#this is a little low effort but i am working on an au for them and i am insane

[porcelain-rob0t]

i bow to the hound with the mightiest jaws, baby lets get down i wanna bark like a god

[rafecameronssl4t]

I enjoyed reading your rafe fics of love island and I was wondering if you could write one where reader and rafe are coupled up but he went to casa amor. Rafe started getting close to another girl and ended up kissing her. The reader saw a video of what happened in casa amor and she’s all sad and heartbroken. When it comes to the re coupling, the reader stays single while rafe brings back the girl to the villa. It’s sad but also a happy ending? I understand if you don’t want to write it!! I’ve been watching season 6 of love island USA and now I want to read sad fics lol

Oscar Winning Tears || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader love island au

A/n: sorry bb this isn't a happy ending but I might end up writing a part 2????

Warnings: angst!!!! justice for my girl, it hurt me writing this :(

Word count: 1,905

MASTERLIST (love island au masterlist)

Divider by @h-aewo

The firepit crackled softly, its warmth doing little to ease the icy weight in your chest. You stood among the other girls, the glow of the villa lights illuminating your tense expression. Casa Amor was over. This was the moment that would decide everything. The whispers around you were nervous, expectant. Some girls were murmuring about their hopes, clutching onto the chance that their boys had stayed loyal.

You barely heard them. Your mind was consumed by a single image: Rafe’s lips on another girl’s. That damn video. It had been quick—a montage of clips sent to the main villa to stir the pot. It worked. You’d seen him laughing with her, their bodies closer than they should’ve been, the playful touches that turned into something more. And then the kiss.

You’d felt your stomach drop as the girls gasped around you, some trying to reassure you while others exchanged worried glances. But you didn’t cry then, and you wouldn’t cry now. You refused to give anyone, especially him, that power. Your stomach churned just thinking about it, but you refused to let anyone see how much it hurt.

Sophie's voice broke through the tense silence. "Ladies, the boys are on their way back. Please stand by the firepit." You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stand tall, even as your legs felt like jelly. Your palms were sweaty, and you discreetly wiped them on your dress, hoping to mask the anxiety clawing at your composure.

The first footsteps echoed from the path. A single pair. One of the girls next to you exhaled a shaky sigh of relief as her partner walked in alone, grinning sheepishly. Another boy followed, also alone. The tension was unbearable. Then, you heard it. Two sets of footsteps. Your breath hitched. A bitter chuckle escaped your lips before you could stop it, soft but sharp, enough to make the girls around you glance your way.

You didn’t look at them. Your eyes were fixed on the pathway, your heart sinking deeper with each passing second. You’d been prepared for this, or at least you told yourself you were. But nothing could really prepare you for the sight of Rafe walking toward the firepit with another girl on his arm. And then you saw him.

He walked in, his hand lightly resting on the arm of another girl. He didn't meet your eyes. His head was low, his expression unreadable. If you didn’t know him so well, you might have missed the subtle signs of guilt: the tightness in his jaw, the way his hand fidgeted at his side, the occasional glance toward you that he quickly averted.

The murmurs from the other islanders grew louder as they registered the scene. You could feel their eyes darting between you and Rafe, their pity and shock palpable. When he reached his spot across from you, Sophie turned to you with a sympathetic smile. "Y/n," she began gently, her voice laced with concern, "how are you feeling, darling?"

You let out a dry laugh, the sound bitter even to your own ears. "How am I feeling?" you repeated, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. You took a moment to compose yourself, sucking in a deep breath before continuing. "I’m not surprised. I expected it." Everyone at the firepit watched silently.

"I saw the video," you added, your tone flat but sharp, like the edge of a knife. That did it. Rafe’s head snapped up, his blue eyes wide with shock. Guilt was written all over his face. He opened his mouth, but you weren’t done. "Y/n—" he started, but you raised a hand to cut him off. "Don’t," you interrupt, your voice breaking slightly. You looked up at the sky, blinking furiously to keep the tears at bay.

You refused to cry—not in front of everyone, not in front of him, and certainly not in front of her. The girl at his side, her hand still loosely resting on his arm, spoke up. "It’s Love Island, babe. You gotta do what you gotta do," she shrugs. Her voice was light, almost dismissive, as if her words weren’t twisting the knife already buried in your chest.

Your head snapped toward her, and for the first time that night, anger flared in your eyes. "You’ve literally been here five minutes," you snapped, your voice sharp and cutting. "Don’t tell me what Love Island is about." Her confidence faltered, and she blinked taken aback by your tone, but you didn’t give her the chance to respond. Your attention shifted back to Rafe.

The anger in your chest burned hotter now, but beneath it was a raw, aching hurt that threatened to consume you. You forced a bitter smile onto your face. "I hope you’re happy with your decision, Rafe. I really do. I hope you don’t regret it." The firepit was silent except for the crackling of the flames. The other islanders shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

Some of the girls moved closer to you, murmuring quiet words of comfort that barely registered. Rafe looked like he wanted to say something, his lips parting slightly, but no words came out. He looked down again, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his guilt. Straightening your spine, you turned away from him, heading back to your spot with the girls.

Your heart felt like it was shattering, pieces of it breaking off with every step, but you kept your head high. The tears still threatened to fall, but you blinked them back, refusing to give him—or anyone—the satisfaction of seeing you cry. This was Love Island, and you’d play the game. But this time, you’d play it for yourself.

~

The recoupling ceremony ended in a blur. The moment Sophie dismissed everyone, you were the first to stand, your legs moving on autopilot as you stormed off. The heels of your shoes clicked sharply against the wooden planks, the sound punctuating each shaky breath you took. Behind you, the murmurs began—low and uncertain—as the other girls watched you retreat.

It wasn’t long before they followed, one by one, a show of solidarity that left the Casa Amor girls awkwardly planted in their seats. You held your head high as you walked away, desperate to maintain the last shred of composure you had left.

Rafe sat frozen at the firepit, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on him, the tension radiating like a storm about to break. His jaw clenched as he stared down at the ground, guilt eating away at him like poison. “Mate, what the fuck were you thinking?” one of the boys muttered, breaking the silence.

Another chimed in, leaning forward to fix him with a sharp glare. “She stayed loyal to you. You had the real deal, and you blew it for… what? A bit of fun?” Rafe swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. He couldn’t defend himself. He couldn’t even look up. Beside him, the girl from Casa Amor shifted uncomfortably, her confidence waning as the tension mounted.

“Seriously, Rafe,” one of the others said, his voice lower but no less disappointed. “She deserved better than this. You know that, right?” The words hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, but he stayed silent, his guilt too overwhelming to let him respond. He risked a glance toward the path you’d disappeared down, but the sight only made his stomach churn.

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, unstoppable, hot streams burning down your cheeks. Your chest felt tight, suffocating, as if your heart was collapsing in on itself. You pressed a trembling hand to your chest, trying to steady your breathing, but it was no use. Sobs wracked your body, and you stumbled slightly, leaning against a railing for support.

Despite your efforts to escape, you were still within view of the firepit. You hated that they could see you like this—breaking apart, vulnerable, destroyed. The girls were by your side in an instant, Sofia’s arm wrapping securely around your shoulders. “It’s okay, we’ve got you. Let’s get you out of here, okay? Away from everyone,” she murmured softly, her voice low and comforting as the others circled around you protectively.

You nodded mutely, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. They guided you to one of the outdoor lounges, the soft cushions offering little comfort as you collapsed onto them. Sofia sat beside you, pulling you into her arms as the others hovered close, their faces etched with concern. You buried your face in Sofia’s shoulder, gripping her tightly as sobs tore through you.

It all spilled out—the heartbreak, the anger, the betrayal. “I can’t do this,” you gasped, the words spilling out between sobs. “I fucking can’t do this.” The raw pain in your words made the girls exchange worried glances, their sympathy etched in their faces. “I stayed loyal to him,” you choked out, your voice breaking. “I stayed loyal, and he…” You couldn’t even finish the sentence.

The memory of him walking in with her was enough to shatter you all over again. “He’s a fucking idiot,” one of the girls said fiercely, her voice cutting through the haze of your pain. “You gave him everything, and he didn’t deserve any of it.” Sofia wiped your tears. "You did everything right. This isn’t on you." Her words only made it worse.

You had stayed loyal. You’d turned away from every temptation in Casa Amor, reminding yourself over and over that Rafe was waiting for you, that he was worth it. You’d trusted him to do the same. But he hadn’t. “But why?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Why wasn’t I enough?” The question hung in the air, unanswered, as your sobs filled the silence.

Sofia tightened her hold on you, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears as she tried to comfort you. "I gave him everything," you choked out between sobs, your voice breaking. "And he just… he didn’t care. He didn’t even think about me." The girls murmured quiet reassurances, their hands resting on your back, your arms, wherever they could offer comfort.

But nothing they said could touch the aching void inside you, the gaping wound left by his betrayal. Your heart ached, a dull, throbbing pain that radiated through every inch of your body. The memory of Rafe walking in with her—his arm around her, his guilty eyes refusing to meet yours—was seared into your mind. For the first time, you truly doubted if you could keep going.

Back at the firepit, Rafe’s guilt was palpable. He finally glanced up, only to see the other boys still staring at him with varying degrees of disappointment and disbelief. “You fucked up, man,” one of them said bluntly. “Big time.” Rafe didn’t argue. He didn’t try to explain. What could he say? That he’d been tempted, that he’d let his guard down, that he’d convinced himself it was harmless until it wasn’t? None of it mattered now.

The damage was done. His gaze shifted to the path again, and for a fleeting moment, he thought about going after you. But when he saw the other girls walking back toward the villa, their arms around you like a protective wall, he knew he’d lost any right to comfort you. You were gone. And it was entirely his fault.

PART 2 IS HERE

[necrotic-nephilim]

au - tim sneaking out of jason's room one night at the manor and accidentally locking eyes with dick who is sneaking out of bruce's room at the exact same time, breakfast is very awkward the next morning

(i did think of having it be jason instead of tim but honestly jason has 0 shame and even less issue outing himself if it means fucking with bruce and, to a lesser extent, dick)

i'm cackling I love these types of things so much. they're so silly. sometimes we deserve mindless crack for these ships. have a *very* low effort ficlet bc this just makes me snort, enjoy <3

Dick closed Bruce's door as quietly as he could. Usually, he didn't have to sneak around when he slept with Bruce. But the temporary room Bruce had given Jason in the manor was just down the hall, and Dick didn't feel like looking Jason in the eye if he walked out of Bruce's bedroom in the morning at the wrong time.

Just because he was pretty sure Jason knew, didn't mean he needed confirmation and confrontation.

Dick had almost caved to staying in bed with Bruce when Bruce tried to pull him back down, but he kept some level of wits about him, prying Bruce's arm off of him and giving him a final kiss on the cheek before heading for the door.

The one thing Dick did allow himself, though, was wearing one of Bruce's shirts instead of his own. It was a size too large on him but smelled safe and comforting. Dick breathed a quiet sigh of relief when the door latched silently. He let go of the handle, turning around to creep off to his own bedroom in another wing.

And found himself staring at another figure.

With all of the lights off and only faint moonlight streaming through the windows, Dick couldn't tell who it was, at first. His reaction was embarrassing no matter who it was, jumping nearly a foot backward and clutching a hand over his chest.

He was a goddamn vigilante. This was just embarrassing.

The other person wasn't nearly as shocked as Dick, but they stood perfectly still, staring with wide eyes that faintly reflected what little light illuminated their face. Dick squinted, leaning forward to see who it was.

"Tim?" Dick hissed, trying to keep his voice to a whisper. Bruce had fallen asleep and if Dick woke him up now, he was never going to get the stubborn bastard back to bed.

Tim, still looking like a deer in headlights, just blinked at Dick.

"What are you doing up this late?" Dick asked. They'd all agreed to take tonight's patrol off, letting Babs, Helena, Dinah, and Zinda handle it in exchange for tackling the massive human trafficking ring in the morning with fresh eyes and cleared heads. The job was the only thing that had gotten Jason to agree to work with them in the first place. Bruce barely managed to strong-arm Jason into sleeping in the manor, with a decent amount of guilting from Alfred.

Jason, who was in the room only a few feet away from Dick. The room that Tim's hand was resting on the doorknob of.

"That's Jason's room," Dick said slowly.

Tim just nodded. "I know." He wasn't whispering like Dick was, but his tone remained impossible to read.

He just saw Dick walk out of Bruce's room. Had he put it together? It was Tim, after all. if he hadn't yet, Dick assumed he only had a couple minutes before it dawned on Tim.

"What were you doing in Jason's room?" Dick frowned. If he focused on Tim, it could keep the focus off of him for as long as possible. Dick tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating.

Tim's expression was hard to make out in the dark. "We were talking about the case." Still, his tone remained entirely neutral.

Too neutral, for Tim.

"At two am?"

"Well, what were you doing?" Tim huffed slightly when he said it, folding his arms over his chest.

He was shirtless, Dick just realized.

Shirtless and coming out of Jason's room.

"I was-" Dick stumbled over his words, choking as he tried to come up with an alibi. "We were talking about the-"

"I already used that excuse, pick your own," Tim deadpanned. Dick was pretty sure he also rolled his eyes. "I've known about you and Bruce for years, you know. You don't have to pretend."

The noise that came out of Dick's throat was almost as mortifying as the realization that not only did Jason likely know, but so did Tim.

"It... okay it has not been years," Dick's face was hot and he was glad it was too dark for Tim to see his blush. "I mean- it's been a while but not years-"

"Whatever you say." Tim shrugged, sounding unconvinced. "There have been feelings between you two for years, close enough for me."

If Dick died, right here, in this hallway in front of Bruce's door, he hoped the cause of death would be put down as homicide instead of natural causes. Because every word from Tim's mouth made another piece of Dick die inside, just a little.

"It's none of your business either way." Dick tried to stand up straight to sound more in control of the situation, clearing his throat.

"Trust me, I don't want it to be my business."

Dick would've laughed, if this was happening to anyone but him.

"What about... you and Jason?" Dick asked carefully.

Tim shifted on his feet. "What about it? I told you, we were talking about the case."

"Right." It was Dick's turn to roll his eyes. "In his bedroom, at two am, without your shirt?"

Tim stared at Dick for a long, torturous moment. A moment that made Dick agree with Tim, about not wanting to know any sordid details.

"I'm going to bed," Tim said suddenly, turning away from Dick. "Goodnight."

Dick had a thousand more questions he wanted to ask. How Tim and Jason even got together, when it happened. Last Dick knew, they could barely stand to be in the same room.

But Tim was walking away at an alarmingly brisk pace and Dick just sighed. He was too tired and mortified about his own secrets to chase Tim down for an impromptu interrogation that would just end up embarrassing them both more.

Maybe it was best for Dick's sanity if he didn't know the specifics.

Dick didn't consider how awkward it would be until he was standing in the kitchen, staring at Jason bent over a cup of coffee.

Did Jason know Dick knew? It didn't seem like he did, but he had always had a good poker face.

When Tim ambled into the kitchen and grabbed overnight oats from the fridge, he didn't even look at Dick. He seemed to be pointedly avoiding it, sitting as far away from Dick as he could at the oversized dining room table.

All while Dick couldn't seem to stop staring.

"Your cereal is going to get soggy," Jason muttered, and it took Dick a moment to realize Jason was talking to him. "At least eat it before trying to explode my head with your mind, or whatever your staring problem is."

"I'm not-" Dick stuttered. he shut himself up with a mouthful of cereal when Cass gave him an odd look.

Would she be able to figure it out just from his body language?

Dick had never fully understood the lengths her ability to read people could go. he looked away from her and stared at a random spot on the table, trying to eat at a normal pace.

Bruce was the last to wander into the kitchen. He squeezed Dick's shoulder as he walked by, making Dick jump. It was an innocent enough touch that no one would question, but all Dick could think about was the brief look from Tim before he quickly averted his eyes again.

The silence around the table was going to eat Dick alive. He started eating cereal faster.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Jason broke the tension, throwing his head back and slamming an empty mug down onto the table. "Everyone knows you two are fucking, alright?" He gestured between Dick and Bruce. "Stop being so goddamn weird about it, you're acting like there's a bomb in the room."

Bruce choked on his coffee. "Jason." He tried to sound reprimanding, but his voice was a few octaves too high.

Dick threw his hands in the air. "I knew you knew about that, but I didn't know about you and Tim until last night so excuse me for feeling a little awkward."

"You didn't know about what?" Bruce nearly yelled, spinning around to face Jason.

"Damnit, Dick!" Tim groaned, putting his head in his hands.

Jason just scoffed, pointing a fork at Bruce. "Oh don't even give me that self-righteous bullshit-"

Their argument went back and forth while Tim just rubbed his temples, muttering to himself and glaring at Dick.

Worst of all, Dick was pretty sure Cass was giggling next to him under her covered mouth.

Dick just sighed and ducked his head, dutifully waiting for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

So much for his breakfast.

[ramp-it-up]

Any thoughts on what transpired to give reader the nickname Sugar?! 🍬💕

Well, I hinted in the stories that Sugar was really rude to them when they first met and that's why they gave her that nickname and I wrote a whole drabble about it?

(I see what you're trying to do here and it's working.)

Read the Sugar is Sweet and Sugar Cubed fics.

Sugar And the Himbos

Word Count: 690

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader; Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Not Beta’d. No SMUT, but Minors DNI anyway. Roommate/Co-worker au, S MUT! Angst, Grumpy Sugar. Meet Cute. "dumb" and "bimbo" used as insults. Steve and Bucky are little shits, but cute little shits.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

The first time you met James Buchanan Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers, you were already in a bad mood.

The Stark Fellows orientation had dragged on for hours, filled with stiff introductions, mind-numbing lectures, and entitled tech bros who acted like they invented fire. Your stomach was growling, your patience was shot, and if one more guy tried to mansplain quantum mechanics to you, you were going to commit a crime.

Then, a deep Brooklyn drawl muttered behind you, "They all look like they got sticks up their asses."

A snort escaped your mouth before you could stop it.

"Shit, did we make her laugh?" 

A second voice chimed in, smoother, lazier, but just as undeniably New York. 

"I think we made her laugh. That’s gotta be a good sign."

You turned, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, and took in the two guys standing behind you.

The blond one grinned, blue eyes flashing with mischief, broad shoulders wrapped in a leather jacket, and looking at you like you were the most interesting thing in the room. The other one, dark hair, sharper jawline, and a smirk just shy of arrogant, appraised you with an amused glint, like he already knew exactly how to get under your skin.

And worse? They were both stupidly attractive.

Your gaze flickered between them, your pulse kicking up despite your best efforts.

Blondie had that golden-boy charm, the kind that could talk its way out of a speeding ticket and into someone’s bed without breaking a sweat. The dark one was different. There was something a little dangerous in the way he looked at you, like he already knew all your tells and was eager to play the game anyway.

"What do you two want?" you asked flatly, refusing to let them see the way your body reacted to them.

"Just tryin’ to make a friend," Blondie said, flashing that all-American smile.

You arched an eyebrow. 

"Well, try harder. The objective isn’t friendship. It’s getting that money."

You rubbed your fingers together, watching their reactions.

Bucky let out a low whistle, eyes dragging down your frame before flicking back up, slow and deliberate.

You snapped your fingers at him. 

"Hey. Asshole. My eyes are up here."

His smirk only deepened.

"Unlike you two, I am not a dumb himbo, so I expect respect and consideration if we are going to be colleagues. The sooner you recognize that, the more peaceful your life will be."

They exchanged a look.

"Did she just call us dumb?" Steve asked, eyes wide with faux offense.

"Did she just call us himbos?" Bucky gasped dramatically, clutching his invisible pearls.

You rolled your eyes. 

"I can already tell you two are gonna be a problem."

"What’s your name?" Steve smirked.

You sighed and told them.

They looked at each other again.

"Nah," Bucky said, shaking his head. 

"Doesn’t fit. Too sweet for someone with a bite like that."

"We’ll call you Sugar," Steve intoned, like it was already settled.

You blinked. "Come again?"

Bucky smirked and took a step closer, just close enough for you to catch the scent of his aftershave. He looked like he had something ignorant to say, but then he just gave a slow shrug.

"It’s ironic. Like callin’ a tall guy Tiny."

"Yeah, and it suits you," Steve added, voice dropping slightly as moved closer. This time, he locked eyes with you, and for some reason, your skin felt warmer.

"All sharp edges on the outside, but I bet there’s somethin’ real ooey-gooey and sweet underneath."

His brows lifted slightly, teasing, challenging, waiting to see how you’d react.

Instead of smiling like you wanted to, you leveled them both with your best unimpressed glare. 

"You two think you’re cute, don’t you?"

Bucky grinned as Steve chuckled.

"We’ve been told something like that before, Sugar. Don’t hate us because we’re beautiful."

This time you did smile.

They were arrogant. Cocky.  And entirely too charming for their own good. This was going to be a long two years. But you could keep things professional.

Probably.

And, as it turned out, they were right.

Sugar suited you.

The nickname stuck.

----

Thank's for the ask, Darling! Hope you liked it :)

[cyucya]

Building off of what anon said, I was also thinking that maybe Sonic and Shadow had SC as a way to ‘fix their problems’ (I actually sent this quite a while back, but it may have been buried XD)

But if we’re really thinking about, it could make sense, I mean, Sonadow are ALWAYS at each other’s throats, if they were divorced by the time SC came around, then chances are they were already having quite a bit of trouble in paradise, so what’s *usually* the number one thing that keeps people together? A Family!! Wow Sonadow, you’re so smart, that is exactly what we need. A kid to have that kind of connection to each other again, to remind them of why they fell in love in the first place.

And so SC is born, except, he’s not what they thought they would be. While they were looking for someone more along the lines of how *they* were, the perfect combo of both of them, they instead got a sickly, low energy, powerless kid. How can this be? Sonic’s the fastest being in the universe, speed perfected, and Shadow’s the ultimate life form, how is it that they created something so utterly powerless?

Now instead of fixing their problems it only made them worse. Now they’re playing the Blame Game, because “he couldn’t have possibly been that way cuz of me!” And because “I’m the Ultimate Life Form, I don’t produce people like this” and lo and behold they’re at each other’s throats again. What was supposed to be the solution to their problem actually became the cause of their problems hence causing the divorce. Obviously this takes a toll on our poor SC.

HOWEVER! Let’s take this a step further ( >:) ), and let’s now include Spark. Few years pass and Sonadow are missing each other because for all their problems and fights, they are still the only ones who can keep up with each other, and despite everything they still technically love each other very much. So they start trying again, just to see if it works out. Now I don’t actually know if Spark was planned or not, but it sounds like initially at first she wasn’t, but once they realized she was on the way, they were like ok, let’s give this another shot, maybe it’ll be better this time, and they officially get together again.

Spark is born, the most perfect little girl, who is *exactly* what SC was supposed to be. SHE is the one with the abundance of chaos energy, SHE is the one meant to continue Sonadow’s legacy, SHE is what they were going for the first round with SC. And so obviously this is not a good thing for our dear lovely SC.

Because for the first time it looks like he might be seeing what his parents were originally doing for him. Because now he’s realizing that Spark is the one that fixed their relationship.

Spark became the very thing Skylar-Chilli was supposed to be, and that shit is SEVERELY messed up. Poor SC, free my boy.

~Love, Evie

Oh wow, this message is absolutely incredible—I love seeing such deep, thoughtful takes on my AU! The way you’ve broken it all down and connected the dots is just plainly awesome. It makes me so happy to know that people are thinking about these dynamics as much as I am!

That said, I don’t want to comment too much on it just yet since I’d hate to accidentally spoil anything, but just know that I really appreciate this message and the effort you put into it. It genuinely made my day—thank you so much for sharing your thoughts!

[420technoblazeit]

do u think either viktor or mel are any good at cooking... u mentioned the sims room having spices and while i think viktor and mel understand cooking in theory and Would Add Spices i dont know how much theyve done it in practice... viktor knows chemistry from singed and his own work im sure which is a similar skillset but i cant imagine him ever cooking for himself (before the events of this AU) beyond stock basic low effort meals to get through the week.. and mel i dont think would be comically bad at it necessarily (cuz idk i just think its an overplayed trope and mel is all about how she is actually quite grounded and careful despite her outwardly fancy exterior- thinking abt the sequence of her mixing her own paints with her own hands) but i think she would have even less experience with it in practicality than viktor since its always been something provided for her...

i just am imagining mel buying spices she knows she likes and viktor advocating for filling starches that go a long way and dont go bad quickly and are easy on the stomach (Viktor lost so much weight while ill i cant imagine he was eating that well) and then the two of them both having such different experiences with food- wanting for it, never wanting for it- and both ending up with the same condition of Constantly Forgetting They Should Eat because of it... but both being so empathetic they notice the Other is forgetting to eat. ugh i love narrative foils

that ask got rlly long but btw i think jayce would love to cook (when he has time for it outside of the lab) i think he would be so happy watching his loved ones eat the food he made. some hobbies can be stress relief (i think this is the forge for jayce) and some require some more energy summoned to put into them and i feel like cooking would be more like that for jayce- something reminding him of his childhood and parents (before Everything), something he doesnt do all the time for fun but makes him really happy when he does do it

oh no i think they're Dogshit at it. to be clear. mel grew up filthy rich and in my mind viktor only ever eats the plainest easiest to cook meals unless jayce cooks him something. he probably has like. oatmeal every day and whatever the piltover equivalent of instant ramen is. my headcanon for the spice rack is actually very close to yours, i think mel picked it up from the market one day because she wanted to get better at cooking. i think she's very out of her comfort zone now that they're more or less on the run so she buys it and at first viktor wrinkles his nose and is like this is an unnecessary expense we should be focusing on other things. but maybe he misses when jayce cooked for him and eventually he gets really into it. maybe TOO into it bc now he's making the most ridiculous spice combinations you've ever seen and it's a disaster half the time but hey it's part of the process and at least he's having fun. i think they deserve to be a little bad at something relatively low stakes together. ty for this ask btw im so glad you like the au so much!!! :}

[kevin-the-bruyne]

Heyy!

I'm still not clear of the full story, except that you're being harassed and cancelled because people don't have a grasp over how fandoms work and that it's been happening for a while now.

I hope you're doing okay though. You might be used to handling bs like this but il sorry it keeps happening. Your writing is some of the best, and I always look forward to a bew fic.

And here's the thing, I don't read all of them. If the tags or summary does not tinkle my kind of delulu I MOVE THE FUCK ON. I thought this was commob practice but apparently not.

Didn't know we were out here setting dictates on whose delusion is valid and whose isn't jeez. The puritans have come for us even in the horny jail. ;(

Anyways I hope you survive the attack of the delulu police and come out with more unhinged stuff (not all of which I'll read because, yk, not my delulu, so that I can ehem... MOVE THE FUCK ON)

Hi anon, first thank you so much for the compliments. This is exactly how I and many fandom creators want to be perceived. Creators in fandom share their work for free and the only payment in return is for the like-minded people who enjoy the work to come hang out and have some fun. But the reason this ask has been on my mind for days is that, well, in general, we are currently in an era where the very act of having any type of influence over any amount of people, who will give you their time and attention, has become a 'marketable' trait.

That has entirely changed fandom and it's really apparent in the way that fandom creators have been greatly struggling with being treated like content creating influencers for years now aka they have the 'commodity' that make socmed influencers, socmed influencers but they are uniquely different in that they have no desire to wield it. I'd like to talk about the "commodification of self" that BL actors, in particular branded pairs engage in (and really any idol or even celebrity engages in this) and the position it puts fandom creators in. And some things I'd like to bring up in relation

I'm still not clear of the full story, except that you're being harassed and cancelled

1.

I'm not being cancelled. I have spent the last 2 years in this fandom making a concentrated effort to keep my sphere of influence very, very low. I never promote any of my works. I suddenly drop fics no one knew I was even thinking about, my writing blog has a blessed 10 followers. I follow no update schedules. Often I will stagger updates on purpose even when it's done, so people can forget about the fic and their excitement can die over it (I am doing it this very second with my FK Little Mermaid AU). When a popular thai twitter linked my canon verse alangaipa I privated that story within days.

After all that, if people don't stop giving a shit about me on twitter then I would have to be Arthur Conan Doyle to not have some goddamn peace. And truly, no one cares two shits about anything I do or say 🤣 (other than that one very dedicated Tumblr user with three different accounts.

2.

As for the full story, well. I think if you want to ethnographically trace when and with what the constant barrage of fighting started then the earliest we can trace it back to is at this point over a month ago, maybe even 2-3 months (month ago is when I started paying attention bless my angry anons) to pannjed (an OG FK translator) tweeting a translation of an FK clip with a comment akin to "Kt has badboy energy" and great offense was taken at the comment by as far as I can tell many people including another much newer FK translator quizii (who became the face of the pannjed opposition) because pannjed was allegedly using their translations to influence the fandom towards an unfavorable image of Kt (hilarious criticism for quizii to make btw if you read their translator notes hahaha).

BUT this answer is NOT about the wrongs or rights of pannjed and quizii, feel free to go to their twitters and read their viewpoints on your own time. The thing to talk about here is the nature of the accusation and the logic that it follows.

I say Khaotung could date Joong? SIN against FKs brand. Khaotung loves no one other than First.

I say Khaotung could be or could have dated women? BL logic dictates that inhaling any molecule of a woman can make a man straight so also a sin.

OhmKhaotung banner? SIN against the FK brand etc etc

3.

However, I don't think it's the people yelling at me who are missing the point of specifically a branded pair's fandom (heavy heavy overlaps with stan culture), it might actually be "us" the people trying to exist in the non-capitalist version of fandom who might be missing the point of what FK could be trying to achieve with their pairing. I have complained about FK starting to go harder and harder into heteronormative styles of fanservice literally since THK was announced LOL because I have followed ZNN and I know very well what the tightening of the noose around nuance looks like and why it happens.

There's no hard distinction between pairs striving for fanservice commodifying themselves and fanservice done to promote their work and really any pair successfully gaining a following via their work will ultimately be pushed to sell the fantasy of their relationship as well.

And there is certainly no moral judgement for pairs that sell their image divorced from their works, most pairs do this in fact, but it makes the pairs that lean towards fanservice vastly for the fun of it really rare. And I am certainly sad to lose Firstkhao to the capitalist vortex of fans who spend money on them to get a feeling of ownership of them and then self appoint themselves protectors of their brand and image. The LINEMAN mission failure outbreak of terribleness on twitter was such a beautiful closure on what's really going on.

Which is that we have now reached the end stage capitalism phase of the FK fandom, where fans that spend money, fans that give them constant unwavering attention specifically on X specifically using hashtags and @ to add to their engagement are The Very Best Only Real Fans and fans that don't do that, for whatever reason, even if they have been fans of FK since before the brand of FK (like me) Are Not Real Fans.

Didn't know we were out here setting dictates on whose delusion is valid and whose isn't jeez. The puritans have come for us even in the horny jail. ;(

4.

They have. They really, really have come into my jail cell and armed with bleach and brillopad scrubbing away all the penis variety I have scribbled on the walls.

But honestly? I have no idea who is right.

FK have funneled themselves hardcore into heteronormative monogamy, on purpose, once more not a moral judgement (though there is personal disappointment). They are selling the demure khaotung, protective husband first image Hard. First makes the appropriate jealousy comments. Khaotung who spent most of OF drooling over Force's biceps (god bless his gay soul) suddenly can't see men who aren't First. It's like they read this post I wrote about Branded Pair Heteronormativity and took every pointer LMAO

Puritanical fans are on a mission whose ultimate goal is to line up First and Khaotung's pockets. And by gosh do I really not care about that ! I do care that theyre not being exploited (I mean....they definitely are so like apparently I don't care too much abt that either) but whether Khaotung made enough bank this month to buy a $5000 bracelet for First or whatever the price of luxury items are these days is simply something I have never once thought about!

I hardly know the validity of statements like head cannoning Khaotung as naughty or dominating is bad for his job opportunities because I don't understand the industry well much less its values. I know that there were many thai fans also yelling at pannjed.

Is claiming that a fan creator can influence the type of jobs the artist themselves can get absolutely PSYCHOTIC? Hell Fucking Yes.

But— is it inaccurate? 🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️

And here is my very last arsenal that if people did start hating on me for calling Kt a slut on twitter then I will actually stop (but I know none of my haters can read let alone a post this long). Not because I care what they think of me but because I am genuinely unsure if that is bad for Kts image in getting brand job opportunities hence why I *exclusively* do it here now.

Anyway, your ask made me go to twitter and dig into this terribleness and so you must deal with my (of dubious quality) findings. Lots of love ❤️

[ravenwriter16]

Creative Minds Think Alike

Episode One--Episode two--Episode Three--Episode Four--Episode Five--Episode Six (Here!)---Epsiode Seven

Featuring the Amazing: @sun-e-chips

Reminder! If the Content Creator doesn't approve of how I represent them, or their AUs/OCs then I edit my work or DELETE it.

It's not my intention to mock or belittle anyone's work. This series is supposed to showcase amazing creators!

AND I DO NOT BETA READ! JUST A HEADS UP!

Enjoy!

“I don’t really see how this is necessary.” I run to keep up with the tall councilman. “I recommended we focus our efforts more on—,”

Archivist #5 Zuid Refductin, with his hands folded behind his back and his hair slicked back into a low ponytail, looks over his shoulder to pierce me with his stare. His features where sharp, a long snooping nose separating his dark brown eyes.

“Afraid you don’t have any say in the matter, Archivist Ravenwriter. The Council has already decided.”

He faces forward again and starts his long strides again. His white and golden uniform looks so clean and pressed that it had to be uncomfortable. But he showed no sign of emotion, his features seemingly stuck in a permanent deadpan state.

I sigh and drag a hand though my hair. My nerves were shot and the feathers of my wings were bristling and puffing up. Archivist Refductin showed up out of the blue at my office. Saying something about inspection of the castle. Then he dragged me out of my mushroom with no other explanation.

I growl, “Sir…Even though I may not be on the council, I am still Head Archivist for the DCA Castle—,”

“For now. You are Head Archivist for now.” He turns a corner sharply, having me scramble to make the corner. He waves his hand dismissively, “The position shouldn’t have gone to you anyways. You are much too young. It should have been given to someone with immense experience.”

He places his hand on his chest, “Someone like me.”

I give him a strained smile, speaking through clenched teeth, “But it DIDN’T. And you cannot change the past—,”

“Perhaps…but I can change the future.” He muses, eyes glinting and his lips twitching. He stops abruptly, causing me to walk straight into him.

I grunt and rub my nose while backing up. I shoot him a pointed look, “What?”

“October is coming.” He states taking in the grandeur of the large entry way of the castle. It was more elaborate than the smaller backdoor entrance we came in and brighter too.

I nod my head, dusting off the sleeves of my coat. “Yes. As it does every year…”

“I could do without you sass.”

“I could do without you and your pompous as—,” I bite my lip when he turns his head sharply, warning me with his pointed stare.

I roll my eyes and start to tend to my feathers. Preening them slightly so that they wouldn’t stick up as much.

He nods his head then looks around the room again while holding his chin in thought. “The little…Halloween Festival is also coming up, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.” I nod again, crossing my arms, “It’s a major event for the castle.”

“Hmm…Is security adequate during these festivals?” He lowers his hand, raising a brow as he levels me with his stare once more.

“Yes, sir. I have many Creators with their Y/ns and DCAs who help out with maintaining the Castle’s defensive during festivities. No Trolls or Frauds ever sneak in.”

He nods, “I would like to meet one of these Creators that you hold in such high regard.”

“Well, before you RUDELY dragged me out from my office.” I narrow my eyes before pulling at the helm of my tunic to straighten it. “I was actually preparing to meet up with the one of the Creators who help out with the festival preparations—,”

“Marvelous!” He smirks, “Lead the way.”

I shake my head, crossing my arms as my wings fold close to my back. “I can’t do that—,”

He scoffs “As one of the High Council Members, you have to follow my orders. It’s part of the law—,”

My wings spread out as wide as they can and I bark out a laugh. “According to that law, as Head Archivist for this Castle, I have to protect every single Creator that resides in these halls. I can’t not bring a stranger, Council member or not, to a Creator’s room unannounced.”

 “Why you insolent—AH!” He flinches and jumps back, holding his arms over his head to shield him from something.

I whip around, hand outstretch and pulsing with my purple-colored mana. I blink and lower my hand when I take in a familiar face. I sigh and offer a small bow to the animatronic.

Standing there was a fairly small, seemingly wooden tiki bot. Their main colors being of a deep chocolate brown, their two round eyes being a darker shade. With slightly coral pupils, which turn into upright crescents as if they were smiling.

Causing Councilman Refductin to flinch and take another step back.

They also had beautiful, seemingly carved, teal-colored marks on their chest, arms, legs, what made up their nose, and their little head crown-piece. I always loved their Polynesian look.

And to top it all off, the little guy wore a pair of moss green swim shorts with a pink palm leaves pattern.

 I chuckle as the Tiki Bot doe a little spin that ends in a bow. They straighten up, shoulders shaking as they cover the spot where their mouth should be. Laughing. They look behind me and tilt their head, pointing.

I shake my head, “No one to worry about, I assure you. This is Council Member Refductin. He is inspecting the Castle today.”

The bot nods their head in understanding while the Councilman peaks over my shoulder. He eyes them up and down.

“An…An OC Staffbot?” He mumbles quietly. “I thought that they would mostly stay to the canon design…not—,”

“Come up with an entirely new ensemble? Please.” I roll my eyes, gesturing to my small friend with a wave of my hand, “Now apologize to our guest here.”

He harrumphs and quickly moves from his hiding spot behind my wings. He straightens the collar of his uniform, “I do not take orders from you.”

I roll my eyes once more before turning my attention back to the Tiki Bot. “How is your Creator? Okay I hope?”

They nod and start to sign with their hands. I activate my mana to better translate what they say, the Councilman copying me almost immediately.

-Creator is well! They are very busy planning and preparing for the festival. They sent me to find you because they want to go over some plans. Is that alright?-

“I would have to bring along old sour puss over here.” I jerk my head in Refductin’s direction. The man turns redder than a tomato.

The tiki-bot just nods their head, -That’s alright! The more the merrier!-

Refductin folds his hands behind his back, “Very well. Lead the way then.”

“PLEASE.” I press, shooting him a pointed look.

The tiki-bot nods their head again and jumps up to spin around. They head down one of the large hallways to the side. The councilman and I follow dutifully behind them. I smile, watching as the little tiki-bot skips and does a little dance while walking.

I nod my head to its cute rhythm, trying to ignore the stupid tsks Refductin made as he inspected the hall.

Thankfully the trip was a short one!

The tiki-bot stops in front of a pair of one simple door. Nothing too outlandish or having any special patterns. Just a nice plain door that strangely brought a sense of calm to my mind. I step forward and inspect the wooden mailbox hanging on the wall right next to the door.

The name carved into the wood was painted white.

“This is it?”

Both me and the tiki-bot look at him with tilted heads.

-What did you expect? It’s just a room…-

I snort at the bot’s retort while Refductin huffs. The tiki-bot pulls out a key from his shorts and unlocks the door He steps inside, waiting patiently as I inspect my boots for any sign of dirt. Once I’m done, I step in, keeping my wings close to myself.

Refductin steps in after me, paling as he takes in the room.

“What is this?!” He gestures to the eerie room.

Black polished tiles make up the floor, some fur-skin rugs here and there to provide some warmth to the chilling stone. Some pillars made of the same material hold up the corners of the room. The walls are lined with dark oak paneling. The wallpaper was old, some of it chipping off the wall itself. The color was faded, the baby blue flora pattern barely visible.

Long, raggedy, and old curtains cover the bay windows. Giving little natural light to the living room. The room itself full of Victorian style furniture, the wood a dark brown and the cushions a simple dark red color.

On the little side tables were small vintage lamps with stain-glass shades. The yellow, blue, and green lights giving the room most of its light. Music fills the air thanks to a brass phonograph. It plays a tone I’m VERY familiar with.

I hum the tone to the Daycare Theme while following the tiki-bot to one of the couches. The little guy claps their hands in delight while running off. Heading into another room off to the side.

“What kind of person lives here?” Refductin shivers as a cool breeze drifts in from some open vent. “A horror writer or artist? Some monster Creator?”

I scratch my chin, “Not exactly—,”

“Then who?” He crosses his arms and raises a brow.

I go to answer when I hear a few familiar voices.

“Oh! We can have a giant pumpkin filled with fairy lights and it dispenses candy every ten minutes!”

“That sound like a bunch of fun, Sunspot! We can set up some buckets around the pumpkin that way the passing person could grabs some candy if they so happen to miss the dispensing!”

A tall animatronic steps out into the room, a bright contrast to the otherwise dreary living space. His metal seemed to be made of stone. The material having playful patches of bright teals, yellows, oranges, and small bits of red that made up his feet. On his forelegs, forearms, shoulders and chest where patterns that seemed to be Aztecan in origin.

And like the tiki-bot, he wore a pair of swim shorts. These being a dark teal green and having the same patterns as his metal. Flower-like petals fan out around his face. Giving him his namesake.

“Yes, yes. But what about my idea for a haunted water slide?” A deeper voice asks, the body belonging to that said voice steps out.

“Moonie~…” Sun rolls his eyes, crossing his arms.

“What?”

Another animatron with darker colors and instead of a stone-like metal, this one had a more wooden texture to it. His shorts made of a red fabric with white flowers as a small pattern. But they were ripped a bit in the back part of the leg-sleeve-things.

His colors were a dark brown, a dark teal and a light blue. His metal’s patterns wasn’t Aztecan-themed but instead a Polynesian pattern. Much like the tiki-bot.

Then finally, the person I wanted to see!

“Sun-e-chips!” I get to my feet, smiling brightly, “It’s so nice to see you again!”

The creator in question looks at me, blinking for a second before they smile as well. They wore a simple pair of black boots, that look like they’ve seen better days. Their dark blue bootcut jeans pairs well with their dark green turtleneck.

Their long brown hair was done up in a high ponytail, with a small flower clip holding back some of their bangs.

“Raven!” They run forward at full speed towards me.

My eyes widen and I back up, wings outstretched, “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa—!”

They tackle me to the ground and my wings poof up and surround us out of instinct to cushion our fall.

“Archivist!” Refductin shouts in shock. “What is the meaning of this?!”

Sun-e-chips pops their head out form my feathers. “Who’s your stuck-up friend here?”

I just plop my head down on the floor, sighing heavily. “Friend is such a STRONG word…”

Refductin clenches his hands and turns red again while grinding his teeth. Sun and Moon snort, Sun covering his mouth.

“He’s redder than some of our worst sun-burnt customers.” Sun chuckles.

Moon joins him, hissing slightly. He walks deeper into the room, scooping up Sun-e-chips as if they were a cat. And they didn’t seem to mind all that much.

Sun walks over and offers his hand, “I take it the tiki found you?”

I nod my head and yelp as he pulls me up. I rotate my shoulder and sigh, “I keep forgetting how strong you guys are.”

I dust off my uniform and wave a bored hand in Refductin’s direction. “Before he blows a blood vessel, may I introduce High Council Member Refductin.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Mx.?”

“Sun-e-chips is my creator title.” They bow their head still held aloft by Moon, who looks very content holding them like that. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yes the pleasure is all mine. Now I would like to—,”

“So Raven!” Sun-e-chips wiggles out of Moon’s hold, grabbing my hand and leading me back to the couches. “Which would you prefer? A candy puking pumpkin or trauma inducing water slide?”

“Rude…” Moon grumbles.

I shrug, smiling as I take my seat. “Still caught up on that?”

They plop down next to me, sighing loudly. Refductin stares blankly at us while Sun and Moon join in the festival planning. Sun sits in the chair next to the couch while Moon sits on the armrest next to Sun-e-chips.

“Raven is obviously on my side,” Moon puts a hand on his chest, “A haunted waterslide will gather the most screams for the Halloween Festival.”

“Moon.” Sun deadpans, rolling his eyes, “We don’t want to scare away Residents…”

“Shh!” Sun-e-chips, turns their attention to me. “So what do you say, Raven?”

“Why not both? You’re already going all out this year, so if you need more supplies or funds, just say the word and they’re yours.”

I yelp when they hug me again, “THANK YOU! This is going to be AMAZING!”

“EXCUSE ME!” Refductin loudly clears his throat. Sun, Moon, and Sun-e-chips looks at him with raised brows.

“Yes friend?” Sun asks with a cute tilt of his head.

“I have a few questions regarding your life in this castle under Archivist—,”

“OH! That reminds me!” Sun holds his chine and looks at me, startling me slightly. “Will you be visiting the park again with your little siblings? It was so much fun last time!”

I chuckle and rub the back of my neck, blushing from embarrassment, “I-I would like too—EEP!”

Sun is quick to hug me a well, “OH I CAN’T WAIT FOR THE LITTLE BIRDIES!!!”

“Sunny~.” Moon snickers, “Let the bird breathe.”

“Oops!”

I gasp as he lets go. He even pats my back as I cough. He smiles sheepishly, “Sorry, sunshine…”

“I’m fine.” I give him a small smile and pound my chest, “Takes more than that to keep me down.!”

“Does no one here have any manners?” Refductin pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry about the boys.” Sun-e-chips rubs the back of their neck. “They’re very animated.”

“I see…Creator?” Refductin steps closer, eyeing me as I let Sun play with my feathers. “ I would like to discuss the upcoming festival with you—,”

“What about?” They tilt their head and count off things while holding out their fingers, “We can talk about security, rides, contests, the buffet table, decorations, the weather, new attractions?”

He blinks at them, mouth closing and opening like a gapping fish. “That is…”

“A lot.” I shoot my friend a concerned look, “You know if you ever need any help—,”

“It’s fine! Everything is going smoothly and we should be finished with preparations ahead of time! And my Auroa helps with keeping my strength up!”

To showcase their point, they hold out their hand and snap their fingers. Refductin and I shiver as a building coolness seems to gather at their hand. A glowing orb of shimmering blue lights (looking like an orb of water) hovers over their opened palm.

I look over at Sun and Moon and see their eyes glowing the same color as the orb. They seem at peace, shoulders sagging as if a weight as been lifted off their shoulders. Their Creator, splits the orb in half and hands one to each of the animatronic twins.

They take their halves and hold them close to their chest. Their markings glow bright as they absorb the Auroa. They slink onto their seats, sighing happily.

I smile and get to my feet, Sun-e-chips joining with me. I turn to face them and hold out my hand, “I fear we have taken up much of your time.”

They take my hand and smile as they shake it, “don’t worry about it so much! I enjoy the company!” They turn and face Refductin, bowing their head a bit while folding their hands behind their back. “And it was an honor to meet you, Councilman!”

Refductin sighs but returns the bow, “The honor was all mine.”

I snap my fingers, remembering something. “I forgot to bring the blue-prints for the ‘Exploding Star-Disco Ball’! I’ll make sure to send a raven by later today.”

“No prob!” They smile, “Take your time. October is still a month or so away.”

I nod my head, “Thank you again for helping plan the Festival.”

“You know I love this stuff! And I have to beat last year’s Festival record. Me and the boys are going to blow it out of the water!”

Refductin pales, “Not literally, correct?”

Sun-e-chips and I exchange long glances before we burst out laughing…hysterically. Sun-e-chips doubling over and holding their stomach while I cover my mouth as I cackle. Sun and Moon snort, the glow in their eyes dying down slightly.

Refductin looks back and forth between the four of us, confused. “You aren’t going to blow up the Festival are you? Why are you laughing? It’s not funny…”

I and Sun-e-chips collapse to the floor, cackling like crazed witches.

We were like this for THREE HOURS…

And I enjoyed every second of it!

***

THANK YOU SO MUCH @sun-e-chips!!! If you haven't checked it out already, go check out their Waterspark Bay AU! The same AU featured in this episode.

I'm so sorry that this took so long Chips! I hope my writing is up to your standards! Stay awesome!

I hope you all have a wonderful rest of your day or night!

[scintillasofbeomgyu]

ᯓ★ from me to you — chapter four: daydream

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader. genres: slice of life, social media au, body swap, fluff, angst. wc: 2,5k. warnings: language, they’re in a hospital. i am not a doctor, so if there are any medical inaccuracies in this chapter do not @ me 😭 they will be discussing depression and anxiety, and beomgyu does have a teeny episode, mention of blood (but it’s kinda a funny situation 🤣). an: first three screenshots, then written part, then the last three!

It is Spring. The world is doused in the bright colours of budding flowers that have overcome the harsh cold of winter. The breeze is cool and gentle, and the sun is warm and cozy, leaving the air in a comfortable equilibrium. At this time, the serene trail at Apsan Park would be teeming with hikers eager to conquer it and admire its entrancing beauty, families would be excitedly preparing for picnics under fluffy-clouded blue skies, and who could dare to forget Spring’s shining star: Daegu’s cherry blossoms, that would be out in full bloom at the Flower Garden, in their best and prettiest shades of pinks and whites, swaying on branches and sailing through the air like magic.

The door opens and Beomgyu’s reverie is pulled from under him. He falls back down to earth where his attention is drawn to the doctor stalking into the room on his squelching black crocs with a grave look on his face. He appears engrossed in whatever is printed out on the clipboard in his hands.

The ID card hanging from the lanyard around his neck — Yeungnam University Medical Centre, Dr. Seungcheol Choi, Internal Medicine — rattles in its plastic casing as he moves quickly and swiftly to the desk. He doesn’t look up to acknowledge Beomgyu where he stands by the window just behind the desk, but gestures for him to sit in the hard leather seat on the other side of it. Beomgyu purses his lips in a forced smile and nods.

The office is small, cold and smells strongly of disinfectant. The lack of indoor lighting makes the room look grey and dreary, the only colour at all provided by the medical posters and charts stuck against the glossy white walls. He supposes they are meant to serve an informative purpose, but merely feel eerie to him.

There is a long wooden bookshelf under the wall and against the window where he had stood, where, amongst the array of white papers with indecipherable scribbles written on them, is a sole photo of Dr. Seungcheol Choi and a friend at what appears to be their graduation ceremony.

Among the many things which unsettled him about being in this office, the photo and their big smiling faces brings Beomgyu a sense of solace.

After a long few minutes, Seungcheol sets the clipboard on his desk and finally considers his younger brother. Beomgyu takes the opportunity to notice with greater effort what he had noticed when he arrived at the hospital that morning: his brother looks older.

His cheeks have hollowed and his features are more prominent. His dark hair is cut like their father’s. There is fine stubble creating a light shadow along his jaw and below it. The thick bags under his eyes drive concern into Beomgyu’s heart. He wonders what his brother’s eyes have seen to give them the fatigued yet mature glow they shone with now.

“The good news is,” Seungcehol says, and even his voice sounds deeper when he speaks, “the results from the blood sample we took and sent for testing does not reflect anything terribly wrong. Your iron is a bit low, though, so I do recommend a good diet change. If that doesn’t work, iron supplements are readily available over the counter. If it gets worse, which I doubt in your case, you can make another appointment and they will give you an intravenous iron supplementation here at the hospital.”

The tension in Beomgyu’s shoulders eases just an inch and he sinks into the chair a little more comfortably. An iron deficiency was manageable. An iron deficiency made sense. And iron deficiency was not alarming. “That’s good. Very good.”

Seungcheol nods in agreement, but the frown pressed into his forehead tells there is more to it. Beomgyu slightly tenses up again. “What is it, Hyung?”

His brother picks up the clipboard, presumably carrying the details and results of Beomgyu’s check up, and turns to a specific page before handing it to him. “The results of the mental wellness screening test we did is a bit of concern for me.”

Beomgyu takes it from him and scans the page. Then he frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“Beomgyu, this screening test works a little like how a multiple choice test would. The only way to get everything wrong is if you know what all the right answers are. And your answer to every one of these questions seems to suggest that you strongly believe nothing is wrong with you. Which leads me to believe something strongly is.”

Beomgyu’s throat dries and chest feels heavy. His fingers press into the paper carrying test he had taken earlier that very morning. The answers he had marked with his own hand now glare back at him like an inescapable house of mirrors. The seed of fear that had been dormant by his own efforts begins to take root.

“I am not in the position to make an accurate diagnosis based on the screening test; I am not qualified in that way. I can, however, refer you to one of the best psychiatrists in Seoul – Dr. Junmyeon Kim. He’s a good sunbae of mine,” Seungcheol says, fishing in a drawer for a notepad and pen from the desk, “and he has lots of experience dealing with idols, actors – entertainment industry cases – specifically. I trust his abilities wholeheartedly,” he scribbles something on the paper and hands it to Beomgyu. “He is actually here today meeting with the psychiatry department. You can take that with you and –”

“What do you think it is, though?” Beomgyu’s voice comes out thick and shaky. He swallows heavily and finally manages to tear his eyes away from the paper in his hands to search his brother’s face. “Because it sounds like you have a pretty good idea.”

“I can’t say for sure – ”

“Hyung.” Beomgyu breathes a sharp pain beginning at his temples, “Tell me.”

Seungcheol sighs. “Considering what the screening test reflects, and what your friends have shared with me, you may have some form of high-functioning depression and anxiety. You’re able to go about your day normally: carry out tasks and interact with people just fine, but you still feel the symptoms of these illnesses just as any other patient would. And it sounds as if you may have been trying to suppress them too. Which may be what is causing your nightmares.” His eyes drop to his folded hands on the table for a long moment before returning to his little brother. His eyebrows furrow with concern. “Why didn’t you tell us about Vietnam, Beomgyu?”

Beomgyu’s heart races and his chest tightens. The room feels as if it is closing in on him. His hands tremble and his vision begins to blur so he squeezes his eyes shut.

But I am happy. I have a loving family. I have good friends. I have a job doing what I love. I have adoring fans. I am grateful. So why?

Why do I still feel so empty?

“Beomgyu. Hey, are you okay?” Seungcheol asks, his voice laden with concern as he rushes to his side. The image of the dark bags under his eyes flashes across Beomgyu’s mind, and he forces himself to still.

He feels Seunghcheol’s hand on his shoulder. His eyes open and he smiles. “I’m okay, Hyung. I am sorry that you came all the way from Daegu for this.”

“Beomgyu,” Seungcheol says firmly, yet gently, “it is my job to take care of you. As your brother, but also as a doctor. You need to know that you can ask for help if and when you need it.”

Beomgyu nods absently as he climbs to his feet and returns the report to his brother. He takes the referral from the desk and bows before walking to the door. “Thank you, Hyung.” He grabs the door and pauses, his fingers tightening around the knob. “Don’t… tell mom and dad about this. They’ll worry too much. And thank Kibum-hyung for allowing us to use his office.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment. “Of course. It’s your decision to make. Don’t forget to call after you speak with Dr. Kim.”

Beomgyu nods once more and greets his brother before stepping out into the hallway and closing the door behind him.

Feet comes thundering down the hallway suddenly and Beomgyu jumps, frightened out of his consuming thoughts. He shoves the letter into his pocket.

His eyes dart around anxiously, but laughs when he finds Yeonjun and Kai racing to him, trying to push and fight in front of one another.

“What did he say?”

“Are you okay?”

“Are you going to die?”

“Of course not, you idiot!”

The commotion begins to draw the attention of other visitors in the hall and Beomgyu groans, adjusting his mask. “Can the two of you be quiet!” He yells at them in a restrained voice, pushing a finger to his lips and offering apologetic looks to everyone else.

They protest as Beomgyu grabs them by their coats and pulls them around a corner for more privacy, demanding answers. As soon as they’re alone however, they both go quiet and stare at him in anticipation. Beomgyu rolls his eyes, but chuckles.

“I am okay. The tests didn’t pick up any major problems.” Beomgyu says and they sigh in relief. He smiles, but the weight of the fumbled recommendation in his pocket makes his stomach twist. “But…”

They both freeze, their eyes flashing between concern and fear. “What?” Kai asks.

Guilt squeezes Beomgyu’s chest. He forces a laugh. “Why are you looking at me like that! He only said my iron is a bit low, so I need to eat better and exercise more.”

“I told you to eat better and exercise!” Yeonjun scolds, fixing his hands in his hips. “Did I not?” Then he turns to Kai, “See! But no, I am the boomer for telling you you need to not game that much!”

“Hyung,” Kai sighs, mirroring Yeonjun’s stance. “I told you. Gaming is relaxing for me!”

They start walking toward the lobby, bickering about Kai’s mistake during dance practice and Yeonjun taking forever in the shower and what they’re going to order for dinner. Beomgyu trails behind them and watches with a faint smile. They’ve all been through a lot. He can’t bring himself to make his matter bigger than anyone else’s.

He’ll work harder to be more thankful.

“Oh!” Yeonjun smacks his hands together, turning to Beomgyu. “I forgot to mention, a hoobae of mine is a student at this hospital. They shift departments, and he’s in the psychiatry ward this week. Let’s go say hi!”

Beomgyu’s stomach plummets. He grabs Yeonjun’s arm in panic. “Hyung. Um. We have work to do. The demo, we still need to work on it, remember?”

Yeonjun considers him for a moment. “We won’t be long, we’re just saying hi.”

“I, uh,” Beomgyu says, mind searching desperately for an excuse. He mentally curses when he cannot think of one. But then a lightbulb goes off. “I have to go to the pharmacy. For iron supplements.”

Yeonjun raises an eyebrow. Then he hums. “Okay. We’ll meet up with you in the lobby then.”

He turns and waves over his shoulder. Kai steels his expression and shakes a fist reassuringly before jogging after him.

Beomgyu waits until he can no longer see them, then his shoulders fall and he breathes. He pulls out the referral letter from his pocket where he had stuffed it and unfurls it.

He hadn’t seen his brother in two whole years, and this is how it had to go?

He sighs, stuffs it back in his pocket and looks up at the signage for the way to the lobby. When he reaches the escalator, a body zooming through the floor below makes him stop in his tracks. They maneuver their way through obstacles in their path and race up the escalator. Just before the landing, they trip and face plant into the floor next to him.

Beomgyu gasps and rushes to help. “Hey, are you okay?”

The girl groans as she takes his outstretched hand. He helps her up and she uses her free hand to hold onto her head. “Yeah, sorry.”

Beomgyu helps her to a seat and gets a good look at her to make sure she’s not badly hurt.

At first glance, she seems plain and simple, nothing about her really special at all. She is dressed in wide-legged washed out jeans and a green knitted sweater, one sleeve more stretched than the other and hanging over her hand. Her dark hair is brushed out of her face, yet it is wild from the running and the subsequent fall. And the cause of said fall was quite clearly the old-looking, scuffed up black sneakers hugging her feet.

But when she finally looks at Beomgyu, it is as if time stops. The big eyes of this unassuming girl regard him with nothing but sincere kindness. Her smile reaches from ear to ear, teeth-showing, as if she means it with her whole heart, and Beomgyu’s chest trembles.

“Thank you!” She grins, bowing her head before giving him two thumbs up. “I’m all good. Sorry for getting in your way!”

Beomgyu shakes his head, the edges of his lips picking up. “Ah, no! No that’s okay.”

“No, I shouldn’t have ran!” She sighs as if frustrated with herself, but before Beomgyu can speak, she rambles on. “It’s a hospital, I was being silly. It’s just my friend’s on his break soon and he hasn’t eaten since this morning and I kind of need his help tomorrow because I’m moving – not that I’m only doing this because I need his help! I’m not that kind of person! But he likes my kimchi stew and —”

Beomgyu watches her in amusement, but then his eyes widens and he gasps. “Y-Your!”

She tilts her head in confusion, blood dripping down her nose. Beomgyu points in panic and when she finally realizes, she laughs and wipes it with the back of her hand. “No, no! This is okay, I’m – ” she freezes, checks her watch and jumps to her feet. “I’m late!”

She readjusts her backpack and hurries off again into the hospital, leaving Beomgyu in a state between shock, concern and absolute dumbfoundedness as he stares after her.

“Hyung?” Kai says, just barely snapping Beomgyu out of it. He came from the elevator with Yeonjun and someone else in a white coat who he has never seen before. “What’s wrong?” He arches a brow, following Beomgyu’s line of eyesight.

Beomgyu opens his mouth to speak, but cannot even begin to make sense of what just happened himself. Instead, he bursts out laughing. His friends look at one another, then at him.

“Bro,” Yeonjun raises a brow. “Are you okay? Genuinely?”

The girl, her silliness and the bright aura she had left behind makes Beomgyu’s chest zing, and a score pops into his mind.

“I… think I may have an idea for a demo track.”

prev. | mlist | next

life is rough for (y/n). after dropping out of college and moving away from her family to live life on her own terms, she struggles to keep up with the fast-paced city life in Seoul. she becomes a fan of the kpop idol, choi beomgyu. while his content keeps her motivated to strive for her dreams, she can’t help but wish she had the same luck he has had. but not everything is as it seems.

taglist: @yoonzinoswife @ameliesaysshoo @bgomtori @woncheecks @seodami @thing89 @stormy1408 @boba-beom @binluvsu @lillynval @nothingwithoutgyu @gyuville @tinhq @soobnuuy @031323o (send an ask to be added!)

scintillasofbeomgyu © all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, alter, or repost in any way.

[zayne-s]

steddie | M | wc: 789 | cw: none

tags: steddie dads, farmers steddie, modern au, light dom/sub

Eddie stands on the front porch in his robe and takes a sip of his coffee as he watches Steve get the girls on the bus. It’s a cold morning, in the low 30’s, and he chuckles as his daughters blow out hot air like they’re dragons. The sun is barely even up yet but it casts a bright glow across the frosty grass of their yard and the field across the road.

Steve and the girls do their dorky handshake once the bus pulls up and Eddie waves at them and blows them each a kiss. When the bus is around the curve down the road, Steve puts his hands in the pockets of his Carhartt and starts the trek back up the long gravel driveway, their dog Daisy trotting at his side.

Eddie goes back inside to the warmth. He drains the last of his coffee and puts the mug in the sink before he starts clearing up the mess left from breakfast, made by the mini tornadoes he calls children. As he washes the plastic kiddie plates and cups and forks, he goes through the list of what he and Steve have planned for the day since it’s rare that their days off overlap.

Well. What Eddie has planned. He knows what Steve’s plans are and none of them involve doing anything on the list pinned to the fridge.

The hole in the chicken coop needs patched before the ladies and their gentleman caller get snatched up by a bobcat or coyote. Eddie’s been trying to find the time to go over to Wayne’s and help him with the boat so he can take the girls out on the river this summer. He and Steve need to make a trip to Rural King if their oldest is seriously considering showing rabbits for 4-H.

All are things that’ll take up a good chunk of their morning and afternoon. But of course, when Eddie feels arms wrap around his waist and lips press to the skin underneath his ear, he knows good and well all of it will be tossed out the window.

“Mornin’, handsome,” Eddie hums, leaning back into Steve’s hold, his hands still submerged in soapy dishwater.

“Mornin’, baby.” Steve kisses Eddie’s shoulder and starts to gently sway them. “The girls are gone.”

Eddie chuckles. He knows the game Steve is trying to play. “Oh really? I couldn’t tell, with how quiet it is.”

Steve’s lips trail from his shoulder to his neck. “We both have the day off.”

Eddie hums in agreement, his eyes sliding shut as he tilts his head back on Steve’s shoulder. “I know what you’re trying to do, baby,” he says. “It won’t work. We have stuff to do.”

Steve ignores him. “We could go back to bed right now,” he says against Eddie’s ear.

Eddie sighs quietly, making a valiant effort to not acknowledge the way Steve is starting to chub up.

“You could take your time.” He nibbles on Eddie’s earlobe and lets out the smallest moan when he starts to grind against Eddie’s ass. “Open me up nice and slow so you can fuck me deep.”

Eddie’s own quiet moan betrays him at the thought of laying Steve out on their bed and getting his tongue and four fingers in his ass until his husband is begging for his cock.

Steve pulls Eddie’s hips against him and Eddie lets him, the dishes now abandoned as he grinds back on the hefty bulge Steve’s now sporting in his sweatpants. They stand there for a few minutes, Steve whimpering hotly into Eddie’s shoulder as they hump like teenagers.

Eddie’s melting point is when Steve whines, “Wanna use my toys, too.”

He’ll blame it on the fact that they haven’t had the time for anything more than stolen moments while the girls are busy with homework or chores, and sleepy handjobs before bed.

Eddie drains the sink and rinses the soap off his hands before drying them on a nearby rag. He turns in Steve’s arms and preens at how flushed his face is just from a little grinding.

He gets a hand between them and massages Steve’s heavy cock over his pants, a dark spot already soaking the fabric. “You get five minutes to get yourself naked and on that bed,” he says. “No touching yourself. Am I clear?”

Steve gasps and bucks in his grip and whines out a “yes, sir,” before prying himself away from Eddie’s grasp and almost tripping up the stairs.

Eddie takes a deep breath looks at the clock on the stove.

8:24am

He mentally wipes away his previous list in favor of replacing it with how many times he can make Steve come before 9:30.

buy me a ☕?

[maybeanartist02]

sacrarium pario modern au // trivia night

summary: Violo and Vivere join their friends at a local bar's trivia night. There, they cross paths with the charismatic performer Anne.

2.7 k words, violo has a cochlear implant, vivere is chronically ill, heimos is a little bitchy

"This body was submitted by this man's daughter," the research manager explained. Violo stood in the lab of Pario Research Facility where he worked, speaking to two fellow researchers who were there to discuss a new body Violo was assigned to examine. The manager was a tall and callous woman who Violo struggled to tolerate outside of work. She, along with the other Doctor, was there to speak to him about the newly donated body.

"Their name is Ayad Amsel-Faris. They passed away four months ago, but the daughter only recently was able to process the paperwork for handing them off to us," the shorter doctor explained. "I am unsure how that happened, but regardless… we have the body now, and should be able to conduct our research on it. According to the daughter's account, Ayad had many allergies, skin conditions and were frequently misdiagnosed. Their death was written off as a natural cause, but the daughter believes they were ill."

Violo lifted the sheet laying over the body, and peered under it. Like all corpses, the person's expression was a bit disturbing to most—but Violo couldn't see, so it wasn't problematic at all.

Ayad was a brown-skinned person with a square jaw that was almost entirely covered in vitiligo and psoriasis. Their hair was also white, and seeing the state of them, Violo wondered how no one else suspected something to be wrong. Violo had to feel his way over the body to determine the psoriasis, and Eva told him about the rest.

The body reminded him of Vivere—uncomfortably so. It made him uneasy, but also gave him some hope; if Violo could find Ayad's cause of death… there was a chance it was related to the disease he was researching. This body… could be the key to all his woes, and all his fears regarding Vivere.

Swallowing the apprehension in his throat, Violo spoke eagerly:

"When do I begin?"

—

"A trivia night?"

Violo's voice curved up with the questioning echo of Necare's words. Necare nodded, a smile on her lips. The group of neighbors who lived on Warden Street 35 were gathered at Amare's place, for one of their usual monthly game nights. The five inhabitants of the apartment complex had gotten close after meeting at a renfaire a few years back and discovering they were neighbors. The friendship had been set in stone since then.

"It's a pretty new thing, meant to generate more traffic for the bar. We been kinda plateauing, so she's experimenting with new events to draw in customers."

"Will his hearing aid even be able to register the person hosting it?" Vivere asked, frowning. Despite Violo's frequent reminders that he could handle himself, Viv had a habit towards overbearingness. Violo rolled his eyes.

"Most people don't speak in a way easy for my implants to interpret easily anyway. I'll manage. I'd love to come!"

Vivere pouted, "I know… but I can still worry about your comfort."

"Well, I don't think it'll be a problem, to be honest," Necare shrugged. "Anne's the one hosting, and I speak to her a ton. Her vocal range goes crazy—if we give her a heads-up, she'll make an effort, but if we don't, she'll still enunciate well." Necare grins, "She claims to be a lyricist, but I've heard her vocals—she's a vocal acrobat, I guarantee. Low or high, she'll hit any note you give."

"Mm," Amare hummed, taking a sip of their tea. "Interesting. She performs at the bar?"

"Yeah," Necare nodded, "writes her own songs, but sings a bunch of covers too. Got a few rumors floating around, but she's always been upfront with me."

"Rumors?" Amare questioned. For the first time in what felt like ages, Heimos spoke up.

"Is this Anne Amsel-Faris?" he asked. Necare nodded, and he scoffed, "In that case… I've heard a few. Word on the streets is she's a volatile little shit."

"Volatile?" Viv asked with a frown. Violo was hung up on the surname—had he heard that name somewhere before? Necare waved a hand.

"Lotsa people got lots to say 'bout her. I hear she's busted a few kneecaps 'round town. I can't imagine her doing that unprompted, though. I'm sure the bastards deserved it."

"Who decides who deserves what fate, though?" Amare said gently. "I am not questioning your judgement, Necare. Merely the notion of personal justice."

"I hear she's got a few slighted lovers," Heimos added.

"Oh come on," Vivere laughed, "like that's a crime."

"It's possible she alone's gotten around more than you two combined," Necare joked, gesturing at Violo and Vivere. The lovers smirked, leaning into each other in such synchronization it almost looked planned.

"That's not that impressive," Violo said. "We're particular people!"

Violo and Vivere's relationship had a set of rules to follow. As far as sexual relationships went… they weren't limited to each other exclusively. Romantically, though… they weren't against the idea of partners outside each other, but the caveat was that they both had to like the person. If Viv disliked a man Vio wanted to date, Vio would drop the poor guy, no questions asked, and vice versa. The two didn't mind triads, and often shared interest in people and things, but they also found they had a bit of jealousy, and a tendency to preferring each other over their third that led them to dialing back on three-ways.

In short: sex was free game, but dating required some prerequisites to be met, and some rules to be reevaluated. The two hadn't found a long-term third yet, though, and considering the two had been dating since they were 16, it didn't feel like they'd ever add a lover to their relationship.

That being said, they were prone to flights of fancy, and one-night stands. The group of friends was vaguely aware, and none of them minded—it just meant they did not really have anything against people who fucked around a lot. That courtesy seemed to extend to Anne, too.

"I wouldn't think too much on the rumors," Necare shrugged. "Lots of them aren't favorable to her, and unfair. She's a good kid—sweet and fun. Simple as that."

"Well," Amare set their teacup down, "I'd be happy to join. It sounds like a fun night."

"I'm definitely in," Violo grinned, "can't let you have all the fun, after all."

"That just leaves Heimos," Vivere said, nodding towards him, an arm around Violo. Heimos rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. I don't care. I'll come, I guess."

"Woo!" Necare cheered, "Group Excursion!"

—

The Clover Gate Karaoke & Bar was a little place in the walkable downtown area of the city, and a place that Vivere has drawn in his sketchbooks many times. It's a picturesque place, visually, but even so, he'd never been inside before tonight.

Necare is waiting by the door when they arrive, and Violo greets her with a hug she warmly returns. With Violo's hand tucked into Vivere's arm, and Necare gesturing for them to enter, the five neighbors head inside.

The inside of the bar is spacious; to the left is a rounded bar counter, with drinks stacked to the ceiling. The seating area consists of a few bar stools by the counter and countless round tables. There's a stage at the back, and a balcony over the bar and front doors. A few groups are already seated, but more steadily pour in while Necare gets them all seated.

The neighbors are chatting about things—work and creative projects and local news—when their chatter is interrupted by Necare calling out to an approaching lady.

"Anne! Hey!"

Vivere looks up to find a tall-ish woman approaching the table with a tray of drinks and a smile. The first thing Vivere notices is curly, fiery auburn hair, the color of a dying bonfire. The second, is the vitiligo spreading over her skin. The third is the tight fitting tanktop, miniskirt and delicate jewelry around her wrists, fingers, neck and dangling from her ears. Star and butterfly are the common denominator in her accessories, as far as Vivere can tell.

Fascinating.

"Evening, all!" she greets with a wink, setting the tray down on the table, "Nix here," she gestures to Necare, "put an order in for you all, so I hope she got your order right. If she didn't, well, take it up with her."

The group shares a round of chuckles. The positive feedback seems to empower her and cause her to glow from the inside out.

"We got a glass of wine, straight whiskey, beer, and tea, mead and absinthe?—" she says, pointing at each beverage, "is that all right?"

"I'm surprised tea is in there," Amare notes, "is that a special for tonight?"

Anne smiles, "It's a new permanent feature. When your options are as limited as mine, the boss takes pity," she giggles. She waves a hand, "anyway, I take it you're here to support Necare for trivia night, right?"

Necare pouts, "what do you mean, support me?"

Anne presses her lips together and shrugs coyly, "Who's to say? Maybe I meant nothing by it." She shrugs as she retrieves the tray.

"We're here to enjoy the event with her, yes," Amare confirms. Violo scoffs.

"Speak for yourself! I'm here to win."

"In that case, I'm glad we're all on the same team," Viv rolled his eyes, "you two are horrible to witness compete." He leans towards Anne, "they are far too combative to keep any competition healthy."

Anne giggles into a hand while Violo whines at his boyfriend, "Viiiiiiv! That's not true! I can very well lose sometimes."

"To him, maybe," Heimos scoffs. "Everyone else knows you suck at losing."

"Well then," Anne interrupts slyly, "let's hope you win then, huh?"

"Hey, while you're here," Necare says, "shouldn't you be setting up? Why are you running drinks?"

The shift in demeanor is not noticeable to the group, foreign to Anne's mannerisms as they are, but she deflates, ever so slightly.

"Yeah, well, Winston called out last minute. We're a bar-tender short now, and I didn't want them to stress all night." She shakes her head with a fond smile, "it's no biggie. I don't need that much for the event, and I'm sure the band can buy me a little while."

"Oh, alright then," Necare nods, then smiles. "Next time, just call me in. I can handle running drinks for a night."

Anne smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Will do. I should get to running—enjoy the night! And good luck!"

With that, Anne was off to the bar with a wave.

"She was… lively," Heimos mutters. Amare laughs.

"She's cute!" Necare says. "Come on, Viv thinks she's cute, right?"

Vivere shrugs, "she's good at her job. I… can see why people call her flirty." He snorts, "I'm sure the winking and giggling gives many the wrong idea."

"Oof, yeah," Violo nods. "She's funny! I can see why you'd like her, Necare."

"Why d'you care so much if we agree?" Heimos asks dryly, then smirks, "you into her or something?"

"No… not like that!" Necare shakes her head. "She's just… you know. Someone I'm rooting for! With a bit more ambition… she could take the music industry by storm, I'm sure."

"But she lacks the ambititon needed?" Amare questions further. Necare shrugs.

"Pretty much. She says she's fine working here the rest of her life, but… that's a long time to be working at the same place. I feel like I'd get bored."

"You would," Vivere snorts. "Maybe she prefers the monotony. Different people have different preferences, after all."

"True!" Violo nods, "she seemed pretty happy to be hosting us. I wouldn't worry too much. You're friends—she'll probably be honest with you if you express your concern."

"She seems like the honest type," Amare nods along. "If you're worried, communicate that to her. I'm sure she'll either confide in your, or put your concerns to rest."

"True," Necare nods. "She's a real down to earth person. I can trust her judgement call I think." She clapped her hands, "Anyway! Violo, you said work's picking up steam again?"

Violo brightened. "Oh yea! We got a newly submitted body I get to use for my research. Super interesting. I'm meeting the donator on Monday to talk about lived symptoms and medical history."

"Sounds like you'll have your hands full soon," Amare says, then smirks, "should we count you out of game nights for the foreseeable future?"

"Ha!" He laughs, "you wish! I'm sure you'd like for me to sit out, with how often i beat you."

"You don't beat me that often."

"Please do not start this now," Vivere groans.

—

Anne hastily hooks up the laptop to the stage screens. The band is buying her some time with a musical intermission, but it's a closer call than she'd like. She cusses out the tech in her mind, but takes care not to verbalize her irritation. She's changed out of her previous outfit already, and when the trivia page opens on the screens behind the band, and cheering erupts from the crowd, she signals to her coworker, Bailey, that everything is good to go.

Anne jogs to the stage stairs, then takes a moment to catch her breath, put on a smile, and saunter onstage.

As the spotlight illuminates her, she beams at the crowd, waving as she struts out towards the mic. She wears a pair of bedazzled jeans, patterns of vines and roses drawn out with sequins sewn into the fabric. With it, she pairs stiletto heels and a red off-shoulder top that hugs her chest just right. Her trademark star-hoop earrings are paired with a choker, rings and bracelets.

She knows she's dressed to impress. The wolf whistles from the crowd are nothing new—a part of her enjoys the positive feedback.

Anne makes a show of bowing before stepping up to the mic.

"Good evening Clover Gate community!"

She removes the mic from the stand and steps back to allow the crowd to applaud her.

"I see you're all in high spirits," she grins, "good, good! Tonight we're offering a new kind of entertainment to you lovely folks: Trivia night!" She begins to pace the stage as she speaks, the words only vaguely following a bulleted script, "Apologies for the delay, the racoons got out of the attic and stole my dress. Hence the new look," she curtsied to the laughs. "The way this will work is simple. Each table creates a team. Shout the answer the questions to win points. The winner gets a trophy of various snacks and free drinks for their next visit!"

A sea of cheers and whoops sounds out, and Anne smiles brilliantly.

"You're all eager to start, I see. Well then, without further racoon-enduced delay… let the games… begin!"

Anne made a show of clapping twice, implying that the clapping was what caused the screen to change to the first question. She gestured to the screen, theatrically, making the crowd laugh more.

"Here's an easy one to start us with: what is the universal blood donor type?"

Violo's voice rung out just barely before someone else's did, "O negative!"

"Correct!" Anne pointed, "Two points for team 15!"

That got the ball rolling pretty quickly. Anne continued to lay the charm on as she listed off the questions. She realized quite quickly that team 15 was dominating. At one point she was forced to put them in timeout just to give others the chance to answer, but she didn't silence them for long—that'd have been unfair to them, after all.

Anne had a weird skill for balancing humor and justice, for keeping the atmosphere light in a way where the brief timeout didn't ruin the table's night. She called for it lighthearted, laughingly, joking about them having Trivia Gods on their side.

Two hours later, Table 15 was given a plate full of snacks, and five coupons for free drinks on their next visit—they'd won by a closer margin than they expected to, which was thanks to Anne's interfering. The interference wasn't meant to hold them back, but instead served to give others a chance to speak. So, in that regard, it had served its purpose.

With that, Trivia Night had run its course. The neighbors of Warden Street 35 made their way home together, tipsy and a little high on adrenaline. Anne stayed late to help clean before making the longer trip home herself.

She arrived home with the sunrise, collapsing on her couch, and exhausted breath escaping her.

[detta-pica]

A little snippet from the next part in my JJK witch AU series.

“I’m going to quit, Geto-san, this time for real. And I just…” Nanami leans forward, hands clasped between his knees. He’s dressed immaculately as always, not a hair out of place, yet it’s clear that he’s fraying around the edges. Or it’s the impression he wants to make. “I can’t do it any more. It’s pointless. I took this job as a favour to the owner of the bakery, but I realised I can’t give it my best effort. I’ll pay your usual fee, and like you said, the case should be simple. A few hours of your time at most.” What Nanami’s saying is entirely in character for him, and nothing suggests that he’s lying. Unfortunately, it’s a little too close to what Suguru wants to hear from him to trust. “Why didn’t you go to Satoru, then? I thought you’d decided to play by the rules. If the Council learns of you hiring me…” “I will retire from witchcraft after this. The clans’ opinion of me will no longer matter.” “That’s not true.” “Gojo-san can and will keep them off my back.” Suguru manages to hold onto his temper and maintain a pleasant smile, but it’s suddenly very hard to feel any kind of sympathy for Nanami. At the same time, he grows even more paranoid. Nanami has to be fishing for something. There’s no way he’s being this callous by accident. Unfortunately, the temptation to find out what this is really about is too strong. Suguru has also never been able to turn his back on a witch in need. “In that case, I’m happy to take your money,” he says brightly, and quotes his fee. Between witches, speaking an agreement out loud is enough of a binding contract. They shake on it, then Nanami leaves, forgoing smalltalk and most pleasantries. Suguru goes back to the files and calls Manami. “Tell everyone that it’s time to slow down a bit and lay low.” “Hello to you, too, Geto-san. What did you do this time?” Manami is still a little upset with him for agreeing to work with Satoru on Yuta and Rika’s case. It was, admittedly, a huge gamble, but it paid off, so Suguru generally ignores her digs, feeling good about his choices. “I agreed to help an old kohai with something, and it may or may not be a trap. I’ll keep you updated.” “This is turning into a pattern. We’re going to find you an assertiveness coach if it continues. I’m not joking.” It’s cute that she thinks she can force him to do anything. “I weighed the pros and cons very carefully, I promise. Something did seem off, though, so let’s make sure the clans aren’t onto us. You’ll keep me updated?” “Of course. Try to be careful, Geto-san.” “Always am.”

[thesymphonytrue]

WIP Wednesday err.. Sunday

Thank you @penna-nomen for the tag!

SOOO I have an idea for Mozzie Mania...although I will admit my creative spirit has been low lately. I don't know how to fix it. My desire to write, sing, or create any kind of art is gone right now and it feels like a heavy weight is on my chest and like I want to rip my insides out. I hate it so much 😭 I feel like I'm just being absorbed into the books I'm reading and any unique creative energy I used to have is nonexistent.

BUT ANYWAY in an effort to spark that again (and since I haven't worked on my Mozzie story) here is another little excerpt from my "Old Man AU" (lol aka Peter and Neal as senior citizens):

Sandra was tired. Two coffees in, her eyes were not staying open any better than they were an hour ago. And it was only nine am. She blinked and pushed the stapler a little further away from her computer. It hadn’t been her life’s dream to be a receptionist at the Catskills Memory Care, but here she was. Despite the atmosphere of death and smell of old people, the visitors normally were kind (if there were any) and the pay was good. 

The buzzer rang, notifying Sandra that there was a visitor. Her eyes brightened and hope filled her chest. Which lucky patient was getting an extra dose of love today? Smiling, she smoothed her pants as she stood. 

However, when she glanced down and looked at the video monitor to see just who had rung the bell, she pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. 

Mr. Caffrey, she thought as a headache began to form behind her temples. 

Rolling her eyes, she pressed the button to unlock the front doors and Neal Caffrey strode in. He walked with confidence and if it wasn’t for his gray hair and fine lines, he would have seemed ageless. She’d seen pictures of Neal as a younger man and, well, Sandra had to admit, he was just about the most handsome human she’d ever laid eyes on. 

Nonetheless, his youthful spirit trapped in an old body still somehow managed to make Sandra’s life more difficult. Neal was always sneaking in items that were not allowed: things like strong-smelling paint sets, fancy wine, or once she caught him with FBI-grade handcuffs. 

“Eccentric old man,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head as Neal leaned onto the check-in desk. 

“Goodmorning, Sandra!” Neal said chipperly, blue eyes sparkling. 

Sandra could see how women (and probably men) fell to Neal’s feet in his prime. The man was even charming at seventy. 

“Hello, Mr. Caffrey,” she said, looking up the family-approval phone number linked to the patient Neal Caffrey always came in to visit. 

“Ah it’s Neal,” Neal said, smiling warmly, “Certainly we are on first name terms at this point?” 

Sandra couldn't help but smile. 

“Alright, Neal,” she said folding her hands, “I still have to call the family member on file and let them know you are visiting, given your history…”

“Oh come on, you know he doesn’t like to be bothered. I will be in and out in five minutes. Just have a little…” he hesitated… “gift. He doesn’t even have to be awake to–”

Sandra’s smile dropped. 

“The last time I let you in without calling, you gave him a beer and you were drinking wine and we have a no-alcohol policy here.” 

She picked up the phone and dialed. 

“Hello?” a man’s voice answered.

“Hi Mr. Burke, I have a Neal Caffrey here to visit your father. Do you approve?” 

The line was silent for a moment.

“Can I talk to him?” Mr. Burke said.

“Your father?” 

“No, Unc—" he cleared his throat, " To Neal, please?”

Sandra looked at Neal and narrowed her eyes, “Sure sweetheart.”

She passed the phone to Neal. 

“Hey there! Just bringing in a little something for–” Neal started, then frowned.

Sandra wished she could hear what was on the other line.

“Today’s going to be a good day, I can feel it—” Neal said and then paused to listen, “Okay I promise, buddy. No breaking the rules.” 

He hung up. 

Sandra sighed and waved to the door. 

“Go right a head, you know where he is. Mind you, he’s been worse lately. I doubt you’ll get any words out of him at all.” 

[dandylovesturtles]

Hi, I love your Sidelined AU! My question(s) is about the emotional fallout of Draxum’s cruelty towards Leo in the original oneshot – do Leo’s brothers realize the impact of what Draxum said to Leo - since it hurt that they didn’t refute his words at the time? And what is Draxum really sorry for, if he expected Leo to die (‘I can make you a replacement son’)? (to be clear I like remorse and redemption arcs and am totally on board, just trying to get my head around it)

thank you!

this is a fair question! when I wrote that initial one shot it was not envisioned as part of a series, so if I had actually written it with that in mind there likely would be some differences, like I would have made an effort to include April and probably would have scaled back some of Draxum's more blatantly villainous dialogue. but I didn't know, and so I didn't write it that way, and now we have what we have because retcons are for cowards /jjjjj

in regards to his brothers not refuting Draxum: Leo would try to avoid letting them know how bad that hurt him initially because he doesn't want them to know that bothered him, but he's really low and ends up fighting with Donnie especially and I could see it coming out in a weak moment of bitterness that they didn't defend them, which would definitely make his bros upset, because yeah, they didn't. to be clear it's not because they actually agreed with Draxum, it's because they're young teenagers who were in a stressful situation and they were all in shock over what was happening. I think we can all forgive a 13/14/15-year-old for not having the correct emotional response ready to go, haha. and in time Leo will realize this too - they could probably all benefit from family therapy tbh but it is what it is. anyway, they do realize the impact of it on his mental health eventually and it's a work in progress to help him out of that rut.

Draxum... really wasn't thinking of the boys as, like... people, at that time? I'm not convinced if Draxum really knew what level of sentience the boys were going to have and was probably still thinking of them as animals at first. and then when he met them and realized they do have human level intelligence... well, humans dehumanize other humans all the time, and remember that Draxum was planning to attempt a genocide, so overlooking the personhood of others was a thing he was already prepared to do.

he said what he said mostly to antagonize Splinter. in his mind, Leo wasn't much more than an animal, so he wasn't really Lou Jitsu's son. like sure, he used Lou Jitsu's DNA to mutate him but that's not really the same, is it? the idea that Lou Jitsu had been off playing house with his experiments was ludicrous to him, because those aren't children, they're experimental soldier prototypes. it made as much sense to him as a trainer calling an attack dog their son.

it's not really until he's seeing their pure grief over what's happening to Leo, when he's interacting with them in a cooperative capacity, that he starts to accept that they are actually a family, and that what he's done has destroyed them. as with many situations, unfortunately, it takes seeing the hurt he's caused and empathizing with them to finally see them as people, and to regret the actions he's taken. of course, it's too little too late at that time, but he has time to make it up to them eventually... he just really has to work for it.

thanks for the ask!

[lustlovehart]

HI Hi! I hope you're doing well on whatever day you see this. Quick question if you're okay with answering. How long does it take for you to write a fan fic? How long did it take for you to write the Twst! Monster au list?

It, really depends??? It depends on the inspo, how busy I am, and whether or not I have the energy to write.

I have a lot of head canons and fics in the making that are all wips bc of these factors. But on avg, 2 days - 3 weeks+ depending on how long the piece is (& the effort and free time I have). Ofc with breaks, that can be days or week long hiatuses, the wait time increases until I finish. It’s why I have so many asks from a while ago, that I still plan on posting! I just, haven’t found the time to finish them (It mostly my fault cuz I go into too much detail when sometimes, it’s unneeded 😭).

The monster!list was one of those where I was decently busy, and inspiration was a little harrowing, so it took awhile for it to actually get finished. The same experience is coming with the First chapter for monster twst. The monster list was just head canons detailing the monsters, but the first chapter I’m trying to put a lot of detail into! Which is a problem as I keep one and off working on the chapter, and inspiration is running low (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

[thelordofgifs]

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you @sallysavestheday and @grey-gazania! I was eyeing this one and hoping for a tag, some great questions here.

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 51, although one's a podfic.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 250,683. More than half of which is from last year alone!

3. What fandoms do you write for? Currently exclusively the Silmarillion, with the occasional little LoTR ficlet.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? the fairest stars, Inflection, an ancient song, all those that follow, Ilimbë. I'm always surprised by an ancient song's popularity – it was a pretty low-effort ficlet – but a solid list nonetheless!

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes, always! (Glances nervously at the pile I've accumulated in the last couple of weeks of travelling). I love replying to comments, though. It's so nice to be able to engage with all my lovely thoughtful readers and their excellent thoughts!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? ever an anguish that pursued is pretty bleak. before the black gale is also a tragedy of sorts, though I'm not sure that makes it qualify as angsty as such.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Ilimbë ends quite joyfully, although while writing the final scene I did have the shadow of their unhappy future in mind! I think the cleaving's ending is also quite happy, or at the very least cathartic.

8. Do you get hate on fics? No, thankfully! All my readers have been very kind and appreciative <3

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Three fics so far! All of which were gifts for friends, and made me push my boundaries a little. I'm proud of all of them, though! Smut is less scary than I used to think :)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? No, never! If I did, it would probably be more of a retelling/AU than straight-up having characters from different fandoms meet.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not to my knowledge!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No – I fear I am rather too much of a control freak for this, and would rather not inflict myself and my pedantry on an unsuspecting co-writer.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Russingon... it's the forbidden romance and the doomed nature of it all and the fact that love wasn't enough to save them :( also the murders, of course.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? boats against the current, the "Maedhros doesn't swear the Oath" AU I blithely started back in 2022, is simply not going anywhere at any sort of speed. Perhaps this is the year! Let's see.

16. What are your writing strengths? Dialogue and characterisation! I'm good at emotional beats, I think.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Description... I tend to write VERY minimally and then have to go back on edits and add in some descriptive language so that the entire story isn't just two talking heads in an empty room. Always very pleased when people compliment my descriptions for that reason – they take conscious effort!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Fine if it's footnoted, I think. I tend to avoid it on the basis that all the dialogue I write has been "translated" from one of Tolkien's languages anyway; and I don't know any real languages well enough to write fic in them.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Harry Potter, although I've soured on the fandom now for obvious reasons :/ For a while I used to think that I could still enjoy the books I loved so much growing up while separating them from the author, but she's so continually hateful and bigoted that I just... can't gain any enjoyment from the franchise anymore. Which is painful, but I'm glad I have the silm fandom to absorb all my creative energy now!

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? the fairest stars! My weird gremlin baby, I love it so. I never expected to care about this fic as much as I did, but I've poured so much thought and heart into it that it was perhaps inevitable. And it's taught me so much about writing cliffhangers :)

No-pressure tags for @eilinelsghost, @searchingforserendipity25, @welcomingdisaster, @that-angry-noldo, @swanmaids, @echo-bleu, @jouissants, @tanoraqui and anyone else who, like me, was eyeing this one hoping to be tagged – @ me and say I tagged you!