#this was a perfect ending to the start of this particular journey

[coles-scythe]

Not asleep yet, I was playing DQXI earlier to work on getting all the extra outfits and now my brain is filled with thoughts of Erik. Also how dirty they did him (and everyone but the Luminary) in Act 3.

EDIT: I realized I went on a very long rant in the tags. Spoilers for the game and it's post-game content in the tags.

[ariichive]

feeling touch

k. sakusa

in which sakusa's first relationship comes with gentle surprises and a lasting sense of comfort. fluff | first relationship | mentions of assault | gn reader :) | established relationship | timeskip

sakusa was good at reading people. it was a skill that came with being a good volleyball player such as himself. knowing where to hit a spike, finding the perfect spot for a service ace, and understanding his teammates.

the ability even followed him outside of the court. sakusa found himself observing people everywhere. the couple on the train; the girl had a nervous look on her face as she clutched her stomach, often stealing glances at the man busy on his phone. pregnant. sakusa remembers thinking to himself. the same day, he watched a stray dog on the busy streets of japan circling a busy food vendor.

it was no surprise when the dog snatched food from the owners hands and ran off into an alley way, the curses of the owner blending in to the surrounding noise.

yes; this was all natural for him but not for most people. at least, to him in particular.

people did not understand kiyoomi sakusa.

he think it's his whole demeanor. sure, he might not be the most friendly looking, but he was still human with human normal reactions. he remembers one day after a dominant win against a damn good team.

interviewers flocked to him, fans were everywhere; it was overwhelming. there was nothing more he wanted than to go home, where he could relax after a long match and wait for you to come home from work.

home. he kept repeating in his head, making his way through the crowd. he answered questions simply if they were asked. he was almost through the seemingly never-ending pool of people, when a hand circled around his wrist. sakusa immediately turned around, yanking his wrist out their hand with swiftness. with a glare, he took a step back. a girl with a big number 15 on her shirt. oh, a fan.

"h-hi," the girl spoke in a high-pitched voice. like a dog whistle. sakusa nodded his head in a greeting, eagerly turning around to continue on his way. he wasn't the nicest when it came to fans, but if his fans were really genuine they would understand he did not appreciate being touched.

clearly, this girl was not so genuine.

she grabbed his wrist, again, this time with a bit more force. "w-wait!" sakusa sighed but stopped nonetheless knowing this could go on forever. she squealed when he stopped; his eye twitching. "can we take a picture? please?" sakusa couldn't deny there was a sparkle in her eyes and he feels as if he didn't take a picture her dreams would be absolutely crushed. while he wasn't big on social interactions, he wasn't exactly a monster. "yes, make it quick. please, do not touch me." he managed to mutter out.

the girl quickly stood next to him, a centimeter of distance between them as she whipped out her phone to take a selfie with him next to her. she pressed the button, a 3 second timer starting.

3...

2..

1.

as soon as the timer hit 1, the girl quickly pressed her lips against his cheek.

fear and disgust immediately ran through his body as he shoved the girl, not caring that she ended up on the ground. "never come near me again, you disgusting shit." sakusa meant every word, and he probably would have said more if he wasn't so focused on getting out. pushing throw the crowd, he barely paid attention to the concern looks of bokuto and hinata. if he would've looked back, he'd witness atsumu angrily snatching the phone from the crazed fan.

home. he had to get home.

the journey home was a quick one, he had too much occupying his mind. as soon as he stepped into his safe space, sakusa made a beeline to the shower. a shivering feeling of disgust and guilt taking over him. with the amount of reporters around, you were bound to see the news. he can't believe another persons lips were on him; he could only imagine your reaction. would you be angry? disappointed? disgusted?

sakusa scrubbed harder at his skin.

when he was done in the shower, he still didn't feel clean enough. he had half the mind to go back in, let the burning hot water consume him as a whole. he would have, if it wasn't for the sound of the front door opening. his heartbeat picked up pace, he quickly dried himself and threw on a shirt and sweats. it'll be okay. he reassured himself as he stepped out into the open space of your shared residence.

as he made eye contact with you, he felt a pinch of fear crawl up his spine when you didn't hug him as usual or give him a kiss as a greeting.

you knew.

he felt an apology about to slip out his lips, the guilt weighing on his heart.

"i'm so sorry, omi... atsumu told me what happened."

you said an apology before him, leaving sakusa stunned. why were you apologizing?

noticing his lack of response, you continued. "atsumu told me what happened... i'm so sorry you had to go through that. i understand if you want space to collect yourself, i won't overstep any boundaries."

you understood how dire the situation was; noting how important it was to keep sakusa's feelings in mind. he looked shaken up when you arrived home, so you thought it was best to not add to his discomfort; hence the lack of physical greeting.

sakusa sighed, "..you don't have to apologize. it was my-"

"don't you dare say it was your fault!" you took a hesitant step towards him, and when he didn't move away, you hugged the tall outside hitter; he melted into your arms.

"the only person to blame is that crazy fan, it had nothing to do with you. nobody deserves that to happen to them."

sakusa bathed in the comfort of your words, finally finding the energy to hug you back.

"you're right, love. i'm glad to be home with you."

yeah, you knew this was his way of saying i love you. "i love you too! now let's find something to eat, you must be hungry after that game. ugh, i wish i could've gone! your highlights are trending, the ladies at work..."

he listened to you chatter away, a big smile present on his face.

sakusa wasn't hard to understand, it just took the right people to understand him.

bonus

"whaddya gonna do with this photo?" atsumu stared at the phone of sakusa's fangirl, a look of disgust and hatred taking form. he quickly deleted it as he went to her recently deleted album to ensure it would be gone permanently. he wasn't surprised to see her lock screen was a picture of sakusa, or the number of pictures she had of him in her photos. "oh you're not right in the head," he chuckled mockingly as he stared down at the girl, who tried to get up only to be pushed back down by bokuto. "oops, didn't see you right there." bokuto said almost robotically; everyone knew he was lying as he scratched his neck in boredom.

hinata eventually made his way over. "oooh, a fan?" to any onlooker, it would look like the hyper-orange-haired male had genuine, pure curiosity. but his teammates knew.

"yeah, a fan. huge fan of omi omi, hundreds of pictures of him in her gallery." atsumu said as he slung an arm around hinata's shoulders. he found pleasure in the embarrassed look on her face. she stuttered out lame excuses he didn't bother listening to. "hey, kou, shoyo, since she's such a big fan, why don't we show her an up-close play?"

"hell yeah!" bokuto cheered as he high fives hinata. the obsessed fan could only watch in horror as her phone was tossed to hinata, who bumped it to atsumu, who then set it towards bokuto.

bokuto, feeling a strong sense of defending his friend and teammate, spiked her phone into the floor with a loud cracking sound that echoed throughout the stadium. meian turned a blind eye to his team's antics.

atsumu took out his own phone, taking a selfie. he made sure the crying girl on the ground hovering over her broken phone was in the background.

[sent to (name) 6:48pm]

[monakisu]

I want you to know that I came across a random post of your Death Note art, went "Awww, oh my gosh, with the way this person draws Light I think Akechi would look fantastic in the same style!", clicked onto your profile, and then saw your newest artwork was Akechi. I'm still kind of cackling over it and thought maybe you'd find it funny too. Your art is SO cute, I'm very happy I found it <333

HAHA THAT’S AMAZING (<< was an akechi artist wayyyy before i fell head over heels for light)

but rlly… theyre so similar:

- brunet

- asshole

- pretty boy

- mass murderer

- black-haired homoerotic rival

at the end of the day, the key difference is one is a top and the other is a bottom.

ok but seriously, they’re vastly different characters on a fundamental level:

- light was handed everything him on a silver platter: family, friends, looks, intellect, a comfortable life… as a bastard child of a sex worker and now an orphan, goro had to fight his way to his current position and will always harbor a terrible sense of inferiority (light is completely confident in his absolute superiority, Always (that’s why the challenge of L sent him off the deep end of obsession lol))

- light genuinely sees himself as a hero, while goro would like to feel the same but is nonetheless depressingly aware of his villain’s journey (his undesirable position as the detective vs the underdog phantom thieves, his string of assassinations, his ultimate dirty bloody goal, etc.).

- light’s motive is about the world’s salvation, cleansing, the birth of his ideal reality (very messianic of him with the slightest loving tinge of mary cradling her lamb hahaha) while goro is laser-focused on ruining this one asshole’s life in particular, vengeance and revenge at once! one’s focused on rebirth, and the other gunning straight for death! they both use murder to get what they want but light probably floats around thinking himself so clean and divine as mother of the world (ignorance is bliss) while goro is constantly desperately trying to cover up his suspiciously red hands with his gloves hehehe… they’re both constantly striving for perfection, just with varying levels of self-awareness!!

- goro is a canonical loner; light has a horde of friends; this is probably due to a difference in public persona! goro is an untouchable idea of what he thinks a human should be and is completely out of the loop when it comes to normal social interactions (believes opening with hegel will instantly endear himself to the average person (luckily he inflicted that upon akira who is decidedly not average in the slightest)), light is implied to be more down-to-earth and even slightly goofy (he’s gaming decorum like an advanced speedrunner)! it’s probably good how distant goro is, because getting any closer to him will allow you to see how off-putting and uncanny he is, sorta like an AI-generated image—seams in the wrong places and far too much teeth LOL. meanwhile light has this whole shebang so thoroughly figured out that he’s BORED with it all! he’d like to move on to the next game (with L), thank you!! light definitely still exudes uncanny creepiness (it’s his natural state of being) especially when he zones out or starts hysterically cackling out of nowhere at his own thoughts, but he’s a hundred times better at masking compared to goro due to a better upbringing. goro is starved for the adoring friends he sees akira easily picking up one after another; light couldn’t give less of a shit because he’s always had those trivial luxuries! he’d much rather prefer an adoring WORLD!!

- then there’s the difference in how they die… one started out surrounded with company but ultimately died alone, while it’s the opposite for the other (if you count the de-realization of maruki’s reality as goro’s “death” (which i don’t)).

- in conclusion, light and goro are like funhouse mirror reflections of each other!!! one is a pampered lapdog getting a taste of rabies and letting loose, while the other is a starving wolf trying to domesticate itself for treats and headpats!! and i <3 them both!!!!!

anyways i may be wrong about light because im going purely off of fics, tumblr shitposts, and my own imagination :] feel free to school me in a way that won’t destroy my delusions!

[shiftinglea]

Explanation behind “You already have your desire”

Since I started my LOA journey, I've had a healthy amount of skepticism towards the idea of already having our desires. Some part of me agreed with that and said, "Yes, I indeed have my desires" (it was my soul saying that to me). But my logical mind would be like, "No, you don’t. Look at your physical life. Do you see your desire?"

And while I knew that all LOA bloggers would tell me to believe in my imagination/4d and not my 3d, I still struggled.

Until I finally found the perfect explanation of why I should trust my 4d more than my 3d.

And I’m here to share these insights with you.

It all comes down to realizing that all outcomes, all desires you have, every single potentiality exists here in the Now. They are happening all at once. But we are not perceiving them all at once. We are experiencing a certain reality at a time depending on our actions, assumptions, thoughts, and beliefs.

I will give a good analogy that I already used in one of the asks. Imagine you are in a huge room with different objects inside. A huge skeleton of an elephant is grabbing your attention first. This is what you are perceiving. But you want to find a certain book and after some searching, you find it. The thing is, the book was always in that room, you just didn’t notice it.

The same with your desires. They are always here but you are not observing them.

At every single moment you are always choosing what reality you are perceiving depending on your thoughts and assumptions.

And when you perceive a certain outcome, you know that other possibilities are still there and are available to you. You just aren’t aware of it with your senses.

Knowing that everything you can imagine exists here in the now allows you to relax and not worry about how to get it. Because you know that it’s already here even though your physical senses don’t perceive it yet.

What you need to do is to persist in this knowing that your desire is yours even though your senses don’t show it yet. This persistence will allow your desires to “physicalise” (but not really since they have always been there you just changed your perception).

Another good analogy that can help with grasping this concept is DVD. Imagine a disk with your favorite movie on it. You have watched this movie so many times and you know the ending.

So you are not stressing when characters are going through some tough times because you know that this movie has a good ending for them.

Think of your life as an infinite library with DVDs. Each DVD has a different reality that you can perceive and be a part of. When you imagine your desire/fulfill your inner man/know that your desire is yours/affirm, etc., you are literally choosing which DVD/reality you will perceive.

So when something “bad” happens, you don’t need to stress because you know how this “movie” will end. You have already seen the outcome (imagined it and accepted that it’s yours).

Your state, thoughts, and beliefs align you with a particular ending of each movie/outcome of reality. That’s why it’s recommended to think as if and to embody the state of having your desire because it aligns you with a reality where you are a person with your desires.

So disregard your senses and don’t allow them to tell you whether you have your desires or not. You always do. You just need to switch your perspective and see that it has always been there 🙏❤️

[bonefall]

Is there any one particular bit in Ivypool's heart that really stands out concerning wanting to tackle it in BB (be it lovingly or with violence)?

I'll do you two; a loving tackle and a violent tackle!

VIOLENT TACKLE:

Dovewing and Ivypool do NOT have a good relationship in BB, and furthermore, I absolutely refuse to let Ivypool be a healthy and well adjusted individual at this point in her life. ABSOLUTELY not. The Erins have dropped a raw steak at my feet and given me an opportunity to display BB!Ivypool's Dovewing Derangement Syndrome on full blast and I am shaking it like Whistlepaw shakes a newborn baby.

I was really craving someone on this journey not being patient with Ivypool, and seeing her act unreasonably on her pain and loss.

I wanted to see her get nasty with someone, and have them fight back. I wanted to see someone get angry that she was insensitive towards them when they've ALL gone through similar things. It kinda felt like everyone on this journey was there to give Ivypool therapy, not work out their issues as a group.

For BB, I also want to give Dovewing and Ivypool some soft moments of mutual understanding, but... in the end, they do not reconcile because Dovewing does not want to.

And that's okay.

Ivypool will think she NEEDS her sister and her acknowledgement to move on, to have her accept an apology (which, truthfully, Ivypool doesn't entirely believe in) because it's SOME kind of closure when she won't get that with Bristlefrost... but she doesn't.

Moving on and healing is about the life you make in the wake of that loss. It's not Dovewing's responsibility to give her sister what she craves, it's up to Ivypool to make meaning in her own life. It's about the friends she will find, the wide world there is to discover, and the ways she can make things better for the Clans in Bristlefrost's name.

Even when the bridge is burned... the river still runs.

(As a side note, I've also TOTALLY gotta work in a moment where Ivy and Dove come across their mom, Cinderheart, while she's out traveling with their aunt/stepmom Fallenleaf. This is the perfect opportunity for Ivypool to let out a bunch of anger she has towards them, but also have them get a little involved in the new supernatural stuff!)

Special mention to the Sisters stuff; in BB they are not Evil Neglectful Bad Moms Who Hate Men. Beach and Slate will be tweaked. I am already imagining a scene where Rootspring gets to have a Cool Older Brother moment and show off some cool tricks he figured out with his talisman.

(in BB, the male sisters don't genetically inherit the ability to see ghosts, they have a special necklace crafted for them that lets them call spirits without the need of a large group.)

(Slate also will not be needing a rename, because Slate DOTC has a full name now-- Slate Keeper. I'm still working on her, but she's essentially The Wind Runner's secretary.)

POSITIVE TACKLE:

DEFINITELY the "River of Souls," along with StormClan and the Wildcats. I'm still wary of the Wildcats and the way the Erins could possibly dip into some weird "genetic superiority" stuff in the future, but they actually did a pretty good job introducing them!

I love the way that Wildcat religion is essentially that everything is connected by three elements, and that their unique belief system allows them to travel between afterlives. I adore this so much that I'm going to start thinking of the various "afterlives" in BB as having a primary element which influences how they behave.

Silverpelt and Skypelt are primarily Wind-Element systems. This makes them mobile and powerful, but highly subjected to the whims of the living.

The Tribe of Endless Hunting is primarily a Water-Element system. It's a very present element, flexible and easy for individuals to access while also allowing spirits to interact with the mortal plane.

The Guardian's Firmament is primarily an Earth-Element system. They require setup and investment on behalf of their followers, in return for giving worshippers a very powerful and intimate connection to the land.

All afterlives contain a mix of elements, but have "affinities." I also immediately saw a juicy opportunity to introduce the idea that Wildcats dance around addressing "fire" as an element, considering it forbidden, or at the very least, wild and unpredictable.

One Eye, who created the Dark Forest as a curse, is a God of Summer. So the Place of No Stars is absolutely a Fire-Element-- and I'm going to keep it loose until I understand what that looks like better. I want to save a little bit of wiggle room for future Wildcat appearances.

I'm also warming up to the idea that the Sisters have some Wildcat influence. I'm probably going to adjust their lore a bit to make them a mixture of Tribe culture and Wildcat culture. I've got a budding idea that, because Wildcats are rare and their population is scattered, they have a sort of concept of like... "Making A Home Where You Are," no matter where that is, or what culture they become part of.

So I like the idea a lot that this "river" is part of that. They maintain a connection to each other, across distances. The Guide of a Wildcat kitten is their mentor, both in terms of spiritual and physical training.

I'll also be needing a new name for this rework. Part of me really wants to call it "Ivypool's Loss," both for the angle of grief and also for the meme lmao. But, "Ivypool's Catharsis" also works very nicely... and if I go with "Ivypool's Awakening" the abbreviation is IPA and I can make beer jokes.

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Hwang Hyunjin x F!Reader & Lee Felix x F!Reader TW : For Hyunjin : reader has a broken leg ; reader gets hit by a passenger van ; mentions of blood ; Hyunjin isn't really an asshole, he's just upset ; it's really fluffy at the end though ; For Felix : reader gets stabbed ; reader is in the hospital ; reader gets stitches ; Word Count : For Hyunjin : 2.9k For Felix : 5.8k (In total 8.7k) Request : @slayhyunjin wants the Hyunlix version of this and that is what they will get!! A/N : I hope you enjoy this and I'm sorry for making you wait so long for it : ' (( WENT ALL IN ON THE FELIX ONE! PLEASE ENJOY!!!

Hyunjin

He was on a mini tour, at least, that’s what you called it when he had to perform concerts closer to home. He was still gone, but he was in the country and it meant that he’d be home sooner which was always exciting. It was the one thing, the only thing you loved about when he went away… The moment he’d come back and it was like he had been gone for an eternity instead of just a couple months. 

You loved surprising him when he came home too, saving up all the money you made at your work to buy him little things to add to his art room. New paint sets, a new canvas, new sketch pads and pencils. Anything that would make him happy, and he always got excited over the smallest things, but seeing the way his eyes would sparkle when he saw the new materials on his desk made the wait for him worth it. 

This particular trip you had saved up enough money to buy him a brand new watercolor paint set, something that you knew he had his eyes on for a while. Luckily the art store was only a couple blocks away and you enjoyed the walk from the apartment to the shop, always stopping by the little cafe on your way there to get an iced americano, it made you feel closer to him when drinking his favorite drink and picking up his favorite things. 

Spring time was your favorite time to walk, the scents of fresh flowers blooming and new leaves budding on the trees. It also meant the occasional rain that you were always prepared for, your umbrella hanging from your wrist as you walked along fairly busy sidewalks. 

You had been in the store when it started raining, and you were planning on waiting it out close to the entrance like everyone else was, but this particular storm decided to last much longer than you had planned, so you ventured out. It’s not that the rain bothered you, it was more so that you didn’t want the set that you had bought to be potentially ruined. 

It was crazy how things can go from being so perfect so fucked in a matter of seconds. First you’re walking across the street because the crosswalk light tells you it’s okay, and the next you’re being hit by a passenger van that didn’t even have the common decency to stop and make sure you were okay. At least they didn’t continue straight through and just completely run you over. They had simply gone over your leg which was still excruciatingly painful, but it definitely could have been worse. 

Now, a lot of people might be wondering, why not call Hyunjin and let him know what happened?! And while it’s a very good question, you knew how he was. God, his heart was so big, his love for you was so strong, he’d try to get home to you so fast that he’d probably make the journey on foot if there wasn’t a flight that would get him to the nearest airport available right then and there. Not just that, but he’d stop at nothing to find whoever it was that hurt you, he’d track them down to the ends of the planet just to yell at them for hurting his love. 

He was busy, you didn’t want to bother him with the silly little accident, and what was important was the fact that somehow, by some miracle, the watercolor set had survived. After going to the hospital and getting your leg casted up and making sure that nothing else was broken during the accident, you got to go back home and place the set in the center of his desk with the giant bow on it, anticipating the moment that he finally came home and saw it. 

What you realized while trying to perfectly set up the watercolor set and make it look pretty was that it was a pain in the ass to try to walk on your cast, although the doctor had already strongly advised you not to do that… You thought that it was just a general thing he had to say to everyone. No wonder they were so hell bent on making sure you had someone at home to help you around the house the first couple of days. You couldn’t do shit. 

A surprise visit home, that’s what he was planning. He had been talking to the guys about it for a solid week, and now it was the day. He stood at the front door, taking a deep breath before letting himself in, only to be met with the apartment in such a state of disarray that he had to do a double take to make sure he was heading into the right apartment. 

Following the double take he saw you on the couch, that’s how he was 100% sure he was at the right place, but it didn’t make any sense. There were bowls of food and empty cups and take-out bags everywhere around you, and you were just laying on the couch all cozied up like you didn’t care. When he first met you, you were so organized, so clean, and not to the point of needing everything to be absolutely perfect but you surely weren’t like this. Maybe it was an act, and maybe the house looked like this every time he went on tour. The only reason it looked so clean when he came back all the other times was because he had told you he was coming. 

“It’s… It’s such a mess…” He muttered to himself as he stepped deeper into the apartment, his heart sinking as he thought about how he almost left Kkami in your care. “There’s just… Mess everywhere…” He continued to talk to himself as he continued to look around. It looked like there hadn’t been any sort of cleaning done in weeks. This is the house that he lived in… He just couldn’t believe it. 

You had been sleeping so soundly, but he tripped over one of your crutches, causing it to fall over and hit the floor, the sudden noise causing you to jolt awake. “Hyunjin! You’re home! You wouldn’t believe the week I had.” You said, your smile bright as you looked at him over the back of the couch. How could you still be so cheerful when surrounded by such filth? You must be used to it… But he wasn’t. He couldn’t live like this, and he surely couldn’t be with someone who regularly lived like this, who pretended to be someone they clearly weren’t when around him. 

“I was just leaving.” He rushed the words out as he walked back towards the door. “I can’t be here… It’s just… Disgusting… I have to go.” He excused as he quickly walked out, accidentally slamming the door behind him. That was the irony of it though, the fact that your crutches had been the item that he tripped on, yet his mind had been so fogged by the filth that he didn’t even think to question what they were doing there. He didn’t even second guess their presence considering everything else looked so out of place. 

Truthfully, he wasn’t even mad… He was just upset. The person that he saw today in his apartment was not the person that he had fallen in love with, and surely not the person that he imagined a future with. It’s not that he expected you to be his maid while he was working either, he knew that you worked, you were just as busy a person as he was, but he just thought that maybe you’d want the house to be kept a little clean… That’s the type of person you made it seem like you were… He was upset that he had been wrong. 

Your blanket had somehow managed to get wrapped around you while you were napping on the couch, it made it impossible to kick it off in time for you to get up or for him to even see the cast around your leg. Of course, it would have been nice if he would have just let you explain, but you could understand his irritation. 

As you looked around the house, you finally took in just how unsightly it was. It looked like there had been parties going on since he left and you hadn’t cleaned up after any of them. It was disgusting, you hated it, and you yourself would have been just as upset if you walked into your house and seen it looking like this. 

“Shit…. Shit!” You hissed, unwrapping yourself from the blanket before trying to get up. It hurt, but nothing would hurt worse than Hyunjin leaving you, so you dealt with it, gritting your teeth to muffle your cries of pain as you started to clean up, trying your best to shift the weight off your bad leg, but it was almost impossible considering the mess that you had to avoid to get to the garbage can. 

You weren’t even sure how so much shit had accumulated, but there were pizza boxes stacked up on the coffee table beside the carry–out bags, and there were the discarded plastic bags piling around you from when you’d get out the shower and just rip them off and place them to the side, promising yourself that you’d throw them away later. 

Damp towels laid on the floor beside the dirty clothes hamper, towels from when you’d pull them from off your head, tossing them and hoping they’d make it in only for them to land everywhere but where you wanted. Again, you had promised to get to it, but you never had. It truly was disgusting, and even though your leg felt like it was on the verge of falling off right now just from walking on it, it shouldn’t be an excuse for how disgusting the house had gotten. 

Aside from walking… Everything else was also a pain in the ass. You couldn’t bend over to grab things off the floor, although you were trying your best, but the gravitational pull of the earth had different ideas and you ended up falling face first to the floor, managing to bust your lip and bloody your nose in the process. It wasn’t bad enough that everything was a mess, but now you were just as bad off as the apartment. 

What’s worse is that you couldn’t even get up. There was nothing close enough to give you the leverage that you needed, and your good leg was in just about as much pain as the broken one from you trying to catch your fall and landing right on your knee. Your phone was somewhere amongst the pile of garbage on the coffee table and you couldn’t even crawl over there to get it, you were left on the floor, and you felt that that’s where you belonged, alongside all the garbage that you had created. 

Hyunjin was quick to realize that he had been wrong… Not about you, but about the situation. Not as quick as he wished he had been, but he was back at the dorms and he couldn’t stop beating himself up about the way he had left you. He hadn’t been rude, not exactly, not the way other people would have been… But he wasn’t exactly nice either. 

He had gone back to the dorms, and the rest of the guys were still back at the hotel in the city they had just performed in. He felt more lonely than ever and he knew that he needed to talk to you to apologize for the way he had been acting, so he texted you. He would have gone back to the apartment, but he was so nervous about how you’d react to him suddenly showing back up that he felt it would be better if he just texted you first to ask if he could come back. 

There was no response, and that made sense… Obviously you’d be mad at him for walking out the way he did… And now he was playing back those moments in his head, the moments that led up to him walking out… And he couldn’t stop thinking about the crutches that he had tripped over. Why were they even there? They hadn’t been there when he left… But if something had happened to you that would require you to need them… You would have told him about it… Right? 

But what if you hadn’t told him about it… And something really bad happened… And that’s why you weren’t answering his texts. He hoped that wasn’t what was wrong… For the first time since being with you he was hoping that you were just mad at him and ignoring him. At least in that case you would still be okay. That didn’t stop him from panicking though. He called a cab and waited impatiently outside for them to pull up, not even waiting for the car to come to a complete stop before climbing in the back and giving the driver the address. 

As soon as he got to the building he ran up the stairs, bursting through the front door and it felt like he was about to die, his heart breaking when he saw you laying in the middle of the floor. You looked absolutely lifeless, a puddle of blood on the floor next to your face, and the cast that wrapped from your foot up to your mid thigh explained everything. “Help… Please…” Your voice weakly called from the middle of the floor, and the only reason any sound of relief came from his lips is because you weren’t dead. 

“I’m here…” He whimpered, already crying as he rushed over to you and helped you off the floor, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist to help support you as walked you back over to the couch. “I’m so sorry for leaving you, my love… I didn’t even wait to hear your reason… I just left…” He was full of shame and guilt as he looked at you, the blood that had trickled from your nose now dried on your upper lip and your bottom lip busted open from where it hit the floor. “One second… let me get something…” 

He rushed off the couch and to the kitchen, grabbing a towel and soaking it in cold water before running back and lightly wiping away the blood. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have let it get this bad. I would have been the same way… It just hurt so bad to walk and… I hate the crutches, they hurt my arms and… I’m sorry.” You mumbled, and he quickly pulled you into a hug, lightly pushing against the back of your head to muffle your words against his shoulder. 

“I don’t care about the apartment, love… I care about you.” He whispered, repeatedly kissing the top of your head as he said the words. “Now… Tell me what happened… Please.” 

You were right… Hyunjin had gone from crying profusely when he heard about the accident, his head shaking as he apologized over and over for not being there for you, although you repeatedly told him that you were the one that didn’t tell him. As soon as the tears stopped flowing though, he was angry, angry at the driver who so carelessly injured and could have potentially stolen away his love. He was so angry in fact, that he planned on having management go to every store with a security camera and demand the footage from the day that it happened so they could track down the person who did it. 

After he had calmed down as much as he could, he called the guys to let them all know he wouldn’t be able to come back for the rest of the concerts, explaining to them that you needed him more than they did, and no, you couldn’t get him to change his mind, and none of the guys tried to get him to change his mind either. You were now stuck with a slightly overbearing and overly apologetic Hyunjin who didn’t leave your side at all. 

“Why were you walking around down that way though? Your work isn’t down there…” He mused one evening, still unable to get over what had happened and trying his best to piece it all together although you had explained everything to him. You sighed softly, suggesting for him to check the art room, and he gently moved your leg from off his lap as he ran to the room, his squeal of excitement loud enough for not only you, but probably the neighbors on all sides of you to hear as well. “You almost got killed to get me this?!” He called from the room, and you giggled lightly. 

“It’s the one you wanted, right?” You called back, as he came out from around the corner of the door, tears in his eyes as he clutched the box against his chest, his head nodding fast in response to your question. “Then it was worth it… I’m glad you like it, babe.” 

“I don’t deserve your love!” You cried out as he rushed back over to the couch where you were resting, leaning over the back to catch your lips in a deep kiss. “I’m gonna paint your cast and make it look so pretty… You’ll be my canvas until it gets taken off.” 

Felix

“You really can’t go with me this time?” Felix asked as he stood just off to the side of the TSA line at the airport. He had been asking the question since he found out he and the guys were going to Australia for a couple tour dates. Sadly your work schedule wouldn’t allow it to be done, and as much as you asked and practically begged for even three days off, they just couldn’t do it. You shook your head before kissing his lips softly, then doing the same to each of his cheeks, a salty taste clinging to your own lips from the tears that he had shed on the way to the airport. “I’m gonna miss you, angel… Be safe, remember to lock the doors, and look both ways before crossing the street… And don’t talk to strangers and don’t walk down alleys at night and-” 

“Lixie…” You whispered, cutting him off for the sole purpose of, you knew he was stalling. He hated leaving you, and you hated when he left, but neither of you really had a choice in the matter. “You’re gonna miss your flight…” You reminded him, and he looked down at his phone that was open to his boarding pass, his bottom lip jutted out. 

“So what if I did? Then I’d get to stay with you… Is that so bad?” He retorted and you truly wished it was that easy, but the both of you knew that it wasn’t, and the way that he said wasn’t the way that it would play out. 

“The company would be pissed at both of us… And they’d just send you out on the next flight…” You explained, although he already knew that that’s what would happen. It didn’t stop him from wishfully thinking though. “Go on… I’ll be right here waiting for you when you get back. I’ll even have a big sign with your name on it… If management lets me.” 

He chuckled, although the sound was more sad than anything else and he pulled you into his arms, squeezing you tightly as he took a deep breath of you, holding it in his lungs as if he was going to carry it with him the whole time. “Always wait for me, okay? I’ll always wait for you… I love you… I already miss you… Fuck… I have to go… I love you so much… So so much…” He continued to profess his love as he walked backwards into the line, his eyes squeezing shut every couple of seconds as tears rolled down his cheeks once more. 

Every night he��d call you before you went to work, the joys of working the evening shift, and most of the call would be him just telling you that he loves you and how much he misses you and how much he wishes you were there with him. You’d tell him that it was going to be okay, that you’d be together soon and that you loved him too. The calls usually left you both crying, and you’d have to tell him that you’d be late for work if the call continued. Then he’d call you every night after work, asking you how your day went and once again telling you that he loved you, how he wanted so badly to be laying next to you in his hotel bed, holding onto you and burying his face in your hair, the smell of your shampoo filling his nose and helping him sleep better. He needed you, and you needed him too, it was only two weeks until he came back… It would be okay. 

“It’s getting dark out, are you sure you don’t want me to drive you home?” Your boss asked as she stood at the door, leaning against it to hold it open for you. “I don’t mind it, I don’t want you walking out here by yourself.” 

You hummed softly, shaking your head as you walked past her, adjusting your purse on your shoulder as you paused just outside the door. “I’ll be okay, I walk home all the time. I’ll see you tomorrow, drive safely.” You said cheerfully, anticipating the call that would come from Felix as soon as you got home. 

The walk was always pleasant, the summer breeze that came with the hidden sun always felt nice when he blew around you, taking a deep breath and letting the fresh air fill your lungs… Until it didn’t. The breath that you tried to take now burned, the pain in your side wasn’t too bad, not until you tried to breath again and you couldn’t, it felt like your lungs were on fire. 

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings, angel. You could get hurt.” You remembered Felixs words from a time not too long ago when you had started to walk across the street before the traffic had even stopped, so happy just being with him that you didn’t even take the time to look around. The words rang true as you finally looked down, noticing the knife that was still plunged into your side. 

It was crazy how it didn’t start really hurting until you looked at it, and then, as if the world had been on mute for a couple minutes, all of the sound came back and you could hear bystanders screaming as they rushed over to you. “It’s okay! We’ve called an ambulance and the police! It’s okay! Just hold on!” You didn’t know who this person was, he simply caught you before you collapsed onto the ground, gently lowering you down, using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the blood from your mouth every time you opened it. The taste of copper was nauseating and you couldn’t help but retch when it would coat your tongue. “No no… Don’t do that… It’ll make it worse!” 

The knife still hadn’t been pulled out yet, and you remembered reading somewhere that if it had been pulled out immediately that you would have bled to death… But god, the pain was worse than whatever death could possibly feel like. “The ambulance is on its way! Someone caught her! They’re waiting for the police!” You could faintly hear a woman scream, but the sound of your breathing, if you could even call it that, was much louder in your ears. The rattle of your lungs and the heavy wheezing was so annoying, but sadly you couldn’t mute that sound considering it was coming from you. 

There wasn’t much that you could do, there wasn’t anything you could do really… Just laying there, listening to the rattle and the commotion and the distant sirens that you knew were coming for you. All you could do was dive into your own mind, try to think of something, anything to make this moment just a little more bearable. Felix. He was the only thing you could think of. The way his smile brightened even the darkest nights, the way he’d come back home after performing and you’d have the honor of wiping off his makeup, kissing along his cheeks as his perfect freckles reappeared from under the makeup. The way his hair would drip onto your face after a shower when he’d climb on top of you, his fingers tickling your sides as he smothered you with kisses. He was your happy place, he always would be, and even if you died right now, there was no heaven that would ever be better than the one you got to live on earth when you were with him. 

“Woman in custody after random stabbing near Yangjae-daero. Eyewitnesses say that the woman was a crazed fan, screaming that the victim “didn’t deserve to be with him.” Although the “him” in question was never specified. The victim is currently in the hospital with no update on her condition just yet…”

Bangchan shook his head as he read over the report, tossing his phone to the side and running his hands over his face. “I never thought that people would go this far. It’s ridiculous, it’s scary. We need to keep our girls safe.” He said, and Felix nodded his head in agreement, having been the first one to read the news. He hated that it was so close to your place of work, and he tried his best to call you and text you, but he was sure that right now you were being questioned by police about what you saw and heard. 

“She’s probably so scared…” Felix murmured, checking his phone once more, but there were still no texts from you. “I don’t want her walking home by herself anymore… God, what if it had been her?” And while he wasn’t even 100% sure it wasn’t you, he wanted to believe you were okay, so he did. He filled his mind with every single scenario other than the one where you were the victim. 

“Try not to worry too much, we’ll be going home tomorrow morning and you’ll be with her.” Chan said, but Felix felt it was quite hypocritical since his girlfriend had been texting him the entire time while Felix was getting nothing but silence from you. “Just try to get some sleep, okay?” 

And he tried, he tried his best, but he couldn’t get even a wink of sleep without hearing your voice before bed, so many nights spent just laying on the hotel pillow that brought him no comfort since it didn’t smell like you, but he’d hear your voice, his phone on speaker but the volume low so that if he closed his eyes it sounded like you were really right there. He needed that, he needed you to call him, he needed you. 

He wasn’t even close to falling asleep, it had been 4 hours, and the vibration from under his pillow had him rolling over onto his stomach to look at the screen that was so blinding in the darkness. You finally texted him though, he felt like he could finally breathe, at least a little bit. “Sorry for worrying you. Don’t worry, I’m fine. These cops had more questions than I thought they would.” 

“It’s okay, I just needed to be sure you’re okay. Did you get home? Make sure to lock the doors, and if you need to go to work or anywhere, text Chans or Changbins girlfriends, they’d be happy to help you.” He knew you wouldn’t though, even though you’d be much safer if you did, you hated burdening people and putting them out of the way even if it meant you’d be safe. “Try to get some rest, it’s so late. I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you.” He texted and your response came quickly, telling him that you loved him too, that you hoped he slept well and had sweet dreams, and now that he knew you were okay, he knew that he’d be okay. 

It had completely slipped his mind to let you know he was coming home the next day, he had finally gotten to sleep at 4am and he had to wake up at 6am to get to the airport by 7. A 10 hour flight, and he hoped he’d be able to sleep a little bit on the plane before he got to you, he didn’t want to be exhausted when he finally saw you. 

By the time he landed in the afternoon his stomach was full of butterflies, his smile unwavering as he thought about how it would feel to hold you in his arms again. Of course you weren’t going to be at the airport waiting for him, you didn’t know he was coming home early. Nobody knew, but after the report, all of the guys wanted to go home to be with their girlfriends, there had never been such panic felt by Felix as the guys raced through the airport to get to the cars to go to see their girls. Felix felt the same way though, and while he hated comparing his emotions to anyone else's, his panic was far greater considering you had been so close. 

Now, Felix loved a clean house as much as the next person, but he didn’t like it to be so clean that it felt like a sin to even walk across the floors. He liked things clean, but he still wanted the house to feel like it was lived in, he wanted it to feel like a home, which is why when he walked through the front door and saw your hoodie balled up on the bench instead of hung in the closet he felt nothing but warmth in his heart. It was your favorite hoodie, it was his hoodie, and seeing it on the bench meant that he’d be seeing you soon. 

At least, that’s what he thought, but when he walked further into the house he still didn’t find you, but he did find a mess. Dishes still sat in the sink, begging to be washed. Your lounge clothes were discarded carelessly on the floor in the bedroom, not even brought to the dirty clothes hamper beside the washing machine, and speaking of the washer, the clothes that were in there had gone sour from being left to sit dampened in the bin for so long. There was a very big difference between a house being lived in, and a house just being dirty, and right now, the house felt dirty. 

“Look…” He started the text, trying his best to sound as understanding as possible while also getting his point across. “I know you’ve seen some shit, but that doesn’t mean you can just let the house fall apart. I mean… Leaving dirty dishes in the sink? Leaving wet clothes in the washer? That could cause vermin… It could cause mold to build up in the washer and in the clothes. I thought you knew better… I thought you were better than that. I love you, but I’m not gonna pretend I’m not annoyed right now. I’ll stay at the dorms right now… And I’ll come back home tomorrow to help you with some stuff but… I don’t want to come back home and see the house like this. It’s kind of upsetting.”

Why didn’t you tell Felix about being stabbed… He wouldn’t have texted you that if he knew… He would be sitting in the hospital with you right now and comforting you. Well, there were a lot of reasons actually… But the main one was that you knew he’d blame himself for what happened. You thought that you’d be out of the hospital and at least able to do a little bit before he got home, you never thought he’d come back home early, and the most shocking part was the fact that all of the guys did. 

It was a miracle that you were still alive, a little bit higher and the damage would have been way worse… At least that’s what the doctor said. It was also a miracle that you were being let out of the hospital only two days after getting major lung surgery, props to the surgeons and the amazing medical equipment that’s out now. Still, it’s not like you could really do much, there was actually more that you couldn’t do rather than what you could do. You just needed to keep your activity levels at a low and then you’d be totally fine. It’s not like you were running a marathon, you were just gonna go home and clean the house so that Felix wouldn’t be disappointed in you. Perfectly fine. 

You ubered home considering the fact that Felix was annoyed with you and the last thing you needed was an apologetic clingy boyfriend to spend the entire car ride home belittling himself for saying such things to you. It’s not like he knew what happened, and it was his honest reaction, and to be fair, he had a point. Nothing he said in the text was wrong, and it wasn’t like he was vicious, he just didn’t want mice or roaches to take over and he didn’t want to deal with mold. Nobody wanted that, you didn’t want that. His annoyance was valid, and you didn’t want him to feel guilty over something he had no idea about. 

And to be quite honest, the uber driver's face was priceless when he had asked you why you were in the hospital and you nonchalantly told him you got stabbed and had to have lung surgery. If laughing wasn’t on the list of things to do, you would have cracked up, but truthfully, it was painful to laugh. Breathing in itself was still quite painful, and it was crazy how you had to retrain yourself on how to breathe so that you weren’t in as much pain. 

Walking into your home was like a breath of fresh air, except you couldn’t take that deep breath and instead you had to do a little sniff and just walking up the front stairs had you winded and you had to take a five minute breather on the couch before actually starting any chores. Crazy enough, the dishes, although they were your least favorite chore to do, they had been the easiest. There was no heavy lifting involved, there was no bending over… You finally found a reason to love doing the dishes. 

While you were working in the kitchen, you had restarted the load of laundry that had been sitting in the washer, and it was just about done thankfully. All you had to do was switch the clothes into the drier and then you’d be able to take a little break. It was supposed to be quick and easy, and for the most part it was… Until that one last fucking sock at the bottom of the basin caught your eye. Everything, every bone in your body, your mind, your heart, everything was telling you to just leave it… But you couldn’t, and you stretched over the side of the basin, and you felt the tear, but in the moment you didn’t care because you were victorious, you had got that sock and you threw it in the drier and now you could rest. 

Except you… you couldn’t rest… Because the warm trickle that ran down your side finally caught your full attention, and when you looked down at your shirt you could see the dark red stain that completely soaked through the fabric. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if you didn’t start instantly panicking… But who wouldn’t panic when their stitches from a surgery like yours busted open? And there was so much blood… So much… You started hyperventilating and that hurt even more and you ended up getting light headed and falling to the floor. You truly felt like you were dying, and you knew that you needed to get to the hospital and sure… You could have called an ambulance, you could have called Felix… But he was upset with you and now there was blood all over the floor and for some foolish reason you thought he’d be mad about that, so you called the only other person you could think of. 

Chans girlfriend was like a sister to you, and you quickly called her, and luckily she thought the same way about you and immediately picked up. You could hear the other guys in the background, you could even hear Felix… But you were more focused on the sound of Chans girlfriends voice, finding in it some will to keep from fainting at the sight of all the blood on the floor and the warmth that continued to pour down your side. “Hey, what’s going on? Do you need to be picked up from work?” She sounded so cheerful, her and Chan truly were a perfect match. 

“No… I need… Hospital… Can you take me?” You gasped out, and the silence coming from her end was deafening. If it weren’t for the sound of the other guys goofing off in the background you would have just assumed she had hung up. “Please… Bleeding… I’m bleeding… Really bad…” 

“Y-Yeah… Do you want me to bring him?” You knew exactly who she was talking about, but she was smart, she knew that there was a reason that you hadn’t called him, and whatever that reason was, you most likely didn’t want her to say his name to catch his attention… But she still wanted to be sure. 

“Just you… Please… Hurry…” You mumbled, and it felt like you had used the last bit of energy to say those four words. Your arm fell limp at your side and you didn’t even end the call, it felt like the room was fading in and out and this… this feeling… it was way worse than being stabbed initially. At least then the knife held everything in. Now it seemed like you were bleeding out and you couldn’t even breathe without getting lightheaded. It was the absolute worst. 

Chans girlfriend had rushed out of the dorms so fast, even Chan had no idea what was going on, and he had texted her non stop questioning where she went and what was wrong, but she hadn’t answered. With everything that was going on, it made him uneasy, and now Felix was the one telling him it would be okay, that is, until she walked back into the dorms. She was a completely different person, her eyes almost shell shocked, she looked like she had seen a ghost. 

“What happened?” Chan had immediately rushed over to her, and she only shook her head, and Felix could see the tears in her eyes as she looked at him and then back to Chan, motioning for him to follow her into one of the empty rooms. It’s not that Felix was nosy, but the way she had looked at him had him questioning what the hell she had seen, and why she hadn’t looked at the other guys the same way. “What?!” Everyone froze when they heard Chans scream, and then the rushed out shushes from his girlfriend. “Why didn’t she say anything?! He doesn’t know! Is she okay?! Oh fuck!” There was a panic in his voice, a certain fear that no one had ever heard from their leader before. It was concerning, but everyone was frozen in their seats, stunned into silence as they listened to the conversation, which was more like Chans screaming and his girlfriend's incomprehensible whispers. “Well I can’t just not tell him! You know how he is! For fucks sake, what if she dies?! How do you think he’d feel?! I’m telling him!” 

Everyone else pretended to go back to whatever it was they were doing beforehand once Chan came out from the room, everyone but Felix who had his eyes glued to Chan and his girlfriend who walked out behind him. They were both looking directly at him too, and it only made him more confused when they stopped right in front of him and now he was being motioned to follow them into the empty room. Why was this so secretive? 

“You should sit…” Chan started once he had gotten Felix into his room, and that only confused him more as he slowly lowered down onto Chans bed. “Do you know… Fuck… How am I even supposed to tell him this?!” He looked back to his girlfriend who was leaning against the door, sniffling so quietly that Felix hadn’t even been aware that she was crying until now. 

“Tell me what? Just say it!” Felix demanded, growing impatient with the back and forth of it all, and the urgency in their tones had him on edge and his knee was bouncing so fast that it was shaking the entire frame of the mattress. Clearly it was something important and it was meant for him… “Just spit it out!” 

“Y/N is in the hospital.” Chans girlfriend blurted out and that was the first shot, it was more like a gut punch, it was unexpected, and while it was definitely concerning… It didn’t explain what Chan had said earlier when he thought no one was listening. “She was bleeding a lot and… Her stitches from the lung surgery… They ripped and… She was trying to do the laundry I guess… There was blood everywhere and… She was unconscious when I got to the house and I called an ambulance and followed them there but they wouldn’t let me in…” 

Lung surgery… There was nothing wrong with your lungs, at least there hadn’t been when he had left for Australia. “She… She didn’t say anything… About that…” Felix stammered, his heart going a mile a minute and his mind reeling as he thought about what to do… What he could do. He felt helpless, there truly was nothing he could do right now to help you. “Why…. Why would she need lung surgery…. What happened?” 

Chans girlfriend sighed as her head fell forward, her eyes sticking to the ground now. “She was the one… From the news report…” It took a couple seconds for him to finally get it, but once it clicked, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “She shouldn’t have been trying to do chores… Why would she do that? She’s crazy… That stuff could have waited until you got home to help her.” 

It was his fault… Everything was his fault. His legs were shaking as he got up off the bed, and he almost fell forward, he would have fallen to the floor if Chan hadn’t been there to catch him. “Hey… Hey look… There’s nothing you can do right now… Just stay here, rest… I’m sure the hospital will call when they fix things… You’re not okay right now… Just lay down.” Chan urged, pushing him back onto the bed, and he couldn’t even get up, it felt like there was a thousand pounds against his chest, holding him against the mattress. 

“It’s my fault… It’s all my fault… Mine…” Felix muttered to himself through tears, rolling over and curling up into a ball on Chans bed, violent sobs shaking his entire body. “I’m gonna lose her… I’m gonna… She’s gonna be gone… I can’t… I can’t live… Not without her… I can’t do anything… I need her, hyung… I really do…” He stammered, and the only thing Chan could do, the only thing anyone could do was try to console him, and they did their best, but he only got quiet when he cried himself to the point of exhaustion, his puffy eyes closing as his sobs turned to hiccups, then to shaky slumbered breaths. 

“Damn… I’m back here again…” You muttered as your eyes opened to the familiar white walls of the hospital room. “Wanna go home… I’m ready to go home…” And you tried to move, but a familiar, yet strangely unfamiliar pain hit your side as you tried to get up, and when you looked down, you saw the long tube protruding from your side in the exact same spot that your stitches once were. “Now what the fuck is this?” 

“Ma’am…” The doctor that had been standing in your room waiting for you to wake up finally walked over and sternly motioned for you to lay down. “Do you remember me?” Of course you did, it was the same doctor that had so happily discharged you before, and you quickly nodded your head before pointing questioningly to the lung that was poking out of your lung. “Well, you went against every single rule that was written for you to follow, and you tore your stitches, every single layer, and then during your panicked hyperventilation episode, you managed to inhale a lot of blood and now it needs to be drained.” 

“I’m sensing sarcasm…” You mumbled, falling back against the bed since you had no other choice but to lay there. “So how long do I have to stay this time?” You asked, and the doctor rolled his eyes at your sassiness, tapping his pen against the clipboard that he was holding. 

“Considering your lack of self regard and the fact that we have to make sure your lungs are properly drained and then we have to stitch you up again… It’ll probably be a good week before you’re out of here. Now… You said that you’d have someone there who knew what was going on when you got home… Why did the person who brought you in seem so confused? Did you lie just to get out of here?” 

You sheepishly scratched the back of your head and then your face crinkled up as you nodded your head. “But, I was gonna tell my boyfriend! He just got home before me and the house was kind of a mess and I completely forgot about the laundry… You know… Getting stabbed kinda makes you forget about daily chores. I tried to do the laundry when I got home and then… Bam… Stitches popped. I blame the sock.” 

“The sock? You blame the sock?” The doctor repeated, completely exasperated by your sense of disconcern for what was going on. “You could have just explained to your boyfriend that… you know… you got stabbed.” He mocked you, placing his clipboard under his arm as he shook his head. “I’m gonna assume your boyfriend is the dark haired freckled boy who has been loyally sitting on the floor by your door and crying his eyes out… Does that sound like him?” You pursed your lips, nodding your head slowly. “I’m gonna let him in now, okay?” 

You barely recognized him when he walked in, his head hung low and his hair curtaining his face, but when the door shut behind him, he looked up at you, his eyes immediately focusing in on the tube in your side and then he was bawling once more. “Yah, why are you crying? I’m still alive and… painfully, still breathing!” You tried to laugh, but ended up hurting yourself in the process, wincing when the vibration of your chest caused the tube to shift. 

“How are you still so happy?” Felix questioned, not even coming close to your hospital bed which was actually really upsetting considering the one thing that would probably heal you better than any surgery was one of his hugs and maybe one of his kisses. “Is it the morphine? Do you not feel anything?” He looked at the IV drip that was connected to your arm and then back at your face that was smiling so brightly, he’d think that you were in any normal bed just waking up from a nap… 

“No, silly… It’s because you’re here.” You simply explained, holding your arms out to him. “Where’s my hug at? I’ve waited so long for one of your hugs, and you’re just gonna stand there and stare at me?” You pouted, looking down at the tube and letting out a quick sigh, it would have been longer and way more sassy if your lungs could have handled it, but they couldn’t, so a short bit of sass was all you could give right now. “I know I look like a lab experiment right now… but… A hug would be really nice.” 

“You’re like this… because of me… And you still want a hug? You still want me close to you?” He quizzed, and your eyebrows lowered as you looked at him with such shock, your eyes looking around the room before landing back on him. 

“Babe, I don’t know what you’re talking about right now, I just want a hug and maybe some kisses if you feel so inclined to give me them.” You motioned your arms out to him once more, a little more forcefully this time. “I’ll let you have a couple bites of my flavorless jello if you give me a hug… Please?” 

He chuckled, although it sounded way more sad than usual as he finally walked over to you, carefully maneuvering his arms around the tube as he rested his forehead against yours. “You didn’t tell me…” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your nose before pulling back. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Because I knew that you’d blame yourself…” You brushed his hair away from his face before lightly poking his freckles and smiling to yourself. “You’re still doing that right now though… Which is silly. I’m the one that decided to do the laundry even though the doctor told me not to. That’s not your fault.” 

“You didn’t tell me you got stabbed, angel. I wouldn’t have gotten so worked up about the house if I knew that… And you could have told me to go fuck myself after I sent that text.” He scoffed softly as he finally, carefully, sat down on the edge of the bed. “We’re suing her… The whole company is… And we’re gonna make sure you and the other girls have body guards at all times. Nothing like this will ever happen again…” He took a deep breath, and then pursed his lips apologetically as he let it out slowly through his nose and you snorted softly.

“Don’t feel guilty for being able to breathe better than me, breathe deeply for me since I can’t right now…” You joked and he rolled his eyes, his head falling back as he groaned loudly, but you could hear his laughter although he was trying his best to hide it. 

“God, you really are something else…” He murmured once he had calmed down, looking over at you with the softest eyes that held the whole universe in them, although you could only see your reflection in his pupils, but to him, you were his entire universe. “They tried to send my angel back home… I’ll never let that happen… I won’t let you go. If you go, I go… I love you too much to live without you here beside me.” 

You sniffled softly, biting your bottom lip to try to hide the fact that you were on the verge of tears. “Damn…” You choked out before clearing your throat. “I love you too, Lixie… Don’t make me cry though… Makes it hard to breathe…” His eyes widened, and you knew he was on the brink of beginning to apologize again, and you knew that if he did he wouldn’t stop so you cut him off before he could begin. “You think we got time for like… a quickie before the doctor comes in to check on me?” 

“WHAT?!” He shrieked, his cheeks burning a bright red as he glanced at the door and then back at you. “You’re crazy… God I love you so much…” He chuckled as he shook his head, leaning in to kiss you softly as he pet his hands over your hair. “Maybe at night though… I missed you a lot… You know…” 

[nostalgebraist]

the light, and the glass

So there's this particular quality I have, as a fiction writer, and I have very little sense of how common or rare it is.

The quality is closely related to that famous Michaelangelo quip, about his sculptures being "already complete within the marble block":

The sculpture is already complete within the marble block, before I start my work. It is already there, I just have to chisel away the superfluous material.

This is how I feel, too, about my works of fiction. They feel like "real things" that "already exist," in some important sense, before I write them down -- or, indeed, before I even fully know what they contain.

So, for instance, if I haven't yet thought of an ending for a story I'm playing with in my mind, I nonetheless have a vivid sense that this particular story has an ending, and that this ending already is whatever it happens to be. It's only that I haven't managed to "see" it yet.

To clarify the point, consider the contrast between this thing, and two relatively familiar ways of thinking about how fiction gets made:

Conscious, goal-directed craft/artifice. Intending to write a Satisfying Plot in which each character has an Arc, the Story Beats follow logically from one another and are arranged with what is called Good Pacing, the proverbial Cat is Saved, etc., and "solving for" these desiderata in a conscious manner. Or, intending to create something much more outré and unsettling than all that -- but having some specific set of (outre, unsettling) intentions in mind, at the outset, and concocting/arranging the elements of your work in a conscious way guided by these intentions.

Free-wheeling, self-expressive "creativity." Just do whatever, man! Follow your bliss. The canvas is blank and anything is possible. Whatever you feel like putting into that empty space, go ahead and put it there. (The key thing being that, after "putting something there," you'll look and recognize something with origins in you, and your own whims and feelings at a particular moment.)

For me, though, the process of writing, and even of "ideating" (plotting, etc.), feels like a kind of transcription or channeling, as opposed to either of the above.

When I say "channeling," here, I don't mean that I have some actual, mystical belief in a supernatural object revealing itself through me. Not in the woo-woo sense anyway; whatever is really going on here, I am sure it "merely" involves the mechanics of the human mind, as implemented in the physical human brain and body.

But I do mean that it feels a lot like that. Like the story -- and not just the story part of the stories, but the whole thing, the "art object" -- has some real prior existence outside of me, first.

Like I am merely doing my best to "get it right," to be a perfect transmitter for the radio signal. To "do justice" to the "real thing," in the secondary act of writing words onto a page.

To be a courier who transports a valuable object from some originary otherworld into a place which happens to be called "existence" -- and to ensure, as much as possible, that it suffers no disfiguring scrapes during the journey.

----

I should say, though, that there's a lot of the "#1" above in my process too, the conscious-artifice thing.

Except... when I do that kind of thing, the intentions all come from the "real object," and my goal is to fill in whatever I can't see of that object so that everything I can see is preserved.

So: I will come to know, surely and indefeasibly, that the story must have some particular feature. (An event, a little moment, a character feeling a certain way at a certain time, even a specific turn of phrase.) Better to say: I know the story does have this feature. I see it in the marble.

But I can't see everything that's there, already, in the marble. And sometimes these glimpses-from-the-beyond are strange, inconvenient, difficult to "fit" into the current story (or perhaps into any story) in a natural-seeming manner.

And that's my task, when I'm doing the conscious-artifice thing: to take this collection of axiomatically-present glimpses, and build a structure around them into which they can "fit," naturally and even logically, just as if they were ordinary story-building-blocks like their neighbors, being placed here and there for ordinary story-reasons.

----

This has various implications. For one, it determines which kinds of writerly anxieties I suffer from, and which types leave me alone.

Like, I have virtually no self-doubt about my "ideas." About the overall, large-scale goodness-or-badness of the thing I'm creating. At least, not when considered "in principle," in an idealized sense that abstracts away from my actual capabilities as a guy who puts words on pages.

"Was this story, as a whole, a good idea?" is a question I find difficult to ask myself. Even when applied to smaller units, like specific plot points, this kind of question simply goes nowhere when I attempt to think about it. Insofar as my mind can cough up any answer, that answer looks like:

Yes

(after a moment, with mounting bewilderment) Yes, obviously -- how strange even to ask!

(after another moment, and as an afterthought) ...but if it weren't any good, is that really my business? It's not like I came up with it. I was asked to keep it safe and bring it into reality, and I take that duty seriously, but once it has reached its destination I wipe my hands of the matter. Don't shoot the messenger!

It's not, just, that I feel like the "real thing" "already exists." I also feel, always, that the real thing is... really good.

I deeply, thoroughly trust the Muse / Higher Power responsible for originally "making" this stuff. (To speak in relatively woo-woo terms, for ease and clarity.)

The Muse / Higher Power is a seriously skilled artist, much more so than little-old-me; if She makes any errors at all, they are not really mistakes, but "are volitional and are the portals of discovery."

And what's more, there is a sacred, unearthly gleam to the artifacts She makes, perhaps having something to do with that Fairyland, that place-other-than-"existence," in which they are originally made.

It feels like an honor to be designated as a courier for these enchanted things. Perhaps not a deserved honor -- on which more below -- but it's never the nature and value of the transported goods that I doubt.

(There is a definite sense of ritual to the thing that I do, here; a sense of connecting with some other place, definitively apart from our mundane here-and-now, and likewise more important/primary/etc. than the latter. Hence, perhaps, my tendency to not-write for long stretches, and then write in long sustained bursts for many hours at a time, which need a good deal of preliminary building-up-steam before they fully get going; it takes time to pierce, and then fully cross, the veil between worlds. And the various imprints of this stuff on the works themselves are not hard to see, once you're looking for them; they are of course especially transparent in TNC.)

All that being said, I do suffer persistently from a different anxiety.

When Michaelangelo said the thing about the sculpture "already complete within the marble block," he said it as... Michaelangelo.

As a famous, incontrovertibly masterful craftsman. Not a guy likely to suffer from doubts about his ability to put the chisel to the marble block, and reveal precisely that shape which was already there, inside.

But I'm not Michaelangelo. I'm not even sure I'm a good craftsman, much less a great one.

Certainly I've never conceived of myself in this way, even aspirationally. (Well, maybe I did in childhood and adolescence, but that was a very different thing from what I'm talking about now.)

I don't do what a person would do, if they wanted to be a Writer, and strove to be the best one they could. I don't, for the most part, practice my craft. I write because there's a Real Thing that only I can see, and it's not going to make into Existence any other way.

And since I don't write by habit or as practice -- since I only write at times when a Real Thing is in need of some incarnating-work, and I'm the only one around to do it -- I'm not exactly an ideal candidate for the job.

I am like a man who never especially wanted to be a sculptor, never practiced the trade, and was never more-than-ordinarily good with his hands, even... who is then, suddenly, struck with a very literal version of the experience Michaelangelo described.

Who, suddenly and inexplicably, begins to actually see a sculptural masterpiece lurking inside, whenever he looks at a faceless marble block.

What is our protagonist to do? Naturally, he will find a chisel, and begin chipping away. He will feel that these things need to be freed from their prisons, released and revealed to all the world, so that all the world can delight in them as he already does.

But he will be very aware of the unfamiliar way the chisel sits in his hand; of the way that hand trembles, and fails to meet the mark, and sometimes shaves off precious bits of what was really and originally a beautifully formed hand -- so that the hand, in the realized artwork, forever bears some oddity of shape which was not a part of what he saw inside the block, but only a consequence of his own shameful incompetence.

He will feel that his works, such as they are, are an odd mixture of amateurish craft and direct, divine inspiration. Insofar as he is Great, it will be because he has had Greatness thrust upon him, from without. He will feel, sometimes, that his successes have been obtained through a kind of cheating, not won fair-and-square.

And he will feel, always, a particular kind of (justified) impostor syndrome: an awareness that what he is doing, when he sits down before the marble block with the chisel in hand, is a very different sort of thing than what is usually called "sculpting," and what is being practiced by careful, hard-working aspirants just down the road, at the local workshop. The students there call themselves "sculptors," and our protagonist supposes he must call himself a "sculptor" too -- but he knows that behind this coincidence of language, a vast and strange chasm is hidden.

(I worry that this metaphor sounds flattering to me -- I am divinely inspired, they are merely toiling away and following the rules -- when I don't mean it that way at all.

In particular, note that there is nothing in our story to rule out some of the "real" sculptors down the road from also being visionaries who see the finished work in the block. Indeed, I got the metaphor from Michaelangelo, who was precisely this way.

I am only saying that all the conceivable configurations of craft/inspiration are in fact possible: just as it is possible to be skilled but uninspired, it's possible for inspiration to strike someone who lacks the capacity to fully realize its content. And that is how I feel, about my own attempts to create.)

----

When I was getting near the end of Almost Nowhere, and struggling with this kind of feeling, Esther would often reassure me by saying: "you are the light, and you are the glass it shines through."

In other words: you are a transmitter, and you are the source of the transmitted signal. Remember that in actual fact, the "real thing in the marble" came from your own little brain, just as much as the rest of it did. In actual fact, if there is a Muse and a Higher Power, it is really just an additional part of the same creature that holds the chisel, and worries over its trembling hand.

I did, indeed, find this very reassuring. And that's a funny thought, in a way! I imagine that for some people -- and indeed for me, in many other endeavours -- the same sentiment could easily have the opposite effect.

"It's all on you. It's all your responsibility. If any of it is bad, there's no one else to blame. If there is any 'Higher Power' at all, it is only the one inside you at all times, and not able to save you through unexpected intervention, from some true outside."

But I already believed, thoroughly, in the magical potency of the goods I was charged with transporting. If I was (somehow!) their maker, too, then (somehow!) the root of that glimpsed, alien magic was in me.

And so, perhaps, I could trust myself to ferry them into Existence without ruining, without even much dimming, the fairy-gleam from elsewhere that made them what they were.

[pretzel-box]

Tags: Confusion, graphic Mentions of wounds at the end, established relationship

Words: 2k

Characters: Sebastian & Reader

It was strange at best. Your feet carried you through the sticky moss, clinging to your pants like a second skin as you wandered through the deserted, dilapidated area. The moss was an odd, glowing green—close to olive, perhaps, though maybe not. You couldn’t quite say. You’d never been the type to know more than a few shades of green, or any color for that matter. But this particular shade had an inexplicable attraction to it, as if it was a tiny flicker of comfort in a place where everything else felt… off. Yes, surely, the moss was like a droplet of misplaced paint lost in an endless stretch of faded blues and greys.

As your eyes drifted over the sea of green beneath your feet, something else caught your attention: an oddly human-shaped hole in the wall. It was as if someone had neatly cut a person-sized piece from the building itself. The edges were unnervingly clean, almost too perfect, like it had been carved with surgical precision. The sight was eerie, but somehow, compared to the other strange things you’d seen—or might still see—it almost seemed natural. Natural enough to belong, at least here.

"I wonder," you murmured to yourself, your voice breaking the heavy silence that seemed to have draped itself over you like a blanket. "Did I get lost again?"The words felt strange on your tongue, like they’d been uttered before and at the same time they felt new, unspoken. You weren't sure if you had spoken them out loud before or simply thought them, but either way, the sense of déjà vu lingered deep in your head as you tired to make sense of your own logic. The path you walked seemed familiar, the steps you took echoing faintly in your mind, like footsteps you’d already taken. But that couldn’t be right—had you really been here before?

You paused, squinting down the empty grey corridor that stretched ahead. For a brief moment, you thought you could hear something, maybe in your mind—a faint whisper of a voice, a distant hum, or maybe it was nothing at all, an illusion once more. It was hard to say. Everything was hard to say. The world around you felt disjointed, like an old photograph with faded edges and the more you stared at it, the more did it became blurry.

The human-shaped hole in the wall seemed to beckon, its sharp edges almost inviting. Maybe you had walked through it before. Maybe you hadn’t. Didn’t something come out of the wall once? Something that chased you, forcing you to run until your lungs burned? Or was that just another hallucination? The uncertainty weighed heavily on your chest, like a dark cloud you couldn’t shake. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care too much. It was just another piece of the puzzle, wasn’t it?

"Maybe I should turn back," you mused, though the thought evaporated as soon as it was spoken. You couldn’t quite recall where "back" even was. Had there been a beginning to this journey? You couldn’t remember starting it. Maybe it had always been this way—just walking, just moving forward, even when everything around you felt suspended in time.

You took a deep breath, your gaze lingering on the strange, perfect gap in the wall. The silence pressed in again, thick and suffocating, and somewhere deep in your mind, a faint whisper of doubt stirred. Maybe it was nothing, or maybe it was everything. Either way, you moved forward.

Forward meant going backward, or maybe it was still forward. Directions didn’t really matter, did they? You didn’t bother to check the navipath anymore—the numbers all looked the same. Except they weren’t. Or maybe they were? Step after step, your boots echoed against the empty, too-familiar walls. The rhythm of it filled the silence, but the sound felt hollow, like it didn’t really belong. The hallways were empty, sterile—nothing to collect, nothing to see. And yet, it was all so deeply interesting. Hadn’t you passed by that painting before? It was the only thing hanging on the wall, as if someone had placed it there as a cruel joke. The painting was odd—dark, shadowy, a forest at night. The trees looked menacing, towering over the canvas like silent sentinels. But it had a shade of green in it. Pine, maybe.

Pine was another shade of green, the same as the sticky moss from earlier. The sticky moss you trudged through like a second skin. Wasn’t it olive though? Your mind grasped at the detail, a fleeting thought that slipped through your fingers like sand. You stared at the painting, trying to reconcile it with your memories. The oily texture of the paint looked old, long since dried, but there was something wrong with it. You couldn’t place what.

“But wasn’t the moss olive colored?” you muttered to yourself. The words echoed back at you, a hollow repetition. The moss had been olive, hadn’t it? Or was it pine green, like the painting? Had the painting even been there before?

Before you knew it you stood straight with both legs in the moss once more, facing the oddly human shaped hole in the wall and placed your hands on your waist. You wondered, how many moss rooms with human shaped holes existed in this facility, and why were they so fond of appearing right in front of you. More importantly, did you been here before?

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog that clung to your thoughts. You hadn't been here before—at least, you didn’t think so. You'd been walking in a straight line the entire time, hadn’t you? It wasn’t possible to walk in circles, was it? But the gnawing feeling that something was wrong wouldn’t let go. Your mind kept slipping, grasping at the truth, only for it to dissolve in your hands.

Before you knew it, your foot struck something hard and metallic, the clank echoing through the narrow hallway. You glanced down—there, beneath the sole of your shoe, was the discarded lid of a vent, forgotten like the olive painting from earlier. Except… it wasn’t olive, was it? Pine, maybe? Or some other shade of green you couldn’t quite place.

Then a voice, deep and smooth, slid through the open vent shaft like a whisper of mist. "I didn't expect you back so soon. Forget something?"

You blinked, suddenly aware of the ache in your limbs from crawling through the vent, your body bruised by the hard, cold metal. The sound of your own movements echoed in the still air, making the fish-like man before you flinch. You looked at him—wet black hair tangled with strands of algae, and glowing blue eyes that seemed to see straight through you. His smile, sharp and inviting, tugged at some buried memory you couldn’t quite reach. He was familiar, wasn’t he? But also… new. You were sure you’d never seen him before. Right?

"I thought you would’ve left by now," he continued, his voice sending a strange shiver down your spine. His gaze flicked to the side, where a lantern sat beside his tail, the soft light casting long shadows across the floor. "You basically took everything but the lantern. You want it now?"

Your eyes darted down to your hip. Didn’t you already have a lantern? But your belt was empty. Had you lost it? Or… had you never had one in the first place?

The confusion settled in your chest like a weight, but you forced yourself to meet his eyes. Something about his expression, the way he looked at you, made your skin prickle. The grin widened, showing teeth that seemed too sharp, too real.

The words slipped out before you could stop them, "Do I know you?" But even as you asked, you weren’t sure you wanted to know the answer.

Sebastian’s frown deepened as he stared at you, his tail flicking in agitation. He took a deep breath, trying to mask the unease that was bubbling up inside of him. "I’m Sebastian," he repeated, but this time his voice held a softer edge, as if trying to ground you, to remind you of something you couldn’t quite grasp.

Your laughter filled the space between you, bright and full of misplaced joy. "I have a husband called Sebastian! Sebastian Solace." You smiled, lost in the warmth of memories that flickered like a fading flame in your mind. The man in front of you—Sebastian—watched, his glowing eyes reflecting the dim light of the lantern. You didn’t notice his worry, too caught up in the nostalgia that was pouring from your lips.

"I know," he replied quietly, his voice almost drowned out by your laughter.

"You know?" Your brows knitted together, confusion creeping in despite your smile. "Have you seen him? We were supposed to meet up for our anniversary date. He didn’t come, so I went to look for him. But I think I got lost… in a forest." You paused, the details slipping from your grasp. "It was night and there was Pine... or Olive?"

Sebastian’s face tightened as he studied you, his eyes tracing every line of your expression. You were speaking, but the words didn’t make sense. They weren’t connecting the way they should, and it twisted something deep in his chest. You were *you*, but you didn’t see him as *him*.

He reached out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "You didn’t get lost," he whispered, trying to steady his voice. "You’re home now, with me."

But the look in your eyes, the way they glimmered with that misplaced hope, told him that you didn’t believe him. Not fully. You were searching for a version of him that existed somewhere in your memories, but not in the present moment. Your words scared him.

Sebastian’s heart sank as he watched you, completely disconnected from reality, lost in a world that no longer aligned with his. "Home?" you murmured, your eyes drifting across the dimly lit, cramped shop as if it were something else entirely. The small storage room, cluttered with forgotten items and half-broken trinkets, seemed like a distant dream to you.

Your gaze dropped to the ground, and a soft, broken smile crossed your face. "Ah, it was olive after all," you whispered, bending down to touch what you thought was moss. But to Sebastian, it was just the cold, bare floor, nothing more.

He swallowed hard, unable to tear his eyes away as your fingers brushed the empty space, as if you could feel something that wasn't there. He knew it was worse than before, and the knot in his stomach tightened. "Please..." he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he fought to keep himself together.

You were lost. So lost in your own mind, and he couldn’t pull you back. The distant look in your eyes, the soft hum of your voice, and the way you touched the floor with such tenderness—it all felt so wrong.

But it wasn’t until he saw the blood, trickling down the back of your head, that everything shattered. The blood wasn't even fresh, same as the wound. It already started to spread an infection and only god knows for how long you wandered the halls in such a state. You weren't just delusional, no you were totally dancing on the edge of death as your brain started to rip appart the boarders between reality and fiction. The more he looked at it, the more gruesome did the wound look. Parasites had probably eating from your flesh.

His breath caught in his throat as his eyes widened. How long had it been there? How had he missed it? The dark red stream flowed down, staining your hair, unnoticed by you as you continued your quiet rambling about moss and colors.

Panic rising in his chest. He stepped closer, his hands trembling as they reached for you, unsure whether to touch you, unsure how to help. But all you did was smile, oblivious to the world around you—oblivious to the man who loved you standing right beside you, desperately trying to hold on.

[ceilidho]

“Price won’t let a divorce stop him from being with his wife“

“Like he's taunting you but also not”

this delights me to no end because yeah, he probably signed the papers to make you happy or give you some kind of peace of mind but you’ll always be his—it doesn’t matter if you take off the ring or yell at him, you were his the moment you met, his when you said yes, and you’ll always be tied to because you bore his child. It’s not malicious, not from him—but he locked you down with no real intention of ever letting go, silly papers or not, and that is utterly delightful to me

Or maybe none of this but idk I’m a simp and I love your brain

In this particular verse, it's exactly this. When you first told Price that you were divorcing him, sure it momentarily stung because he hadn't seen it coming (he knew you were frustrated with constantly moving and the military lifestyle, but he thought you'd come to terms with it over the years) and it came as a shock, followed by the immediate thought of, "What did I do? Could I have stopped this?"

But that initial feeling of hurt very quickly falls away to just "Alright, it is what it is." If anything, he approaches the divorce as just another chapter in your story. A fun little side journey. It's not like either of you two would be moving on.

You still have his boys at home and he still has a key to your house (technically, his house too because the house is in both of your names; you didn't sell it because you bought it before property values started going up and it just doesn't make sense to sell the house when it's the perfect distance between school and your work). You still keep his ring in your jewellery box with your other rings and earrings, so he knows you haven't parted with it quite yet (you probably would've made a bit of extra cash if you'd pawned it, but you didn't).

Because he knows that it wasn't totally his fault. In essence yes, it was, because of his job, but it wasn't him. You never fell out of love with him. You still go to him for help around the house, still seek him out when you're in a bind or in trouble, still invite him over for dinner with your parents because your dad still loves Price (they bonded over old Louis L'Amour novels and books about Ernest Shackleton), and still look up at him with wide, desperate eyes when you're aching for it because he knows you'll never find another man that knows you as well as he does.

He's looking forward to your second wedding :) your boys could be the ring bearers this time around.

[wcbblife]

pls literally anything kate martin it’s so dry out here 🙏🙏 maybe like kate x influncer reader or something idk

Sure can! We'll get through this drought together ✊ (Did I write too much? Yes. Do I regret it? No.)

Kate Martin x influencer/soccer player reader

How you two met: You play for the soccer team at Iowa university. So naturally, after the season ended you usually spend some of your afternoons playing pickup soccer at the local parks nearby to satisfy the itch to always be playing your sport. Another hobby you also like to do a lot is to record your journey. You vlog about your flights, your training, practices, your tips on how to have a balanced life between sports and studies, and some behind the scenes with your team members. You have a fairly large following of 500k subscribers due to your personality and engaging content. On one particular afternoon, your fiery competitive spirit and impressive skills are able to catch the attention of one particular person amidst the small crowd that always gathered to watch the simple matches. It was none other than Kate Martin. Once the match ended you had seen one of your teammates walk over towards you and Kate followed right behind her (since Kate seems so friendly i def think she hangs out with other athletes outside of basketball). As you packed your things, you felt a pair of pretty eyes staring at your every move. You decide to start the convo up by saying that you watch all her games because you love the way she plays. You watch as her cheeks get a little rosy and she goes on a cute little rant about how she watches your vlogs and videos and that, whenever she could, she would drop by to see your team play. You joke that you guys should hang up so she could teach you to play basketball before your teammate says that she and her girlfriend (who was someone you play with and against constantly in these simple matches) had to go. She leaves you alone with Kate and you bring up that you guys should definitely hang out and she brings out the idea of going to recovery together cuz why not since she will undoubtedly be busy with her own season starting. You agree and that’s the beginning of how you two started talking.

How you got close: So as mentioned above, you guys definitely see each other around the athletic and rehab center in the university. Since you practice off season, you prefer to be safe than sorry and attend your recovery session religiously. Thanks to this, you guys are able to strike up conversations here and there but they're never too long. Not until you need to get into the dreaded ice bath for one session after being inexplicably sore for days on end. You decide that it's the perfect time to get your camera out and record your funny reaction to it to later post it. While walking over to your doom, you come face to face with Kate. You shamelessly note that she was wearing really revealing clothes. She smiles and asks where you’re headed and you explain and she immediately asks if she could join you cuz she was going over there too. Once you get there you turn on your camera and explain to the viewers what was going to happen. While you did that, you felt Kate looming behind you. You stop the camera and ask what’s wrong and she gets a little embarrassed asking you cute questions about how the camera worked. You laugh and give her a little class while you two sit side by side while you show her the basics. She jokes that she would love to be your camerawoman and you don’t have it in you to say no. Not with the way she stares at you with her eyes. (Anyway before I get carried away) You set the camera up so that it catches you both while you get into the big tub of ice. She laughs as she watches you shuffle awkwardly towards the cold pit of despair and pokes at you with jokes about how you look rn. You shoot her a look and grab a handful of water to throw her way. She shrieks and grabs your wrist to stop you, letting her hold lingering a little longer than normal (you also note just how strong Kate is). Snapping out of whatever was between you all of the sudden with her touch, you look at the camera and think screw it, getting in hastily without double thinking about it. You regret it immediately, screaming and Kate doubles down with laughter. What she doesn’t expect is for you to yank her inside out of spite. In an attempt to stop herself from falling into the cold water, she holds a hand out towards the edge, but you’ve tugged her down enough for her to have no choice but to step over the edge and fall into the tub. This, however, leads to you being placed in another unfortunate position. She holds the edges of the tub, trying to adjust to the coldness, while single handedly pinning you to the edge of the metal tub. It takes a few seconds to register, especially with you looking up at her while she lets out short puffs of air, while her muscles on her toned stomach contract. Kate seems to notice this and moves back to the other side. You clear your throat and turn to the camera with a funny face while you ignore the rosy blush that has settled on Kate’s face. After this it was just a mixture of flirting and flattery between you too.

She went to see you often when you played and brought you snacks or just went to simply support you. It’s obvious you started to show up more recently to her games to watch her play in person instead of from your home. It’s hard to say if that was the reason, but whenever you went to her games she always showed off. Whether it was double-doubles or even one triple-double. When the games would end she would act all cocky and say that it was normal but you would see the blinding smile on her lips when you would tell her good job. What you liked was how the adrenaline crash would hit her (not in a bad way) after a hard and long game and win. She would be super soft and slow and be all cute. You once insisted on driving her towards her dorms because she was too tired and she insisted on putting on music. You let her ofc and what follows is her singing her heart out while lazily looking over towards you every now and then. She reaches over and uses your hand as a mic and you can’t help but laugh. After a few songs you notice how the playlist switches to flowers songs and Kate never lets go of the hold of your hand.

No question she loves being in your vids. She has also definitely made you do a challenge video about hot sauces (ik it’s random but she def would). Other than that, you both do a bunch of silly challenges together. She also gave you the idea of starting this new “series” of her just basically teaching you the basics for basketball and vice versa. This becomes a huge hit online. What goes on behind the scenes is different tho. On video, you guys seem strictly platonic and playful with you cracking jokes and making fun when you mess up really bad on one certain move. However, once the cameras are off Kate is more free and less tense. She is more touchy, especially when showing you how to shoot the basketball properly (Like you can’t tell me this woman wouldn’t wrap her arms around your shoulders to position your hands on the ball. Don’t even get me started with defense and the way yall would be so close). You (I) also find it lowkey hot whenever you guys are done with your little secession and she’s panting and sweaty. You lowkey like it even more when she gets out of the locker room showers all clean and fresh.

How she asks you out: After basically a few weeks of her popping up in your vids both of your fans suddenly notice you two getting closer and closer. One day you’re recording while walking to get a massage. You turn a corner and come face to face with what seems like a wall. You jump back when you realize you just ran into Kate. You turn the camera off and smile up at her. You ask her where she’s headed but something’s off. You watch as she doesn’t look at you and avoids any type of eye contact as she fumbles over her words. A laugh comes from you as you go up to turn your camera back on but she shocks you by snatching the camera away. You ask her what was wrong and she mumbles something you can’t catch so you ask her to speak up and even get on your tiptoes to lean into her space to hear her better. She tries again and you can faintly hear her asking you out on a date. To say you were shocked was an understatement but you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel something forming between you too after these weeks spent together. Ofc you said yes.

You guys go out to a cliche aquarium date (bc i love aquariums what about it). Once you guys get there it seems like something has lifted off her shoulder and she’s acting like a totally different person. She’s more touchy and a real charmer (shamelessly putting an arm around your shoulder and uses her height over you to her advantage. When someone gets too close she definitely stands next to you and the person to create distance and def had a sweet interaction with a kid I mean c'mon). She’s taking sneaky pics of you and trust she would kiss you under those tunnels with the blue lights and fishes, making her look so good after you both tiptoe around it all day.

How it is to date her: (keeping it on the DL is so sexy idc what anyone says) Although Kate isn’t a huge name like Caitlin, you both reach an agreement to keep it on the dl. That and the addition of your evergrowing vlog page. This being said, Kate would appear more in your videos and it’s not really a secret. She shows up in your study videos in the background, helps out with your workout videos, does Q&As with you, and when you're off season she definitely travels with you.

She’s a very caring person and def loves to cuddle after a long day. She also kisses the ground you walk on (You can’t tell me she doesn’t have photo albums of you and her). (Can I also say that she’s a tremendous kisser? TRUST that she will make out with you in a secret room in the stadium because she just can’t wait until you get home after a game). Kate is your personal cheerleader in games and would treat you like a princess after your games (she’s drawing a bath and brushing your hair and basically doing all the work for you while praising you on how well you did).

After a hard loss however it’s a whole different story. You can’t lie tho…It’s your favorite side of Kate. You can see it in her as soon as the buzzer sounds (especially after she scores a lot and still loses oml). Kate basically disappears into the crowd and into the locker room before you can catch her. After a bit of time and unanswered calls and text messages, you decide to walk towards the locker rooms and are surprised when you're tugged into a small storage room. Kate immediately gets to work and smashes her lips with yours and lets her hands wander around you. You just love the way her rosy cheeks look and how sinful her eyes were as she let them shamelessly look you over. Kate isn’t up for any talking tho. Her moves are sloppy and desperate, like she couldn't care less if someone busted you two right then and there. Whenever you try to talk and try to get her to calm down she just goes back and kick starts another makeout sesh.

[bluejutdae]

Happy Birthday, Jisungie | fem!Jisung

notes: I can’t stop thinking about fem!skz, in particular fem!3racha. Noona!reader of course because who am I to withhold all of us of the fantastic thing that is older!reader!? Exactly.

I started with the idea of writing Jisung eating you out but ended up being sappy... loving women does that to someone <3

Celebrating your girlfriend Jisung’s birthday with a special day for her, dinner and a lavish hotel room with a big big bathtub filled with rose petals and fluffy foamy warm water. You’re both in the water, her back pressed against your chest while you talk about the dinner, the fireworks, everything and nothing at the same time. And your hands wander towards her soft small tits, massaging them just to hear her sigh. She rests her head on your shoulder, offering you the beautiful sight of her nipples peeking through the surface of scented bubbles. She’s the prettiest girl you ever touched, fuck, she’s the prettiest girl you ever saw. And while one hand is busy pulling and massaging at her perky tits, the other draws patterns on her tummy, stopping to poke the tip of a finger in her bellybutton to make her laugh. doesn’t she have the prettiest laugh ever? Your hand’s journey proceeds lower and she doesn’t even have to consciously open her legs for you, it’s only natural. You press your fingers against her mound, around her folds, just feeling her. You both love it like that. When it’s intimacy, and it’s sexual but doesn’t really have to be sex. Sometimes you only want to touch her, to memorize again and again her shape. To remind yourself that yes, even blindfolded you’d recognize her. The knob on her shoulders, the shape of her ears, the hitch of her breath, the way her plush cunt gives under your fingers, the silly shape of her big toes under your thighs, the smell of her after a long day of work. An abrupt wave of love downs on you, and you hug her, arms crossed over her middle, squeezing her almost painfully. Little I love yous are whispered with your lips against her neck, interrupted only by delicate kisses. She’s your girl, and you feel like the luckiest motherfucker on the planet.

“Unnie” her voice, so pretty so musical, interrupts your sappy thoughts.

“Yes baby?” You leave a last kiss on her shoulder, arms loosening around her middle and once again you let them wander on her perfect body, her supple thighs, her tiny waist…

“I know you already gave me a gift. And I love it. But. I’ve been thinking about something all night long. Will you give it to me?” You’d give her the world. And if you can’t, you’d set it on fire just to collect its ashes and present them to her as an apology.

“Of course baby. Anything you want, unnie will give it to you.”

“Can I eat you out?”

Just-

Leave it to your gremlin girlfriend to, once again, remind you of priorities.

“Anything my baby wants, my baby gets…” your airy laugh it’s lost under the noisy swash of the water rippled by the quick movement of Jisung. She can’t wait. And honestly? Neither can you.

[marvelmusing]

In Another Life

Masterlist

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Alternate Universe!Reader

Summary: When the making at the heart of the world steals you from your own universe and drops you into the fictional country of Ravka you’re thoroughly bewildered. But this is an opportunity for you to right every wrong - and hopefully save one life in particular.

Word Count: 60.5K - COMPLETED

My Masterlist • Series Playlist

Read on AO3 HERE

Part One

One moment you’re going about your usual day, the next you’re in Ravka - the fictional country in a fictional universe. When you realise that the story you know by heart hasn’t even begun, there’s only one person you can think of going to.

Part Two

After a restless night of sleep, you wake with too many thoughts in your mind. The contents of the General’s war table provide an ample distraction, and soon the man himself joins you.

Part Three

You and Aleksander journey to Kribirsk, where everything starts to become real for you, as your plan is finally set in motion.

Part Four

Accompanied by your new recruits, you and Aleksander return to the Little Palace, and soon settle into a comfortable routine. But nothing ever stays the same for long.

Part Five

Alina is presented to the king as the sun summoner, and from that point onwards you and Aleksander become increasing busy - and apart.

Part Six

An unexpected visitor arrives with some good news, and Aleksander makes a earth-shattering discovery.

Bonus Scene

As your first interaction with Baghra occurs, a wounded Aleksander returns from a mission, and you have no chance to ponder over her opinion of you.

Part Seven

The search for the stag takes your group north into Fjerda, but it’s after you return to Os Alta that a surprising event occurs.

Part Eight

The Winter Fete goes smoothly, a perfect evening followed by a foiled assassination. A few days later, you and Aleksander journey into the Fold.

Part Nine

After a dramatic arrival into West Ravka, your group travels to Os Kervo, and you recruit a pirate privateer to join you in the search for the sea whip.

Part Ten

The hunt for the sea whip has begun, but a number of obstacles stand in your way, demanding more from you than you ever thought possible.

Part Eleven

Your near death experience has taken a toll on you, which forces Aleksander to come to a realisation.

Part Twelve

A successful return to Ravka prompts you to share warnings of the future with Aleksander, and a new (but not unfamiliar) character invites himself into your schemes.

Part Thirteen

Slowly the pieces of your plan for the Fold come into place, but thoughts and fears of the future continue to haunt you.

Part Fourteen

Ravka’s seat of power changes, and Aleksander makes a discovery that sends you both north in search of his sister.

Part Fifteen

As Alina is about to bring down the Fold, Aleksander suggests a theory that lifts your hopes.

Part Sixteen

Together, you and Aleksander journey to the monastery of Sankt Feliks. To mend the tear at the making, a sacrifice from one of you is required.

Part Seventeen

With the remains of the Fold vanquished, the people celebrate. Together, you and Aleksander work to establish peace in Ravka and a safe haven for your Grisha.

Bonus Scene

Alternate Ending

Until I Found You - IAL (Aleksander’s Version)

Aleksander isn’t expecting to find love in this lifetime, that is until you arrive. - A collection of scenes from In Another Life from Aleksander’s perspective, as well as a bonus scene.

-

Post-In Another Life

Future Uncertainty

Lingering insecurities rear their head now that everything has been resolved, and Aleksander encourages you to share your fears. (set mid-part seventeen)

The General’s Crown

In an attempt to escape the attention of being a living saint, you retreat into the fields and create flowers for the local children. It isn’t long before your husband finds you.

Christmas Eve

Its your second Christmas in Ravka, your first with the country at peace and Aleksander as your husband. Together, you have the perfect Christmas Eve.

The New Year

It’s New Years Eve, and the first time you’re celebrating with Aleksander as your husband.

What the Future Holds

Immortality suits you well, and your new life with Aleksander is better than you ever could have imagined.

[portlandwithyou]

A Digital Fangirl's Journey into the Analog World

It started with a search, three words typed into the eBay search bar. Due South zine.

I began my fandom journey online when high-speed internet was slowly rolling out in the United States. I've never known a time in fandom when a million search results weren't at the tips of my fingers, and yet I've been nostalgic for a more physical relationship with fandom. Thankfully, the @ds30below fest announcement had a week devoted to history. The perfect excuse to dive into zines for the first time.

Due Frisky #2 is a digest-sized, soft-cover zine held together with staples. This baby fits perfectly in your hand for reading anywhere. The photo doesn't do it justice, but the cover is a pretty pinky-red color.

Inside, there is a table of contents, an editor's note, the stories, and, at the back, a short advertisement for more zines from the same press. Included at the end of each full-length story is a black-and-white photograph from the show that is connected to the story's content. This is an F/V zine from January of 1997, although nowhere do they address or even mention Ray K. Perhaps issue one dealt with that?

As for the content itself, there are four stories and one poetry cycle. I'd especially like to highlight the first story, "Perfection" by Khylara, which deals with Ray V's Catholicism in such a beautiful way that I was practically jumping with joy as I read. Unfortunately, my searches have not turned up this fic anywhere online to share! It's such a shame, too; it's so thoughtful.

Speaking of which, although I can find some of the authors online, I haven't found any of the particular fics from the zine available. Mireille, who people may know from their other F/V works, has the first part of a multiple-part series in this zine. Now, the editors warn you of this in the editor's notes, but I had forgotten by the time I got to this story, and frankly, I am climbing the walls wondering what happens next!

I found reading this zine extremely satisfying. It was wonderful to have some fanfic to curl up with during a spring storm while being beholden to a supercomputer in my hand.

I also loved reading stories that were contemporary to the show's actual airing. I found the language to be just ever slightly more formal than fanfic nowadays, but in a way that was not distracting or detracting.

Another thing, as the title might imply, all of the stories feature sex and sexuality as a topic. Obviously, given my track record, that doesn't bother me. But I could see where that would turn some off from reading. There's drama, fluff, and plenty of other emotions throughout the pieces, but at the end of the day, they will be having sex.

Overall, this was a fantastic zine for a beginner. Every piece was wonderful, and I anticipate reading it again many times.

[nanamis-bigtie]

Round 6: Kiss Me Like You Mean It

about, rules & navigation | previous round | in some of the routes reader consumes alcohol

Nothing seals a good date better than a sweet kiss from your maybe-soon-to-be lover. It's an expected, exciting phase of your Tinder journey. How your dates are going to reach for it?

Remember you vote for a character you don't want to advance further! The character with the biggest number of votes will be eliminated.

Higuruma Hiromi

A single light cocktail has turned into two, then three. You've grown to adore this little intimate corner of the cruise ship and Hiromi's exceptionally light hand in spending his money works up your appetite. You would get any drink you wanted, whole bottles of expensive alcohol, even, and you're tad tempted to test if he's really going to follow your whims as far as buying you that luxury whiskey from the top shelf of the bar—but there's still a long day in front of you two, long, sunny, and hot. The last thing you want is to get wasted for the date that's so far unrolling in a promising direction.

Those few cocktails are already more than enough for your head, given the conditions of the cruise.

"Do you need fresh air?" He frowns, concerned, when you sway to the side and lean against him.

You shake your head. You're not drunk, just a little tipsy, and just maybe using it only as an excuse to crush another wall between the two of you. Hiromi doesn't tense under the pressure of your shoulder, even if at the first minute he's doing his best to mark his existence out. As you stubbornly linger in the same position, he eventually opens himself, one arm casually thrown over the back of the sofa, and lets you nuzzle closer to his side.

His body runs quite hot, no wonder the heat outside has worn him out. Even with a distinctive addition of sweat to it, his scent is pleasant, masculine and fresh. You like this unexpected mix of rawness of his body and the rich gamut of his cologne. He knows how to wear a fragrance in his favor; instead of masking, he's chosen one that compliments his natural state and blends in with it. The final result has you tempted to shove your face into the crook of his neck and drink more of it in.

"Am I not too wet?" He's concerned again, this time with a distinct timbre of playfulness, when you lean in even closer. It explains his initial hesitation to let you rest against him—and you again answer with a lazy shake of your head. He could have a bucket poured over his head right now and you still wouldn't move.

Upon your consent and a confirmation that you're more sober than you seemed at his first glance, Hiromi starts testing the waters on his side as well. He lets himself lean against you too, hand of the arm behind your back slowly wandering towards the curve of your shoulder, tracing an uncovered patch of your skin once he finds it. It's a gentle, almost skittish touch, reminding you of a cat pawing at an object of unknown potential. But he's persistent and advancing while he has an opening. He might be cautious, bordering on shy, but you already know he's not a man who would let an opportunity slip.

You take the last sip of your drink, a few droplets lingering at the corner of your mouth. It's involuntary but you expose it anyway, immediately catching his attention. His Adam's apple bobs as you crane your neck and create a perfect angle for a sly attack.

He leans for it fast, curbs himself at the last moment so you don't bump awkwardly. There's still a particular force to his lips though and it has him taking control over the kiss entirely. You feel him tensing at the end of it, he doesn't slide his tongue deeper when you give him an opening but doesn't break it abruptly either, letting it go naturally as the time for a breath comes.

Nanami Kento

You're honored that you've been chosen to be the first person to keep him a romantic company for such a long time—but you can't help noticing a little tension that's crawled at the back of your head. You feel it's a great responsibility, even if Kento clearly doesn't expect anything from you and this date. It's just a bar, beach, a few decadent drinks, and a noncommittal talk about everything and nothing, but mostly about food, cooking and baking. Both of you have a clear goal on your mind but you're not pursuing it at all costs, letting the natural course of matters decide how the situation will unroll.

You know all of this...but you don't want to disappoint him. Despite the distance he insists on keeping—that sometimes enforces a weird, tense atmosphere—he's the sweetest and most respectful guy you've met in a while. He just deserves to have his first date in so long to be a good and smooth experience.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" He asks out of blue when you're finishing the plate of snacks you ordered for the grand finale. The constant food talk has worked up your appetites. If not for the late hour—it's been completely dark for a while now—you would change places but unfortunately, all decent restaurants have been closed already. Even your bar has significantly calmed down.

"What?" Has he noticed your nervous state? Until now you were sure you're good at hiding your mixed feelings. "No, of course not. I'm having a great time."

Kento scoops the last pinch of pistachios, weighs them on open palm as his shoulders visibly relax, "I'm...relieved to hear this. It was brought to my attention many times that I am a rather difficult person to be around."

You can see why, and you could pinpoint a few situations of this kind, but there's no lie when you answer, "So far, my time spent with you has been nothing but great. It's a lovely night out. And lovely drinks. Thank you for showing me this place."

"Still, if there's something that I may change for you, please tell me immediately."

"Well, then..." You weigh your words carefully, not wanting to spook this sweet man—and loving the attentive look he's giving you right now. "I wouldn't mind if you were a little closer? I won't run if you touch me."

Kento watches you intently, his expression partially hidden by his hand throwing pistachios into his mouth. Thanks to glasses, it's hard to read anything from his eyes even when he's looking directly at you, no wonder your mouth feels dry, and breath turns shallow through the minute of silence he gives you instead of an answer. Did you make a step too big for him? Did you turn sour the so far pleasant night?

But, after wiping his fingers clean with a napkin, he reaches for your hand and closes it between his, "Am I not being too forward?"

As you don't protest, he lets himself reach for more, first just gently rubbing your skin, then caressing your wrist and inner side of your forearm, until his index finger reaches your elbow, "Can I be even more forward...and kiss you?"

"You may."

His gaze slowly wanders from your still intertwined hands to your lips, lingering there for a while before he leans closer. He waits for you to close the last remaining inch, but you don't move, curious if he'll dare to step out of his comfort zone.

He dares.

It's short and sweet, your lips meeting just for a moment but long enough for you to get a proper taste of him, surprisingly intoxicating.

Ryomen Sukuna

BDSM and dominant role... That explains a lot, but you're still shocked at the sudden and shameless confession. Even if not inherently sexual, the delivery of the line felt hot and heavy and had you squirming in your chair under the pressure of his gaze. Sukuna clearly enjoys the show, a sly smirk doesn't fade away even after you've managed to regain even breathing and smooth your thoughts, all of sudden filled with images far from appropriate for a simple lunch.

"Don't be so scared," he swirls the wine in his glass. "I won't jump and devour you."

You could swear the pupils in his eyes have dilated as he's drinking in the view of you, his whole aura becoming more ravenous the more you slump into your seat. When sitting, the height difference between the two of you is not as visible and yet, somehow you feel even smaller and more cornered. The back of your chair and the edge of the table work as a cage, a trap you willingly walked into. Not without a little baiting on his side—but you swallowed it together with a fishing rod.

"Unless you'll keep looking at me like that," he chuckles but the sound has more of a deep rumble to it than laughter. "I might not be able to stop myself if you play a little, hurt bunny. You're leaving a trace of blood out for my hunting instincts?"

You swallow, nervously and audibly.

"Don't be so scared," Sukuna repeats and leans back, his muscles tensing deliciously under the fine layer of shirt. "We don't have to play those kinds of games. You're dealing the cards, I'll adjust to your style and limits."

The thread is interrupted by the waiter bringing the desserts and the topic is hidden under the thin surface. You can still feel it lingering in the air and you know for sure it's all just another phase of the detailed game of seduction. You've accepted one bait, it's time to set another and see how far you will let his tentacles reach this time.

It's calm for the rest of the time you spend in the restaurant, it's calm through the longer walk you take to burn some calories. After tightening the bolts for hours, Sukuna seems to be absent minded with the way he passes you the torch, soaking in the sound of your voice and the view of your face. You're heading towards his car, taking a longer route by the boardwalk. The crowd has thinned down, majority of people preferring the beach below and the rest simply bolting from Sukuna's way. It's mesmerizing, how he turns a mass of people into a school of fish, melting away in front of an approaching shark. And he does so while having his attention on you only.

"You won't be scared, if I propose a road trip around the bay?" The sly smirk returns eventually, in the shape of the teasing timbre of his voice.

"I won't," you try not to pout at him. "And I wasn't scared before."

You're passing by a narrower place, forcing Sukuna to step into your line and push you a little towards the short wall, "Your face told me quite contrary. You resembled a little, trembling pet."

Big hand reaches for your chin, scoops it gently and guides your face towards him, making sure you won't try to hide behind any lie you might have for him, "I told you it's provoking."

Sukuna's hold is light enough for you to refuse it, if only you wanted to, but also firm and steady, having your lips right where he needs them. The kiss is surprisingly soft, just a brush of his lips and his tongue, finished faster than a single beat of your racing heart.

Choso

For literally the first date in his life, he's doing great. Of course, there's a huge help on your side and an even bigger dose of patience—patience you wouldn't have for someone more experienced—but you don't feel like constantly pulling him around. The initiative still leans to your side though, with Choso following you around like a puppy, but it's smooth, natural, and exciting for you both.

After resting and refreshing in the backroom, you return under the stage, and spend the rest of the concert in the crowd. It's been a while since you've danced and lost yourself in the music so, so much; endorphins are rushing through your veins and pumping energy into your body and mind. Being his workplace, the club has no secrets for Choso; he knows where to stand for the best audio, knows which songs and bands are better to be sacrificed for a breather, knows where to dance if you don't want to be swallowed by the crowd. With free drinks on top of that, the night could only be the best for you, and when the last encore of the last band finally ends, Choso has to grab your hand and pull towards the exit. You just don't want to leave, even with the strong and warm and so craved for the hoop of his fingers around your wrist.

You sneak together through the back, sweaty and giggly, dizzy after the constant noise and rush and gallons of various drinks poured into you. Neither of you is in a state that would allow you to rest so, without a word exchanged, you head towards the outskirts of the town, to the boardwalk and beach below. It's dark and cool, exactly what you need after hours of overstimulation. You welcome the night breeze with a loud, pleased hum, having Choso tighten the grasp around your hand. Your fingers have intertwined on the way here, neither of you wanting to ease the hold even for the slightest, as if ceasing physical contact would immediately snap the thread that's connected you during the concert.

You kick shoes off your feet, somehow make it to the bottom of the stairs, and thread through the cold sand to the shore, until the sea licks your bare soles. The waves are calm, thank goodness—you can't see a thing, just the silhouette by your side. The silence, interrupted only by the gentle hum of the sea, is ringing in your ears, so strange after hours of music poured straight into your brain.

"Better not stray too far," Choso warns you when you try to move even more forwards. His hold, so far as tight as gentle, becomes more confident, even a little rough.

You let him guide you in the direction he deems the best and safest. You trust him, he knows the area and you feel safe with his hand holding yours, the grasp not easing after you left the dangerous depth of the sea.

"Have you ever held someone like this? Before me?" You blurt out, not even sure why you return to the topic abandoned a few hours earlier.

"I have." He answers immediately, surprising you. "My brothers'."

You can't help a little irritated groan, "Not like this. Romantic hand holding. With a crush, maybe?"

The silence on his side is all you need to know.

"And a kiss?"

Choso squeezes your hand tighter, nervous, you assume.

"Would you like to try?"

He mutters a barely audible "Yes"—and shortly after you feel his hot breath against your cheek. You freeze, partially surprised by his sudden, brave move, partially trying to help him take an aim. It takes him three tries before he finally finds your lips and presses an awkward kiss to them, short and wet with the remains of lipstick.

Geto Suguru

The course of the talk naturally leans towards bondage. You must admit it, Suguru got you curious, in all meanings behind it, from an opportunity of sneaking into the backroom of his intimate life to...rather a biological reaction. He put interesting images into your head, and you can't easily shake them off, not with his gaze and smirk drilling you straight through, and the way he answers all your questions in detail.

"It had nothing to do with sex." He explains patiently, doing wonders with the sultry and soft timbre of his voice. "Majority of classes didn't even involve models. I taught how to tie knots safely before I let my students touch anyone."

He reaches over the table, drawing an imaginary rope around your wrist, "They look soft and innocent but even a loose knot can cause serious troubles. If you do it clumsily, your partner may move around or pull, and tighten it by accident, cutting the blood flow."

He stops and presses lightly right at the center of your wrist, as if trying to feel your pulse, "Not to mention, ropes tangled beyond saving have to be cut. Such a loss of a good and expensive material."

It's hard to keep control over your voice when you're enveloped by the net of his games, with his big hands easily wrapping around your wrists, "How many of your students did you have to untangle?"

"Too many." Suguru chuckles right after the answer, maybe recalling a particularly spectacular failure. "I don't know what it says about me as a teacher."

When he takes his hands away to finish his coffee, you immediately catch yourself longing for his touch. It felt so natural and secure to have him so close, to remind yourself so subtly of the size difference between the two of you. Suguru is a huge man, but his gentle demeanor and soft voice ease the impression. Seeing and feeling his long fingers and wide palms around your wrists, looking almost comically small against them, has a very distinct churning in your lower abdomen to it. Imagining the same hands skillfully bonding them has every nerve of yours screaming, making the chair under you feel like hot coals.

You're squirming in your place even more than you were when touched and Suguru obviously notices, the prominent darkness in his eyes betrays the true intention behind his gentle smile, "As I said, I'm not in business anymore, but if you're so intrigued, I can run one more, private class, and teach you some non-sexual basics and safety tips."

"For free, of course," he adds after he's satisfied with your reaction, far from collected. "As my thanks for your patience and wonderful date."

"That's an interesting variant of 'Your place or mine'," luckily, your voice is not shaking, in contrast to everything else inside of you, and the joke cracks his almost sadistic amusement into full-on laughter.

"We can choose a more neutral place, if it would make you feel safer." He wipes a little tear off the corner of his eye. "That's given you don't mind having yourself tied in public."

You gather your stuff as Suguru pays for the meal, then leave the cafe together. You're offered a ride home, but you decline, needing to liven yourself up after so much time spent in one place (while tortured with visions and sensations for a good part of it).

"May I then at least pay with a kiss?" There's a slight change in his voice and the stare at your lips is almost palpable for you.

Upon your agreement, he gently cradles your face between his hands and brushes your bottom lip with a thumb, stealing your breath even before he finally seals the kiss, short and sweet, but finished with a playful nip.

[linkspooky]

What in particular inspired you to write Burn This City, Burn This City Down? It's a very unique fic.

Oh man I hope you're ready to take my hand and go on a journey with me because this is going to be long ride.

The first version of this fic came from 1) the ending of the Search where Azula runs off into the woods and we were just left on that cliffhanger for years. The first story that ever gave me the inspiration though was Katanagatari by Nisioisin, especially after I read the translated light novel for the first time.

Katanagatari is a story of a former princess who wants revenge teaming up with a human who was raised as a weapon known as Yasuri Shichika who comes from an entire family of martial artists living on an island. She takes Shichika out to the world and they gather twelve magical swords for the shogunate government. Basically, it's easy to see how you could put Azula into this scenario. Except instead of swords it was just going to be Azula wanting to resolve different political issues or, my earliest idea was killing members of the red lotus in the colonies far from Zuko's jurisdiction.

Lio came from this initial idea and he was one, a person in the forest that Azula met, and two a very strong martial artist who is unhealthily devoted to her. Basically it's what Azula thinks she wants in a relationship, a perfect solider who follows her every order and is unconditionally loyal. That relationship eventualyl breaks apart though as Azula eventually has to go back to her real friends, because Lio mirrors like all her bad flaws at her.

I had serious trouble coming up with an overarching plot though, because Katanagatari's plot is just "go to the place, fight the guy, get the sword" and it was just hard to come up with 12 seperate guys for Azula to fight. Also it wasn't feasible because she'd basically spend all her time away from canon characters. I tried to throw Jet in too so it wouldn't just be Azula and this OC, but it never really got past the planning stages.

There were a few manga I read that were also Azula adjacent that helped further my ideas along. I've referenced Akatsuki no Yona before, and TGCF too, but those were a little bit too much like Katanagari. I liked the idea of like Azula roaming the country side with a partner character improving things by herself for awhile like Yona does with Akatsuki no Yona but I ran into the same problem again it would be 90% Azula and this oc with no canon interaction. I did like making Hua Cheng really weird though, and that became Lio like, developing entitled, posessive and borderline stalkery behaviors.

I'm sure you've noticed the fic hasn't become incredibly surreal and weird yet. So the actual tone and the way the fic portrays mental illness comes from three works in praticular. Tokyo Ghoul, which is kind of where I got my start on this blog, Kara no Kyoukai, and Tsukihime. The idea to make Lio a disassoicative disorder personality so Azula would have someone to sympathize with her and understand she's hallucinating came from a character named Shiki Ryougi who is also a character who has a system.

The prose style that is lowkey horror comes from my best attempts to write in a Nasu style in Tsukihime. Basically part of the reason the fanfic is so surreal is because I want to use elements of horror to add to the surrealism in order to make the audience viscerally fear the feel that characters like Azula do when they lose control over the reality in front of them.

When going in the forest for the Search I wanted to lean heavily on the Suicide Forest or the Forgetful Valley being an actually terrifying or unnerving setting to be in. I also thought the Mother of Faces was a cool idea for a spirit that the comics completely blew. So one of the improvements was making Mother of Faces a genuinely terrifying inhuman entity where the entire forest is basically her playground and humans are her puppets. It's a continued trend I want to do in this fic to make spirits like genuinely terrifying, and at the most indifferent to humans and at the worst extremely hostile.

The second was making the forest an actually scary and confusing place to be in. The forest is the head, and Azula is the head, and she's dreaming the forest. The forest is a metaphor for how Azula is lost inside her own head and trapped because no one in the world empathizes with her or tries to understand her, and like, Zuko sees her run into that huge forest twice and just watches her go even though she could end up dead in a ditch.

There's two big inspirations I took for describing the forest itself. The first was the book roadisde picnic and the movie STALKER which are about a zone in Russia which is fundamentally altered by aliens where nothing in that zone follows the laws of physics and instead follows their own abusrd laws. The second was from the book and movie annihilation. In annihilation the strange zone where strange things happen is nature actively like, retaking the earth, and changing the humans who enter that territory into something else.

As for Azula's narration itself and the way her mental health is depicted, I basically got her narration style down especially in her trippy points by reading Girl, Interrupted roughly one hundred times. My general rule of thumb is that Azula's narration is incredibly dry and mechanical and straight to the point, and her prose is very minimialist until it's not. Azula is very high functionning until she is not. Then the self-loathing, and the paranoia, and the voices begin to creep in. Yet on the surface Azula will do absolutely everything to pretend she is not loosing her grip of things until she has, full on meltdowns. This pattern continues ad infinituum, Azula just gets better at hiding her sympatoms and appearing more functional. Girl, interrupted though with the very detached kind of narration, the anachronistic order I employ a lot in this fic.

So the fic rewrite existed for awhile, like there were ten different drafts of the first chapter where Azula just finds a masked man in the woods after running away from Zuko.

So, okay I lied there is one more inspiration for the way I write Azula which is Zaregoto by Nisioisin and specifically the way he writes the main character IIchan and this very detached narrator voice who like, clearly suffers from some type of schizo-type and will have the most surreal moments of narration. That is primarily a mystery series so that's what gave me the plot in it's final form. It's basically like a mystery series that's led by two unreliable narrators Azula and Lio, and Zuko who let's be honest another unreliable narrator, and then Katara and Aang who are the most reliable narrators but they're also kind of like, they're not as aware of the dark side of the world and are more naive. I basically told myself like, I'll write it like a mystery novel. Instead of solving murders though it'll be political intrigue, where we have to follow two unreliable narrators. Two unreliable narrators who we don't know everything about bevcause the narration skips along their history in anancronistic order, and that'll be a metaphor for the weird way that Azula and Lio both experience reality because of how disordered their thinking is now.

The surraelist stuff started to finalize into like a solid plot when I read another fic. I don't know if I should like, mention this fic. I'm going to complain about it so I probably shouldn't mention it by name. Okay I'm just going to be vague about it. There was a Zuko / Sokka fanfic where Azula has been fully redeemed by her brother and they get along great and she is basically, playing political games in the court for her brother's sake. Sokka however doesn't know this and becomes suspicious of her and becomes embroiled in the politics too. In this version Azula is kind of just Zuko's attack dog which was very funny.

It's a fic where I did like Azula and Sokka's characterization, and like revitalized my desire to write avatar fic but I also had just as many faults in it. Basically my biggest nitpick in any Zuko and Azula fanfic is where they protray Zuko as a compassionate brother who helped Azula in her rehabilitation because like, that's just not what happened. So Zuko kind of just felt like a non character because there's no acknowledgment that Zuko can really be just as bad to Azula as Azula is to him and like... I need that drama in my life.

It also like timeskipped past her entire recovery and like I don't want sane Azula, I want barely functional Azula wearing a mask of sanity and convinced she peaked at fourteen and just trying to feel like the way she did when she was fourteen. I need her to be like "oh yes, I'm fixed now" and then have her start to break down again because she never actually learned to deal with stress.

The other was that the ocs in the fic were absolutely boring, like the villains were one note. It was this grand spiraling political plot but the villains behind the plot had no human motivations and Azula killed them in like five minutes. I was like no, no I can make my own ocs. I will have this new fic have actual compelling antagonists who feel like they are characters in the story and actually move the plot and challenge the main characters.

So to Summarize this long ramble, basically my idea for this fic came from the collective works of Nasu and Nisioisin. It started out as like, a journey through the colonies and help people fic to like, taking place entirely in Caldera City. That's where the current idea of Azula dealing with factions who are trying to take her brother's thrown from her, and also she's trying to play the political game that everyone else is playing comes from. Azula is playing political games but like, also, the people she's playing against aren't one note bad guys they're actually interesting characters.

I also want to basically adapt a kind of like, mystery novel character following the mystery through all the political intrigue and finding the answer. I guess you'd call that "Noir". Like the confusing surrealism stuff in the search part of the story shows how lost Azula is in the forest. The confusing surrealism stuff in Caldera City will now be about how Caldera city is a city of liars, where everyone has their own hidden motivation and Azula has to navigate all of that again.

Okay, I hope that answered your qusetion. I can cite some more sources on scenes that inspired me. That scene where Lio saw Azula and the first thing he thought about was how he wanted to stab her a whole bunch is a reference to Tsukihime where Shiki meets Arcueid for the first time.

The story for Azula, Interupted of someone else framing Azula for killing cats and turtleducks comes from a really brief flashback in Tokyo Ghoul where Mutsuki remembers killing cats as a child and gets made fun of for it. Then she remembers running all the way to where she buried all the cat's tongues, and picks the jar up and cries and begs for the cats to forgive her. I know that's kind of a weird scene, but basically that whole chapter came from my idea of Azula remembering getting slapped by her mom for killing the turtleducks and begging someone to believe her and then it suddenly flashes forward to the future and Azula is still crying about it.

That's all I can remember referencing or getting inspired by for now.

[thelordofgifs]

Friday Fic Recs: Long WIP edition

I’ve been thinking a little bit about the (very arduous) process of writing longfic, and how much of a difference support and cheerleading can make on that particular journey; so, although it’s been a while since I’ve made a Friday rec list, I thought I’d put one together celebrating all the incredible in-progress longfics in the Tolkien fandom I’m keeping up with at the moment!

Atandil series by @eilinelsghost. Such a gorgeous graceful moving exploration of Finrod and his relationship with Men, and the slowest and most sensual of slow burns in his romance with Bëor. The amount this series has made me THINK – about love, and hope, and memory, and Taliska grammar – is off the charts, and to top it off it’s written in the loveliest most Tolkienesque prose.

we will make this place our home by @leucisticpuffin. Ohh this AU is just like a warm gentle hug after a long day. The “kidnap fam but make it a classic children’s novel” concept is so so inspired, all the characterisations are so nuanced and moving (Maglor my beloved!!) and the OCs will steal your heart.

And Love Grew by @polutrope. On the other end of the kidnap fam spectrum, this complex and careful examination of the time after the Third Kinslaying is SO brilliant. Incredible characterisations of all the key players, some truly fascinating OCs (Dornil!!) and of course beautiful graceful prose.

tongues of the sky series by @welcomingdisaster. The first fic in this series, seabird, was written for me and I can be SO obnoxious about this :) but also it’s a wonderful moving ultimately hopeful fix-it AU with note-perfect russingon and m&m dynamics. The sequel, sparrowhawk, is currently in progress and soooo good.

ashes, ashes, dust to dust — the devil’s after both of us by @that-angry-noldo. This is SUCH an original and fascinating take on an AU where Maedhros and Maglor take Finarfin captive to bargain for the Silmarils, featuring incredible character dynamics and a terrifyingly eldritch Eönwë.

and all his towers cast down by @actual-bill-potts. What if Finrod survived the events of the Leithian? Well, angst and trauma, to start off with. And also beautiful beautiful writing, impeccable characterisation and a Maglor-Lúthien teamup!! I adore this AU.

All That Glitters Gold Rush AU series by @allthatglittersisnotgoldrush. This one is LONG LONG LONG, but also SO worth it. Ever wanted to see the entire Silmarillion retold as a western, complete with a terribly tragic and complicated Maedhros, Morgoth the terrifying slave-owner, and a beautifully multicultural Doriath? The authors have you covered.

And the Stars Shine the Same series by @runawaymun. OC-centric fic is such a rare delight and this series set in early Third Age Rivendell is just wonderful, tender and complicated and with a truly incredible Elrond.

Retelling the Hobbit comic by @retellingthehobbit. Something a little different, but I binged all of this comic retelling of The Hobbit on a plane recently and GOD it’s so so beautiful. A truly gorgeous art style, and slowly converting me from a Bilbo/Thorin sceptic into an enjoyer!

In Heart by @tanoraqui. An AU where Fëanor takes the Doom of the Noldor as a what-not-to-do manual and ends up making better choices! Featuring incredible worldbuilding and fantastic characterisation.

Please add on the longfics you love in the reblogs! Let’s get some love going for these difficult beasts!

(Couple of incest recs under the cut.)

naught green upon the oak series by @welcomingdisaster. A CoH-inspired Maedhros/Maglor AU in which Maglor winds up with amnesia after his encounter with Glaurung. I’m SO insane about this series that I can’t be coherent but it is fantastic and chilling and devastating with the most beautiful prose aahhh.

Strange Currencies by @jouissants. Maedhros is re-embodied at last only to learn that he is married to Maglor: a touching and painful post-canon fic interleaved with incredible flashbacks to the First Age.