#this is short bc i literally wrote it today

[pxrplepolkadots]

💔

[harrysfolklore]

first win - op81

gif by @princemick <33

summary: the road to oscar’s first grand prix win. wc: 3.4K

folkie radio: OSC’S FIRST WIN 🥹🥹🥹 that race that so stressful but he did it and i’m so happy! fun fact: i wrote this fic last night bc i just FELT oscar was winning, i just added today’s race a few hours ago 😭 i hope you like it! leave feedback

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

February 5, 2023. Bahrain Grand Prix

Today was the big day. Oscar Piastri was set to make his Formula 1 debut as a McLaren driver.

You've talked about this countless of times, sharing dreams and fears, mapping out every step of his journey from karting to the pinnacle of motorsport.

Now, as you stood in the garage with the crowd's energy buzzing around you, it was hard to believe that moment had finally arrived.

Oscar was going through some pre-race talks with his team. You caught sight of him from a distance, his face a mask of focus and determination. When he spotted you, he broke into a smile, and for a brief moment, the tension seemed to melt away.

You make your way over to him as he finishes up with his team.

"Ready to set the track on fire, hotshot?" you tease, playfully tugging at the sleeve of his race suit.

Oscar grins, a mix of excitement and nerves dancing in his eyes. "Well, hopefully not literally. I don't think the team would appreciate a barbecued car on my first outing."

His chuckle is tinged with a hint of nervousness. You notice his hand fidgeting with the zipper of his race suit – a telltale sign of his pre-race jitters.

"Hey," you say softly, taking his hand. "Remember what we always say? You've earned this. You belong here."

"I know. It's just...," he took a deep breath, "It's really happening, isn't it? All those years of dreaming, and now..."

"And now you're about to drive the pants off everyone out there," you finish for him, your voice filled with confidence.

As the final call for drivers echoes through the garage, you both know it's time. Oscar's eyes lock with yours, a swirl of emotions passing between you. Without a word, he pulls you close, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. It's brief but filled with emotion.

"For luck," you whisper as you part, your foreheads still touching.

"With you here, I've got all the luck I need," Oscar replies softly, his smile warm and genuine.

With a final squeeze of your hand, he heads to where he's needed. You watch him go, your heart racing with anticipation.

The race begins, and for the first 14 laps, everything seems to be going well. Oscar is holding his own, fighting in the midfield, showing flashes of the talent that got him here.

But on lap 15, your heart sinks as you see his car slow down, veering off the racing line. The team radio crackles with the devastating news: "Box, box. We have a steering issue. We need to retire the car."

You watch, helpless, as Oscar brings the car back to the pits. The disappointment is palpable as he climbs out, his debut cut short.

As soon as he's free from the debrief, you find him in his driver's room. His face is a mask of frustration and disappointment.

"Hey," you say softly, taking his hand. "You okay?"

Oscar sighs, squeezing your hand. "Not really. I just... I wanted to finish the race, you know? Show everyone what I could do."

You pull him into a hug. "And you will. This is just the first race, Oscar. There are plenty more to come."

July 9, 2023. British Grand Prix

Silverstone is one of the most special races in the calendar, and for Oscar it's even more special because England is his second home.

He really wanted to deliver a great result. So far, he hadn't been able to place above P8 and he desperately wanted to improve that.

"I know you're nervous about tomorrow," you said as you laid your head on his chest, feeling him tense, "But you're going to do great, baby."

Oscar wraps his arm around you, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your shoulder. "You really think so?" he asks, his voice a mix of hope and uncertainty.

You prop yourself up on your elbow to look at him. "I know so. You've been getting stronger with every race. The car's improving, and you're more comfortable with it. Plus, this is Silverstone - you know this track like the back of your hand."

He smiles, some of the tension leaving his face. "I do love this circuit."

"That's the spirit," you say, leaning in to kiss him softly. "Now get some sleep. You've got some racing to do in the morning."

The next day you watch from the garage, your heart swells with pride as Oscar delivers a perfect drive. As he crosses the finish line in P4, the garage erupts in cheers. It's his best result in Formula 1 to date, a performance that will silence any remaining doubters.

When he finally makes it back to the garage, helmet off and face beaming, you're there waiting. He sweeps you up in a hug, both of you laughing with joy.

"You did it!" you exclaim as he sets you down. "I told you you could do it!"

Oscar's eyes are shining with elation and pride. "We did it," he corrects you. "I couldn't have done this without your support."

September 24th, 2023. Japanese Grand Prix

You're perched on the edge of your couch, eyes glued to the TV screen, your heart racing as the lights go out at Suzuka. It's killing you not to be there in person, but work commitments had made the trip to Japan impossible.

Your mind flashes back to your conversation with Oscar yesterday after qualifying. His voice had been filled with excitement and a hint of disbelief as he told you about securing second place on the grid, right behind Max Verstappen.

"Can you believe it?" he had said, his words tumbling out in a rush. "P2! Right behind Max! I mean, I knew the car felt good, but this... this is incredible!"

You had matched his enthusiasm, your pride evident in your voice. "I told you you could do it! Just imagine what you could do in the race from there."

Now, as the race unfolds, you find yourself alternating between cheering out loud and holding your breath. When he crosses the finish line in third place, you leap off the couch, screaming in joy. His first podium and in just his 14th race.

You watch the podium ceremony with tears in your eyes, your heart swelling with pride as Oscar stands there, beaming, champagne in hand next to Max and Lando. It's a moment you've both dreamed about for so long.

It was killing you not to be there.

Hours pass, and you know Oscar must be caught up in team celebrations and media obligations. You're itching to talk to him, but you don't want to interrupt. Finally, just as you're considering going to bed, your phone rings.

"Hey, podium finisher," you answer, unable to keep the smile out of your voice.

"Hey yourself," Oscar replies, and you can hear the grin in his voice. "Sorry it took so long to call. It's been absolutely crazy here."

"Don't apologize! I'm just so incredibly proud of you, Oscar. You were amazing out there. Your first podium, it's a dream come true."

There's a moment of silence, and when Oscar speaks again, his voice is thick with emotion. "I just wish you could have been here. It doesn't feel quite complete without you."

"I know," you say softly. "I wish I could have been there too. But hey, this is just the first of many podiums, right? I'll be there for the next one."

"You bet it is," Oscar chuckles, "And you better be, I need someone to help me wash all this champagne out of my hair."

You laugh, feeling a mix of joy and longing. "I love you, Oscar. Enjoy your celebrations. You've earned it."

"I love you too," he replies warmly, "And I miss you, we have some celebration on our own to do."

October 8th, 2023. Qatar Grand Prix.

The heat in Qatar is suffocating, but the excitement in the air is even more intense. You're back in the paddock, determined not to miss another milestone in Oscar's career. Yesterday's sprint shootout had been a nail-biter, with Oscar securing pole position for the sprint race by mere hundredths of a second.

As the short-format race begins, you hold your breath. Oscar gets a perfect start, maintaining his lead into the first corner. As the final lap approaches, the McLaren garage is in shambles.

When Oscar crosses the finish line in first place, the explosion of joy is deafening. You're jumping up and down, tears streaming down your face as you watch him punch the air in triumph. He's done it - his first ever Formula 1 race win.

As Oscar pulls into parc fermé, you can see the emotion on his face even through his helmet. When he finally removes it, his smile is brighter than the Qatari sun. The team swarms him, and you hang back, letting him soak in this moment with the people who've worked so hard to make this possible.

When he finally breaks free and spots you, his face lights up even more. He rushes over, sweeping you into a tight embrace.

"You did it!" you exclaim, your voice muffled against his race suit. "Your first win, Oscar! I'm so proud of you!"

Oscar pulls back, his eyes shining with. "We did it," he corrects you, just as he did after Silverstone.

You laugh, wiping away happy tears. "Well this is just the beginning. Next stop, Grand Prix victory."

May 5, 2024. Miami Grand Prix.

The air in Oscar's driver's room is heavy with disappointment. You watch as he paces back and forth, still in his race suit, his face a mixture of frustration and barely contained anger.

The race had started so promisingly - Oscar had taken the lead early on and was driving beautifully. But then, a collision forced him into an unscheduled pit stop for a new front wing, dropping him down the order and out of contention for a podium finish.

"I had it," Oscar mutters, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. "I was leading the race, I had the pace. If it wasn't for that idiot..."

You step closer, your heart aching for him. "I know, baby. You were driving amazingly out there."

Oscar stops pacing and looks at you, his eyes filled with disappointment. "It's not fair. We've worked so hard, the car was perfect, and then..."

He trails off, shaking his head. You close the distance between you, gently taking his hands in yours. "Hey, look at me," you say softly.

Oscar meets your gaze, and you can see the vulnerability behind his frustration.

"You're right, it's not fair," you continue. "But that's racing sometimes. What matters is how you come back from this. And you will come back from this, stronger than ever."

"I just... I wanted this so badly."

You pull him into a hug, feeling him slowly relax against you. "I know. And your time will come, Oscar. This doesn't change how talented you are or how hard you've worked. It's just a bump in the road."

May 26th, 2024. Monaco Grand Prix.

The streets of Monaco buzz with anticipation for one the most important races in the Formula 1 calendar. For Oscar, this was his second time racing in Monaco, and the excitement was palpable.

From your spot in the McLaren hospitality suite, you had the perfect view of the circuit. Oscar thought you were back home, watching from the living room, but you couldn't miss this race. You wanted to see him shine on this iconic track.

You had coordinated with the team to keep your presence a surprise. As Oscar has his last quiet moments in his driver room before the preparations started, you sent him a quick text: "Good luck, love. Drive fast, be safe. I'll be cheering you on from home!"

Oscar's response was immediate. "Thanks, babe. I miss you. Wish you were here, but I'll bring home a trophy for you."

You smiled, knowing that he was in for a big surprise.

The race began, and Oscar quickly settled into a rhythm. He defended his P2 position until the checkered flag waved.

The team erupted in cheers, and you felt tears of joy streaming down your face. It was his third podium finish, and it was in Monaco of all places.

Oscar climbed out of his car, waving to the cheering crowd, his face glowing with joy and relief. As he stood on the podium, spraying champagne and celebrating with Charles and Carlos, you made your way down to the team area.

When the podium celebrations were over, and Oscar was heading back to the garage, you waited for the perfect moment. As he turned the corner, you stepped out, catching his eye.

"Oscar!" you called out, your voice carrying over the noise of the paddock.

He froze, his eyes widening in surprise. "What are you doing here?" he exclaimed, a huge grin spreading across his face as he rushed over to you.

"I couldn't miss this. I had to see you race in Monaco," you threw your arms around him, laughing.

Oscar hugged you tightly, lifting you off your feet. "You sneaky little... I can't believe you're here!"

"Congratulations, baby. You were incredible out there," you pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes.

"This... this is amazing. Thank you for being here. It means everything to me."

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," you replied, kissing him softly.

July 7th, 2024. British Grand Prix

Oscar had been more motivated than ever. After finishing second the previous week in Austria, he was eager to claim his first Grand Prix victory, and what better place than Silverstone.

He started strong, fighting his way to the front and eventually taking the lead. The team was buzzing with excitement; victory seemed within reach.

But then, disaster struck. A poorly timed pit stop strategy caused Oscar to lose crucial positions. Despite his best efforts, he crossed the finish line in P4. It was his best finish at Silverstone but not the victory he had hoped for.

Later that day back at Oscar's apartment you watched him pace back and forth. He finally stopped and leaned against the window, staring out into the night. His shoulders were tense, and his jaw was set in frustration. The silence was deafening.

"What's on your mind?" you asked softly, breaking the silence.

Oscar didn't turn around. "I don't want to talk about it," he muttered.

You stood up and walked over to him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know you're upset. But sometimes talking helps."

He sighed deeply and turned to face you, his eyes filled with frustration and disappointment. "I was leading the race. I could have won. My first victory, right here at Silverstone. And it slipped away because of a stupid strategy call."

You reached out and took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "It wasn't your fault, Oscar. You drove an amazing race. Everyone saw how talented you are."

"But it doesn't change the fact that I could have won," he said, his voice cracking with frustration. "I've been waiting for this moment my whole life, and it was right there. And now... I don't know when I'll get another chance like this."

You pulled him into a tight hug, feeling his body tense before he finally relaxed against you. "Your time will come. I know it will. You've shown everyone what you're capable of, and there will be other races, other chances. This is just one race in a long career."

Oscar pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "I just wanted it so badly. To win here, in front of the home crowd... it would have meant everything."

"I know," you said softly. "And you'll get there. Maybe not today, but soon. And when you do, it'll be even sweeter because of everything you've gone through to get there."

July 21, 2024. Hungary Grand Prix

The Hungaroring buzzed with excitement as the cars lined up on the grid. Oscar, starting from the front row, felt a mixture of determination and nervous energy. As the lights went out, he got a perfect start, pulling away cleanly from the pack.

Lap after lap, Oscar maintained his lead. The team's excitement grew with each passing circuit. This could be it - his first Grand Prix victory.

However, as the race progressed, pit stop strategies began to shake up the order. After a particularly well-timed stop, Lando emerged just ahead of him. The tension in the McLaren garage was palpable.

Soon, team radio crackled to life. Reminding both drivers about strategies, and particularly asking Lando to give the position to Oscar, creating tension both on and off track.

In the final laps, Lando finally relented. He moved slightly wide in a corner, allowing Oscar to slip past. Oscar crossed the finish line first, claiming his maiden Grand Prix victory.

The team erupted in cheers, but the celebration felt somewhat muted. As Oscar climbed out of his car in parc fermé, his face was hard to read.

As you watched Oscar ascend the podium, your heart swelled with pride. Despite the complicated circumstances of his win, seeing him stand on the top step, the Australian national anthem playing in his honor, was a dream come true.

The champagne spray began, and you couldn't help but smile as Oscar, Lando, and Lewis doused each other in celebration. For a moment, the tension seemed to melt away as the three drivers laughed and enjoyed the moment.

As Oscar descended from the podium, his eyes immediately sought you out in the crowd. You managed to catch him just before he was whisked away for interviews.

"Congratulations, champ," you said, pulling him into a quick embrace.

Oscar hugged you tightly, his race suit still damp with champagne. "Thank you for being here," he murmured against your ear.

You pulled back, searching his face. "How are you feeling?"

A flicker of emotion crossed his features. "I'm not sure yet. I need to process everything."

"I understand," you nodded. "Go do your interviews. We'll talk properly later."

Oscar's eyes softened. He glanced around quickly, then leaned in and gave you a quick kiss. "Love you, see you after."

Hours later, after all the media obligations and team debriefs were over, Oscar finally made his way back to the McLaren hospitality area.

As he entered the room, his eyes immediately sought you out. You were there, beaming with pride, and the sight of you seemed to melt away some of his conflicted feelings.

"There's my champion," you said softly as he approached.

Oscar's face broke into a genuine smile, the first one since he'd crossed the finish line. He pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your neck.

"I did it," he murmured against your skin. "I actually did it."

You pulled back slightly to look at him, cupping his face in your hands. "You did. And I am so incredibly proud of you, Oscar."

His eyes searched yours, vulnerability evident in his gaze. "It wasn't exactly how I imagined my first win would be," he admitted.

"I know," you nodded, understanding in your voice. "But that doesn't make it any less of an achievement. You drove brilliantly today, from start to finish."

"I just wish... I wish it had been a clean fight to the end, you know?" Oscar sighed, leaning his forehead against yours, "Without the team orders and all that."

"Hey," you said, making him meet your eyes again. "This is Formula 1. It's rarely ever straightforward. What matters is that you proved yourself out there today. You're a Grand Prix winner now, and no one can take that away from you."

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "When did you get so wise?"

"Oh, I've always been wise. You're just finally starting to notice," you teased, earning a chuckle from him.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "For always being here, for believing in me even when things get complicated."

"Always," you promised, leaning in to kiss him softly.

The kiss deepened, both of you pouring your emotions into it - your pride and joy, his relief and love. When you finally parted, Oscar was smiling more brightly.

"So, Grand Prix winner," you grinned, "ready to go celebrate properly?"

[woobly]

IKEA ADVENTURES . . . 박성훈 !

PAIRING. bf! sunghoon x gn reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. i hate kids /hj WC. 370 smth words

𓂋˚˖ A/N. first enha fic!! this isn’t actually the debut fic i want for enha but this is what i have atm </3 longer jungwon fic coming soon (hopefully bc school is coming up again boo) !!! wrote this after i went to the one and only ikea branch in my country and found it busier than disneyland ☠️

“THIS IS SO ANNOYING,”

“What is?”

“I bet you my entire savings account 80% of the people here are not here to buy furniture,” you offhandedly comment as you enter another showroom and carefully study the aesthetics of the room. Sunghoon only chuckles as he switches between watching you walk around the slightly cramped room and actually looking at the furniture.

“Why are there so many kids and elderlies sitting around? This isn’t an amusement park, and I’m sure the grandparents just want to rest at home,” you pause before reaching for the tag of an interesting-looking bookshelf and surprising yourself with the price. “And so many couples on dates too,”

“We’re a couple on a date too, aren’t we?”

Turning around, you reach for Sunghoon’s hand and pull him out and into the next showroom. “Yeah, but I am at least here to actually buy furniture,” Sunghoon giggles as he notices the tips of your ears growing a little red. “And you’re here because I need another head to help me and you’re the only one available,”

“I literally saw your roommate lying on the couch when I came over to pick you up. They seemed to be free,” he retorts in a teasing manner.

“Just shut up and tell me what you think about this coffee table,” you say pointing to the short-legged table in front of you.

“It’s… okay,”

“You’re no help,”

“But my presence is helpful, right?” he says, obviously staring at you with a cheeky smile while swinging your interlocked hands.

Turning towards him, you find his smile quite contagious and do the same as well. “Why are you being so clingy today?”

He only giggles, letting go of your grasp and moving to sit on the couch beside the rejected coffee table. “I think we should put something like this in our future house,”

Snickering, you move to sit beside him. “You wish,”

“Why? You don’t want to live with me?”

“No, I just don’t really like this couch,”

“So you want to live with me?” you turn to find him already looking at you, smiles growing slowly from the atmosphere. 

In your peripheral, a child starts skipping in your direction, bringing you back to reality. “Let’s keep going, Hoon.”

© woobly, 2023. all rights reserved.

[mikavlcs]

Sweater Weather

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Summary: Wednesday gives you her sweater to wear on a cold day in Jericho.

Word count: 0.8k

Notes: it’s midnight here, so guess who’s officially 18... anyways this is literally the second story i ever wrote, based off an incredibly generic prompt. i never posted it bc it’s so short but i wanted to post something today so... hope you guys enjoy!

Masterlist

Admittedly, the current predicament you were in was one entirely of your making.

Today was one of Nevermore’s yearly field trips. And because there was apparently no other civilization within fifty miles of your school, that meant you and your peers were spending the day in Jericho. 

It was basically just another Outreach Day except you weren’t being used for free labor.

As always, you checked the weather the night before. The reports showed that Jericho would be sunny with a slight breeze for most of the day, so you wore a long-sleeved shirt and a light zip-up hoodie. And that choice served you just fine as you walked down the main streets of the town.

But you swore that each section of Jericho had its own weather patterns because the moment you stepped into Pilgrim World, the sky completely clouded over and the air around you chilled. 

A fitting atmosphere for the bleak “theme park” you supposed, but not what you were expecting.

Given the circumstances, you were fine, but poor Enid was shivering within minutes of the gratuitous tour Principal Weems was making everyone take. 

You watched from your spot next to Wednesday as Ajax tried his best to warm her, rubbing his hands up and down her arms, but her short sleeve shirt was doing her no favors and you felt bad.

Decisively, you ventured over to her, giving Wednesday a quiet “be right back” before you went. You unzipped your hoodie and slipped it around Enid’s shoulders. She accepted it with a bright grin and hug which you returned eagerly. 

You were happy to help your friend, and besides, you would be fine.

But the temperature kept steadily dropping as you and your classmates were guided around the park and before you knew it, you were in the same dilemma Enid was only ten minutes ago. You tried your best to appear unfazed by the chill in the air, knowing Wednesday would have no sympathy for your situation. The breeze that began making itself known was making that a challenge, however.

Briefly, you considered asking Enid for your jacket back, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do that to her. So you resolved to just keep moving and tough it out alone.

Well, not entirely alone.

Wednesday, ever observant, noticed your plight immediately. Actually, she had predicted it would happen the moment she saw you hand your jacket off to her roommate. Your kindness was easily one of your best traits in her eyes, but too often it got you into situations like this where you would deprive yourself of something for someone else’s benefit and suffer for it.

She watched your pathetic attempts to subtly warm yourself for a few minutes longer before finally taking pity on you. 

Wordlessly, she slipped the oversized black sweater she was wearing off and handed it over to you. You looked over, glancing between her and the sweater, your confusion palpable. Wednesday rolled her eyes.

“Take it.”

Confusion turned into disbelief when you realized what she said. You simply stared, incredulous at the thought of Wednesday Addams—tough, stoic Wednesday Addams—offering you her sweater to wear.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“I- Are you sure? What about you?” you stuttered, not wanting the smaller girl to be cold for your sake. Wednesday scoffed, sounding offended by the mere insinuation.

“Please, I slept in mortuary cabinets for fun when I was younger. I still do on occasion, actually. This is child’s play. Now, take the sweater. Your constant shuffling is incredibly distracting.”

She punctuated her last sentence by all but shoving the article of clothing into your arms. This time, you took it with a grateful grin and slipped it over your head. Immediately, the soft material warmed you, encompassing you in Wednesday’s scent in the process. You closed your eyes, basking in it, before looking back at Wednesday.

“Thanks, Weds,” you leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Wednesday cringed, feigning disgust at the affection even as her cheeks began to burn. She flicked her gaze up to yours, her signature glare a bit softer than usual.

“I took pity on you in this single instance. Do not expect it to happen again.”

“Of course, Wens,” you chuckled. Movement in your peripherals caught your attention and you turned to see the rest of your group heading off to the fudgery. You faced Wednesday again with a warm smile. 

“Come on, let’s get this stupid tour over with, and afterward we’ll head over to the Weathervane. I’ll buy you whatever you want as a thank you.”

You linked your pinky with hers, gently pulling her along to trail behind the other students. And if Wednesday brought her hand up to lightly trace the skin your lips touched the moment your back was turned, well that was no one’s business but hers.

[straykids-97]

My insomnia is really bad right now and I would love nothing more than for bang chan or lee know to fuck me to sleep.

Just make me so exhausted I pass out in minutes and enter a time of bliss.

Dear lord 🥵 (warnings are below the cut btw NSFW)

I feel like Chan is the type to slowly fuck you to bed, and then Lee Know is the type to exhaust you. Like c’mon. Chan is naturally a giver and Minho is a taker. And lord have mercy take the fckin wheel- I’m soft for both. I’d literally sell my soul for either of these men- (and also Mingi🩷🫶🏻)

Chans just fine asf for being so soft like- 😭 ⬇️⬇️ HES SO CUTE I CANT- I’m such a simp for this man that it’s disgusting.

Lee know is a damn menace. He knows it- we know it. Like, he doesn’t hide it. He enjoys tormenting us. You can see it in the way he smiles. MAN IS A TEASE- I will pass away bc I wouldn’t be able to withstand his wrath istg.

Warnings: soft channie 😭🫶🏻, unprotected sex, fluff 🫶🏻, rough sex (if you squint) cute minho, after care

A.N- unedited so I apologize heh. Anyway, enjoy and thx for the submission!!

Chan

Tossing and turning is something Chan is very much used to. In fact, he probably wrote the definition of insomniac. However, even though Chan is used to the struggle of counting sheep, he doesn’t like seeing the one he loves most share the same fate. As Chan sits at his desk peacefully writing as the time passes midnight, he usually finds solace in the soft snores that come from your parted lips.

But tonight, they haven’t come.

He pauses humming to himself and turns to watch your resting form. He carefully watches your chest to see if it was rising and falling softly to find that you were restlessly fidgeting with the blanket instead. Chan frowns at the sight of your fist balled up in frustration, “What’s wrong baby?” He murmurs. You let out a drawn out sigh, “Can’t sleep.” You grumble. The long period of silence had left your voice slightly gruff and you clear your throat before you speak again, “I think maybe today was just too exciting.” Chan coos at you as he stands from his chair, chooching across the floor in cute short steps toward you.

Slipping his jacket off and sliding in bed next to you, he pulls you to his bare chest, “Maybe this will help?” He offers. You curl into his arms and lay your head against the warm skin of his chest, “maybe.” You sigh, trying to rest finally. You try, to no avail, to fall asleep. Even though Chan is playing with the ends of your hair, which normally instantly makes you fall asleep, isn’t helping. And neither is the rumble of his chest as he hums your favorite song. You sigh, “Chan.” You whine, finally giving up. Chan peeks down at you, “What’s wrong baby?”

“I can’t sleep.” You cry, pressing your face in his neck. Chan giggles, squeezing you tightly to his chest. “Awh, it’s ok.” He says, trying to hide his giggles as you speak into his skin, your voice muffled, “my brain just won’t shut off.” Chan stops laughing and pulls away from you. You look up at him to see that he has a playful glint in his eye. “What?” You ask making him grin, “I have an idea…” he trails off, his right hand sliding down your side, groping your ass. You shove at his shoulder softly, “Channie! That’ll wake me up!”

“But it’ll make you sleepy.” He giggles sleepily, biting his lip as he leans in to kiss you.

This is where you find yourself now; back flush against Chan’s bare chest, his hand digging into your thigh to hold it up. He groans softly into your neck, his curls tickling your ear as he buries his face into your throat. His cock is hitting that gooey spot that only he managed to find. You try to hide your soft moans as he holds you close with his other hand splayed across your abdomen, cupping one of your breasts. “Fucking-fuck!” Chan moans, biting your shoulder as you dig your nails into his hip. You meet his hips, grinding back into him; just as desperate to find the high he was chasing as well.

It didn’t take long before Chan had to cover your moans so the other members of the house didn’t hear you. You shudder as you come down, Chan pulling out of you, watching you very carefully as you settle into the sheets. You look too peaceful to disturb by cleaning up right now. You could do that in the morning when you woke up. Right now, he settled beside you, propping himself up to watch you fall asleep.

Minho

Typically, Minho has no trouble getting you to bed. But tonight was different.

As usual, he’s up reading the book he was almost finished with, the light of his lamp casting a soft warm glow around the room. Usually the sound of your slow breathing would make Minho grow tired, but the lack thereof made him turn slightly to watch you. Your back to him, he can notice that you were restless. “Y/n?” Minhos soft voice murmurs. At first you don’t reply, hoping maybe you could pretend to be asleep, but he doesn’t buy it.

You feel a warm hand on your shoulder, “Baby, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you sleeping?” He pleads. You lament, “I’m just anxious.” You admit, turning to look at him as he pulls his glasses off his face. “What about?” You shrug, “I’m not sure. Just am.” You fidget as he ticks his book next to his glasses, “Do you want to talk? Maybe that will help you sleep?” You shake your head, “No.” he thinks for a moment. “Do you wanna…” he trails off, giving you a teasing smile. You giggle as he attacks your neck, nibbling and sucking as he wraps his arms around your body.

After losing your clothes, you find yourself face down in Minho’s pillows, his hand holding your head down, “Fuck!” Minho growls, snapping his hips against yours viciously. Your brain had numbed a long time ago around the third orgasm. He really was about to fuck you stupid. Not that you could process that right now. You were trying to keep your face from being smothered by the pillow.

Minho grabs a fist full of your hair, yanking you up and holding your hip with his other hand. You feel his teeth dig into the space between your shoulder blades, his chest pressing against your skin as he marks you. You let out a shrill whimper as he snakes his hand around to your front, rubbing your swollen bud aggressively. You gasp, your eyes rolling back as yet another orgasm rips through your limp body. From how Minho held you, he was close. “Baby-“ he groans one last time before stuttering to a stop.

You both pant for a while, before he slides out of you, rolling over to grab a few wipes and cleaning the mess between your thighs. He follows suit before discarding the mess in the trash. Minho rolls over and pulls you to his chest and you happily allow him to hold you there. “What’s running around that pretty head now?” He asks smuggly. You giggly dumbly and shake your head. He chuckled, “That’s what I thought.”

©️straykids-97

😵‍💫

[stressed-cryptid]

Anybody know who it is that wrote this two part smau thing where reader / y/n and nanami are moved in together and they're trying to decide on furniture. I remember in the first part they're talking about the couch, Reader was specifically asking Nanami what he wanted bc, y'know, it's his house too. And he keeps being the type that's like "I'm fine with whatever you choose love". Eventually they mention getting a fluffy throw blanket and fluffier or more colorful cushions so it's not an absolute beige nightmare.

In the second part specifically, they have an interior designer (ID for short) come over and help them out. Nanami is at work while reader is home and is the one that receives the ID. Nanami forgot that they had scheduled a visit from ID so when he checks the front door camera and sees the dude come in then not leave until hours later, he thinks reader cheated bc they/we also didn't answer his texts for like an hour or more. When we reader finally texts nanami back he's like "I know everything, don't try to lie." And readers like "Tf!? That was our ID! You've been so busy with work that you forgot to check the calendar and instead accused me of something I wouldn't do! I'm literally over here trying to decorate our house!" To which he responds "that was today? I jumped to conclusions, I'm really sorry my love."

The person who made these two smau's also makes others that I think typically feature gojo, geto, choso, sukuna and toji I believe. They also do the same prompts in parts with different characters to not put a bunch on one post.

I appreciate any help trying to find this blog <3

Edit: the blog in question is @/scrappedup!

[reverie-starlight]

literally wrote this in my notes app while I was on the bus at 6am bc it’s the twins’ bday and I don’t write for Osamu nearly as much as I should.

sorry atsumu, I’m a bad wife for choosing your brother over you today.

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. very short because it was 6am.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Baby, what the hell are you doing?”

Osamu watches from the doorway as you yelp and whip around so fast that you almost fall off the chair you were standing on.

“Osamu, you scared me! don’t do that,” you pout.

He resists the urge to kiss it away and instead walks closer to you, knuckling one of his eyes, then places his hands on your hips to steady you.

“We’re even, then, because I was pretty scared, too, when I woke up to the sound of a chair scraping across the floor and some weird muttering,” he started, looking up at you. “Actually I got one more scare than you did, because watching my fiancé almost fall off of a chair at three in the morning wakes you up real quick.”

You look at him sheepishly and run a hand through his hair. He nuzzles into it and rests his temple against your thigh. “I’m sorry, my love, I just… forgot I had to finish something. You can go back to bed now, I’ll be okay.”

You knew getting him to go back to bed at that point was a long shot, but you also knew he was far too tired to actually register what you were trying to do in the first place.

So you’d use it to your advantage.

“Nuh-uh. Nice try though, babe. Do what you gotta do, but I’ll wait up on the couch until you’re done, kay?” he somehow manages to hold off on his yawn until he finishes his sentence.

Smiling softly down at him, you nod in agreement, patting him on the shoulder as he shuffles over to the sofa and promptly flops down onto it.

You snort. So much for being scared awake.

You focus your attention back on your task, making sure to be as quick and quiet as possible to avoid waking him up again. Part of the reason you were even up at 3am was because you knew Osamu’s senes dulled significantly whenever he was tired. there was no way you’d be able to pull off this trick in the early morning- he was an early riser anyway.

After putting the last object into place and admiring your work, you sigh in content and quietly move the chair back into the kitchen.

Truthfully, you want to go back to bed, but rather than wake him up again, you join Osamu on the couch.

Crawling on top of him as gently as you could, you laid comfortably against his chest. You smiled when you felt an arm subconsciously slither around your waist.

And when you both woke up, you got to enjoy the look on his face when he finally realized that you were putting up decorations for his birthday.

“Happy Birthday, my love!”

[lemon-russ]

This is a new OC x Russ story I wanted to do. Very self indulgent, but a little less silly than my others. I'll still be doing reader insert fics and everything though! Just wanted something different. This one will hopefully be like a slow burn kinda story with more actual plot but there's gonna be smut eventually, as a warning. Short intro chapter for today :)

It's also 30k bc, well, Leman Russ.

(This will probably have breeding kink stuff eventually BUT I am working on a seprate breeding kink/ pregnancy one from the poll thats reader x russ)

(Thanks @squishyowl for the dividers)

Wolf Mother (Ch. 1)

Next>

Ao3

Leman Russ x Fem OC

CW (not necessarily this chapter but overall): Trauma, anxiety, PTSD, General WH40k violence, Sex, probably breeding kink stuff eventually, if there's something I miss and you want labeled let me know!!

Summary: Ex-Captain Vaille is asked a favor by her Primarch

EDIT NOTE: I wrote here that Wren was in the Astra Millitarum (Imperial Guard). I meant for her to be part of the Auxilia, since the IG did not exist pre-heresy. I have changed it to Imperialis Auxilia (Imperial army). Sorry :)

Word count: 1,118

Sitting at her desk in her little office, Wren writes paperwork that will surely just be mindlessly handed around and stamped without being read. She wonders, if she just started writing nonsense in the middle, if anyone would ever be paying enough attention to catch it. She wonders if theres any point in writing them out at all besides the Ultramarine's love of paperwork.

A knock at her door calls her attention. “Come in.” she answers, and the door slides open.

Her eyes widen, and she stands when she sees it is the primarch himself waiting for her.

“Lord Guilliman, what do I owe the pleasure?” She says quickly, and he holds a hand up with a soft smile.

“At ease, Captain.” He says, and you try not to grimace.

“I'm not a Captain, sir.” She corrects, “But it is an honor as always. What do you require?”

He gives a small smile, “As I've yet to think of a new title for you, Captain still works as well for now.” He says, gaze momentarily falling to her bionic leg. “But, I have a request.” He continues, pulling up a chair and motioning for her to sit.

She frowns a bit. It felt wrong to have the primarch sit at her desk like a common paper pusher for a meeting, but she sits down again.

“This is a request, not an order.” He starts, making her scrunch her brow. “It is not that I don't want you here. I think you are one of my top assistants.” He says gently.

The gentleness of the delivery did not dull the blow. “Sir… have I done something…?” She asks. It was improper to speak back to a primarch, but she couldn't help it. She'd been dilligent, attentive, thorough, orderly, all the things ultramarines represent.

He frowns. “I am not firing you, Captain, please, hear me out.” He explains.

“It's about my brother, Leman Russ.” He says with a small sigh. “He is impossible to work with. It is becoming an issue for me. I never know where he is or what his Legion is doing until last minute.”

She gives him a confused look, and then her eyes widen. “Sir, you… surely you don't mean to…”

He gives a sheepish smile, a foreign thing on the face of a demi-god. “Please, Captain? No, I ask this as a friend-” he says, scooting closer to her desk. “Wren, can you please go work with my brother? Even just so I have someone, *anyone* to actually get in contact with?”

Her mouth hangs open. “Lord Guilliman, what- why me?” She stutters. He was really going to feed her to the wolves, literally. She'd never missed a deadline, yet she was being tossed to Leman Russ.

Guilliman chuckles, “Come now, Captain Vaille. I can tell this work is slow for you.” He says, taking a framed pict off her desk.

She frowned a bit as he smiled at the picture, depicting a young, newly promoted Lieutenant Vaille smiling with her squad mates. Two eyes, two legs, years of service left in her.

She frowns as he places the pict back on her desk. “What do you mean, slow? I've been thriving.” She says, reaching over and tipping the picture frame face down.

He chuckles softly. “Thriving? Please. You're bored. You are excellent at what you do, but you do it by habit. I can see you don't love having to sit behind a desk.” He says, righting the picture again. “Third youngest Captain in the Ultramar Imperialis Auxilia. That isn't a woman who rests on her laurels.” He says with a knowing smile.

She frowns harder. “And, what, trying to put a leash on Leman Russ is supposed to be more fun?” She asks incredulously.

He laughs, “It certainly would let you see more action, if nothing else.” he says it cheerfully, but his expression softens when he sees her hand twitch to unconsciously rub where her bionic leg meets her muscle. “Of course, it is a favor I ask. You are free to say no.” He adds.

She grimaces. “I… I'd have to think about it, Sir. I'm sorry.” She replies, hand kneading her thigh nervously.

He smiles again. “Well, that's better than ‘No’ at least. Thank you for considering it, Wren.” He says as he rises, the chair creaking in relief. “You know where to find me when you make up your mind.” He adds as he makes his way to the door.

She gives him a nervous smile, and he nods and leaves the room.

He wants her to go babysit the primarch of the space wolves? Because he thinks she's bored? Well, she is bored. He's not wrong. Her retirement to paper pushing was not one she chose. But that is like saying “hey, you look bored, want to go hit bees nests with a stick?”

She sighs, slinking down in her chair. Her eyes find the pict on her desk he'd been looking at. Her younger, happier, more whole self grins mockingly from the frame.

She frowns and flips it face down again. Then she looked back at her piles and piles of paperwork. Menial, pointless papers no one but her would read.

Could she manage this for another 5 years? 10 years? How much paperwork does it take to cause a baseline human to lose their sanity?

She stares at the paperwork a long while, conflicted and fighting herself, before she lets out a long, tired sigh.

Guilliman looks up and smiles when he hears the doors to his office slide open and sees Wren walking in.

“Have you considered my request, Captain?” He says, sitting up straighter.

She sits at the chair across his desk with her lips pressed to a line. “Not a Captain. Can I give it a few months? Like a trial?”

He smiles wide. “That is a very fair and logical request, not-Captain. You are doing me a huge favor with this.”

Wren bites her lip. “Just a few months. I'll give it a fair shot. But if they're too… space wolves, I'd like to be able to come back.”

He nods, pulling out paperwork. “Of course, of course. I'll start the transfer and inform Leman of the plans. Can you be ready by tomorrow?”

She sighs and nods. “Yeah, I'll go pack, I guess.” She relents.

Her hand nervously kneads at her bionic leg again, and she hopes she isn't getting in over her head.

[emeowwww-blog]

Fyolai ~ Shortfic + oneshot "I think I can love you"

This is the first writing thing I have ever posted here ._.

im sorry i wrote this in 30 mins it makes absolutely no sense UwU

No NSFW (Sadge /j) BUT some TWs apply: Mentions of past trauma, mentions of gore, mentions of death.

WC: 1833 (Ik its short im sorrryyyyyyy)

THERE WILL BE SOME RUSSIAN IN THIS STORY BC I LITERALLY CAN'T WRITE FYOLAI W/ OUT USING MY LANGUAGE (I HC them using both formal and familiar "you" so shhhhhhh) Just trust that it isn't that important to the story translate it if u want~

"I think I can love you."

~

‘Love’ was a word that Fyodor didn’t understand. It was overused. The Greeks had some greater idea of love, with words for different types. As for now, present day, love could be used for anything from appreciation, to desire, to lust, to joy. Love, the emotion, was perhaps the hardest to understand. Fyodor had never felt love for another person. His mother always told him how much ‘love’ she felt for his father. He heard teenagers talking about loving this boy, or this girl. Love was not an emotion he was capable of feeling. 

It had been this way for decades. No matter how many people claimed to love him, he turned them all away. Looking back, there was one person he had accepted into his life. 

One person who he allowed himself to befriend.

But that wasn’t love. That was tolerance.

Loving Nikolai Gogol was not a possibility in the slightest.

“Dos-kunnnnnnn~” Nikolai whined over his shoulder. “Stop pacing!”

“Вы сука- quiet, Nikolai.” Fyodor waved the man’s words away. “I’m thinking.”

“But it’s midnight!”

“And this is exactly why I was hesitant to share a room with you.”

Second of course is that he would likely kill me in my sleep…

Death at least seemed like an upgrade from life. Nikolai had expressed his urge to kill Fyodor before. It wouldn’t be long before he attempted again.

“Fine then. I’ll sing myself to sleep~”

“No-”

‘Спи, младенец мой прекрасный,

Баюшки-баю.

Тихо смотрит месяц ясный

В колыбель твою.

Стану сказывать я сказки,

Песенку спою;

Ты ж дремли, закрывши глазки,

Баюшки-баю.’

“Stop it.”

Nikolai continued his odd rendition of Cossack.

По камням струится Терек,

Плещет мутный вал;

Злой чечен ползет на берег,

Точит свой кинжал;

Но отец твой старый воин,

Закален в бою:

Спи, малютка, будь спокоен,

Баюшки-баю~

He ended his song on a long note, slightly changing the meaning of the sound. Nikolai’s voice wasn’t exactly professional, but it was soothing. More soothing than Fyodor would have liked it to be.

The Cossack was one of the only memories from his childhood. Its notes were seared into his brain, along with the voice of his mother singing it every night. She would say, ‘Спи, федецчка, будь спокоен, Баюшки-баю.’ for the last line, a smile on her face.

That smile was now gone. 

The new grin he saw every day belonged to a man. A man dressed in white and black with multicolored eyes.

“Dos-kunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn~ come to bed nowwww~”

“Not after that, clown.”

“Come onnnn, you know you love me~”

For some reason, the joke broke his stoic demeanor.

“Like I could ever love someone, let alone you!”

The night was spent restless, memories of that desecrated church, the worshippers coughing up blood, Fyodor standing at the altar with a face lacking emotion. They deserved to die, and yet he still had horrific dreams about it every night. Dreams where Nikolai was in the crowd, where the blood covering his well-worn ushanka was not his, but that of the boy in white. 

In these dreams, Nikolai was the only person left standing, crimson dripping from his nose, mouth, and eyes. He would smile, and say something. The words were always unintelligible, his throat filling with blood. 

Crime and Punishment didn’t only affect the criminal like its name suggested. Anybody who ingested the poison flowing through the veins of Fyodor Dostoyevsky could be brought down with a wave of a hand. Including the people he cared for. 

Today, the dreams changed.

He sat in the first pew, carefully counting and recounting the 33 buttons on the Priest’s coat. Likely made of pure gold. The eyes of the worshippers around him were glazed over, their minds lost and withered to a spell. Everything was methodical and repeated. 

Like usual, Fyodor opened the bible in front of him to recite along with the Priest. 

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

The same line. Romans 8:38-39. At the same time as usual, Holy Communion was announced. Fyodor stood up and volunteered to help. A single drop of his blood was added to the wine chalice. The wine and bread was passed around.

Once the Priest drank, Fyodor activated his ability, standing behind the altar. A shriek rang out from the back pew, and people began to clutch their throats as blood poured from their lips. The man beside him coughed up the foul red liquid. The plan had succeeded, yet Fyodor felt no joy. There was no happiness or sadness from killing. It was simply meant to be.

A boy stumbled out from the dark space behind the pews. A boy dressed in white, with multicolored eyes. Blood dripped from his face and onto the floor. 

“Nikolai?” Fyodor asked, horror seeping into his expression.

Nikolai smiled, crimson welling up like tears. Or maybe they were tears, stained red. They ran down his cheeks from his eyes. He appeared to be crying.

“What did you do? Did you take the poison?” The dark haired boy ran down the steps, clutching his wooden cross. 

Nikolai nodded. 

“No.” Fyodor grabbed Nikolai’s hands, shaking them, “You didn’t.”

Nikolai smiled again. But this time, instead of failing to speak his final words, they escaped from his throat.

“I love you Fedya. I always will.”

Fyodor awoke to moonlight streaming across the floor upon which he laid. He had refused to share the only bed in the room with Nikolai after his outburst. Why the inn couldn’t supply them with a double room, he didn’t know. His anger was silly. The word love shouldn’t trigger such a reaction out of a grown man. It shouldn’t be a product of his nightmares. 

And yet here he was, trembling from a dream already fading away. The voice of child-Nikolai echoing in his ears. 

I love you Fedya, I always will.

How tempted he was to say he loved him back. A temptation that he had never felt an inkling of before. Did the dream change because of what Nikolai had said just before he fell asleep? No. He wasn’t able to love. He wasn’t able to love Nikolai, and he never would. His longing was an illusion. An illusion where the only cure was denial. 

Denial led to spending the rest of the night lying awake on the floor until the first light. His eyes closed, the glow from the sun placating his nightmares.

“Dos-kun? Wake up~ you’re shivering.”

Nikolai hovered over Fyodor’s half-conscious form, waving his hand in front of his eyes.

“Are you sick?” He pressed his fingers to the man’s forehead, murmuring at the heat spreading into the tips, through his gloves. “Seems so.”

“Nnnnhh… stop…” Fyodor whispered. He didn’t get sick, yet it was hard to deny the lethargy that spread through his joints as he lay on the floor. “I’m not sick… Nikolai-”

“Shhhhh.” The white clothed man swiped the pad of his thumb across the other’s lips, effectively silencing the feeble protests. “Let me care for you.” 

Nikolai was acting rather differently from usual, but Fyodor was much too exhausted to question it. Placing a damp cloth on his forehead after transporting him to the single bed, Nikolai rested his hand on the other’s. 

Warm and cold, yin and yang. Their hands fit like they were made for eachother. And as Fyodor drifted in and out of sleep, his grip on the other became tighter. 

“Don’t let go of me.”

Nikolai’s face contorted in surprise, but he sat back down nevertheless. Fyodor was his reason for living, and making him feel comforted and happy was his ultimate goal. The only thing left was to get Fyodor to tell him he loved him. He must love him. He had to. Nikolai loved him, so why wouldn’t Fyodor love him back? Wasn’t that how it worked? It seemed that way on the television. If the main female loved the main male, then he loved her back automatically. Female and male…

Fyodor slept through the day, mumbling odd prayers and lines from the bible in his delirium. Nikolai couldn’t pick out many words, as he seemed to be reverting back to his northern Russian dialect, softer spoken.

Until he recognized one:

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Followed by a name:

“Don’t die, Kolya”

No. Fyodor claimed he had forgotten that. Claimed he had left the event in the past. He gripped the sick man’s hand tighter, willing their skin to meld together, to switch bodies and end his suffering. Nikolai knew the nightmares personally. If Fyodor, his Fedya, was still experiencing them now, how long had they been plaguing him?

“Fedya, wake up” The man tried to shake the other awake. “Please wake up. Nothing will hurt you. I’m here.”

No response.

“Please. I promise I'm here. I’m not dead.”

One word left Fyodor’s lips, “...Что?”

The language of their childhood that they rarely spoke in conversation anymore. They used it to talk in secret, not uttering more than a few words. Occasionally to annoy the other (Nikolai’s singing). But never personally, too many memories surfaced.

The song.

It elicited a reaction before, but would it work again?

“Я здесь, Федя. Я здесь”

‘Спи, младенец мой прекрасный,

Баюшки-баю.

Тихо смотрит месяц ясный

В колыбель твою.

Стану сказывать я сказки,

Песенку спою;

Ты ж дремли, закрывши глазки,

Баюшки-баю.’

His voice broke slightly when he saw Fyodor’s eyes flutter.

По камням струится Терек,

Плещет мутный вал;

Злой чечен ползет на берег,

Точит свой кинжал;

Но отец твой старый воин,

Закален в бою:

“Колыа?” Fyodor whispered.

Finally:

Спи, малютка, будь спокоен,

Баюшки-баю~

Nikolai smiled genuinely at the sick man in his lap, “Все кончено. Я здесь. И я-”

“Вы что?”

“Мне так жаль. Я чертовски сильно люблю тебя, и мне так жаль, что я заставил тебя это сделать. Я причинил тебе боль и-”

“Вы любите меня?”

Oh fuck. He did not mean to say that, “...Да.”

“Oh god.” Back to English.

“What?”

“Kolya. I think I love you too. I think I can love you.” He hiccupped as a sob broke from his throat, “Don’t leave me, I don’t want you to die.”

Nikolai didn’t know whether this was delusion from illness or serious, but he allowed himself to hope. A single tear escaped his eyelashes and fell onto Fyodor’s chest, right on top of his heart.

“Are you serious?”

“... Yes. Fuck, I’m not sick.” tears continued to flow down his cheeks.

Nikolai cried too, “You are.”

“Don’t leave me again… please”

“I won’t. Never again.”

[outpost51]

The 51 Post

so. bad week, if the prolonged absence wasn’t enough of a clue. but! i did write a... moderate amount. listen, i've been coping with sims.

Contents:

Things You Might Have Missed

This Week's Jams

WIP Breakdowns

From the Skwad

Around the 'Blr

Things You Might Have Missed

get on my taglists for WIP updates, 51 post, tag games, and ask events!

BRHP: Chapter 17 posted; K A DM O S.

Unlikely Adventures, Ch 2 posted; it’s literally in the blurb but it hurt me to write too

BRHP: Chapter 16 posted; baby's first fight pit, and a family secret is revealed.

Murky Water: the 7th entry into the Lighthouse in the Fog shorts; our new Keeper finds her answers.

This Week's Jams

aliens (porcelain remix) || xylø, porcelain [spotify/youtube]

avoidant attachment || libby larkin [spotify/youtube]

fire fire || flyleaf [spotify/youtube]

no care || daughter [spotify/youtube]

let the flames begin || paramore [spotify/youtube]

devil’s teeth || muddy magnolias [spotify/youtube]

WIP Breakdowns

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

hngggg i am. behind. it’s all outlined but my god i was too tired to write much

Unlikely Adventures of Bitchface and Go F*ck Yourself

[affectionately strangles zadimus]

Blinding Neon, Shades of Grey

[vibrates] hhhhhh i love the orville scene, i forgot how much i love the orville scene, yes i will post the orville scene this week if yall bully me (pls)

Stellar Parallax

elmorise.gif

Lighthouse in the Fog

8th short will be coming out some time tonight or tomorrow, it’s been an uphill battle to write today, anyway things have Developed in a Direction i was not Expecting

In the Works

i have noodled some of those random shuffle prompts. some of you are getting whacked with the emotions stick

From the Skwad

SSSC 006 wrapped up! see the entries here.

@thetrashbagswasteland posted a little too good to be true, a follow up to a little too much like me as their submission for MEBB 2023 and it is rife with snark

speaking of MEBB, @sparatus also published his triumphant return to His Original Bullshit: serpents in the garden and i am living. he also wrote skewed results for FFF208 bc we all need more teia

@uraniumwriting also wrote a submission for FFF208 in which caspian is forced to be a reporter for a day

we have FIVE updates from @teamdilf this week: a sweet piece in which adrien is offered some kittens, ch 20 of in-laws and the grandparents, this drabble that actually ripped my soul out through my eyes, ch 16 of man of many talents, and the first chapter of father, daughter, rocket launchers, and a side of wrex

@bambino1294 dropped the second chapter of upright tower and it was well worth the wait

@equusgirl has given us two more treats for sapphic summer: heaven or hell and if the bird likes it's cage so very much, why is the cage so tightly shut

@commander-krios wrote this squee-worthy despina/theron piece and also this stolen moment between jeff and john

@writernopal wrote a character study with mariel and sartor that i’m still thinking about actually, it’s wild to see how much the characters have developed between the first and third books

@asher-orion-writes posted another installment of fairweather YAY hhhhhh i fucked up and peeked at the last few lines before i read it and now i’m trying to wrap up so i can go eat it

Around the ‘Blr

@tabswrites blessed us with both the second chapter of ascension and chapter 4 of silver sentinels!!!

@vacantgodling’s art comms are open which i will be taking a look at given it does not fall through the holes in my swiss cheese brain, he dropped toph art that i’m OBSESSED with AND a lukewarm rejection sneep bc toph’s bday was the 7th. tell him happy birthday 4 me

bit over a week but i missed it last week — @autumnalwalker announced that the archivist’s journal is COMPLETE, so if you were ever looking for a reason to binge it, now’s the time (the anniversary is july 16th!). find it here @thearchivistsjournal

@captain-kraken dropped a sonhara lore masterpost oh my GOD

screaming crying frothing at the mouth over @liv-is’s fae headshots WOW

@void-botanist gave us the LORE on the revalo tailory & hotel and i will chew off my arm if tumblr doesn’t start giving me gd notifs about this

@artdecosupernova-writing dropped SO MANY shorts this week, so here’s the tag, go nuts; also a post on the planet holeph that i am eating with a spoon

we now have such amazing faces to put with the cast of @elshells’s agent ace (courtesy of @illjustpretend)

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Outpost Updates Taglist: @tabswrites @writernopal @freedominique @asher-orion-writes @liv-is @starknstarwars @captain-kraken

Ask to +/- in the tags, replies, DMs, or HERE!

[stupid-and-cute-are-enough]

cough. here's a little super short fic i wrote bc i make those too. be sure to check out the silly extra details i added in the tags!

@get-rammed

Monty lets out a heavy sigh, sitting on the much too small couch in his room, his handler close by his side, messing around with wires in the open compartment on his arm. Something went wrong with his claws again, and management is convinced that it’s the programming or the wiring that’s the problem, sicking his handler on the problem again and again. Monty doesn’t think it’s either of those things.

He huffs again and drops his head onto his free hand, boredom clawing at his... shell. His handler bumps with a small clank.

“Sit still, you big baby. I’ll be done in a minute.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’ve never been one to sit still, sweets.”

“Yeah, well, you’re gonna today.”

He rolls his eyes again, resisting the urge to let out another huff. He knows fusing over this is only gonna make it take longer. That and… he can see the bags under his handler’s eyes. It’s late. Far later than any other employee stays, except those working the graveyard shift. It seems like even the other animatronic handlers have gone home for the day. He can tell that they’re tired, but they never bring it up to him. They probably don’t want to worry him, all things considered, but that just makes Monty even more anxious. They look half asleep already, so Monty decides to occupy them with the most meaningless conversation he can muster.

“Hey, so, like…” Monty trails off, rolling his free hand at the wrist. “I barely saw any, uh, human staff around today, even though it was super fuckin’ busy. Why’s that?”

His handler stops, blinking for a second. “Oh, it’s, uh, Labor Day. It’s like a national holiday about unions or something, and people usually get the day off.”

Monty raises a brow. “Why didn’t you get the day off?”

They snort. “You don’t get the day off, so I don’t get the day off.”

Monty hums. “... That’s pretty shitty for us then, huh?”

They laugh, patting his arm. “Yeah. It is. Hey, I just finished up re-wiring everything. Give me a test and see if everything works right?”

Monty obliges, clenching his fists and spinning them around at the wrist. He mimics plenty of movements he makes while playing on stage, and nothing stutters, nothing stalls, or makes any weird noises. His internal diagnostics show no issues, either. All seems well, so he leans back and gives a smug, shit-eating smile. One that’s familiar.

“All’s workin’,” he replies, keeping up his smile when he sees the weight lifted off his handler by the news. They don’t like being comforted. Not directly, anyway.

“Great,” they sigh, slouching into a more relaxed position. They close up the compartment on Monty’s arm, giving it one last, solid pat.

“You good to recharge and everything?” They ask, packing up their small tool bag and tossing it in some random corner of the room. They barely put it away anymore, but management hasn’t caught on yet. Or maybe his handler just doesn’t care that they’re supposed to put it away. Either is possible. “Do you want me to lay with you?”

Monty thinks as they bustle around the room, turning down the lights and doing a cursory glance at his recharge station. He does want them to lay with him. He always does. But Monty sees the exhaustion in their shoulders and feels some kind of misplaced guilt. They’re this tired because he’s a Glamrock now, not just a side attraction. He became more of a handful. He broke more. He needed them more at all hours of the day. They’re his handler. He’s tired, and he’s not even human.

“Naw,” he says, tilting his head and smiling. “I’m good.”

“Alrighty then,” his handler puts on a brave smile, grabbing their oversized Monty jacket and slinging it over their shoulders. Before, Monty would’ve teased them about being such a simp, how they don’t need his merch because they already wear his face all day, or how they could literally just zip up their uniform, but he lets it go for tonight.

“Se you tomorrow, big guy.”

Monty doesn’t comment on how today is already tomorrow.

“Goodnight, cher.”

His handler leaves, muttering about how they’ll probably need to catch a bus because they “don’t think they can drive like this,” and Monty wants nothing more than to invite them back. To give them the whole couch and let them sleep. But for all the crazy hours Fazbear Entertainment expects of them, they’re not allowed to stay overnight. No one is allowed to stay overnight, except for the night shift workers, who all had to sign crazy amounts of paperwork, and they both know it.

So, instead, Monty watches them make their way to the entrance. He watches as they struggle with their ID until the heavy metal doors rise, and they can slip out the door. He strains his eyes to see them disappear into the dark until the metal doors obscure them from view and hopes for all it’s worth that tomorrow will be easier.

___

please ignore any silly typos im p sure i got them all but its super late. i wanna post this tho so im posting it. i may or may not repost this later but like. as a better version lmao ram pls tell me if monty is OOC i was punching AIR trying to write this guy 😭 i thought i knew him well and then BAM no the fuck i dont

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

After death | Lost Gods

He looks at the skyline ahead of him, its famous shapes that tourists gape at like they’re observing a gorilla in an enclosure. It’s all grey to him, not just because of the looming storm but because the grids of buildings and lights have become boring in a way that seems fatal—this city is a dead thing on earth, he doesn’t care what anyone says. It’s all post-mortem—the blinking traffic lights, shafts of sunlight interrupted by high-rises, yellow taxis honking, honking, honking, like they’re shouting a prayer. He feels sort of like that too, caught in kitschy after death.

A little Harrison art <3 !! And an excerpt from the opening of Lost Gods!

4 years ago today I finished writing his very first solo novel, Moth Work, & I’m kind of in awe of how far we’ve come in that short time… 4 novels & 2 novellas narrated by this man who’s a little embarrassing and a whole lot profound (but you didn’t hear that from me!). A few more thoughts under the cut, but here’s a little note I made myself in 2020, the only note I’ve ever made after finishing a book (possibly because finishing this one changed my life a little).

TW for mentions of: mental illness, trauma in the mental health system, internalized homophobia

Technically I finished Moth Work at 2:34AM because I lived on the west coast at the time lol.

I don’t usually celebrate or remember the anniversaries of finishing books. But I wanted to celebrate this one because a) it’s Leap Day & I haven’t been able to commemorate what I was doing during the last one for 4 years, & b) because finishing MW was such a significant accomplishment!

I started MW in January of 2019 because I was struggling emotionally. At the time, I was racing to figure out “what was wrong with me” before flying across the country for uni in the summer (SPOILER I WAS JUST AUTISTIC LMAO), which led to a lot of stressful and traumatizing appointments with doctors. I desperately needed a book to cheer me up but a different one from my WIP at the time, especially because in 2018, I’d both discovered my voice and become really afraid of messing it up!

I also was taking a religion class at the time that was emotionally difficult for me because I felt reallyyyy alone and especially isolated in my queerness that I’d been hiding for a couple years at that point (& that I literally would not talk about at all, not even to people I trusted). When it became very clear I needed an outlet to explore my feelings (of being “unhelpable,” internalized homophobia, a general sense of aloneness/isolation) the decision of what I was going to write became pretty clear.

I’d written 3 stories in Harrison’s POV that predated MW starting in late 2018 (they were also my first explorations in third person present tense, which fun fact, I only tried in his POV because I’ve always written my notes ideas in that POV/tense combo, even when I only wrote first person!). I hadn’t written in a different POV character’s head beside’s Reeve’s since 2016, so it felt natural that the second character I felt closest to (Harrison!!!) could be a narrator. Funnily at this time Lonan was my favourite so I’m actually surprised I did not choose him but can we imagine how different things would be if I had???

I started Moth Work in my notes app (ICONIC) on January 16th 2019 at 11:37pm! The first chapter came pretty quickly, is actually quite non-linear for a bit, and was overall a lot of fun to write. I’d planned for the project to maybe be a short story or at the most a novella (does this sound familiar), nothing very long and definitely not a novel. I believe the goal word count was 5k which is so funny bc that’s exactly how Changing States & Lost Gods started!!!

And then the project stagnated, it wasn’t something I’d planned to write seriously, and I didn’t pick it back up until August of that year when my therapist at the time suggested I try to complete a “reach goal” as I was reaching Crisis and I guess I was so done with everything going on in my life that I was like okay fine!!!! I will write Moth Work as a novel!!!!

This book literally flew with me across the country… I wrote a lot of it late at night in my dorm with all the lights off after a long day on campus. I wrote a lot of it in my intro to sociology lecture LMAO. I wrote a lot of it on my phone. It was the first project (no literally) where I intentionally explored queerness, especially my own feelings as a (sort of?) catholic at the time. I explored atheism a lot! Something I needed to process my own feelings about faith & God. I explored what it’s like to be this completely unhelpable person because you’ve decided there’s no possible way to help yourself anymore (hiiii Lonan). I also explored (a bit like a premonition), what it’s like to care deeply for someone you can’t help (but that you very badly want to help).

And I almost didn’t finish the book! The imposter syndrome and insecurity went crazyyy when writing Moth Work. I didn’t feel like I was writing the First Person Retrospective Flowery Literary Fiction I’d deemed as the only possible “good writing.” (Still LOVE but I really was struggling seeing a very minor style shift, which is funnily much closer to my writing now than when I was writing the “best” way.) I deleted so much from this book. I couldn’t look at it. I was so embarrassed by it!! I made ultimatums with it!! I edited it so much but still couldn’t stand it! It was literally the safest space I had and I could barely be there a lot of the time!!!

SOOOO this is why I’m very proud of me for finishing it lol & while I would typically have celebrated the anniversary idk, in 2021, bc it didn’t exist until this year it felt apt to sit with those feelings now. I’m really proud of 17-year-old Rachel who was undiagnosed autistic & convinced I was a lost cause, who was sooo afraid of being queer I could only think of that through Lonan (& sometimes still do thx king 🫡) who literallyyyyy wrote a masterpiece in my collection that contains some of my best work (even if I only realized that 4 years later) & that’s been the start of EVERYTHING!

This is so much more than a book or an anniversary!! Somehow I made it through all the things I didn’t think were possible and now have written 2 books & 3 (writing the fourth) novellas allllll in this world. AND 2 additional novels in his POV!! Also thank you baby Rachel for Jeremiah. Like hello!!!! This is the only place I felt safe to be myself when I couldn’t be with anyone else! And there’s something priceless about that…

And it’s all bc of Harrison!!! Whoever I saw in that man in 2019… girl thank you!! Can’t explain what it’s like to grow with that character (who is sooo much more than that to me). Never would I have predicted where I am now. And IMO, that’s all thanks to him so ily fictional man in my head, this is soooo his day LOL.

& if you were here since the first MW update & made it this far… I MUST KNOW!!!!

[abimee]

so tbh i was hard on nier:a while playing it cos i don't really like a lot of the anime tropes BUT i really like tragedies and i was promised some twists, and got some. but i wanted to ask you how you felt about the pacing. basically, did it feel like there was a solid line connecting plot points, or do you feel like certain things happened at random? barring the fact that yoko taro said he literally wrote the story out of order, is that how it felt to you? imo it felt really rushed through super cool parts and like things that were annoying or setpieces ran on for too long. ig i'm still fked up over how much it fell short of my expectations bc even after playing nier:a completely thru and h8ing how absurdly film-student its tone and ideology are, i was hyperfixated enough to read some of the side literature and learn drakengard lore. tl;dr, nier:a is cool and has some fun parts but i wish the android were more mature (or artificial) in physicalilty to avoid weird anime loli baiting in the fans and also they'd asked a writer to help revise and implement the og author's ideas okay bye thx for reading my rant ♡ i'm glad u had fun and ur fanart abt a2 and the indoor grill made me cough

ill gladly listen to people bitch about yoko taro ive had PROBLEMS with this man since a young age ☝️☝️☝️☝️

I was actually thinking about the pacing and insertion of certain scenes/plot points today because admittedly like. okay this might be all over the place but

The start of the game (Route A + B) was like pretty solid pacing I think due to being low risk, and I thought it was cool that the game let you see 9S' side of things --- but it really started to fumble when it got into it's moe complex storylines in C-D-E and went on to deposit a lot of information on it to the point where it felt like we were forgetting entire plots and characters because something new and shiny showed up

Like okay first off. Adam and Eve and the aliens. We never once got any sort of explanation WHY adam + eve killed the aliens, or why the aliens made the machines, but within that general thought we did learn that humans died before going to the moon (and possibly even before the aliens came?), and that YoRHa's only goal was to fight the machines until a specified amount of data was gotten and then they were to explode. Never did we get more elaboration on the aliens or adam/eve, and while we got some YoRHA spotlight stuff it also entirely just decided that explaining the true mission behind making YoRHa and why the androids had to die is beyond it. Which frustrated me because it Brings Up Ideas but doesn't specify if thats the true reason, like we learned that the machines fight purely because that was there sole reason, and so they made an enemy for themselves purely to enact that goal that the aliens gave --- but then it even goes ''haha okay but hear me out'' and introduces Red Girl and this vague idea of the Machine Ego and wanting to defy their masters of the aliens, but then DOESN'T ELABORATE WHY. Like we don't know WHY adam and eve and the machine ego wanted to develop enough to defy their machine logic and purpose because it wraps back around to ''theyre human just like us because they want to defy their masters because.... they're human like us?"

Like it often felt like some concepts or plots brought up walked itself in a circle, dog-chasing-tail style, where it's entirely contained within itself and refuses to expand upon it's existence, which then causes it to get sort of left behind when the plot finds a new fancy idea to latch onto. Like how quickly the story introduced, focused on, then discarded Adam & Eve is almost criminal because of the things it could've done with them literally as the closest approximation to what the Machine Ego/Red Girls wanted, since they defied their creator's orders to be their own selves. Eve especially feels wasted in this regard --- like if the plot spent a little more time focusing on Eve & Adam in a B-plot scenario showing Eve and Adam learning more from humans and even leaning into Eve's wants that we saw in his mind when 9S hacked him (the human home built around him and his brother, and his brother wanting to go somewhere peaceful with him). Like they even could've tied that to when they get on the Ark and leave and Adam is holding Eve, that's literally Adam bringing Eve somewhere peaceful, but because those two instances are so seperated from each other and their own sort of throw-away concepts it becomes hard to Remember the tether between those two thoughts

This is also my biggest problem with A2's writing, I can only assume she's meant to be a Kaine-type character (and boy did my eyes momentarily widen seeing Emil say ''it must be fate that we've met!" to her) where her reserved nature and somewhat limited character blends in with her personality, but they really could've just given us like at least 2 more hours-game to learn about her past rather than just infodump us with her lore in some logs at the Resistance Camp. This is another problem Red Girl had where I feel like the fact you get unit data on them that basically explains away the confusing parts of their involvement in the lore felt cheap because this game has over 40+ hours under it's belt but couldn't be damned to give us information on our main antagonist directly in the game instead of in a post-credit LOG?

Like okay. I love my baby boy emil. He is the most special boy in the world to me and I am so happy seeing him get a pretty decent character arc for himself in the sequel to his original iteration. But why do we learn information about Emil more easily than the Red Girls? No unit data paragraph, no document information to read, no external book needing to be sourced. You learn whats up with him, why his big event out in the desert happens, and how it ends. You even get TWO special areas involving him. Red Girl gets to speak for a little bit and then vanish. It just astonishes me a bit

And it's not like the game doesn't try to expand characters last-minute either, that entire cutscene where Pascal reads Nietszche and then gets surrounded by the baby machines before the events of the Factory/suicide felt so forced in suddenly that it felt rather obvious something was going to happen. And I say this as someone who was in tears seeing Pascal get called ''uncle Pascal'' and see him defend the children in the factory --- it was super obvious that they possibly didn't originally plan that scene but needed something to really show that Village acted just like a human community with children and babysitters and family. Like not to be like ''this couldve been something beautiful'' but i think giving us a little time between A2 and the Village more could've done something beautiful. A2 getting the necessities to build the slide definitely made me drop to my knees but I noticed even the LPer was confused why A2 had a crying child inside of her as her enemy at the end of the hacking (like how 9S had 2B at the end of his destroying his memories), but the game didn't do anything with that besides lightly imply A2 lets down her mean bit for children sometimes (and again. why is this Kaine behavior). And then the fucking laughing children sound at the end of the route where she hacks 9S and she looks to the sky like ? This is all very interesting but it doesnt mean anything.

NOT TO MENTION 2B BEING AN EXECUTIONER TYPE. COOL CONCEPT BUT IT DOESNT MEAN ANYTHING IN THE END. It's just another thing to tack onto 9S's migraine of learning everything is a lie but nothing gets DONE with that incredibly interesting though afterwards because we never see 2B after that because she's been dead for a while now. We had a brief hint at it when we heard that transmission of 2B being her new name but the payoff just doesn't work if you just state it and then not do anything with it.

There's many cases of this and I notice it with how much questions I have that simply have no answer in this game despite the fact we have nearly 5 routes worth of time that could've gone into either sticking to like 3 ideas to the end or bridging the gaps, Which the story Does Do Sometimes! Red Girl talking about fucking up its own network to make pacifistic machines that want nothing to do with the war, the lie of YoRHA

OH MY GOD ALSO. SPEAKING OF RANDOMLY PUSHING STUFF IN. OPERATOR 210. The fact that they wanted to pull the whole ''she was curt and distant with 9S but secretly saw him as like a son because she wanted a family :(" could've gone INSANE if they didn't decide they wanted to bring that idea in at the last possible second and make 210 randomly baby 9S (and then make him point out how strange she's acting), and then ignore that until we get to the cutscene that they wanted to make for it. Like they could've had 210 start out as curt and distant, but as 9S operations with 2B got more dangerous she could've started laying on the doting mother thing, but it just came so abruptly in Route.....C? That it felt forced and rather last-minute, like they finished writing A and B and someone walked in and went ''wait I want 210 to see 9S as her son :(" and this is how they crammed it in

oh this post isnt even about the pacing i'm just talking about dead end plot concepts. But I can definitely see where you're coming from there because we spent an awfully long time with the Resistance only to know so little about them, but it defos felt more ''a lot of stuff is getting brought up but we dont have enough time to give it developing room because we want to bring in the next concept asap". A2, the forest king, Red Girl, hell even Pascal and Adam & Eve all suffer this. the only person who really got a steady character Was 2B and 9S but 2B felt like she got cut short and just became a puppet for 9S' plot which is so tiring how often we get dual man/woman protags and the woman's story just becomes part of the man's story and she becomes a nebulous concept. that yoko taro brand Misogyny

I SPENT AN HOUR TYPING THIS? I haven't even gotten to how I feel like 9S' plot feels like it was destined for something more but got bottlenecked for time and cut off at the like 80% mark

I can definitely feel that though of feeling like Nier:a didn't meet expectations, when I finished all the routes and the playlist i was watching just Ended I genuinely sat up and bed and just felt a deep sense of ''THAT'S IT? THATS ALL?"

it's crazy too because I really, REALLY loved what it had going and im going to be thinking about this game forever but it also just left me feeling like i'm missing something so badly that when I try to think about it sometimes my mind just draws blanks like im left speechless at it.

Like that was nier: automata? that was just 40 hours of being asked what it means to be alive

[causenessus]

HI HI HI HI NESS IM BACKKFJFKSMSOS so first of all tumblr hates me why is that the FOURTH ask of mine u answered that i wasnt notified of should i just die

anyways im eating lunch rn

healthy girl era did not work out i took a 6 hour (?) nap yesterday so!!

trying again today

N E WAYS

today the teacher told us her old students were too non che lent (nonchalant!!) so they failed the exam (wat.)

and my friend wanted to laugh about it w me but i wasnt looking so she yeeted my OTHER friends eraser at me

but it

it hit (near?) the teacher..

she was sooo mad omfg

giggling i hate her

like basically i answer all her questions out of spite now like YEAH BRO I KNOW THIS ALR😕😕

Also i swear i dif this math problem right but the teacher said it was wrong (wat.) and my friend did it too and we got the same answer (wat.)

i wrote fanfiction at school ☝️😎 it has already been digitalised but like i DID write it

and tjen my friend read an original short story (? 1.2k words) i wrote which was basically me projecting and she almost cried so like Uh

slay???

dude i love talking so much u have no idea actually

ALSO THE THING ABOUT THE ENRGY LIKe I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY OMG SO I GET EXCITED YK

n e ways..

i was watching american psycho last night but i got distracted..😭 ALSO IM SO EXCITED ABT ONICS LIKE EUSHEPSHAPSJXOSKAJDKAAKKDKD

>tries 2 normal

>fails

OK SO!! HRU AND WHATS GOING ON IN UR LIFE AND IF U EVER NEED TO HIRE A HITMAN IM HERE FOR U ❤️‍🩹 as the hitman btw ❤️‍🩹

U SHOULD NOT DIE!!! TUMBLR SHOULD DIE HOW DARE THEY!!! i am so confused at like what is happening at tumblr hq 😭😭 like there are problems that need to be solved!!!! and i feel like they should be pretty simple to fix!!! but instead they're like "NO LET'S MAKE TAGGING USERS GO BLUE AND COMMENTS UGLY"

but anyway!! i hope your lunch was good!! AND A SIX HOUR NAP SOUNDS AMAZING AND JUST AS PRODUCTIVE AS WORKING OUT!! it's hard to balance everything so definitely don't stress too much about it!! you have your whole life ahead of you to like do something like working out so not doing it one day is totally okay!! (yk?? i hope that made sense and i'm sorry i hope it's okay to say that 😭)

??? nonchalant -> failing exam???? i do not see the correlation??? 😭 YOUR TEACHER IS VV SPECIAL!! IS THIS THE ONE THAT TEACHES ENGLISH BUT ISN'T....ACTUALLY....THAT GREAT....AT ENGLISH??? 😭 OR MAYBE IT'S UR MATH TEACHER BC U ALSO SAID SOMETHING ABOUT THAT BUT THE ERASER ALMOST HITTING YOUR TEACHER IS CRAZY I WOULD'VE DIED ON THE SPOT 😭😭

also math teachers love to like??? tell u ur wrong and then not explain how to correctly do something??? so i think u should just blame them for everything!! that sounds fair <3

I'VE ALSO WRITTEN FANFICTION AT SCHOOL LMAOOO i remember being on my computer during french class and my guy was just so boring i pulled out the doc and started writing but LUCKILY it was like an oc fic so it wasn't as scary to write as a x reader UNLIKE WHEN I WAS MAKING TONIC PFPS AND MY DOCUMENT WAS LITERALLY CALLED LIKE yn & atsumu and for some reason all of my friends wanted to COME UP FROM BEHIND ME AND HUG ME!! OR LOOK AT MY SCREEN!! and i was just 😃😃😃 but i have no shame so oh well

THE ORIGINAL SHORT STORY SOUNDS GOOD!! ESP IF IT ALMOST MADE YOUR FRIEND CRY?? 😭 I HOPE YOU'RE DOING ALRIGHT THOUGH <3 AND I LOVE HEARING YOU TALK!! PLEASE TALK AS MUCH AS YOU WANT I WILL READ EVERYTHING YOU TELL ME <33

I'M SO SO GLAD YOU'RE EXCITED FOR TONICS!! I AM TOO <333 I'M SLOWLY PLANNING IT OUT LIKE ONE CHAPTER AT A TIME AND I'M LITERALLY SHAKING WITH EXCITEMENT OMG OMG OMG <33

THANK U LINA!!! I WOULD LOVE FOR U TO BE MY HITMAN <33 I MAY NEED ONE JUST TO GET THRU SCHOOL BC MY HALLS FR ARE SCARY SOMETIMES YK?? like too many scary girls who look me up and down in their little crop tops and shorts and nike air forces and are like "why are u wearing pants in the summer" BC I CAN?? AND I DON'T LIKE SHOWING THAT MUCH SKIN THANK U?? (sorry this probably makes no sense i think my brain has short circuited today </33) BUT I'M DOING ALR!!! i'm stressed about my theatre duties starting up very very soon 😭😭 but i'll let u know how that goes once they start!!! I HOPE YOU'RE DOING WELL TODAY!!! AND EAT SOMETHING GOOD <33

[taegularities]

i am guilty of not remembering muchhh bc of my short term memory 🤓🤠 so i skimmed the previous chapter and was refreshed hehe ANYWAYS wow it really has been a while since the last chapter but while reading blooming and starting palette,,, i felt this sense of familiarity with them and it's hard to describe but it's so good!!! It's like fav dramas/series/books that even when you forgot some details or a lot 😅 u have this instant bond/happiness and u still have these amazing feelings for the characters and the story!!! I'm not sure if ur getting me Rid aha it's the yapper in me but i guess the tldr is that i felt that "WE ARE SOOOO BACK MY BESTIES" like i REALLY felt it lol. And i was really happy to read cmi again ❤️‍🩹

While I do agree with others that this is also my new favorite chapter,,,,, I think that's also not true for me??? bc every chapter is my fav!!! It's really really really literally the whole story since then and everything u write is a favorite 💜

Aside from all the fluff that i loveeee, so much love for this chapter which included their friends and in a trip setting bc it's so wholesome and in relationships esp if ur the type to always go out with friends, it's fun to see everyone getting together 🫶🏼

Nowww some of my fave lines:

His attention is directed towards Jimin, the main organiser of your trip; everybody’s been posing questions today as if he’s studied the town and journey to the tiniest detail. Jimin rubs a palm over his tired eyes, sighing before he speaks. this is so funny bc MOOD

HEAVY AFFECTION!!!!

“People climb mountains, watch the world from above, need to see forests to figure out how good life can be. And that it can be worth living,” he says, his voice velvety soft. “But I feel that way with you every day, you know? I do… I do love you so much.” 🥲🥲🥲

“Huh?” he breathes out, moving to look up at you. His eyebrows still suggest slight pain, but there’s something so loving in his worn voice when he says, “You want kids with m—” I LOVE HIM PLSSSSS

And a lot more but those are what I instantly copy pasted lol. Also the "fight" at the end starting with jimin was so chaotic and funny to me lmao. It was all just so real + with oc and jk sorting it out in the middle of the road lol.

Anywaysss wow i think it took me 2 hours + to read and im not complaining bc i had fun savoring every word. I think i always say this but i (and i know the others too) am really thankful that you're here and continuing to share your ideas and writing with us 🫶🏼 the writing is always topnotch, its crazyyyy, good crazy 😇 and ig in behalf of us who aren't always here and even from the silent readers, thank you!! You'll always have our heart and support. I hope that during times that it gets quiet here (and i hope it wont) you remember that there's a lot of us who adore you 🫂

kAT 🫂 it's okay lmao even i forgot a lot and had to reread 😭 there's just a lot of info in those 370k words. and yeah, i totally get that… time may pass, but once we return to the fictional world we love, it feels like coming home. i was so relieved, too, once i dove into cmi again 🥺 and pls yap away, i vibe so much with yappers 😂

yes, ikr!!! i was so damn excited to write this chapter bc of the new dynamics and deeper friendships. this trip really brought them a lot closer. and babe, your favourite lines plsss 🥹 the mountain one has my heart… i think i wrote it literally months and months and MONTHS ago :') and i see, the kids one is really affecting people 😂 the fight was skfajksdf she was just so tired and it affected her mood and then jimin's just an idiot, too lmao 😂 ty for literally copy pasting lines??? this is always so flattering to a writer 😭

2 hours is still pretty fast, tbh!! it took me days to edit the chapter, so hahaha :') thank you so so much for providing me with this much love and warmth, kat. i appreciate your words to bits, like :( the last paragraph, i'm gonna sob 🥹 i adore you sm, too, ty for always being here, love 🤍

[jellyf-yve]

yea this day got me like WHAT.HAPPENED.

i was extremely bored today at school and during history class my brain decided to switch off. so i randomly started writing something tk-related. (something that imma post under the cut just to tease y'all)

my brain knew i wanted to be tickled. i'm in a period where i'm in an absurd need of physical affection, and i'm pretty down in the dumps lately, too.

anyway...wrote this, left it in the history book, and went down to the ground floor to move to chinese class.

now, 3AL and 3FL are split classes, meaning a group of students (which learn chinese as the third language) of each class moves to the local chinese class. so we learn with a group of students from 3AL, AND there's this girl...so pretty, so cute...and so sneaky.

long story short, she's got the habit of surprise attacking her friends with tickles.

i saw her doing this everytime before the lessons started, with the every friend she ran into.

and today, guess who's got tickled. when everyone was starting to quiet down because the teachers were coming in (yea bc we've got a native speaker teacher and a grammar teacher) she passed behind my desk AND dared to squeeze and tickle my sides.

i'm gonna be honest, my sides are extremely sensitive to squeezes, especially if you press your thumbs on the back of them. which is exactly what she did.

and when i tell you that i LITERALLY jumped on my seat and nearly knocked down all the stuff i had on my desk...i mean it.

she activated every single nerve in my body to the point that i was shivering and stuttering when she sat in front of me during a group work...

(can't wait til the next chinese class)

so yup this is what i wrote

have fun ^^