arms around him, breathe him in and share the long awaited kiss of his return.

Married life strangely suited you both, from the little grabbing of hands under tables, the protective placement of an arm, the look of pride when the other did something extraordinary. And Astarion would always be the more boastful in pride when it came to talking about you.

And he couldn’t help but show off, sure he’s loud and arrogant about it. Saying he was best option of course, no one else stood a chance… blah blah blah. But when no one was around he can look you in the eye and practically grovel, “I am so lucky you chose me,”

There were many other things that came with the long life of being married together. The two of you were quite dedicated to learning to… dance. Astarion hadn’t a clue wether his left foot was right, and you may have been no better. It was your idea really. You heart would swoon watching other couples and with an eager voice you pointed a finger and declared, “I want to do that too!”

And so you did, but behind the close doors of your own home. Seeing as Astarion didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of so many people. Where you both could trip and side step and laugh, giggle and make the most out of learning something new together.

It seemed the two of you had a habit of learning things together. From silly little drawings, to paintings, perhaps an instrument or two. You both always found a way to share your hobbies and passions together.

And it was the mornings, where these happened most often. Naturally Astarion couldn’t be in the sun but that didn’t stop him from enjoying what little light he could. You’d find him in the dusty dusk right before the sun actually broke the horizon.

He had been teaching himself to play the piano, so to wake up in the morning and not hear the soft echos of keys down the halls would be a bad sign. It’d be another bad sign if you didn’t sit down beside him, stroking the keys as the two of you played a song that was always in the process of being made and never done.

Surely soon he’d go off to sleep, sharing kisses and affection. You wouldn’t see him again until the evening, when the sun was starting it decent. Day-phobia was real in vampires no matter how much they loved the sun and he didn’t have a worm anymore to help him fight that. But he managed, enjoying every sun rise and sun set he got to see just as the world of night came and went.

Despite staying up all night sometimes just to be beside him, it was fairly often that Astarion would have to nag you to go to sleep. You’d barely have even one eye open, drifting back and forth between dreams and you’d still tell him, “I’m not tired, I’m just resting my eyes,” All because he was up late in kitchen and you didn’t want to leave his side.

He often compromises though, making deals and barters, “If I go upstairs with you, will you go to sleep?”

“…” Surely you aren’t going to say no? “Will you be the big spoon?”

“Of course,” How could he say no to a face like yours? And such a sleepy one too?

He didn’t mind, not really. Some nights he’d stay in bed with you until the morning. Even though nothing would get done, or things he had planned were set aside, he wouldn’t sleep either, he truly really didn’t mind. He could lay there for eternity holding you close and be at peace.

[bun-z-bakery]

𝛢 𝛭𝑒𝑚𝘰𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑊𝑖𝑛𝘵𝑒𝑟

Paring: Alien!Dogday x Gn!Astronaut!Reader

CW: Mentions of past injury, jealousy.

A/N: I wanted to write something else for the holiday season that's upon us which means our favorite boy is back! I missed him so much, so I decided to whip up something for our not so lonely alien. if you're new I'd recommend you read the first few alien dogday fics here <- as they tie into this. This series is more of a collection of works however they still connect even if they aren't direct sequels :3

PPT Menu | Works Menu | Ao3

The cold chill in the air strained your lungs as your breath formed clouds with every exhale. You were wrapped from head to toe, but as they say, nature always finds a way. Your frozen gloved fingers were proof of that. Even though the warm glow of your bangle gave off some heat, it wasn't enough to suffice. With every step you take through the thick snow, the more you regret leaving the house, but it was for a good cause. To feed a certain alien who you just so happened to be married to now. You announce your return as you swing open the door. "Dogday I'm—" You were cut off by the dog-alien pulling you into a tight embrace. His fur was warm, and his scent was reminiscent of yours, seeing as you both spend most of every waking hour together.

Dogday's body was warm, you didn't want to let him go, not after your fingers felt like they'd fall off at any minute. Winter was brutal and, for some odd reason, chose you to take its vengeance on. However, you thank your lucky stars you had a personal heater that loved to cuddle, even more so in the winter, and that your injury was fully recovered now thanks to said personal heater. "My human! You are freezing! Is the cold weather harsh for humans? Is the food cold too?" Dogday's face was full of concern, and quickly he grabbed the grocery bags and held them within your embrace. It was an awkward position, but a smile couldn't help but creep up as you watched the kind-hearted alien being concerned over something like canned vegetables and flour. "Dogday, some food likes being cold; it helps them. The food is alright, silly." You kissed his furry cheek, and as you've grown to become accustomed to it, the sound of his tail thumping, his antennae glow, and happy chirps were a sure sign he was in a world of bliss.

"Can I help you make food?" His eyes light up, and for a split second, you could've sworn you saw little stars. You weren't going to be so cruel as to turn him down, he was still adjusting to this new life, and so were you. Why not let him have this experience? "When we get back home! I promised you something, remember?" and with that, Dogday was almost already out the door, his grin wide, tail wagged harder, and his antennae only gleamed brighter. Needless to say, he was ready for whatever adventure you both were set to go on today. As you grab his leash, you motion for him to take on his smaller dog form. Once he's changed, you latch the leash onto his collar you gave him a while ago and set off on your adventure. Luckily you were bundled from head to toe still, but the snow seemed to have subsided just like you had hoped.

Dogday glances around at the strange fluffy yet chilly substance on the ground. He's seen it on the shows you two would watch and outside the windows, but never stepped outside without you, of course. His little paws make prints in the snow as he trots around. You giggle at him, "Come on, little buddy, we're on a time limit, and I want to take you somewhere special!" You give his leash a gentle tug, even in his dog form, you can tell he is smiling. The walk was shorter than your walk from the grocery store early this morning. The sidewalks have been shoveled, and some of the ice has melted now. Dogday glances around in awe as his tongue waggles with every step he takes. "Look!" you point towards the park that was decorated with lights and streamers, even the trees had little ornaments on them. Some people were ice skating on the lake, some were making snowmen with children, and Dogday's interest seemed to be in the snowmen. "Go have fun! I'm going to get a hot chocolate!" Dogday turns his gaze toward you and tilts his head as his ears perk up. You squint your eyes. "I know you said you can, but I'm still on the fence about giving you chocolate." With a bark, he's on his way, plowing through the snow and even playing with the other dogs. He was the most social of the bunch, of course.

Hot chocolate seemed to be calling your name as the smell of the stall made you move on your own. "One hot chocolate, please." You smile at the person running the stall, who seems to be in good spirits. Quickly, they've already started on your hot chocolate. As you wait, you glance back to see where Dogday is, and just like you had assumed, the little guy was having the time of his life. You, however, are worried about how much time he has left in that form. He may be a strong creature from the solar system, but even the strongest have their limits. "Your order!" "Ah, thanks!" you thanked and paid them before you made your way back to the crowd full of laughter and flying snowballs. You didn't want to ruin Dogday's fun, seeing as all he ever sees all day is you. He was your secret, you know how cruel it is to keep him locked away for so long, a little outing never killed anyone.

Which leads your mind back to the frozen lake. You wanted to skate, not like you knew, but you wanted to take the time to enjoy yourself too. Hell, you almost froze off your fingers this morning, you deserve to have this, so you walked towards the frozen lake and examined the sturdiness of the frozen waters. "Skates?" A man held out some ice skates to you before the tip of your foot reached the ice. You thanked him warmly, but before you could grab the skates, he was already on his knees, switching out your shoes. Your lips are thin, and your face is blank. He's just doing his job. You chanted in your head, hoping it would speed things along. For a second, you swear you felt something warm on your neck. You glanced around, even rubbing the back of your neck in hopes of finding whatever the source may be. Far in the park near the other dogs was Dogday, staring. You could feel his burning gaze from where you stood. Even with his death glare that seemed to be not intended for you, you still smile and wave at him.

"I need to make sure you know how to skate, let me help you." Before you could protest, the man had already pulled you onto the frozen lake, squeezing your hand. You mentally gagged at the gesture. "Woah!" You weren't so graceful on the ice, as the balance didn't seem to be your best friend. Your job involves floating, not exactly balance, so the skill was never built upon. But your sudden urge to ice skate made you regret not honing said skill. Before you're able to fall, he pulls you closer to him, one arm around your middle, however, his hand is a bit too tight. "Are you ok there?" you didn't answer, all you could do was stare at him blankly, with a tiny hint of disgust plaguing your face. Before you could give a proper answer, small yaps and growls grow closer until it's behind you. Dogday ungracefully slid his way toward you, still yapping and growling, causing a cute commotion. You bend down to pick him up, it was odd knowing this little creature also doubled as your partner, but whatever gets you both out of the house, right?

"What happened, sunshine?" Dogday glared at the man, who seemed to be slowly drifting away. Dogday had slyly used his powers. The man must've not noticed until you seemed further away. You take that as your cue to leave. "Thanks for the skates!" you shout as you carefully shuffle your way off of the ice and back to the safety of the snowy ground. You squint at Dogday who, in response, yaps and sticks his tongue out to the side.

"I don't like him, not one bit!" Dogday, who was now in his Dog-alien form, huffs, his antennae drooping in dissatisfaction. "No one can take me away from you, trust me. Now, do you want to help me make some cookies?" you seemed to intrigue him. You two have only lived together for a little while, and learning about all the delicious human food made Dogday's antennae perk up, and his mood as well. With a wagging tail, he floats his way toward the kitchen as you are busy setting up everything you need to make the cookies. Dogday looks at the ingredients and tilts his head in confusion.

"This doesn't look like the other foods my human creates?" you chortle and pet one of his ears, making a warmth emit from his body. "You're right, it's not, but* it'll be just as delicious. Here pour the flour-erm pour the white dust into the bowl, please." You still needed to correct yourself with terms he'd understand, though slowly, but surely he was beginning to learn the names of human items. You were impressed at how quickly he seemed to grasp things. He does as he's told, and you praise his work, petting his hand and earning a happy chirp from him.

All the ingredients had been mixed in, only one thing was missing now. "Pour the vanilla extract, please!" pointing towards the bowl with a smile, you wait for him to unscrew the cap, he's been so sure he could do it himself. His hands don't exactly help with unscrewing such a tiny cap, refusing to give in and let you down, he continues fiddling with the cap until finally it opens and spills everywhere. "Oh…" Dogday mutters in disappointment, the vanilla extract had fallen onto his fur, and the floor, but somehow some managed to land in the batter. Your shoulders slumped as you let out a sigh. You were rightfully frustrated at what had just occurred, but you knew better than to lash out over something that could be cleaned later.

"At least some went into the bowl, you did your best, Dogday I'm very proud of you," you affirmed as you motioned for him to bend down and place a kiss on his cheek. "You should wash up, I'll finish up here, then we can watch a movie!" Dogday smiles, "You're not mad, my human?" You shake your head in response before you speak. "Hey, accidents happen, don't worry about it. Go enjoy your shower; it's alright," you say in your most gentle tone, that was all he needed to hear. With that, he was now out of your sight as he made his way to the bathroom. Now you were left with the task to finish up.

An hour or so went by until finally the cookies were done, and movie night was now upon you. Dogday was already cuddled on the couch waiting for you while you placed the now-cooled cookies onto a plate. You pour some milk and carry the plate of cookies and glasses to the living room, placing them onto the coffee table that you had to push away due to Dogday's long legs that, even when crossed, still didn't fit on the couch.

Not a word was needed to be said as he opened his arms, trapping you in his embrace. The smell of freshly baked cookies reminded you of your childhood. Even though that part of your life was gone now, you started a new one with an alien of all creatures—the irony of being an astronaut. As you sink more into Dogday's furry chest, you couldn't help but notice the smell of vanilla still lingered on his. You hummed as the smell filled your senses. "Something wrong?" "You smell nice, is all," you reassured him now, putting your attention towards the movie. You hoped you'd have more days like this with him, who knows how long your secret can be kept? You push away those terrible thoughts, you know no matter what, you'd cherish every moment you had with him.

A/N: I wanted to give back to my wonderful readers who found me through the Dogday hype! it's been a while since I posted something for him so I hope you guys enjoyed! thank you for 160 followers!! that's INSANE!! I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading! :3

[hd-erised]

We are over halfway through @hd-erised—isn't that exciting? It's been another fantastic week filled with art and fic and, as always, we hope you've been enjoying the fabulous submissions!

We hope you'll  take a moment to check out anything you might have missed this week, and don't forget to check our Week 1 and Week 2 round-ups for even more goodies. And, of course, please don't forget to leave a comment for our lovely artists and writers who make this fest the incredible experience that it is!! <3

Art:

Unemployed and On Guard for @makeitp1nk [T]

No One but Me for justlikewriting [M]

Fic:

Second Chance Resort for @elizah321[E, ~42,800]

A holiday forced on him by his friends after the latest in a long string of failed relationships might be a chance for Harry to relax, but all that is thrown up in the air by the appearance of one newly divorced Draco Malfoy. Mainly because they had been together almost fifteen years ago before Draco broke it off to marry the woman his mother chose for him… Feat. a matchmaking hotel, a spa day, an all-knowing Weasley, and friends who do try their best, but can get a little distracted.

Seven-and-sixpence for @oknowkiss [E, ~35,700]

The entire plan of Harry’s life had been defeat evil, become an Auror, marry Ginny. Not necessarily in that order, but it seemed to be going that way, the first two managed and the third in easy limbo. He can be better, though. He can be more. Draco will see to it.

Slip Slidin’ Your Way (In a Land of Fire and Ice) for @frm9pm [T, ~9,800]

How does a war-scarred young wizard recuperate and create a new identity? Harry opens himself to the magic of the land. Draco learns to wonder at the humblest of creatures. Years later, Magigeologist Evan Jameson and Malacologist Derek Black begin an enthusiastic correspondence. They’re in for a shock when they finally meet. Or: Science nerds go to Iceland and fall in love. Or: Why should kelp have all the fun?

Pillar of Salt for @agentmoppet [E, ~62,200]

From the lake in the Room of Hidden Things, Draco knows three things: 1. Mirror universes exist, and he’s going to find the best one—the one where he did the right thing. 2. Harry Potter and him are awfully cosy in some of these other universes, whereas Potter in real life is starting to act very odd around him indeed. 3. Draco’s reflection—the mirror version of him, the worst version of him—seems to be growing crueler. And stronger.

Prescription for @fantalfart [G, ~2,600]

Draco couldn't say he hated his job, not really. In fact, he loved it⁠—and wasn't that something surprising, a Malfoy being a Healer, when most of them hadn't worked a day in their lives?—and most of all, he loved knowing that he was helping people heal, above anything else. (And if there was a part of him that craved the normalcy of something that helped instead of what he had been taught to do his entire life? Well. That was between himself and his journal when he remembered to write in it.) (And maybe there was another reason too.)

Old love don't rust for @drarrydoodles [E, ~20,600]

“Why do you keep coming?” Malfoy asked at last. Harry mulled over the question. For a moment he debated trying to turn the tables and asking Malfoy the very same thing. But this time he didn’t want to hold back. “Because I can’t stop,” Harry said.

Equipoise for khalulu [T, ~88,200]

Ten years of peace have settled over the wizarding world, leaving Harry Potter feeling strangely adrift. Teaching Defense at Hogwarts is fine and all, but when mysterious magical blackouts start sweeping across the country, he can't help but jump at the chance to investigate. It would be the perfect outlet for his restless energy - if he didn't suddenly find himself tangled up in an elaborate charade, pretending to date the Prophet's most illustrious journalist, Draco Malfoy. Between hunting down the cause of the blackouts and maintaining their ruse, Harry's beginning to think that peacetime might actually be trickier - and far more surprising - than he'd bargained for.

Victory Lap for @traylalascrisis [E, ~4,700]

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to eat first.” For emphasis, he pinches the skin at my waist. I want to cover myself in him. I want to roll in him like a dog. I want to devolve on top of him. And he wants me to sit nicely and use a knife and fork first?

[kirain]

What's your take on the whole Max and Chloe break up in Double Exposure?

Also are you going to play it? I enjoyed your analysis of True Colors and Before the Storm.

Thank you! And oh boy...

My friends and I have actually been talking about this for the past few days, and maybe it's just my specific friend group, but ... we're fine with it? 😅

None of us sacrificed Arcadia Bay for Chloe. I'd say half of my friends hate her and half of them love her, but even my friends who love/relate to her couldn't justify it to themselves. One girl from our group, who dyed her hair blue after playing the game and absolutely worshipped Chloe, still chose Arcadia Bay. So from that standpoint, none of us are really hurting from Deck Nine's decision.

As for the people who are hurting, I'm sorry. Truly. I'm sorry you're disappointed. I understand how it feels and it sucks, especially when you chose Chloe despite the consequences. That was your decision and you had the right to make it. You had the right to enjoy it. Narratively, though ... it does makes sense. At least in my eyes. The only aspect that doesn't is Chloe ending up with Victoria, which I've heard happens? But I've searched high and low and that doesn't seem to be confirmed anywhere. There's a message where Victoria and Chloe go to a concert together, but that doesn't mean they're a couple, so I think this is just a stretch from angry players.

Other than that, I don't find Deck Nine's thought process all that outrageous. Their reason for breaking up is something I considered when it came time to choose between Chloe and the town. Chloe openly asks you to sacrifice her, saying that her mom and everyone else in Arcadia Bay deserves better—and I agree. Joyce, David, Warren, Kate, Alyssa, Stella, Dana, Daniel, Ms. Grant, Samuel the custodian, they all deserve to live. Even the characters we don't like, like Taylor and Victoria, at least deserve a chance. They're teenagers.

If you sacrifice Arcadia Bay, the animation when Max and Chloe drive through the demolished town clearly shows an air of regret on Max's face. She refused Chloe's first and only selfless demand and let thousands die for her; animals, men, women, and children. I personally find it difficult to believe that their relationship could work after that. Even the comics explore this concept, with Max leaving Chloe for a while because she can't handle the guilt.

The first Life is Strange is essentially a game about a girl who can't stop running from the past and a girl who can't let go of it. Given what Max and Chloe go through together, and considering how different they are as individuals, it's perfectly reasonable to assume that, as they grow and mature into adults, they wouldn't be able to salvage a slowly breaking relationship. Chloe would forever see the girl that killed thousands—including her own mother—for her, while Max would see a constant reminder of all the people she killed. It's a very realistic outcome for Pricefield, if we're being honest. And according to the letters, Chloe wanted to move on, but Max couldn't, while Max felt like Chloe was being a hypocrite. It's raw and complex and entirely believable.

Not to mention the first game never promises that Max and Chloe become a couple. You can sacrifice Arcadia Bay without romancing Chloe. There's two variants, couples or besties. So how on earth was Deck Nine going to cater to everyone, especially when there's a timeline where Chloe is dead? It would be impossible without making two drastically different games. Their only option was to remove Chloe from the plot entirely (alienating her fans) or miraculously revive her, in which case she would become the main focus of the story instead of Sifa, and it would negate the majority of people's decision from the first game. Nearly 60% of players sacrificed Chloe across the board, so I can understand why Deck Nine gave that outcome precedence. But it was a lose/lose situation from the start, so perhaps the best argument one can make is that they shouldn't have made a new game at all.

NOTE: I just found out that in the comics, Victoria and Chloe actually become good friends and Victoria matures a ton, so I dunno. Maybe the two of them getting together makes sense after all. 🤷‍♀️ That said, the comics aren't canon to the games and, in my opinion (based on what I've researched), they seem like a fanfic written to try and justify the sacrifice of thousands of innocent people, so I'm pretty indifferent to them.

Of course, there is another detail I've rarely seen people broach when discussing this drama: we don't really know anything yet. Above all, I think we need to remember that the game isn't finished. We've only seen two episodes. We have no idea where the narrative is going. For all we know, Max and Chloe might get back together by the end. Or even more likely, this is an alternate timeline Max. Much like the comics, this is just one of infinite possibilities. I think people need to calm down and hold their criticisms until we see the final product.

[heliads]

speak now (or forever hold your peace)

Charles Leclerc finds himself waiting on someone in a church. All of their friends and family are here, but the only person he can think about, the person he's here for, is Y/N L/N.

masterlist

warnings: marriage, death, angst, pining

They say there’s only two main reasons someone would invite this many people to a church:�� a wedding or a funeral. A morbid phrase, certainly, but somehow fitting, as all uncomfortable sayings are. Charles, for one, knows exactly why he’s here today, and the other option is something he doesn’t even want to think about. Not today. Not ever. 

There are many churches in Monaco, but only one would work today. It’s the one right down the street from where both of them lived, him and Y/N, up until the point where Charles started racing and let fast cars and extended contracts take him far, far away from the place that used to be theirs. 

Now he’s back again. Say what you will about fate or destiny, but it does seem to have a clear message. No matter how long Charles runs, he will always circle around far enough to find himself back home. 

That’s the wrong message for today and he knows it. Today is not for thoughts on racing, today is for him and Y/N, Y/N and him. He’s known her since they were both too small to talk but just big enough to know they were meant to be best friends, and now they’re hovering on opposite sides of a church neither of them have really orbited until now. 

Y/N’s parents chose the church, and God knows they’re in over their heads enough as is, so Charles won’t spare another thought towards the location. The place of this event is, of course, insignificant in the long run. What matters most is the life he leads afterwards. 

And what a life indeed. Looking back on it later, and even caught up in the frenetic moment of now, Charles will evenly divide his memories up into two distinct segments:  before this day, and after it. 

The before is marvelous. Childhood friends– they’re better than anyone else, really. Your family loves you because they have to, but your friends choose you because they want to, and that made all the difference. Y/N knew more about Charles than anyone else on this earth who wasn’t a direct blood relation, and despite everything, she still chose him.

It makes no sense, really. How do you grow up watching a boy become obsessed with a team that’ll never let him win a world championship, who will drag away hope just to hold it tantalizingly close, and still believe in him? Charles calls her after every race, the good and the bad, just to hear her voice. Anyone else would get tired of him, but not Y/N. Never Y/N.

It had taken him forever to realize that he loved her. Strange that he didn’t know it until he was old enough to move out of home, but Charles always thought of it like a guarantee, that even if he had nothing he had Y/N, so maybe it was only after they were separated for the first time that he could truly figure it out.

Charles had made her cry when he left. She’d tried not to let the tears out, not in front of him, but he saw the telltale traces of her sadness when he was saying farewell, about to board the plane. Charles had never felt so bad about anything in his entire life, knowing he’d caused Y/N grief, but conversely, nothing ever felt so good as when he’d returned at the end of the season and she’d sprinted into his arms at the airport, back together at last. 

On that day, her head tucked under his chin, both of them physically as close as they could possibly get under the circumstances, Charles finally realized what he knows now in excess:  he was utterly in love with Y/N L/N, and he always would be. 

Right now, the separation between them consists of the white walls of this church and the crowds they’re in. Charles is with his family, and Y/N is with hers, but after this, there will be no more divisions, not really, just the crowd of we-were-here that will make them whole.

Charles knows where he is, and there is, of course, the knowledge that Y/N is somewhere in this very building, just a few doors down but somehow utterly unreachable until the ceremony begins. He hasn’t seen her all day today, actually. Has no idea what she’s even wearing. She’s been prettied up by now, no doubt, a perfect picture of everything he loves, but he will not know until it all starts. 

Charles already knows that he’s going to cry when he sees her, and he tells his mother as much. She clucks her tongue knowingly, then says something about how he always was her emotional boy, even when he was a child. It’s not a bad thing, not always. Sometimes, on days like today, it lets you know that you love someone, and he does love someone. He loves her.

Someone coughs, and Charles flinches slightly, jerking upright and back to reality, out of his head. This is an important day. He’s not going to mess it up just because he was thinking about the past. All he has now is the future, years and years of things that haven’t happened yet and happy memories that he will be blessed to make.

Charles casts a look around the room. His best mates are here with him still, wearing what appears to be the same black suit and trousers. They never officially picked out what they’d wear together, but formalwear always tends to look similar anyway. Not his fault they all have the same taste in suit jackets.

One of his friends from back home stands up, claps him on the shoulder. “You ready to go out there?”

Charles swallows hard, then nods. The sooner it starts, the sooner he gets to the after. He lets his friends go out first, follows them blindly through the innards of a church he hasn’t been to since he was small. He’s half sure that if he just looks hard enough, glances in the periphery of his vision before the ghosts can flicker out of his sight, he’ll catch a glimpse of him and Y/N, shorter than waist height, running from their parents to hide in one of the Sunday school classrooms to laugh and laugh until they were found again.

Instead, Charles keeps his eyes resolutely ahead. The smell of flowers grows almost overpowering the closer he gets to the front of the building, and when his friends pull open the doors to the main room, it’s the first thing he notices, the dozens of sprays of lilies and roses, so many petals that it looks like freshly fallen snow.

His feet slow down once he’s inside, and Charles feels all eyes on him as he processes down the aisle behind his friends. He can see Y/N’s parents already there, front row, then his parents across the aisle from them, his brothers further down the pew. Everyone who knew the two of them are here now, and dry eyes have already started to sparkle.

Charles blinks and he’s at the front of the sanctuary. He looks up at the cross suspended from the wall, breathes in and out quickly, and then he turns and he sees her at last. Y/N, wearing white, but Y/N, perfectly still. Y/N, dead so young, because he is not here for a wedding nor a birth or any kind of happy festivity, but for her funeral.

His knees almost buckle. It takes everything in him to stand over her coffin, to look at her closed eyes and understand that they will never open again. Charles manages to stumble over to his family’s pew and sit down, listening blankly as the members of the church arrive and begin to speak on Y/N’s life, which somehow, impossibly, is already over and done.

Charles can still feel the stares even as speeches are given, memories are shared. They’ve told him that, although this pain is fresh and raw, he’ll be able to get over it in time, because they were both young, and he at least had plenty more years to enjoy even if she didn’t. They click their tongues at him like he’s a child, and express their sympathies. He wants to scream at all of them for not understanding, but of course that would make him seem even more juvenile than before, so he holds his tongue and attempts to keep the tears at bay. It doesn’t entirely work.

Charles knows a lot, actually, more than anyone gives him credit for. He knows what it’s like to sink your whole life into a job that will never give you back anything but your own blood and sweat and tears. He knows what it’s like to love, what it’s like to lose, and exactly how agonizing it feels to sit at the funeral of your best friend, your girlfriend, the woman you should have lived forever with and will now never get the chance. 

Those who would speak have by now, and people start to file from the church again. Charles does not move a muscle, even as his friends and then his family start to shuffle around, fix their clothes, and get up. The tracks of tears are still hot and fresh on his face, so his mother presses a hand briefly to his shoulder and hands him a tissue before directing his brothers to go on without him. 

Charles stays there, watching everyone else depart the room, and he wonders how he is ever supposed to get up and live his life without the one girl who has always been there for him. There has never been any world in which he did not have Y/N with him, and now she is lost to him forever. It is grievously unfair and completely out of his control. He has already been to too many funerals. This one is too final a blow to bear.

Charles is the last one to leave the funeral service. Y/N’s family is kind enough to give him a few moments alone with her in the church. He doesn’t deserve it, not more than them, who had her for longer than he ever did, who knew the secrets he never got to ask about. 

Charles Leclerc sits alone in the church, he clasps his hands together so tightly that the blood rushes out of them from the sheer force of his prayer, and he thinks,

I wish I had married you. 

a/n hahahahhaa

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Another Lie || CL16 {5} - Charles' Ending

Warnings: 18+ only, fluff, if you don’t want a Charles happy ending look away now and wait for the Max alternative! WC: 2.8k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five (Charles) || Five (Max) || 5.1 blurb request

It was strange to be back after so long. It was strange to see that the Principality hadn’t changed at all. Upon reflection, the only difference was that you had. 

The gravel path crunched under your ballet flats as you followed the winding track to the lookout and found him sitting upon the wall looking out over his homeland. 

“Is this seat taken?” 

Charles nearly fell off his perch with how fast he turned and you placed a steadying hand on his shoulder as he righted himself. 

“What…?” he trailed off in confusion as he stared at you in disbelief. 

Thanks to Instagram you had seen how his face had sharpened with age, heard how his voice had deepened too. And, from what interviews you had watched, even his thoughts and opinions had matured in recent times.

But he hadn’t seen the difference three years had made to you. You were never one to publicise your life and your Instagram was mostly used to keep up with other peoples life rather than display your own. He knew because he still checked.

“Your mum called.” He was still staring as you climbed the wall and took a seat beside him. “I can’t believe it’s been ten years.”

When Pascale had invited you to the anniversary of Hervé’s death she had assured you that Charles was aware and fine with it but given how shocked he still was at your arrival that didn’t appear to be true.

“Where’s Jules?” you asked, trying to get him to say something other than stare as you picked at the loose stones on the wall.

A smile curled his lips at the mention of his son before it lost some of its brilliance. “It’s Sapphire’s week with him. Wait, my mum has your number?”

“We’ve kept in touch over the years,” you admitted with a shrug. She had never forgotten your birthday and always wished you a Merry Christmas. “When she said you weren’t answering your phone I figured you’d be up here.”

“I just needed to clear my head for a bit,” he murmured as he peeled his eyes away from you and returned to watching the sun reflect on the picturesque Côte d’Azur. “With the custody battle, the busy race schedule and dad’s anniversary, it all got a little loud in here.” He tapped a ringed finger to his head and sighed. “I’m thinking about retiring.”

The stone in your fingers slipped and tumbled down your leg and into your shoe, irritating your foot as you tried to kick it back out. With a chuckle, Charles dropped off the wall and pulled your shoe off, flicking the stone out before slipping it back on. 

“Thanks,” you muttered as you still tried to process the information he had dumped on you. “Why would you retire? You’ve been doing great!”

He didn’t return to his seat beside you, instead he tipped his head back and closed his eyes as the sun warmed his face. “There’s something more important to me than winning now. I only get to see Jules every second week, and there’s 28 race weekends this year. There’s just not enough time to race and be the father I want to be for him, the one he deserves.”

When he opened his eyes you could already see the decision had been made, whether he knew it or not. 

“At least you can retire knowing you kept your promise,” you said as you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. “You always swore you’d win a championship with Ferrari, even when no one else thought it was possible.”

His lips parted with a laugh as he kicked the rocks with his sneakers. “Wasn’t easy.”

“Nothing good is. But all that hard work and you never put the #1 on your livery…why?”

He shrugged and buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I chose my number for a reason.”

He could have chosen sixteen for a number of reasons but he always said it was because your anniversary was the 16th of January, you first met in 2016 and one plus six equals seven - his lucky number. He was always looking for patterns in everyday things, he couldn’t help it. 

Your phone vibrated again with a reminder you hadn’t opened the message and you saw Pascale’s name, asking if you had found him. You quickly replied that you had and shoved it back in your pocket before hopping off the wall. 

“Come on, your mum’s probably worrying we’ll be late as usual and you’re my ride off this mountain.” 

“We?” he asked as he cocked an eyebrow up. “I was always ready on time, you were the one who made us late for everything.”

“That’s not how I see it, because as the driver, it’s your responsibility to get us to the destination on time.” 

It was effortless how easy the lighthearted teasing came without any of the biting remarks or bitter sarcasm that had tainted those last months of your relationship. This was, dare you say it, nice. You only hoped it could last because you had missed his friendship most of all. 

“How did you get here?” Charles asked when he looked around the carpark, only spotting a few older model cars alongside the latest Ferrari Purosangue.

“Arthur dropped me off after he picked me up from the airport.” You slipped into the luxury SUV and pouted as the engine started far quieter than the Pista. “Where’s my baby?”

“Gathering dust most of the time.” He nodded his head to the backseat and you looked over your shoulder. “She doesn’t fit a carseat.” 

“Of course, that makes sense.” You shook your head with a small laugh. “I can’t believe how practical you are now.”

“Having Jules changed me. The first time I held him, it was like everything came into focus, you know? I realised if I carried on like I was then he was going to see that behaviour as being okay, and it wasn’t okay.” He glanced across the car making eye contact with you. “I’m trying to be a better man, one he can be proud to call dad.”

Hervé would have been proud to see his family, smiles on their faces as they sat around the tables that had been pushed together to accommodate everyone, celebrating the life he had. 

Lorenzo’s family had grown by two and the toddlers were full of energy as they chased each other around the table; Arthur’s wife, Carla, also had one bundle of joy on the way; and Pascale looked at all of her sons with radiating pride. You almost shed a tear as you sat down for the family dinner after visiting Hervé’s memorial, the love and warmth that filled the Leclerc’s family home felt like the missing piece you hadn’t been able to find on all your travels.

“You okay?” Charles asked as he filled your glass up with the sweet lemonade Pascale had made for her grandchildren.

“For god sake, Charles, offer the woman a proper drink,” Pascale said as she passed a bottle of red wine down the table. 

“It’s okay, I don’t drink anymore,” you said as you passed it on to Lorenzo before returning your attention to Charles. “Do you still do this every month?”

He faked annoyance as he nodded but you could see how happy he was surrounded by his family. “Normally it would be when I have Jules but with the race calendar this month it just didn’t work out.”

The sun was beginning to set as you finished washing the last dish and passed it over to Charles to dry. From the living room you could hear Pascale reading to the children while their parents cleaned up the mess they had made and out on the back porch you could see Arthur and Carla sharing a moment as they watched the red sunset together. 

“I miss this,” you whispered before realising it had been aloud and Charles had heard. 

“Me too,” he sighed and stacked the plate in the cupboard. “How long are you staying?”

“Three days.”

His brows furrowed into a deep frown. “Is that all?”

“I do have a life,” you teased as you stole the dish towel from his shoulder to dry your hands.

“Does that include a boyfriend?”

The laughter faded and you shook your head. “No, there’s no one else.”

His eyes traced your lips and when you saw his tongue roll across his own you stepped back and swatted his arm with the damp towel. “Cut it out, Charles.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he lied through his cheeky smile.

You narrowed your eyes at him and grabbed your handbag from the kitchen side. “I’m going to go now because this has been a really nice evening and I want to keep it that way.”

He swiped his car keys up just as quickly. “I’ll give you a ride.”

“My hotel is only a few blocks away.”

“Then let me walk you, please? These streets aren’t as safe as they used to be. I’ve been mugged twice.”

“Then why would I want a walking target next to me?”

“Shit,” he chewed his lip at his flawed argument and sighed. “Please? I’ll walk you to your door and that’s as far as I’ll go.”

He held his breath as you debated the offer before lifting your hand up, pinky raised. “To the door and no funny business.”

He linked your fingers and shook on it. “Pinky promise.”

It was almost midnight by the time you reached your door. The classic cinema along the way was playing a double feature of Humphrey Bogart and when Charles saw Casablanca was about to start he had hooked your arm into the crook of his elbow and led the way inside. His smile dared you to argue but you had come to enjoy the black and white film whenever he had watched it.  

Hervé had loved to torture his sons by making them sit and watch the film at least five times a year as a family. You had only been there to witness it twice but it was clear despite the feeble grumbles they all had come to love it too, especially when Charles whispered the lines to you under his breath. 

When the lights had gone down in the theatre you had felt the heat of Charles’ arm as it shared the rest with yours between the seats. The projector flickered to life and the speakers crackled as the film began and you were thrown back in time.

You were immersed in the story when your hand was taken, the touch taking a moment to be noticed, and you looked down at your fingers laced between his before following the line of his sleeve until you reached his face.

His eyes were focused on you, and a sad smile played on his lips as he mouthed Rick’s line, “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”

By the end of the second feature you were hardly seeing what was on the screen. You could have left after Casablanca finished but there was a silent agreement that neither of you wanted the night to end. So you had remained in the dark room as most of the other patrons left and To Have and Have Not started, your hands still entwined on the arm rest.

“Do you have any plans tomorrow?” Charles asked as you stepped inside your hotel room and he stopped at the threshold, leaning against the frame with your hand still holding his.

You bit your lip to hide the smile that appeared. “If I do?”

“Cancel them.”

“Ohh, sorry, I can’t…I have a lunch date with the prettiest Leclerc.” His smirk grew and he nodded his head in agreement. “But you can join us, I’m sure your mum wouldn’t mind.”

His jaw dropped before his head tipped back with a laugh. “I’d hate to be a third wheel. Maybe I can steal you for breakfast in the morning instead?”

You looked at the time on your phone and saw midnight tick over. “It’s morning now.” You took a step deeper into the room but your hand tugged tight against Charles where he remained firmly planted at the door, shaking his head.

“I made a promise, bella,” he said softly before pulling you back and into his arms so he could press his lips to your forehead. “I made you lots of promises, and I’m going to show you that I will keep them all…if you give me a chance.”

You tucked your head into the curve of his neck and wrapped your arms around his waist. “Three days,” you whispered. “That’s how long you have to show me the kind of man you are now.”

“That’s easy,” he said as he rested his cheek on the top of your head. “I wasn’t a man before. I was just an asshole who let the fame go straight to my head and lost something precious because of it.”

His words caused your stomach to flip and you looked up at him in a new light as you saw the pained look of regret in his eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to come in?”

“Ma bella,” he groaned, stepping out of your arms and towards the elevator. “Of course I want to come in, but I won’t. We have both changed. I want us to get to know one another again. Start afresh.”

You swallowed down the plea that was on your tongue because he was right. If you fell back into the same pattern like last time it would be stupid to think there would be a different outcome.

You wrapped your arms around yourself to keep from reaching for him as you conceded a nod. “Pick me up at 8am for breakfast?”

“It’s a date.” He started to walk backwards to the elevator like he was savouring every last second of seeing you in person and blew you a kiss as he hit the down arrow. It opened immediately and he looked a little disappointed as he stepped inside before a smile started to curl at the corners of his lips. “And just so you know, I am the prettiest Leclerc…until it is you.”

Three Years Later.

A gentle euphony echoed along the halls of the otherwise silent house and you wiped the sleep from your eyes as you padded barefoot down the staircase. It was far too early to be awake and even the birds had yet to rise with their songs as you passed the large glass doors that overlooked the dark waters of the Côté d’Azur.

With quiet footsteps you crept around the corner to the living room to find the reason why all the beds were empty.

Charles looked exhausted as he sat at the piano bench, his fingers moving slowly over the keys, drawing out each note a beat longer than they should. The retired racer’s jaw trembled with a suppressed yawn but his tired eyes were blinking less and less as he started to slump.

“How long have you been playing, love?” you asked as you sat beside him and brushed his hair back from his face. “The kids are fast asleep.”

“Really?” Charles turned with a groan to see Jules snoring on the sofa with his little sister tucked into his arms. “Melody’s crying woke him up.” He rose to his feet and cracked his back that had gone stiff from playing for hours. “I can’t wait for those teeth to just come through already.”

“You should have woken me.”

He bent in half, groaning at the protest in his back but he pushed through the pain so he could kiss you. “I need this, bella. I can’t feed her when she wakes in the night but I can play her lullaby. And you must have been tired if you didn’t hear her on the monitor.”

You followed your husband to the couch and gently scooped Melody into your arms, praying she was in a deep sleep, before carrying her back up to the nursery. Charles followed with Jules asleep in his arms and took his carbon copy to his bedroom beside Melody’s.

You both breathed a sigh of relief when you met in the hallway, the doors shutting on well-oiled hinges. There wasn't a single sound to disturb the kids as you crept back to your bedroom and Charles curled himself around your body.

“Goodnight, my sweet,” he murmured as he kissed your shoulder. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

“You don’t have to thank me everyday,” you said with a smile at the regular bedtime routine.

You felt his smile against your skin. “I do, I’m thankful for you everyday and I always will be. Forever, just like I promised.”

Click here for the alternative ending (Max’s).

[xcherryerim]

Intoxicating Admiration

gn!reader vocalist x hard!dom Billy | word count: 2.7k

“Short breathes a whisper, and everythings new. Your still thoughts, cant walk.” — Where The Night Ends by Together Pangea

SMUT ONE SHOT - MDNI | 18+ ONLY

Warning: choking, oral sex (only Billy womp womp) | quicky, unprotected sex (I can’t stress this enough y’all, wear condoms pls) | Penetration (no genitalia specified) | tying up reader’s wrist | porn with plot. | Car sex.

Notes: Wrote this a long time ago and I revised it like 2 times so… sorry for the repeated words and stuff :)

Also, the song reader sings is the one I linked at the beginning! You don’t have to listen to it but yk…

Summary: Running from the police, Billy finds himself hiding in a grunge bar, unsure of what to do next. He decides to stay for a little while longer and as he watches your band's performance, He is instantly drawn to you.

Billy's attempt to rob a gas station had gone wrong. The adrenaline pumping through his body kept him going for a while, but soon his legs gave out and he was forced to stop. On the run, he approached a strange bar that looked grunge and worn-out. But he had nowhere else to go, so he snuck inside to hide from the police and plan his next move.

Billy felt out of place in this dark and messy-looking bar, not used to its laid-back atmosphere compared to typical barn-looking ones. He'd been here for almost an hour and couldn't think of a good reason to stay. Even though the police were probably no longer searching for him, something was telling him to stay.

Everyone was watching him, some checking him out while others judging his cowboy-looking attire, but he didn't care. He was drowning in his regrets. It was all caused because he chose to get involved with those bikers, and now he was living off of stolen money. He hated it, hated his life, his choices, and himself. But it was too late to make things right, he was too deep in it now.

Out of sheer frustration, Billy blurted out "What do you want?" when someone stared at him.

The sudden outburst sent them jumping away, startled. After that, Billy sighed and ordered another scotch. His thoughts were plagued by doubt and uncertainty. He couldn't figure out how he'd get back home, how he'd pay off his debt with the bikers, or what to do with his life. He was overwhelmed with a sense of hopelessness and just wanted to forget it all with alcohol.

Billy was too immersed in his thoughts to notice the subtle change in the lighting, or how the other people in the bar were focused on the stage. The loud electric guitars pierced his ears, drawing his attention toward the stage. He turned his face with annoyance and confusion, trying to make sense of what was happening. The bar was no longer a casual, laid-back environment, but a scene for a performance.

You started playing your guitar abruptly as the cues for the song came in. Your fingers moved gracefully and fluidly to the beats of your bandmates, weaving an intricate mesh of rhythm and melody. Your heart was pounding out of your chest, filled with equal parts of anxiety and excitement as you knew your turn to sing was just a few moments away. You needed to put on a good performance, for the sake of the band and your reputation.

“Your long stares. You don't care. I know you want to. Short breathes a whisper.”

Billy was unsure how to react. Alternative music wasn't his thing, it was too loud and too chaotic. But there was something about the vocalist that captivated him. He couldn't quite explain it - it was as if the sound of your voice and your presence lured him in, taking control of his senses. The sight was addictive, intoxicating, and beautiful. Billy felt a strange tug inside him, urging him closer and closer, and for some reason, he couldn't resist.

Billy grabbed his scotch and navigated through the crowd, pushing people out of his way in a desperate effort to get as close as possible to the stage. The lure of the vocalist was overpowering and he had to get closer, even if it meant trampling on other people. The scotch was the only thing helping him maintain his composure, but all the alcohol in the world couldn't stop his mind from spinning and his heart from pounding.

As the lights change color and intensity, you suddenly notice an unfamiliar face in the crowd. The man is staring at you with a passionate, adoring look, his gaze fixed on you. You're not sure if it's your actual self or your performance persona, but you decide to wink at the cowboy-looking fella, encouraging the admiration. You keep on singing, your voice echoing through the entire bar, but you can't help but be aware of his presence, the intensity of his stare, and the heat his gaze is bringing.

“I wanna have you. Tell me where the night ends.”

Once you winked at Billy he felt so intoxicated, so much that the rest of the world faded. His vision was clouded, and he could see nothing but you. Every movement was hypnotic, and the vocals were perfect. Your voice was calling him, calling him to get closer, and no matter how much he fought it, it overpowered him.

You saw him, and you loved the reaction he had toward you. You couldn't help but smile and shake your head lightly, trying to dismiss him. However, his presence was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. You took a deep breath and belted out the high note, hoping it would catch his attention. But instead of looking at him, you focused on the performance, giving it your all. Despite wanting to acknowledge his admiration, you couldn't afford to lose focus on your performance.

As the song came to an end, the crowd erupted in cheers, their energy and excitement overflowing. You took the microphone and named the band once again, acknowledging the crowd for their support. However, amidst the celebrating and revelry, the mysterious man remained still, his eyes never swaying from you, his gaze fixed and intense.

After the show, you gathered some of your equipment and started cleaning up, but one of your bandmates stopped you in your tracks. "Hey, go get a drink, you deserve it. I'll pay." You wanted to say no, but after the demanding performance and the pressure of trying to impress the cowboy guy, you accepted. Walking to the bar section, your mind wandered back to that man with the intense gaze.

As you turned your head to the right Billy approached you with confidence, settling himself in the seat next to you. His face was full of a sense of determination and conviction as if he'd been waiting for this very moment.

"Hey," he said, as his gaze bore into you, searching for a reaction. "Would you mind if I join you for a drink?"

The way he looked at you instantly sparked a flicker of excitement deep within you. "Sure," you replied with a calm smirk on your face, playing it cool.

“I loved your performance.”

“I'm glad you enjoyed it," you added, your eyes never leaving him for a second. In this moment, he was all you could see.

The details of his appearance, from his bruised knuckles to the way his veiny hands played with the rim of the glass, stirred up something inside you. Your head was wondering about the possibility of what those hands could do, and you were overcome with temptation. The intensity of the heat he was radiating made it impossible to stay seated, and your body was beckoning you to be closer to him.

I'm Billy," he introduced, extending his hand towards you. You shook it, your fingers brushing against his, and felt an electric current run through you. You couldn't help but let your eyes linger on his bruised knuckles, wondering about the story behind them.

You introduced yourself back, your voice low and sultry, matching his intensity. You took a sip from your drink and gestured towards your bandmates. "We usually hang out here after the show, care to join us?"

The heat of his breath hit you, bringing a shiver to your spine. He leaned even closer, his face just inches away from yours. The scent of his cologne was intoxicating, and something about the intensity of this encounter was drawing you closer.

He spoke in a soft yet commanding tone. "I'd love to. But I prefer spending some time alone with you if you don't mind…”

The way he leaned in made you catch your breath, and his words just added to the intensity of the situation. Your mind was going a mile a minute, trying to process what his words meant. You played dumb as if you didn't know exactly what he was implying. You sipped your drink for another moment, hoping to calm your nerves and not appear too flustered.

"What is that supposed to mean?" you asked, acting innocent as you raised an eyebrow.

His gaze was intense, his words low and seductive, bringing a shiver down your spine. You could feel the heat of his body so close to yours.

"It means that I find you irresistible," he said, his voice rumbling through you. "I want to know more about you without prying eyes." He raised his glass to his lips, taking another sip, but his eyes were never leaving yours.

You felt your heart race at his words, a flush spreading across your cheeks. "You know, I'm not sure that's such a good idea," you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him, but you had to be cautious.

He spoke in a soft yet commanding whisper that made you tremble from the intensity. "Let me show you a good time," he murmured, sending shivers through your body. You were powerless in this moment, swept up by the passion and overwhelming attraction you felt for him.

The heat and tension were overwhelming, and the adrenaline rushed through you as everything unfolded quickly. Before you knew it, you found yourself in the backseat of your car, with Billy next to you. The atmosphere was charged with a sense of forbidden desire and overwhelming chemistry, creating a steamy and passionate atmosphere.

Billy spread, comfortable in the backseat of your car as he looked at you. He was relaxed and confident, but something about the atmosphere still felt forbidden and naughty. His words were flirtatious, with a hint of arrogance, but his tone was teasing and playful. "I don't bite,"

“But what if I want you to?” Your teasing response took things to the next level. It was a simple, yet charged statement, making him wonder just how desperate you were for anything he'd do.

He grabbed the back of your head and pulled you closer, finally giving in to his desire to kiss you. Your bodies were pressed into each other, skin against skin, as the heat and intensity of the moment swelled and surged between you. His kisses were passionate and demanding, leaving your lips tingling. As he sucked and bit into your lower lip, you could feel the sting mixed with the rush of pleasure coursing through your body.

His rough hands gently grazed your neck, not too tightly but firmly enough to leave a lasting impression. The light choking sensation only added to the intensity of the connection.

"You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat," Billy murmured.

With shaking hands, you tugged at his belt buckle, desperate to feel his heat against your fingertips. As you pulled his pants down, his cock sprung free, twitching in anticipation. It was even bigger and thicker than you imagined, and your mouth watered at the thought of tasting him.

You leaned in closer, taking in his musky scent as you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. Your tongue swirled around the sensitive skin, tasting the mixture of pre-cum and salty skin. With each passing moment, you took more of him into your mouth, savoring the feel of his hardness against your softness.

Your hands roamed over his thighs, up his abdomen, and finally rested on his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat against your palms. His hips bucked forward, pushing his cock deeper into your throat, and you gagged slightly before pulling back to catch your breath.

With a lustful growl, he reached down and gripped your hair, pulling your head back towards his cock. "Suck it," he demanded, his voice rough with need. You complied, taking him deeper into your throat, bobbing your head up and down as you worked him.

You could feel his length throbbing in your mouth, his desire pulsing through you. His hands were in your hair, guiding you as you bobbed your head up and down, taking him deeper into your throat. You could feel him twitching, and the sensation was overwhelming.

Billy's breath hitched, and he groaned, his hips bucking against your mouth. "Fuck, you're good at this," he whispered, his voice thick with need. "I've never had anyone suck me off like this before."

With a moan of pleasure, you pulled back slightly, your eyes never leaving Billy's. His cock twitched in anticipation as he gripped your wrists tightly with his belt. You couldn't help but grin, the feeling of being restrained only adding to the excitement.

"Please," You whispered around his hardness. "Do it." You begged, your voice shaky with desire. With that, Billy pushed your wrists together even tighter, the leather digging into your skin. The pain was nothing compared to the pleasure you felt as he thrust his hips forward, driving his cock deeper into your mouth.

You sucked harder, taking him as far down your throat as you could. His hips pounded against your face, the slapping sound echoing in the car. Slowly, he pulled your head back, releasing your mouth from him.

Billy’s hand closed around the leather belt that encircled your wrist. With a swift tug, he pulled you closer to him, the rough texture of the belt against your bare skin sending shivers down your spine.

As he sat you on his lap, his hard cock, already leaking precum, rubbed against your entrance. You could feel the heat emanating from it, the anticipation of what was to come almost unbearable.

He spat into his hands, the saliva glistening in the dim light. With rough fingers, he spread the moisture around your entrance, preparing you for his entry. You arched your back instinctively, begging for him to take you.

Finally, he positioned himself, his cockhead teasing. With a forceful thrust, he pushed inside you, filling you up in one swift motion. You cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain, your body adjusting to the sudden intrusion. His hips pounded against your back, driving him deeper with each passing second.

“Your thighs are shaking so much,” Billy added.

You couldn't help but laugh, your body still adjusting to the sensation of him inside you. "I can't help it," you panted. "It's been a while since I've been fucked this hard."

Billy's hips pounded harder, his thrusts growing more demanding. Each time he pushed into you, the sensation was overwhelming. You gripped the seat, your nails digging into the rough fabric, as you arched your back, begging for more.

Your breath hitched as you watched him, his eyes locked onto yours. His voice was thick with lust as he groaned, "You feel so good. I'm not going to last much longer."

"Don't stop," you whispered, your voice shaking with desire. "I want you to come inside me."

The words sent a jolt of excitement through him, and he thrust into you harder. His cock throbbed inside you, filling you to the brim. With a primal roar, Billy let himself go, emptying himself inside you.

"Damn, that was good," Billy panted, his breath ragged as he pulled out of you. You could feel the stickiness of his come between your legs, the evidence of your passion.

You grinned, your heart racing. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," you said, your voice low and sultry. "But I think it's time for me to go."

“No,” Billy wrapped his arms around you, his body leaning into you as his lips kissed your back. The way he held you was comforting and protective, but there was also a sense of possessive desire in his behavior.

“How about we go back to my place?”

It was clearly what Billy was trying to do. His question brought you back to reality, and the urge to be alone with him for the rest of the night overtook you. You wanted to go with him, to be with him, to be his, at least for the whole night.

“Fine.”

The heat and excitement of the moment had passed, but the passion and desire remained. You quickly changed back into your clothes, adjusting them as best as you could. Billy followed your example, getting himself ready as he sat next to you in the passenger seat.

“Good,” He leaned in again, pressing his lips against yours, taking control of the situation. That single kiss was an indication of what was to come.

“because I’m not done with you.”

Thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed this 🫶🏻 … Part 2?

If you only want to see my smut work, consider following @xxxcherryerim where I reblog my work!

tag list: @freak-accident419 @joshhutchersonsgf @valreanakuroo (If you want to be added to my tag list let me know!)

[elysianstars]

In Rafal's character notebook, it lists one of his dislikes as 'kindness', which in the JP version is clarified to 'other people's kindness/friendliness' (他人のから好意). It's nuanced, because he's not actually such an edgelord that he can't recognise the value of treating people decently. The real issue is that, after everything in his past, he doesn't feel like he deserves to be the recipient of kindness, not anymore. He doesn't want to encourage it.

Let's start with Nil. We don't have a complete picture of him, only the version filtered through Nel's and Rafal's ancient memories, which is probably idealised. But Rafal's portrayal of him is certainly a kind and pleasant person – he's the one who makes Alear feel welcome in Xeno Elyos, and tries to mediate the quarrels between Alear and Nel.

Nil was also physically weak, and rightfully afraid of being killed without Nel's protection. And yet, when he's separated from her, and meets Rafal for the first time, Rafal's choice isn't to hurt or manipulate him, to try and gain status. Instead they become friends, and Rafal is so devoted to his supposedly pathetic brother that he considers Nil his other half, in place of the dead twin he never knew. It's the two of them against the world. Even though Nil didn't see Rafal in precisely the same light, because he already had Nel.

Beginning as the lone child surrounded by twins, and then having his first genuine bond be with somebody who didn't commit as wholeheartedly as he did. Always incomplete, reduced to second best. Accepting Nil's friendship regardless, because it was much better than nothing.

Then Nil is fatally wounded in battle, and Rafal agrees to an incredibly strange request from his dying brother. Not only to return the dragonstone to Nel (somebody he's never met, the reason Nil never saw him as number one, a figure that a distressed child could easily feel resentment towards), but to take up a pretence of actually being Nil.

Here's how he explains all this, at the climax of the Fell Xenonlogue: We were inseparable, for a time. And I was all too happy to have something like a real brother. He was my other half. That was how I felt, at least. But for him, there could be no replacement for Nel. When I found him on the battlefield, breathing his last, his only thoughts were of her. He gave me her dragonstone, and said that he wished Nel would never have to grieve. For that reason...he asked me to take his place.

He doesn't consider that Nil probably did this to save Rafal's life, too. Nil wanted to transfer Nel's protection onto Rafal, and saw that as the easiest route. He didn't want either of his beloved family members to be left alone. No matter the phrasing, I don't think it was meant as Rafal doing a one-sided favour for Nel, it was meant to benefit them both (and ultimately, it did).

Looking back, Rafal talks about how kind and giving Nel was to him, the miserable and lonely child. And while the Sombron-cursed side of him disdains this, it's clear his true self doesn't. He treasured those bonds. He went to great lengths to honour a promise nobody else knew about, that he could easily have abandoned. He came to love Nel as much as he loved Nil, even though he felt stuck in a third wheel position.

From the brief glimpses we see of the other siblings, Nel and Nil were definitely amongst the kindest, and they were the ones Rafal gravitated to. There's no indication at all that it was strategic. He chose the people he wanted to be with. He calls them his real brother and true sister, while the rest are lumped together into that distant definition of siblings, tied by genetics but nothing else.

In their Pact Ring support, Rafal calls Alear caring and gentle, and then says, If you had been born one of my siblings, your disposition would have led you to a quick death. Do you think he's remembering Nil, in that moment?

He understands perfectly well the value of kindness, and of people who embody that trait. He just struggles to feel worthy, when it's directed towards him. A selection of other quotes, for emphasis...

[Fell Xenologue] All my life I have sought to be valued...only to discover that I am truly worthless.

[Alear Support] It is absurd for you to trust me at all after what I have done. To be friendly is beyond the pale.

[Ivy Support] My sins are unforgivable, and I will carry that burden for the rest of my life.

[Mauvier Support] No amends I make to you will counteract the evil I have done at all. My paltry overtures have been nothing but a childish attempt to soothe my own ego.

[Camilla Bond] I caused my sister’s death. I all but destroyed an entire world. I am irredeemable.

Obviously someone with such a self-loathing attitude doesn't take well to kindly advances. On the other hand, he also dislikes being looked down on, enjoys showing off in battle and bragging about his hard-won strength. There's a difficult balance within his personality – don't think there's anything good in my heart, but don't doubt how formidable I am. I'm an awful creature undeserving of love. I'm an incredible weapon who'll butcher your enemies with ease. Set me loose on the battlefield, and be impressed, but don't thank me for it afterwards.

And in his solo ending, he never manages to grow past that. He dies alone, killed in some (presumably) world-saving conflict without anyone knowing, not even Nel. His body isn't found until there's nothing left but bones. He'd claim that was perfectly fine.

Rafal hated being deemed a failure. He spent his formative years being kicked around, and grew obsessed with rising above that. Becoming the best and strongest and favourite. That's what gave Sombron's curse and the 'true heir' idea room to take over, and warp his personality to such an extent. He couldn't be Nil's first choice because of Nel, and he couldn't be Nel's first choice because of Nil (or so he believed), but maybe that wouldn't matter if he could earn his father's approval, instead?

But now, in the aftermath of his bloodbath, who in their right mind would choose him as their favourite? If Alear offers him the Pact Ring, he tries to turn it down with the words, I may possess superficial charm, but giving this to me would be foolish even by your standard. Moreover, it would be wrong. I have done nothing to earn such an honour.

What happens after Alear talks him into it, though? He demands that they never leave his side (with a bonus of you belong to me, depending on which language you're playing in). The original JP notebook says he has a strong sense of possession/wants to monopolise people he likes (気に入つた者には独占欲が強い), and when Alear is alone with someone else, he's overly jealous and putting on pressure from a distance (誰かと二人でいると, 遠くから圧をかけてくるほど嫉妬深い). Meanwhile in the English text he's described as fiercely protective (because that sounds like less of a blatant red flag I guess). He's afraid that if Alear ever failed to wake, he'd lose his mind. He can't stand the idea of outliving them, and wants to be the first one to die. He claims their bond is everything to him. He uses his own dragon scales to make a container for the Pact Ring, and hoards it away for his eyes only.

This is mirrored by his supports with Nel, where he tries to insist on guarding her in battle, without caring how he's harmed in the process. He tells her, A fear that you would never wake held me constantly in its grasp. It nearly drove me mad, and I will do anything not to lose you again. Protecting you is all I care about. Whatever may become of me, I am prepared to accept.

He doesn't hate kindness. He deliberately starves himself of chances to receive it. He doesn't want it to be wasted on somebody like him. And if a rare, persistent person decides they're going to love the unlovable, he becomes desperate to keep hold of them, to the point of self-destruction if necessary.

I also think there's something to be noted in the way he boasts of his abilities around Alear, specifically. Almost like he's still trying to win approval from the guy at the top of the food chain. Not sure if that's an intentional part of his character though, or just how it looks from my perspective.

Thus concludes another tl;dr analysis post of my favourite poor little meow meow war criminal, host to infinite problems and contradictions.

[alans-maladaptive-daydreams]

The monster living in my mind. Yandere!MC x Obey Me brothers.

I've always seen fics of the brothers being yandere, which makes sense, they are demons but I think I also want to see a bit more yandere!mc so I wrote this. I didn't put a specific brother because the use of pacts and magic is a bit involved so it affects all seven equally, feel free to imagine it with whoever you want.

note: I might edit it again later to change the gender of the witch, since I don't feel completely comfortable with the female gender for the lover, I'll see if I can do it another day (cries in college student) I've been doing this for almost 3 months now so I just want to finish it lol.

Warnings: Violence, mutilation of the human body (self-harm and injury to a third party), infidelity, mental illness, insecurity, and insults related to someone's sex life. (I think that's all if there should be anything else I will edit it immediately, suggestions are very welcome). No-native writing, corrections are welcome.

Reader: Gender neutral.

Genre: Yandere and explicit violence.

Masterlist

You had always managed to control those negative feelings that consumed your brain. Those feelings that made you think that the person you loved was betraying you, those same feelings that convinced you that you deserved it because after all you will never be enough.

Although you were a very jealous person, you rarely showed it to your partner. You suffered in silence and sometimes even other people paid the consequences of your moodiness and insecurities.

Your jealousy sometimes terrified you, the thought of ripping the throat out of anyone who had the slightest romantic or sexual interest in your partner was not uncommon in your head. Sometimes your brain played tricks on you, convincing you that you should make them understand that no one would love them more than you. They belonged to you.

You were aware that these thoughts were dangerous, you usually pushed them into the deepest and darkest depths of your being because, in the end, it was all part of your imagination and insecurities.

You had different partners, and none of them gave you a reason to distrust or get violent treatment from you. So even though you brutally disliked certain friends of your exes, you never said a word and preferred to ignore the violent flame inside you.

That was until you met him, a beautiful demon from head to toe who, while you brought out the best in him, he brought out the worst in you.

Many of your insecurities were drowned out as you moved through life together, yet they never completely disappeared.

The violent feelings became almost extinct, but they were still there, waiting to be fulfilled at the right time.

That's why you were visiting your psychologist almost daily, that violent insecurity resurfaced.

It resurfaced like an unstoppable flame, a bomb waiting to explode.

In a constant state of nervousness, your body trembled every time your boyfriend had an attitude that made you distrust him.

It started out as something you chose to ignore, but it never left a good taste in your mouth. All of his devices now had a different password than the one you knew.

When you questioned him, afraid of making him think you were invading his privacy, he simply replied "Security", you didn't dare ask him for the new passwords because you feared it would make you look bad.

Your second sign was his obvious nervousness every time he received a message or a call which, of course, he had to take in private.

It was then that you decided to blindly trust your boyfriend and avoid at any cost those thoughts that were taking away your sanity.

However things became more evident, from cancelled dates, strange looks at RAD, his brothers' nervousness when you asked for his whereabouts, his disappearance for hours at a time with ambiguous explanations. The relationship became weird, to the point that your boyfriend couldn't even look you in the eye every time you met because he didn't even have time for you, in his words; he had too much work to do.

That part of you that you thought you had buried was resurfacing, but much more violent, psychotic and anxious.

It was as if your brain was screaming at you in a loud voice "He's cheating on you, kill that slut so he can see who he's fucking with".

The thought of your beloved boyfriend with someone else disgusted you and made you completely sick.

It was then that something in you changed. You don't know what it was exactly, and you can't explain in what moment you started to think like that. It just happened, it was as if that sick and violent being that had always lived in you had finally found a way out, and you decided to accept it because, after all, that was your reality.

"We're demons, you're stupid for thinking he wouldn't cheat on you. "The demon mocked you as she showed you a video in which her friend, a witch, and your beloved boyfriend were the main characters in a sexual scene so repulsive that your stomach turned inside out creating a pain you never thought you would be able to feel.

With trembling legs and a broken heart, you walked to the bathroom holding back your tears and the vomit that threatened to come out. The demon watched you walk with perhaps the saddest look she had ever seen on you.

As soon as you entered the bathroom, you stuck your head in the sink, completely emptying your stomach.

Your cold fingers ran over the dark circles under your eyes, caused by sleepless nights of overthinking the whole situation. You reached down to your lips, covered in the residue of breakfast, and with a trembling hand, you stilled the sob of pain that shot through you like a bullet.

Tears soon overflowed from your eyes as your heavy breathing forced you to crouch on the floor, making yourself as small as possible, as if that way you could avoid the intense pain you felt. Your fingernails reached your scalp, digging violently into it, causing blood to slowly stain your hands.

"'Son of a bitch" you whispered.

You were going to kill him. Him and his fucking whore.

You were going to eat his brains while his brothers watch your feast.

Or better, you were going to rip every fingernail off his body, every finger, every tooth and make a beautiful necklace.

You'd open his head like a jar and eat his insides for breakfast.

You were going to tear him apart piece by piece. You were going to burn every part of his body that you touched until you saw living flesh.

Although you knew you were only a mere human, you also knew that the pact that bound your souls together was your greatest weapon. You were not the same human that had started the exchange program, you were a powerful sorcerer and you had seen death with your own eyes, you were not afraid. You were going to ruin his fucking life.

"Sometimes demons need a show of dominance to know their place, you must prepare yourself because eventually, that day will come". Your master had told you a long time ago. You never thought that day would come so soon.

You stood up and looked at yourself in the mirror, the wounds on your scalp looked deep enough for blood to drip down your face.

"MC? Fuck, I didn't know you'd get like that, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have shown you that." The demoness approached you with a worried expression. She placed a hand on your back to comfort you.

"No, thanks. I needed to see it."

Your cold tone sent a shiver down the girl's spine, without looking at her you headed for the exit and before you left she said; "Don't blame her, okay? I know you know her and you exchanged a couple of words. She's not a bad person, it was just a mistake."

"I don't give a fuck, he was my fucking boyfriend, she knew that." with that, you walked out of the bathroom and headed straight to the House of Lamentations.

That day you locked yourself in your room and refused to let anyone in. They were all traitors, they always knew about his affair with his mistress and didn't have the balls to tell you.

Every time you remembered how they told you they appreciated you and thanked you for saving their family your stomach would drop. You no longer saw them as your friends, they were just disgusting beings who needed a reminder of who was in charge.

For seven days you didn't sleep, you didn't go to RAD and you didn't eat. For seven days you watched your boyfriend's every move, his whore's every move. Every move was etched in your brain like a tattoo. You didn't need to think about it for a second to recite it out loud.

By the end of the week, everything you had been repressing and controlling for years had come to light. What you had always been was now comfortable in your brain, the insecurity was gone, but the violence was more alive than ever.

At the end of the seventh day, in the middle of the night, what you had always feared became your nature.

You grabbed your bag and left your room, leaving it secured in case any of the brothers tried to break in, a spell that would shatter any limb that even accidentally touched your door.

"MC?" you heard one of his brothers say, but you ignored him. You were too focused on your plan.

Behind the House Of Lamentations was the place where you opened a portal, one straight to her lover's house. You didn't hesitate for a second to walk through it, standing right in the entrance hallway.

Your ears heard what you had always feared.

The familiar moans along with a not-so-familiar voice. The sharp movement of the bed's wood.

The love you had once felt for him disappeared completely.

You walked through the dark house, trusting your hearing until you reached the door.

Before you opened it you contemplated all that you were putting at stake in carrying out your desires. You contemplated whether it was really worth it. However, that little spark of reasoning vanished as soon as it arrived.

You set your bag aside and opened it.

The heavy hammer saw the moonlight for the first time since you had bought it. You held on tight and opened the door.

If at any time your sanity was present during all that suffering, after what you saw that night it not only disappeared, you killed it and buried it deep inside your annihilated and diseased self.

Silently you approached him and the first blow was directly to his head. Knocking him unconscious instantly.

The whore looked at you with frightened eyes and screamed trying to get the heavy body off her.

"Do you like getting into other people's relationships?" you asked, grabbing her hair in a fist and dragging her into the living room.

"You're fucking insane!" she screamed as she kicked and struggled with your violent grip. You lifted her body roughly and slammed her against the hard wall, squatted down and with your hand gripping her hair you forced her to look at you.

"Do you like messing with other people's relationships?" you asked again. She tried to defend herself from you with a pathetic and weak spell. You laughed and grabbed her face violently. "That's your attempt to save yourself? You should put a little more enthusiasm into it, like when you spread your legs like the whore you are."

She perhaps saw that she really couldn't against you, after all she knew who you were and she knew that no one could control the seven princes of hell as easily as you, so she felt that her only solution was to kneel at your feet and beg for forgiveness, praying for sanity to return to your mind, for your humanity to win over that monster that had awoken.

"I'm sorry," she cried, her voice heavy with fear. "I won't get into your relationship again" she grabbed your legs begging for your forgiveness over and over again.

"I hope it was worth it," you muttered as you grabbed her hair again to drag her into the dining room.

"What are you going to do?" she asked between sobs still clutching your arm, in an attempt to loosen your hard grip.

"You'll see." you smiled as you picked her up and slammed her down on the table in the middle of the room, causing her bones to crack slightly. "Or you may not survive to find out." You placed a hand on her chest as she tried to get up quickly and with a simple spell you completely paralyzed her body.

Her eyes widened gigantically and as she tried to scream for help you pulled the rest of your things out of your bag.

"It's no use, try screaming all you want, no one will hear you."

"What the fuck are you doing MC?" The voice of the main character appeared behind you. You turned to see him, blood was pouring from his head and he was in his demonic form in all his glory.

He was the love of your life, but if he couldn't play fair you would have to get rid of him, and you knew it would hurt you more than him.

"Don't worry, you'll be the only audience to this wonderful show I call 'Whore Anatomy, for cheating boyfriends'. Sit down and shut your mouth." He rushed over to you, intending to stop you. "Sit down, and shut your mouth." you repeated in a loud, clear voice. The pact worked its magic and your boyfriend was sitting there staring at you with undecipherable eyes.

"You know I love you, don't you? That's why I'm doing this because I love you and you must not disappoint those who would give their lives for you," you said as you took different things out of your bag.

You looked at all your instruments and thought carefully about what to start with, the excitement made your skin crawl. You didn't expect it to be so exciting.

"So, that's why I'm going to show you that this bitch isn't worth what I'm worth and hasn't done what I've done for you. It will be…educational." your eyes sparkled at the sight of the sharp scalpel. You took it and showed it to your boyfriend. "Pick a portion of the head. Ears, nose, eyes…" your kind smile faded as you saw his expression of fear, your hand slammed violently against his cheek and you repeated. "Choose a portion of the head. Ears, nose or eyes."

"Eyes…" he whispered to your surprise.

"Wow, I didn't expect you to go straight to it." You laughed and approached the witch, who was silently praying. "Stop praying, hoes don't go to heaven." With your fingers you opened her eyelids and showed her the scalpel. "Eyes are a hollow, fibrous globe, we use them to see beautiful things and to see unpleasant things. Whores, like your friend here, use it to track down men in relationships and crawl like a snake to get some cock" you muttered as your scalpel pierced the socket of the girl, who was crying and trying to scream, or so you thought after all her mouth was sealed.

As your sharp scalpel pierced the socket, her quiet cries became more erratic. " Quiet." you murmured, trying not to lose your concentration. Your index finger buried itself in her lacrimal duct pressing hard in an attempt to pry the eye out as cleanly as possible. Blood stained your fingers and the witch's constant attempts at movement were beginning to annoy you. "Stop or I'll cut your fucking eyelids off."

When she calmed down, you took the opportunity to completely bury your finger in the lacrimal, practically ripping the eye out of its socket and cut the nerve that attached it to her body.

You looked at the orb with pride and showed it to your boyfriend. "I pulled it off pretty well, don't you think?"

Your boyfriend looked at you with a strange look on his face, one you couldn't quite figure out. However, the game had only just begun, and the excitement was altering every part of your body.

Morning came, and your boyfriend woke up to the sun shining directly on his face. He looked around when the reality of everything that had happened the night before hit him violently.

"Good morning." You smiled brightly. "Go get changed and make me breakfast, the ingredients are in the freezer." you pointed to the kitchen as you lazily flipped through the channels.

Your boyfriend looked around, everything seemed normal, as if nothing had happened. He was a demon thousands of years old, he'd seen and done some fucked up shit but what he'd seen you do surpassed anything he'd ever lived through.

He've never seen a human look so… happy while mutilating a living person piece by piece.

He had never seen your smile and gaze as bright as it was last night.

He walked over to the fridge and opened the freezer, finding his mistress's frozen head, along with different pieces of her body separated into containers.

"So? Any idea what you're going to make?" you asked as you sat down on the island with a quiet smile.

It was then that he realized who was in front of him.

The monster watched him curiously as they rocked back and forth gently, perhaps trying to soothe the voices that were tormenting their deteriorated mind.

He realized that he had never truly met the depths of your being, that your loving, human form was nothing more than a barrier to prevent the one thing you yourself feared from coming to light.

But now… you seemed comfortable with this new nature of yours.

Too comfortable for his liking.

[duckprintspress]

Duck Prints Press’s monthly “created works round-ups” are our opportunity to spotlight some of the amazing work that people working with us have done that ISN’T linked to their work with Duck Prints Press. We include fanworks, outside publications, and anything else that creators feel like sharing with y’all. Inclusion is voluntary and includes anything that they decided “hey, I want to put this on the created work’s round-up!”

Check out what they’ve shared with us this month…

-

TTRPG Portrait - Tiefling 1 by May Barros / @mayarab

art || original work || no ships || general audiences || no major warnings apply || ongoing series

TUMBLR - LINK

​-

Leonine Contract by May Barros / @mayarab

fiction || original work || no ships || teen & up || no major warnings apply || 752 || ongoing series

summary: Flash fiction for the Flash Fiction Bingo. This flash fiction is the 4th in the series and is about a Leonine Contract

other tags: Coercion, Fire

LINK

-

make me your wife by corduroyserpent / @corduroyserpent

fiction || the scum villain's self-saving system || f/m || su xiyan/tianlang-jun || mature || no major warnings apply || 1,018 || complete

summary: Sometimes you swap clothes with your annoying demon boyfriend for funsies and it awakens something in both of you.

other tags: Sharing Clothes, Genderplay, Pre-Canon

TUMBLR - AO3

-

A Modern Family by edupunkn00b (E.D. Punk) / @edupunkn00b

fiction || sanders sides || m/m || logan/janus; patton/remus || general audiences || no major warnings apply || 4,078 || complete

TUMBLR - AO3

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I Love You Heart and Mind by edupunkn00b (E.D. Punk) / @edupunkn00b

fiction || sanders sides || m/m || logan/patton || general audiences || no major warnings apply || 4,283 || complete

summary: (Final chapter)

Patton and Logan, Morality and Logic, the Heart and the Mind, were just… well. Sometimes they were peanut butter and jelly, caramel and salt, dark chocolate and strawberries. Sometimes, they were a bit like oil and water. And then there were the times they were little more than gasoline and fire.

Still, there was no-one else in the Mindscape who held a bigger piece of Patton's, well, heart. And his mind.

Logan knew his limitations. He knew the boundaries of his role and he knew what happened when his… demeanor crossed those boundaries. He knew how to handle it. What he didn't know was how to handle his growing difficulty keeping it all under control.

Especially around Patton.

TUMBLR - AO3

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On a Butterfly's Wing by edupunkn00b (E.D. Punk) / @edupunkn00b

fiction || sanders sides || platonic or familial, m/m, f/m, poly (one gender: male), it's complicated || logan/remus; logan/remus/janus; janus/remus; logan/kelly croft (oc) || mature || no major warnings apply || 2,448 || ongoing series

summary: (New chapter)

"As the system changes, the motion of the point represents the continuously changing variables. It traced a strange, distinctive shape of a butterfly's wings." - Chaos: The Making of a New Science by James Gleick

Fluctuations, even small ones, in a chaotic environment can make a outsized impact on a life: Arriving three minutes late to a student club fair. Never walking home alone after that party at Jack's house. Trying a new goal planner that year.

Deciding to stay just a little longer to try and make the marriage work.

Universes collide in this story, as Logan Croft—and Logan Sanders—finds himself waking to a world that is not his own, stumbling down roads he might have taken throughout his life but for a few small changes.

What each man learns—and teaches—will change everything.

TUMBLR - AO3

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reasons to play by the rules by ilgaksu / @ilgaksu

fiction || all for the game - nora sakavic || m/m || neil josten/andrew minyard || teen & up || creator choses not to use warnings || 4,520 || complete

summary: “Ugh,” Nicky sighs, hands on hips, surveying the deep and endless blue of the skyline from his standpoint on the ship’s deck, frowning out at the unwavering, unceasing sea. “I hate it here.”

“Did anyone fucking ask?” Aaron retorts, waspishly, and scrambles further up the ship’s rigging.

(One night in Nassau, with the crew of The Flying Fox.)

other tags: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Meet Cute Amputation, Period-Typical Attitudes

AO3

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The Prince is Dead. You are the Dragon. by Nicola Kapron

fiction || original work || m/deliberately ungendered || mature || graphic depictions of violence, major character death || 9,149 || complete

summary: The prince is dead. His kingdom lies in ruins. All life in the country of Sothien has been extinguished to facilitate the rebirth of the dark dragon god known as Shura, ruler of death.

You are that dragon. And you are paralyzed with grief, for before you were revived, you were living a human life, and you fell in love with the prince.

Process your grief or succumb to it. Seek out destructive solutions to your problems. Blame yourself because the alternative is admitting you, too, are a victim in all of this. Only one thing is certain: there is no moving on from this loss. Not for you.

Features & Warnings:

Interactive Twine story

About 9,000 words

3 endings

Guilt, grief, death, unhealthy coping mechanisms, cults, fantasy blood and violence, depression, suicidal ideation.

If this sounds a bit grim, please take care of yourself.

Cover image edited from MythologyArt. It isn't tagged as AI in the source. I will remove it if this changes.

other tags: dark fantasy, major character undeath, interactive fiction, romance, LGBTQIA, short

LINK

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Worthy by Linnea Peterson / @lpetersonwrites

poem || original work || no ships || general audiences || no major warnings apply || 91 || complete

summary: A free-verse poem about my strengths, quirks, and accommodation needs as an autistic person.

LINK

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Re-learning by Linnea Peterson / @lpetersonwrites

poem || original work || no ships || general audiences || no major warnings apply || 100 || complete

summary: A sonnet about my experience with ableism as an autistic person.

LINK

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Beau and the Beast by Amalia Zeichnerin

video || beauty and the beast || m/m || beast (or prince)/original character called beau || teen & up || no major warnings apply || 5,304 || 00:39:50 || complete

summary: An arrogant, selfish French prince gets transformed into a hideous beast by an enchantress, and his whole castle is cursed, including all his servants who become pieces of furniture, cutlery or other objects.

His personal servant Beau has become a mirror. Beau has always felt attracted to the prince but also repulsed by his arrogance and selfishness. But then everything changes ...

other tags: Tags: queer inclusive utopia, anti-monarchist ideas. Content Warnings: a bit of queerphobia, also internalized, self-hatred, violence, blood

AO3 - YOUTUBE

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The Story of Alexander Lemtov by Amalia Zeichnerin

fiction || eurovision song contest: the story of fire saga (2020) || m/m || alexander lemtov/original character || teen & up || no major warnings apply || 7,379 || complete

summary: Former Euro Vision Song Contestant Alexander Lemtov has cut ties with his home country because of the war against Ukraine and queers are not welcome in Russia. In a gay club in Edinburgh, he meets the goth Linus and the two spend the night together. When Alexander finds out that Linus is a musician, he offers him to work together, but the goth refuses, because he has other plans …

other tags: mentioning of the Russian war against Ukraine (no violent descriptions), homophobia (only mentioned)

AO3

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Hell and the Dough Boy by ShannonXL / @shamwowxl

video || original work || no ships || mature || no major warnings apply || 00:04:45 || complete

summary: Video reenactment of an unhinged Discord conversation featuring dog toys, marketing mascots, and a cameo from Satan.

YOUTUBE

​

[ruiniel]

If you don't mind me giving you some inspiration to write, I've got a little scenario you could play with involving Alucard (Castlevania). Perhaps a great ball is happening and even though they aren't a couple, he invites our dear reader to accompany him. What follows is a tender if not very charged moment between the two as they help each other get dressed. It could end with a resolved note or perhaps linger with the promise of what could be...

And what inspiration it was! Thank you, here it be.

I chose the resolved note

Mirror

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Pairing: Alucard x F!Reader

Count: 2.7k

Rating: T

Tags/CW: oneshot, mutual pining, romantic angst, longing, unresolved sexual tension, angst again, unresolved emotional tension, confessions

All characters depicted are 18+

Mirror

mirror

on

the

wall

tell

no

more

lies

of

who we

are.

—Atticus

You should never have agreed to this. 

Gazing in the mirror to ensure the trappings of your dress are fastened as needed, you realize that the person you see before you is a far cry from the one you knew, months ago.

Not the physical appearance that was altered as much, no. 

Longing. Longing and friendship and the loss of both did this to you, and all and everything else that passed; now, there is an everpresent knot in your throat, a despondent voice in the back of your mind, always repeating the same.

Gone.

As you run a hand through your hair, thinking belatedly what to do with it for the night, you consider: he’d suggested this. 

He’d put forward the idea that you move to the closest town, noticing your loneliness—and if there ever was a being in the world who knows the torment of its perpetuity, that would be him. But he was wrong. The times he walked in, catching you staring bleakly out the window; the times he’d seen you fastly wiping your eyes with your sleeve as he neared. If anything, loneliness was not the reason; but you were too much of a coward to tell him otherwise, weren’t you? 

Weren’t you? You berate yourself, lip curling. 

He wanted this. When you’d asked him to come with, to live, he refused on account of his duty. A legacy of ashes, he said, but a legacy still, and it was his alone to guard. But no one should ever be secluded like this, you’d offered, it was not fair, you’d said.

“Oh, but it is,” he’d murmured one chilly night spent watching the snowfall. “It is… only fitting, I’ve come to think.”

You reach for a comb, half-heartedly brushing through the strands, gazing at the cold, flat surface, seeing so many moments that are gone. 

He’d wanted this, said it was not your obligation to remain a companion to someone like him. 

“You belong with your own people. Not in this decrepitude.”

You fool, the bitter thought comes. That never mattered. I would have stayed. I would have stayed as your friend, even if there was no chance for you to look at me and see more. 

But you didn’t. You didn’t want him to know, you didn’t want him to see. What was the point of sharing a depth of unrequited feelings, what help would it be to him, rather than another burden?

How strange. But maybe, you tell yourself, combing idly, after all, it’s merely devotion that you feel? An affinity and gratefulness you’re mistaking for something else, and maybe, maybe… you’re worrying for nothing. Maybe it’ll pass soon, and you’ll forget. You’ll attempt a life here, you will live, as humans must do. You hate the tears that sting your eyes. 

“I can’t,” you murmur to your destitute self in the mirror. “I can’t…” 

Two soft knocks on the door. 

Swiftly you rub at your eyes with your richly embroidered sleeve, taking a breath. “Enter.”

You turn and feel a spike of jealousy, of hurt, of longing so deep you want to carve out your heart and throw it at his feet.

He looks so much like he belongs here, with his bright long hair and elegant shirt, that dark overcoat folded neatly under his arm. 

Adrian blinks, staring at you as he closes the door. “You seem…”

“I’m not ready,” you mumble, turning back to your task, gazing at him in the mirror.

Another farce. He’d proposed you attend the yearly masked ball, to begin mingling and integration in this new society, in this foreign town you wish burned to the ground.

“I can see that,” Adrian says. “I merely wanted to,” he hesitates as you turn, then places his coat carefully onto an armchair. 

Outside, the rain has begun to patter against the windows of the inn. He’d given you enough by way of means to live comfortably until you found your bearings here, until you found a means to live by. For the purpose at hand, he’d booked a room in the same place for the night.

He’s already donned his mask: black and gold, an embellishment that fades before the sheerness of his eyes. You blink as your stare is drawn to what he holds in his hand, then back to the grimace pulling at his lips. “I’ve tried all, but this cravat won’t do my bidding no matter what I do. I thought, other hands might be of more use,” he looks at you with a pale smile.

You snort. He could be wearing roughened hemp clothes and still look as perfect as he does in these sleek, elegant garments of black and white and crimson.

“Fine,” you shake your head, putting forth your own smile—it’s fake, but it’ll have to do. You rise and walk over to him, taking the fine cravat from his hand. You haven’t seen him in two weeks, not since you’ve made the town a permanent residence.

You look up at him. Unable to meet his eyes so close, you focus on the intricate gilded details of his mask. His hair is tied back from his face, a few strands straying over sharp cheekbones—are they more pronounced than before? You wonder at this and nothing, as you look back to fasten the cravat around his neck, your hands working slowly, your head spinning with the scent he’s using—something of lilies and lilac, certainly some rarity from the early years of his childhood travels with the castle and his now defunct family. 

“How are you faring so far?” 

You loathe him without a right to, but does he know? Does he even know how he twists the dagger? It seems not, and the sting in your eyes mellows. “It’s different, no doubt,” you speak softly, wanting to press your cheek to his shoulder and weep. “Many more people than I’m used to, but it… it looks safer than the wilds of the woods, for the most part,” you try a joke. “And you?”

Your fingers are nearly done with the knot, but when there comes no answer but the patter of rain against the window you pause, looking up at him again. His eyes tell you nothing. His face is expressionless no doubt, hidden behind that mask, as still as he is. 

“As you say, it is different,” Adrian finally speaks. “But there were no other threats, and for now all seems quiet.” On the last word you think his voice cracked just a little; might be you imagined it.

“There,” you say, done with the knot, hands sliding slowly down his chest, over his fine white shirt, before they fall at your sides. You turn away and head back to your seat, burning from the closeness and feeling absolutely pathetic. You pick up the brush again, watching him in the mirror; staring at the ground—what is this?

“I must finish my hair, but have no inkling of what to do with it,” you chatter away to fill the emptiness, though the shallow topic makes you want to cry.

Adrian looks up; your eyes meet in the mirror. Then he’s nearing you, for some reason he’s still here—well, you are to go together, after all, he’d agreed to be your partner for the night, offered even.

“I know a plain one I used to help my mother with,” he says, having slowly neared until he stands behind your chair. “If you wish, I could help with the first steps, you can make something of your own liking out of it.” 

“Now that, is a skill I did not expect of you,” you can’t help but smile at him, and when he returns it, you feel the bliss of past, comfortable moments together, before this wretchedness took roots inside you, curling so strong and deep nothing you’ve done so far helped free you of it. 

“How so?” Adrian asks, head tilting to the side, then, “May I?”

You nod, then freeze when long hands are placed on the top of your head, gliding through your hair. You glance up at his reflection.

“Well, because…”  you curse the sensations brimming at this barest of touches, at the slight pressure of fingertips on your scalp. Oh, but you truly are pathetic, aren’t you?

His long fingers are slow to sift through your hair, catching unwieldy strands; they feather over your cheek, your temples, the nape of your neck; you bite on your lip, hating him for all but casting you out in the guise of friendship and selflessness, wanting that same touch everywhere until you can’t breathe. “Because, you never mentioned it before, I suppose,” you add lamely, your head emptying of logic and coherent thought.

“I never had a chance to,” Adrian replies softly, and in the mirror, you see his eyes are on his task; he looks carefully down at his work, seemingly absorbed by it. 

His hands are gentle, not a tug or a snag; you close your eyes, lips parting. If you’re being a wretch, you’ll take all you can get, at least make it worth it. 

“Hand me that pin, please,” he says, and you do so, fingers brushing against his just barely. 

He’s doing a fine job of it, and as you open your eyes, you must admit: your hair gains a semblance of satisfactory appearance under his care.

“There,” he says at last, looking at his handiwork, then meeting your eyes again. “How do you like it?”

“It’s,” you swallow as his hands alight on your shoulders. “It’s wonderful,” you say.

“I honestly never thought I’d do this again,” Adrian replies, hands sliding from your shoulders but—

There is sadness in his eyes, and something else, and it’s that with the beating of your heart that has you reaching, pressing a hand over his, trapping it on your shoulder. 

You look up at him. “Adrian,” you must be mad, what are you doing? What do you think you’re doing? He’s never given any sign that… that he’d see you that way, but damn it, damn it, damn it all. 

You stare at each other in silence. His hand presses into your shoulder even as your grip grows tighter. You’re panting, and the tears you’d so bravely kept at bay now tremble in your eyes. “It’s not the same,” you croak, “It’s not the same without you.”

His lips part, but he says nothing, gazing down at you in that mask, unmoving, his hand still warm on your shoulder.

 “I don’t understand why you wanted to be alone, but I try. I know you feel so much guilt, and you… you might not have place for anyone else in your heart because of it, and you might never see me as anything else, but I… I’ll go mad if I don’t tell you this, and then… then you can do what you will.”

“You know why we agreed for you to leave,” is all he says; his lips press together in that way you’ve learned he does when uneasy, or vexed.

“Yes, but I… I’ve come to care for you, to feel things I never thought I’d feel for another,” your words leave your mouth even as you dread the outcome of your sudden, mindless outburst; you're shivering. “And you made me leave, you cast me away, I only wanted to… I wouldn’t have asked for more but to be your friend…”

You yelp when the chair is suddenly spun around with you in it, and Adrian’s staring down at you, a hand propped on each armrest. “I didn’t cast you away,” he says, and through your rapid heartbeat you hear the cracks in his words; as though he struggles to speak them. He looks to the side, eyes closing in a frown. “I… I did not want to tie you to me, I want…” he looks back at you, with a sadness and fire in his gaze that leaves you breathless, “I want you to be happy, away from… from my petty self-deprecation, my sleepless nights and empty days. What would you get from it? What could you possibly...” he trails away, shakes his head.

You must be dreaming, you want to scream. Instead, your voice comes like trickling rain. “... were you too blind to see, what happiness is to me?”

His head had lowered, but when Adrian looks at you again, his eyes burn. “Then tell me.”

“It is you,” you say, in agony. “You fool,” and your hands reach, slow to undo the lacings of his mask, and as soon as you remove it, you find his face twisted by the same emotion you’d seen on yourself in the mirror.

Miserable longing. 

You smile, close to sobbing in relief, chest heaving. Placing the mask aside, you slowly reach to touch his face; his dark lashes shiver as Adrian gazes down at you, seemingly trapped there though you’re the one caged by him in the chair.

When you pull him down to you by his cravat he yields readily, sighs, nuzzling at your face.

“I’m a coward,” he whispers, eyes shut as you card fingers through his hair with barely contained urgency, feeling the softness, the slickness of it, the scent of it, of him.

He draws back, so close to your face you see the golden rims of his irises. “I did not want to be selfish, to keep you there though I… I didn’t want to think about what I’d seen, the change in you… but… “ his forehead rests on your shoulder with a sigh. His hand, warm and scarred, is gentle as he feels along your bare neck. “... but while you were there, I felt… a little more like me…” he admits, and you’re melting beneath the onslaught of sensation, the confession branded into your skin, his hair tickling and soft where it caresses your cheek.

He raises his head, and you stare at each other for moments; seconds; eternities. 

“Come back,” he says, and through the burst of emotion you cup his cheek, and press your lips to his; he sighs; you whimper softly as he deepens it all, seeking more, an arm around your waist lifting you to him easily; you wrap around him with relish, not letting go even if the world were to crash down on you both, and his arms are vicelike around you.

Your feet barely touch the ground in his embrace, and you’re smiling now, actually smiling, shedding layer after layer of suppressed heartache and desire and protectiveness; a care so deep you can call it nothing else than what it is, though you dare not tell him yet.

He licks into your mouth with the thirst of one denied sustenance for years on end, crushes you to him so strongly you gasp; but you’re no different. Your arms are bonds around his neck, body pressing against him, leg curling around his hip as though trapping him for fear he’ll vanish; when you break away to breathe, you see his lips are bruised, his eyes so bright as though a dark veil had been cast off; his smile is the sun forgotten by the rains outside, and his long hand grips the skin of your bare thigh, holding your leg wrapped tightly around his hips. Clothes, crumpled. Your dress, wrinkled. His cravat, which you’d so carefully fastened, is slack around his neck, and his hair is a gleaming mess. 

“Adrian,” you say, licking at his taste on your lips, unable to recall a state of drunkenness such as this. Without even realizing, your gaze slips briefly towards the bed, then back on his face.

“Will you?” he asks after another swift kiss, a tug of softness. “Will you come back with me?”

You gently pry yourself away only enough to take his hand, placing it to your breast; he gasps. “Yes,” you say, voice shaking with fear overpowered by need. You reach for his other hand and lace your fingers with his, slow to step back, closer to the empty bed. “But not yet.” 

You fall and he follows, his features raw with all that you feel, your shadows melding together against the wall.

The mask lies forgotten on the table, shimmering in the candlelight.

MASTERLIST: CASTLEVANIA SERIES x READER

More of my work is on AO3 [many stories not on tumblr]

BLOG MASTERPOST (all you need to know)

Likes/comments/reblogs always and forever appreciated

The line "I felt… a little more like me" is also inspired by Atticus

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝓣𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓮 : Unsaid Rules

There's forbidden words in the hospital that you're simply not allowed to say. But some people just can't keep their mouths shut, it seems like.

Tags/Warnings: Hospital/Medical AU, Doctor!Jungkook, slightly aged up!Jungkook, Doctor!Yoongi, Nurse!Jimin, Doctor!Namjoon, mentions of Doctor!Hoseok, Paramedic!Jin, blood, medical terms, hospital stuff come on this is a medical au, somewhat of an intro to everything really

Length: 3k words

A/N: Please do not come for my throat if some stuff doesn't make sense. I've tried hard, but I'm not a doctor, and so none of this should be taken too seriously. Treat it like a medical drama. Those ain't real either haha

-> Masterlist

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"Alright!" Jungkook greets everyone in his department, walking around to find all computer screens dark. "What's going on here?" He asks, tapping at the keyboard- but nothing springs to life.

"Jimin jinxed the shift about half an hour ago." Namjoon, an emergency physician and also best friend of Jungkook's, sighs. "Said the 'Q-word', now all the computers down here and in pediatrics' crashed. They've sent someone out already though." He explains.

"Oh come on now-" Jungkook whines. "-three weeks leave and you come back and drop something like this? Go back to where you came from!" He jokingly curses at his friend, who just rolls his eyes.

"Don't you have to be in your own department, Doctor Jeon?" He asks playfully sarcastic, making his friend laugh, as he grabs his water bottle and some files, before he does just that.

Jungkook has been working in the hybrid care department for almost five whole years at this point. He's one of only a few specialists in the country- making his department pretty busy most of the time. But he doesn't mind it- he's studied his ass off for a reason, pursued this career because he truly wanted it. So in a way, he's proud to be the one many people trust in.

He greets fellow members of staff- some he knows, other's he's not too familiar with, before he finally enters the familiar hallways, starting his day.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

When Jungkook was still in school, he didn't have any ambitions at all.

He's not the kind of doctor who always wanted to be one ever since he was a kid- in fact, quite the opposite. He remembers his mother always telling him how terrified he was as a child to have to go to a doctor, even if it was just for a regular check up, or flu shot. It scared him, the needles and strange people and noises- but by now, they've become normal, routing, comforting even in certain cases.

At the beginning, he wanted to be a pediatrician. Work with kids, cause that seemed to be the easiest for him back then. But then, things changed.

He changed.

Watching someone die in front of you can be life changing- sometimes just a moment, but other times for your entire future as well. He remembers the young cat hybrid playing with him, without a care in the world. They were both not even fifteen when the young boy suddenly fell, for no apparent reason, and never woke up. He'd seen him be worked on, watched from the sidelines, frozen in place. Could he have done something?

In hindsight, he knows there was really nothing he could've done to prevent things from happening. It wasn't his fault- but simply a problem in the system, back then.

Sudden Arrhythmic Death Syndrome had been, and is still, not something entirely uncommon in human children, hybrids, and even more common in infant hybrids than anyone else. Untreated heart arrhythmia, combined with a change in blood pressure, rush of adrenaline, or even just sleep- things he now knows, but back then, had been absolute horror to him.

To imagine that the young boy simply died because people didn't check properly still hangs heavy on his mind.

It's why he chose to study them, instead of work at his father's restaurant. Chose to be different, make a change, even if it's just a drop in a bucket not even halfway filled. He's not going to simply shrug his shoulders when he can't find a reason for someone being sick. He's not going to be told that he simply didn't do his work properly.

He's one of the most active doctors around. Has inspired some others to be more on-patient as well. And it fills him with pride, knowing that he can influence the hospital staff in that way.

"Ah, there you are." A doctor with a grim expression calls out, grabbing his coat. "Was just looking for you. I've got the CT back for the otter hybrid in 210." He says, holding some papers out for him to check out. "It's not conclusive, but considering that she's never had it happen before, I'd agree with you on encephalitis, honestly. Temperature's been climbing steadily, and nurses said she's complaining of stomach pain too." He nods. "Though I want to see her personally together with you, if you've got time." The man asks, and Jungkook nods.

"Of course. You know I trust you most with things like this." He nods, walking to the room in question with his friend next to him.

Min Yoongi is his name, and most of the staff around here don't like him all that much.

Mostly because the neurologist barks demands and commands around like a testosterone filled wolf hybrid, and walks around as if someone had pissed bladder stones in his iced americano he drinks every hour of the day. Only the people who witness him talk to the hybrids and younger patients around know, that there's a lot more to the medical professional than he lets on.

And he's also great with the angry drunk people- because what he lacks in height, he makes up for in scary when he wants to.

"Hello there!" Jungkook chimes up at the young otter hybrid in question sitting on her bed, monitors beeping in rhythm as they approach her- her owner sitting close by. "Do you remember me?" Jungkook asks, while the nurse adjusts the drip of medication on the side. The hybrid shakes her head, before she looks around again- sometimes staring in interest at the other, shorter doctor next to Jungkook. "No? That's okay." He chuckles, walking closer with his friend and colleague in tow, who takes out a pen with a light on the other end. "My friend here is a bit quiet just like you are, but I heard you can call him Yoongi if you want." He chuckles, making the doctor roll his eyes at the common joke Jungkook tends to make.

"Just look at me for a moment, alright?" Yoongi questions, trying to grab the hybrid's attention. "I know he's handsome but I'm not too bad either, am I?" He jokes, making the other hybrid smile a bit shyly as she nods. It makes him smile as well, as he checks the pupil's reaction, satisfied with his results before he turns the light off, tucks the pen away in his front pocket. "Can you tell me what day we have?" He asks.

"…monday." The meek hybrid answers, looking at Jungkook with her big brown eyes. They remind him of his own, back when he was a kid.

"Monday, alright." Yoongi nods to himself. "Do you know where you are?" He questions further, owner scooting a bit closer as he watches everything with a nurturing gaze.

"Home?" The otter answers a little unsure, before something near the window grabs her attention. "Birds." She chimes up, and Yoongi chuckles a little.

"I know, there's a lot outside there, hm?" He nods, before he tabs her leg to gain her gaze back. "Can you tell me your name? You've not introduced yourself yet." He asks, hunching a bit over to make himself less of a threat. Though, it's clear that the hybrid patient has got no fear really.

"…Min?" she asks, pointing at his name embroidered into his coat. Yoongi nods.

"Hm, disoriented in time, place and person." He tells the nurse he's noticed come in behind him, voice a lot more authorative and deep as he talks to the staff. He knows the young student doesn't mind. He shouldn't, really. 'you're still too soft for the real deal', he'd told him only yesterday after the poor guy had been found crying outside the hospital after witnessing his first cardiac arrest. 'Don't take it home.' he'd patted his shoulder- a rare gesture of compassion, before he'd left the young student by himself.

They both excuse themselves for a moment, Yoongi scratching the back of his head before he puts his head in his pockets. "Blood test?" He asks, and Jungkook shrugs.

"Didn't get it back yet- the lab computers crashed, because Jimin said the Q-word this morning." He chuckles, crossing his arms. "But they should come in any minute, same as urine."

"I'd still like to take her for an EEG, just to make sure." Yoongi nods to himself, grabbing his little pager that starts to chime obnoxiously. "I'm wanted in majors right now, but I'll tell them to schedule it." The neurologist tells his coworker, already walking off- and Jungkook nods, shouts a thank-you after him, before he enters the room again to give the owner the proper updates.

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A few days later, Jungkook is getting ready for his twelve-hour shift at the emergency department, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt when he hears the familiar shuffling of his best friend's slides on the smooth hospital floor coming closer.

"Alright park-" Yoongi walks in, making the nurse in question snap his head around at the sound of his voice. "-you're stuck with me for the next 12 hours, and if I hear you drop that Q-word one fucking time I swear to god I'll piss in your energy drink the moment you're not looking." He threatens, making Jungkook chuckle as he clips on his nametag, and checks for his ID card and other necessities he will need.

"It slipped out okay?!" Jimin whines, though everyone knows he did it on purpose.

Jimin is a senior nurse- and very good at his job. Even if everyone jokes around with him, he's still a person of authority, and even people like Min Yoongi respect him for his work a lot. He pulls a huge weight after all, working almost always in the emergency department by choice, a very compassionate person with deep care for every patient that comes in.

"Alright, I'll go try and get myself some coffee-" Jungkook starts, when suddenly, a voice rings out.

"Adult male hybrid trauma in 10, Adult male hybrid trauma in 10."- and everyone looks at the doctor with sympathy, Yoongi patting his back as he walks by.

"Seems like your caffeine has to wait, kid." He jokes, as Jungkook throws his head back. The moment of rare playfulness with the man lasts for a moment, before he turns around to write something down. "I don't know if you've all forgotten that ten stands for ten minutes and you've wasted two of them already, but if you don't want me to remove all chairs here again-" He threatens, finishing his writing, "-I better see you all on your feet before the time left hits 7." The doctor scolds, forcing everyone to scramble and get everything in order and ready for the arrival of the call.

Everyone's now getting ready when the door opens, paramedics entering with the patient, rolling the young man into the spot the medical staff want him- or rather, where Namjoon, the leading emergency doctor, had said he will want him. He'd just started his shift as well, having only really had time to wash his hands and get a bit of info on what's to come, as he now get's filled in by the paramedic.

"So his name is Hajoon, 22 year old canine hybrid, owner has called after he's been hit by a bus." The man offers, while everyone else starts assessing him. "No visible head injuries, no disorientation whatsoever, was conscious at scene but has drifted off a little from the medication we've given." Yoongi stands by closely, listening to everything with a serious face. "Definite pelvis fracture and broken humerus, full sensation and ability to move the lower arm, hand and fingers so no apparent nerve injury." The man with the name tag 'Kim Seokjin' reads all the medication given from his clipboard, filling everyone in on what's happened until now. "He's usually a very active and healthy guy, no underlining health issues whatsoever, vaccines are all up to date, and owner is on it's way as we speak." He finishes, and Namjoon nods, having soaked up all the information flowing around while everyone else does what they can.

"Alright let's send him out for CT right away to check for any internal injuries and to catch a good look at the fractures, and I want a Hybrid Special's to look at him right after. Until then we'll lower down the medications to get him conscious again, We can switch to something else regarding the pain later but I want him up and alert, the faster the better." Namjoon calls out, and everyone moves to do what's been told.

Jungkook is watching from the sidelines for now, waiting for the first scuffle to clear up as the young man is being cared for.

"Haven't seen each other in a while." Seokjin says from the side with a soft smile, washing his hands after he'd given his notes to the younger doctor. "Hope your break has been good."

"Yeah well, you know me." Jungkook offers kindly, looking through the patient's records. "Can't really keep still for long. Was he actually fully conscious when you guys got to him?" The young doctor wonders, and Seokjin nods.

"Was pretty surprised. He was folded like a pretzel, obviously complaining, but entirely alert." He shakes his head. "It's surprising what they can endure, really." He chats, before he gets ready to leave again, saying goodbyes.

Jungkook knows that he'll see him again sooner than he'd like to, probably.

"Doctor Jeon?" Jimin chimes playfully after a while of calm in the emergency room, and Jungkook looks up from the clipboard, already used to the older one's antics. "Namjoon wants you to check out the CT upstairs." He informs him, and Jungkook nods, making his way to the proper department, greeting some staff on his way before he enters the room.

"Ah, Jungkook. Here, you might wanna see this." He says, letting the young doctor walk closer to check out the scan images.

Jungkook can't help but shake his head. "Well that's gonna be fun to put back together." Jungkook snorts to himself. "Hoseok's gonna have the time of his life pulling that one off."

"Well he always brags how good he is-" Namjoon shrugs, crossing his arms. "So he'll have more to show off if he gets that boy up and running again." He jokes, before they pull him back out and into the hallway. It's on the way back when the young man starts to move, eyeing his surroundings as he becomes conscious again. "Oh- hello there, please stay like this okay? You're fine." Namjoon immediately reassures. "My name is Doctor Kim I'm a doctor at Seoul Central Hospital, do you know what happened to you? He asks, and the young man nods, groaning a bit in pain.

"Let's give him some pain relief but please don't knock him out again okay?" Namjoon suggests, while Jungkook looks over the young man, instantly in work-mode as he looks out for any potential signs that his situation could slip to the worse. "Jungkook can you ask someone to fetch Hoseok for me please? I want him to schedule surgery asap." He says, and Jungkook nods, already off to find a nurse.

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Jungkook can sometimes be seen as scarier looking than he is.

He's got a pretty muscular body, tattoos he knows the hospital only tolerates because he's the only specialist they got their hands on, and piercings as well. He also tends to not wear his doctor's coat all that much- rather dressed in casual-formal wear, sleeves rolled up and nametag stuck to his front shirt pocket. Not to be a rebel- but because it makes people feel a bit more at ease with him, especially the hybrids who tend to be easily frightened and withdrawn in hospitals.

"Hey, before I go-" Jungkook says, walking past Jimin who's also ready to end his shift. "-do you know what happened to the canine hybrid from this morning? Hajoon, wasn't it?" He asks, and Jimin lights up, nodding.

"Was confused for quite a while, but after Yoongi had worked his magic with him, he finally responded to everything." He chuckles. With 'working his magic', he's talking about Yoongi's rather.. commanding tone of voice, something he does often when he notices a patient being capable of responding, but simply too 'lazy' to do so. It can come off as a bit harsh sometimes, but he means well- and after his words had found listening ears, it had reassured everyone including the rather distressed elderly owner in her chair at the side. "Here, let me pull up…" Jimin says, typing some things on the computer, before he pulls up some x-ray images. "Look at that!" He laughs, and Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief.

"And he's gonna be all good?" He asks, Jimin nodding in response.

"Hoseok said he's probably going to walk again just fine in a few months. And he'll have a pretty interesting story to tell every time he gets screened at the airport from now on." The nurse jokes, making Jungkook laugh. "Oh, and I heard Yunhee was discharged today, wasn't she?" He asks about the otter hybrid who had, indeed, caught encephalitis- an infection affecting the brain.

"Yeah- pretty much demanded I'd get Yoongi though so she could give him a goodbye-hug." He chuckles, and Jimin puts his hand to his heart.

"I wish he would give me a hug too!" He complains, and both laugh, very much aware that that will probably never happen at all with the rather stoic and withdrawn neurologist. And with the reassurance that today, he's been able to help save a life yet again, Jungkook walks into the staff room; takes off his nametag, puts on his jacket, his shoes-

waving everyone goodbye, after an exhausting twelve hour shift.

Just to do it all over again the next week rolls around.

[spiegelgestalt]

I was looking through your re zero reblogs and a tag stood out to me. What do you mean you think Otto is a manifestation of Satella? I’m really intrigued by the concept

Ohh! Thank you for the question. So this is a pet theory of mine which is probably wrong but I find incredibly entertaining. Beware this is going to be long and rambley. The TL;DR is probably: the only person who is as obsessed with Subaru as Otto is, is Satella It tries to explain several things that I find weird about Otto (some of these things might be explained in the LN but Tappeis writing style doesn't click with me and so i'm really slow with reading them) :

a) Ottos sudden entry in Subarus story (and the fact that Subaru always meets him no matter what he does) the first time he meets Otto at a pub because Otto made a financial mistake and drank his sadness away. This one's fairly unsuspicious. The second time is stranger. Subaru is going back to the mansion alone in the darkness and meets Otto on the road. Not only that. Otto is standing near the light and waves. Like he was expecting him. Why? Does he do that often - wave to travelers who are just passing by? But the most suspicious entry is his last/permanent entry to the story - his getting saved from the witch cult. Why did the witch cult kidnapp him an no one else? Why did they plan to sacrifice him? Why wasn't he with the rest of the merchants? Suuuuus!!! This at least hints that Otto might have connections/significance to the witch cult

2) why does the whale eat him and not Subaru? Subaru should have smelled tastier so why did it chose Otto? Maybe because Otto smelled of the witch? And if Otto knew that the Mabeast would go after him it would paint his pushing Subaru of the cart in a different light.

3) he's not in roswaals gospel which even has Subaru in it. How/why? Is it really just because he's so insignificant?

So these things make Otto suspicious but they don't link him to Satella necessarily. So here comes my reason for that

3) Otto's behavior in Season 2 don't make sense. Not only is he ride or die for Subaru very very fast while the other is basically nothing but rude to him. He explains this with Subaru saving him but technically that were the iron fang people and Otto isn't thankful to them at all. And even if that were the case - why is Otto so sure that Subaru needs help? As far as I remember he offers Subaru help in every single time loop, even in the ones where Subaru still believes himself to be on top of things (and shouldn't send sadboy pleas help me vibes)

4) And than there is the speech which will save Subaru. And I find it quite suspicious: a) this speech is suspiciously parallel to Satellas speech in the witches tea party it kinda feels like a continuation of it

b) Otto says that he understands that Subaru wants to be strong in front of the girl he likes and in front of the girl that likes him but he shouldn't have to be strong in front of his friend. So the girl Subaru likes is obv. Emilia but why talk about another girl who likes Subaru... who is that supposed to be? Otto doesn't know about Rem. Does he mean Emilia again? But why say it that strangely - or was he just covering his bases. IDK for me it kinda made sense as a Emilia/Satella distinction (or if Otto DOES know about Rem that makes him really suspicious again)

C) Otto takes it very personally that Subaru didn't ask HIM for help. But why should Subaru do that. He technically knows him for what, a few days?

D) Subaru notes that this kind of speech is usually reserved for the heroine (something he also mentioned about being summoned to another world and we know that was Satella - so is that the case here too?)

5) Otto has a lot of parallels to Subaru/Satella has a lot of parallels to Subaru

So all of this could hint to the fact that Otto is a time traveler and/or has some connection to one of the witches (either Pandora or Satella)

But I like my theory of Otto being a manifestation of Satella because it fits neatly into the theme of the parallels between Satella/ Subaru, it is something Satella would do, the thought that Satella sees Subaru dying over and over again and just says: okay have to do everything myself. If he won't accept help if I'm a woman I gotta go in as a guy is extremely funny to me, I believe that being kinda pathetic is an important property of being associated with envy AND Otto is next to Satella the person who most obsesses over Subaru and only Subaru

And Satella could rewrite history if she needed to (that would explain Otto's memories)

[8turning]

HII can u do a 8turn headcannon abt how they r like crushing on the reader and what they do to show the reader their love for them ?

thank you for this request!! apologies that it took me so long 💔

☆⠀⠀8TURN — when they're pining for you !

hyung line + jangshinz (separately) x gn ! reader ★ fluff. mutual pining. ★ headcannon

warnings: swearing. physical affection. let me know if i missed anything!

n. i have a similar headcannon here about how they'd show their love; this fic will focus more on how they pine for reader since a lot of my thoughts are already shared on that post!! ♡ also this derailed a bit,,, there's implied confessions HELP sorry 🤒

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀〈 REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED ! 〉

⁰⁰¹ : JAEYUN.

wouldn't realize he liked you until someone pointed it out to him 1/2 🤕

^ he would regret thinking deeper about what yoonsung had told him: "are you sure you don't feel anything for them?" . . . queue a montage of every single memory he has with you where his stomach did a "weird flip" that he never chose to acknowledge.

basically. jaeyun was fucked LOL

BUT despite his revelation, he managed to keep himself composed pretty well. he was never overly affectionate with the members so him suddenly getting lost in his thoughts a lot wasn't exactly foreign.

what was foreign, though, was his very apparent distance.

to be fair, he wasn't fully aware he was doing it. it was more so "when i'm around them i get this Feeling. i cant handle that Feeling right now," then he kinda just. goes somewhere else for the time being.

you'd realize it, overthink it all, and text him on a whim that you needed to talk to him.

he'd get so nervous and only then would he really think about his behavior and . . . yeah you deserved an explanation, even if it resulted in rejection for him :(

he wouldn't speak first. he'd want you to feel welcomed to let out any emotion you were feeling; you were the one who wanted to talk, it wouldn't be right of him to take over.

he'd know that no matter his reason, him suddenly avoiding you and saying "i didn't realize" wasn't going to cut it, so swallowing whatever anxiety he had, he confessed then and there. it wasn't too in depth, of course, but it didn't feel right for him to hide it any longer - especially after everything.

but, the silence that followed his confession made all the anxiety bubble up again, only for you to speak about your reciprocated feelings.

in an unknown way, him pulling back from you is what brought you two together in the end; strange how that works.

⁰⁰² : MYUNGHO.

he's not shy in the slightest LMFAOO 💀 it'd be more shocking if you didn't know he liked you.

it doesn't even matter if you two were hanging out with other people either, he'd make a point to sit by you during a movie. even if it wasn't a horror movie, he'd still tell you that if you're scared, you can cling to him (as if he is any better with scary movies . . . his arm ends up around your shoulder anyways).

he's not usually one for talking during a movie, but he cant help but crack jokes here and there, using that as an excuse to lean in closer to you and watch as you try to hold your laughter in, his eyes watching you adoringly.

myungho would pull you into your own little world when you're with one another,,, he'd literally be so obvious about his feelings for you i'm crying.

openly flirting and complimenting you non-stop,,, holding eye contact if you ever caught him looking at you,,,

myungho would literally tell you how much he liked you straight up 🤭 "i like you a lot, y'know that?" "i'm so glad i met you." "you'll let me stay with you, right?"

the only time EVER he'd get shy if it was you who initiated something. he'd actually lose his mind.

it'd be such a stark contrast to the myungho you knew previously that you couldn't help but laugh a bit whenever you caught him like that.

holding his hand out of nowhere or leaning your head on his shoulder is a surefire way to make heat rise along his neck and make him go speechless.

he's so open about it and talks about you so much. his members are SICK OF HIM!!!! /j

minho probably threatened that if he doesn't make a move soon that he'll ask you out himself . . . you'd get a message from myungho the next morning ♡

⁰⁰³ : MINHO.

bye he's so so playful and he'd be able to cover up how he truly felt pretty well, which was both a positive and a negative for him.

positive: he'd be able to hug you nonchalantly or tap his cheek asking for a kiss and you'd think nothing of it.

negative: you'd think nothing of it.

since minho often acts this way with his friends as well, he slowly becomes self-conscious of his actions, worrying that that's all you saw him as - a friend.

he'd probably slowly try to either a: be more forward with you, or b: reserve certain actions for you only.

minho would stop blowing kisses to myungho and asking seungheon to kiss his cheek. he might even go as far as to not be as physically affectionate with his members anymore.

slowly letting you come to the conclusion yourself that the way he treats you is different from his members.

if you weren't the type to fight against him when he acted this way, if you suddenly started reciprocating the same actions towards him, his head would start spinning.

if it was a normal occurrence for you to return his energy, he'd start to wonder if you treated your friends like this as well.

but . . . he never saw you cling onto jaeyun's arms like you do with him . . . and you don't look at haemin the same way you look at him . . . hm . . .

minho crushing on you would be hard to detect until he made more of an effort to let his guard down about it.

you'd pick up on his behavior change pretty quickly which only opened the conversation of "why are you suddenly treating me like i'm special?"

(hint: its because you are special to him).

⁰⁰⁴ : YOONSUNG.

he is taking this to his GRAVE!!! he'd try to be so so so secretive and discreet.

yoonsung falls hard and doesn't want to overwhelm you with how he feels and everything :( wants to try and soak in the feeling of crushing on you but every time he sees you he just gets so overjoyed and just wants to confess right then and there.

which is why he feels he needs to take this to his grave 😭 he's not sure if he will ever be able to fully "calm down" around you enough to properly confess to you the way you deserve to be confessed (he thinks you deserve the world).

tries to act as Normal as he can around you, but most of the time i think he'd fall kind of silent.

whether you're with a group of friends or just talking one-on-one, he'd get so wrapped up in his thoughts and become uncharacteristically quiet.

it was a constant internal battle for yoonsung. he wanted to be near you but also knew he likely couldn't hide how he felt for much longer.

unlike minho, yoonsung wasn't going to hug you or hold your hand out of no where. he did this with his friends, sure, but he didn't see you as just a friend, which made physical affection towards you that much harder.

the lines would get blurred in his brain and he feared if you reciprocated, even if it was platonic, he'd make an assumption that could end up hurting him.

of course, yoonsung was unaware of your feelings towards him as well, and seeing him seemingly pulling away from you, you subconsciously do the same :(

he doesn't realize just how different he was acting towards you until that moment, and as if his heart took control over his brain, he'd spill all of his feelings for you, doing his best to explain away his behavior.

and it worked - who could stay mad at him for too long?

⁰⁰⁵ : HAEMIN.

wouldn't realize he liked you until someone pointed it out to him 2/2 💔

everything would be going perfectly fine for haemin,,, until minho jokingly commented about how much he liked you. then that became all he thought about.

begin haemin's internal debate of if he liked you romantically or not! and if it was true (it was), how long? upon actually giving it a lot of thought . . . he's liked you for a while without really processing his feelings effectively.

and now,,, he cannot properly face you!! at least, not in the beginning.

everything hits him so fast and he's forced to process his emotions at a rapid pace now. he does a decent job at hiding his inner turmoil about the topic, but he eventually confides in kyungmin about it (though it wasn't on purpose),, kyungmin just caught him while he was dazed!! totally not like he went to kyungmin stressing about possibly ruining your friendship hahaha . . .

once he was able to fully "recover" and process everything, he's a goner. heart eyes are permanent.

just so absolutely infatuated with everything you do and say. comes around more often and always manages to take the spot next to you if you're with a group of people.

always always always joking around with you because he loves the sound of your laugher and how happy you seem when you smile, especially when you smile because of him.

in a twisted ending, haemin is grateful that minho made him fall into a crisis. if he hadn't, he wouldn't have been able to have these moments with you.

once you end up together, minho rightfully takes full credits for the relationship starting, kyungmin taking credit for helping haemin get over his fear of ruining everything between you two.

so - albeit his disagreement - haemin accepts that they should get some credit for their help.

but how it all came to be doesn't matter much, as long as in the end, he ended up with you.

⁰⁰⁶ : KYUNGMIN.

i'm not usually fond of the trope of someone who brings up the person they like every time they can but,,,, kyungmin does exactly that. his members get so tired of him for it too HELP (he's gotten into the practice of just,, thinking of you instead of verbally bringing you up so often).

his members' anger (/j) doesn't stop him though!! every chance he gets he talks about you,, the only time that stops is when you're around 🧍‍♂️

you BET the members are gonna poke fun at him for that too LMFAO

when you're around, he'd be much more into listening rather than speaking himself.

"platonic" kisses on the backs of your hands. "platonic" hand holding. (nothing about it is platonic).

kyungmin would love love love to rest his head on your shoulder!! whether he's standing behind you while talking with a group of friends or sitting next to each other watching a movie, he just likes the feeling (bonus points if his arm is looped under yours to play with your fingers).

he'd be in his own head a lot,,, daydreaming and such,,, even though you're right next to him 🧍‍♂️

if you were to nudge him while he was like this, he'd look at you with the most love-filled gaze.

he didn't have to say anything to you, just from the way he looked at you and the light blush forming on his cheeks, you knew. the way your stomach filled with butterflies as you held his gaze was also a great indicator that his look meant something more.

it was then when he saw how your gaze changed too - it changed to one that matched his own. with a deep breath, he'd squeeze your hand before a smile spread across his face.

© 8turning 2023.