#unrhymed: fic

[writeunrhymed]

// Fulcrum.

It’s the little things Po catches right away.

The galaxies that spark in Thame’s eyes. The little curve that pulls at the edges of his mouth as if he can’t help it. The way he springs up halfway to the door before abruptly, decidedly planting his feet on the ground. His body relaxes yet goes rigid at the same time - taut like a rubber band - like he might just launch himself at Po in front of everybody if not for the invisible leash of his self-control.

All within five seconds of Po walking into a room and locking eyes with him for the first time since the tour started weeks ago.

Po knows he should watch himself, too, but it’s too late for that now. A smile blooms on his face, unbidden, warming his cheeks all the way to his ears. He doesn’t fight it; he’s never been good at hiding his affections.

A loud, suffering sigh erupts from somewhere in the back of the studio. A chorus of muffled groans and giggles and a “God, you guys are terrible at this,” that sounds a lot like Jun, to be honest, but neither Thame nor Po can really hear outside their little bubble too clearly right now to be sure.

Po doesn’t bother finding out. He doesn’t care one bit.

His boyfriend is home.

//

Originally posted on Twitter.

[androxys]

...Wonder Woman fic 👀 ?

Heehee, this is one of the ones I've been working hardest on. In 2024 I read a majority portion of Perez's run on WW, a chunk of Rucka's post-Crisis run, and his Rebirth run. I also read a lot of Homer this year, and these all coalesced in a way that made me feel like I had a solid idea for a Wonder Woman story, and a grasp on her character that had so far eluded me.

At its crux, Diana has been tasked by Athena to go down to the Underworld and retrieve Galatea's spirit. (I also read Madeline Miller's Galatea short story this year, surprise surprise). There are some dynamics from the Odyssey that I've really been interested in exploring, and that's been fun.

The hardest thing for this fic has been that I wanted it to have a general poetic beat--not any sort of true form, because Homeric phrasing is tough and so is its most common English substitute, iambic pentameter--but I've sort of landed on a 1,2/1,2/1,2,3 rhythm in unrhymed 6 line stanzas that I like.

Hear me as I invoke you, Muses of the greatest songs without a start or an end. Sing of a new epic tale— deathless gods and vicious pride, and of Wonder Woman’s quest.

[oikoneko]

Love me.

Pairings: Yandere!William Shakespeare x reader

Words: 1,271

Warning: dark themes, yandere, slight smut.

A/N: it's just a little something that I've been thinking about so much and yeah... I'm by no means a writer or anything and this is also the first fic I've posted online, so please be easy on me. I'm not a native English speaker so notify me if there was any grammar mistakes.

You felt a cold sweat running down your back when you heard his footsteps approaching 'your room', he was humming a familiar melody, but you couldn't quite pin it down. He had a habit of humming and singing nursery rhymes to you, especially right before he tuck you to bed, but sometimes, you would hear him humming them to himself quietly. It was pretty creepy in your opinion.

There was an abrupt silence that lasted for seconds before you heard two knocks on the door followed by a gleeful call of your name. You felt sick upon hearing his voice, the voice that you can still hear even when you're all alone, when you close your eyes, in your dreams, you heard him everywhere all the time. You heard him call your name again. What the hell is he doing? You thought to yourself, your wrists were restrained and handcuffed to the bed's headboard, the door was locked and he has the keys, so what kind of sick game is he trying to play?

You tugged violently at your restrains when the door was unlocked, trying to free yourself from them to no avail. You knew too well what was about to happen and you weren't looking forward to it.

The door made a creaking sound when he opened it slowly, he peeked his head through the slit in the door and smiled when he saw you placed in the bed just like he left you last time. You could feel your heart beating so loudly in your chest, and judging by the sick, manic smile he wore on his face, he also was aware of it, of how nervous you were.

"Good evening, bunny~" he took painfully slow steps towards you, bastard was taking his sweet ass time, he seems to be enjoying how frightened you were. "This glare indeed does not suit thy face." he chuckled, bringing his fist to cover his smile.

"Go to hell!" You wanted to spit out, but you were enable to do so because of the cloth that was around your mouth, shutting you up. You continued to try to break out of your restrains, trashing around and whimpering because of the pain that was spreading through your whole arms due to your movements. He was standing beside 'your bed' now, carefully eyeing you, waiting for what he calls "your childish actions" to cease. After what seemed to be hours of you behaving like a fool, he had enough. He clicked his tongue and climbed on top of you. This is when you completely froze.

"Good girl." His voice was quite, barely audible. He patted your head, the smile he wore could easily be mistaken for a smile filled with love and affection, but no, this freak could never love anyone, he could never show affection in a normal way, his love will always appear in a disturbing fashion. All he does in the name of love is a disgrace to love, everything is the complete opposite of what lovers do.

He freed one of your wrists from the headboard and brought it to his mouth and kissed each scar that he or you caused. His kisses were sweet and careful, as though he was regretting each one, like he was apologizing for every scar there was.

The cloth around your mouth muffled your gasp when he locked one of the handcuffs around his wrist, his smile was best described as chilling, he was observing your now handcuffed wrists with a look of delight, like he was proud of what he just did.

He sat back on the middle of the bed and seated you carefully on his lap. The moment your hips came to contact with his, you jerked rather fiercely.

He was hard!

Disgusting, was the only thing you could think of now, how disgusting and shameless he was.

He yet again seated you on his lap, placing both your legs around his waist and this time securing you there. His grip on your hips was harsh, he dug his nails in your flesh as if he was warning you, one more move and you won't like the outcomes (Y/N). His eyes spoke for him, his mismatched eyes was staring at yours intensely that you cowered and shrunk in fear despite yourself. He buried his face in your neck and inhaled your scent. You felt his fangs grazing your skin and you stiffened, your breath hitching as well. He began bucking his hips into yours slowly, "______-" his voiced sounded strangled, the faintest friction on his hard clothed erection causing him to completely lose his senses.

Soon after, what started as slow and steady 'thrusts' became desperate and unrhymed ones, his grip on your hips tightened, pressing your body even closer to his.

You can feel his harsh, hot breath fanning your neck, you felt utterly disgusted and uncomfortable, and it wasn't because of him, but because you felt the familiar twist in your stomach. You pressed your free palm against his chest and tried to push him away, but you knew that all of this was in vain, you knew that you wouldn't be able to match his strength.

"Hng- ha-ah!"

He slammed into you more erratically now, chasing his release, your heart sank into your stomach at the realization that he was close. You started banging on his chest, you tried to protest, to scream at him to stop, but all that got out was pathetic muffled noises that could easily be mistaken for screams of pleasure, and him being his delusional self, you doubt that he wouldn't think that you were enjoying his little humping game.

You tried to yank on his hair, but he grabbed your wrist and brought it to his lips, you felt his fangs on your neck again and you shuddered, this was what you were afraid of, him feeding off of you like he always does when he visit you. His grip was vice, so strong that you know it was bruising you.

Suddenly, he halted his movements completely, gulping audibly and let go of your wrist. He slumped under you, his breathing was still harsh and ragged. Did he come? You questioned, watching him suspiciously as he was trying to catch his breath.

"Why is it so hard to love me?" His question took you by surprise, gone was his sing-song voice and his nonchalant personality, you blinked at him, sure he wasn't expecting an answer from you? After all you were unable, literally, to answer him. He let out a dry laugh, it sounded so pathetic and pained that you almost felt sorry for him, even though you were the victim here.

He gently unlocked the handcuff that was around his wrist and eased you down to the bed, he locked the handcuff on the headboard so that one arm was free.

"Go to sleep, _____"

He planted a chaste kiss on the crown of your head and rose up from the bed and headed to the door, his head hanging down in shame as he existed your room.

You stared dumbfounded at the door, sure Shakespeare never allowed himself release whenever he had “sex” with you, but he always fed off of you, always, draining you and leaving you exhausted, so why didn't do the same now? Why did he look so hurt and wounded? You stared at your free wrist, studying the past and the forming bruises and scars all over it. all caused by him.

Perhaps I could have loved you if you weren't a monster, Will.

[othercat2]

fic: two for mirth 49/?

Coming back up is slow. Everything is a blur, soft focus. The walls of a hospital room appearify, white-beige, and no window. He can hear footsteps, voices outside the room but it feels like he’s under water. There’s an entertainment screen that’s showing some wiggler progam that he has just enough wit to feel vaguely indignant about. There’s a chair by his bed, and curled up in it in a way that can’t be comfortable, there’s…

“Dave,” Karkat says. His voice rasps and he can’t seem to do more than a creaky little whisper.

Dave stirs, seems a little confused himself, then almost falls out of the chair as he scrambles upright. “Karkat,” he says, voice too loud, and also painfully relieved. “Hey, you’re awake,” Dave says in a more even tone, obviously trying to cover for almost falling over. He moves in closer, caresses Karkat’s cheek. “You’ll do anything to avoid meeting the family, huh?” Dave smiles a slight, shaky little smile that makes Karkat’s bloodpusher stutter with entirely flushed pity.

“That’s exactly what happened,” Karkat says, smiling in return. “Water?”

“Why settle for water, when you can have AJ?” Dave says, and comes up with a sealed bottle of apple juice. He raises the bed a bit, opens the bottle. With some fumbling and some assistance from Dave, he’s able to take a sip.

“Is Jade all right?” Karkat asks after taking another sip.

“You took most of the bullets,” Dave says. “One went right through you, and got her in the gut, but she’s otherwise okay. Apparently has a subjugglator girlfriend now, but fine.”

Karkat makes a confused noise, not quite able to wrap his mind around it, or form words to question it.

“Yeah, I don’t know either,” Dave says. “I literally don’t know anything at all, except for what’s on the news, since I’m not actually next of kin or a quadrant and the only reason they let me stay in here was because they thought I was going to fly off the handle otherwise. Want me to call the doctorturer?”

Karkat hums at that, then gathers together enough of his scattered brain cells to reach up, and pap Dave on the cheek. “No flying off handles,” he says, and frowns.

Dave’s laugh has a decidedly watery sound to it. He presses Karkat’s hand to his cheek, then kisses Karkat’s palm. “Okay, sure. I can do that.”

“News, then doctortur,” Karkat says.

“You sure you’re going to be able to be awake for it?” Dave asks.

Karkat hums and frowns at Dave. He glances meaningfully at the screen, and Dave laughs and comes up with the remote. It takes some searching before they find a news segment handling the assassination attempt. The news reports that the snipers had been caught, and that his moirail was on his way. He tries to tell Dave to get a hold of Eridan, but he’s asleep before he can put the words together.

He’s a little more clearheaded when he wakes up. He learns from the nurse and the doctor that he’d been shot several times in the in the back and the gut. His aeration sponge had been hit; two had gone through his digestion tubes, and one lodged itself in his hip. He’d lost a lot of blood, and there had apparently been some problem finding him a donor. (Absolutely no surprise there.) A subjugglator named Leonis Myrmic apprehended one of the shooters; police caught the second five days later. Karkat had been out of it for more than a week. It seems that Jade had been targeted by a racist group with an intense hatred for the repatriated. Aside from informing the police, Jade hadn’t done anything about it.

Awake, things become extremely busy. He has to talk to the police investigators, and then Ampora. Eridan is shaky, angry and swearing to cull the (human) security detail, who had missed the shooters. “I’m pretty sure culling is illegal here,” Karkat says.

“I’ll have ‘em extradited,” Eridan says immediately. “That is, if Makara doesn’t go after ‘em first.”

“Gamzee isn’t going to cause a diplomatic incident,” Karkat says.

“He flippin’ is a diplomatic incident!” Eridan shouts.

Eridan’s moirail, expression serene, reaches up and quite brazenly paps him. Eridan’s fins flutter win embarrassment, but he settles. “I’m sure the Emissary knows his moirail’s mind better than you, love,” Gernuk says affectionately.

“What mind,” Eridan and Karkat accidentally chorus.

“Seriously, Eridan,” Karkat says, half a beat after that. “He’s grown up a lot.”

“To be the whimsical head of a cult of murderpranking loonies,” Eridan mutters. “All right, it’d be a bad idea to keep him away, anyway.” He glares. “But if he culls me because of this outrageous fuckery, I’m haunting your ass, is that understood?”  

“He won’t cull you,” Karkat says, a little exasperated.

Later he hears from Jade, and strangely enough, Leonis Myrmic. They come to visit from across the hall, Jade in a four wheeled device being navigated by Leonis It’s a little strange seeing a Subjugglator pushing a four wheeled device, let alone seeing one with diamonds in their eyes for a human academic-activist. “So, make up dinner, to make up for being my meat shield?” Jade asks after talking around the situation.

“Well, for not telling me you’ve been getting threats,” Karkat says. “Or might be in danger of getting shot by crazy human ‘racists’.”

Jade waves her hands in an exasperated gesture. “Crazy racists are a thing that happens!” she says. “I can’t cave and let them take over my life!”

“You woulda lost yours, sugargrub, if the Emissary hadn’t played ‘meatshield,’” Leonis says.

“You were there too, Lee!” Jade says. She tries to twist around to look at Leonis, and then freezes with a distressed sound, arms cradling her abdomen. “Owww.”

Leonis immediately squats down at the side of the chair. “So I was. You need me to get a doctorturer?” She asks.

“No, just sore,” Jade says. “Stop fussing at me, you’re worse than Dad!”

“Knew there was a reason I liked that damn dog,” Leonis says.  She rises to her feet, and smiles, at Jade, and then oddly at Karkat. “With all the arguing we do, I never expected to come up pale as bone for Jade. I guess he was let to see a punchline when the Mirthful said, ‘Bitch, someday you’re gonna fall in some quadrant with a heretic and Imma gonna have the biggest damn laugh about it.’”

“I’m just glad you didn’t get shot yourself, though honestly, who wears bioarmor to an academic conference!” Jade says, patting Leonis on the arm with a fond little grin. The affection definitely appeared to go both ways.

“Ninjettes who are ready to throw down for the faith,” Leonis says immediately. “And a good thing too.”

Leonis gives a thankfully unrhymed account of directing someone to call 911, then hunting one of the shooters down. (“One motherfucker was already out of range, but I set loose a most holy terror and got the other.”)

The conversation wanders for a bit, and then Jade says. “Okay Lee, you actually have to tell him. ‘Cause he definitely doesn’t remember you!”

“Well damn,” the Subjugglator says.

“Tell me what?” Karkat asks with a frown.

Leonis sighs. “So, a long time ago, I was all being schoolfed on the old Highblood’s flagship. And I was pissed off that the Highblood surrendered to some heretic who was in a moirallegiance with a jokeblood mutant. And I caused shit with the little motherfucker and he near put me through a wall and I gotta strip tore off me afterward, not for losing, but for fucking around like that at all on account quadrants are motherfucking sacred serendipity, even if it’s a fucking joke, especially if it’s a fucking joke. Then I got sent on a most mirthful and holy quest to learn shit and talk about what I learned and made friends with another jokeblood heretic who followed the Signless Cult. And I meet you again and I think, aight, Imma make up for being a nasty little bitch, and I’m sure you’ll know me on sight and fucking hate me but my sister goes, ‘I bet you it’s all in the past for him and he doesn’t remember,’ and now I owe her dinner and a movie, my treat.”

“Oh, you can afford it!” Jade says.

Karkat laughs a little. “Well, I remember a lot of fights, but not necessarily with who.” He tries to remember the face, and the makeup but can’t quite. The clue is the little gap between her front teeth and the arched nose. And yeah, he remembers her now. He isn’t angry, and he doesn’t hate her. He remembers putting up with her bullshit and the fight and someone coming in to mediate. “You changed your face a bit,” Karkat says, meaning her ‘holy face’ or the paint she was wearing. “You thickened the eyebrows and added opposing crescents under your eyes.”

“The face I was using when I was a kid was pretty basic,” Leonis says. “I changed it up while I was wandering around like the do-gooder mendicant from an adventure serial except all scholarly.”

“Well, I’m not sorry you got in trouble, but I don’t hate you,” Karkat says. “And even though I was pretty pissed at you then, it was a pretty long time ago. I’m glad you were on hand to provide back up and help, so we’re even, I guess.”

“Good, now shake and let bygones be bygones!” Jade says.

She is very insistent that they shake on it, so they do. 

==>

<==

[writeunrhymed]

There are not many things Chatra loves more than playing the taphon. But he'd set foot in ManSuang for a specific purpose - a mission - and nothing takes precedence over that.

He maintains a low profile; keeps himself out of other people's business and keeps them out of his. He plays the taphon because he has to, not because he wants to. Until one day, the most stunning stranger from Paet Riu shows up. He says to call him Khem, smiles like sunshine, and takes his time knocking down Chatra's walls bit by bit.

He graces the stage wrapped up in gold - beautiful and graceful - and gives Chatra a reason to play like he means it. Like he loves it. Like every strike of his palm is the very echo of his own heartbeat.

--- [Day 3: Music | ChatKhem - ManSuang]

[writeunrhymed]

//feels like the first time

Porsche thinks there’s something poetic about facing off with Kinn at the same place where they had their first kiss.

[ read on ao3 ]

--- [Day 6: Location (pier | KinnPorsche)]

[writeunrhymed]

Tankhun goes on to succeed their father and Kinn gets to pursue his love for music. He forms a band going into his senior year in university.

Jom and Tem sign up to replace the original drummer and bassist, who both dropped out after graduation to pursue different careers. Kinn's main vocalist, also his co-writer/composer and lover, cheats on him and promptly gets kicked out.

Jom and Tem bring in their friend Porsche as a replacement, who agrees to join for the extra cash. He can stand the arrogant, demanding, prickly main guitarist/founder/pretty much leader of the band if it means putting a dent in his debt.

Kinn is an asshole, but so is Porsche.

They work wonderfully together but they also fight and grind their teeth, and all that tension leads to a night of drunken sex. It feels inevitable when it happens. Neither of them really regret it the next day. And so they keep at it, sans feelings (or so they say) because that only complicates band dynamics.

But their relationship is volatile.

They go on tour. 24/7 in each other's orbit, under each other's skin, with hardly any breathing space. Things are good when they're good; but when they're not, it's miserable. Kinn is distrustful, short-tempered, and mean, and says things that inadvertently cut through Porsche deeply.

Porsche has always been resilient and thick-skinned. He doesn't hurt easily, but he does now because it's Kinn.

Porsche walks away.

He tries to.

Kinn catches him before he can cross the threshold. He holds him tight and begs for forgiveness. He pours his heart out for the first time, his voice trembling, whispers "I love you" against Porsche's skin.

He asks him to stay.

And Porsche does. Because it's Kinn.

--- [Day 4: Music | KinnPorsche band au]

[writeunrhymed]

Rumors have been going around about Chatra lately. Khem learns that only one of them is true.

[ read on ao3 ]

--- [Day 15: Confession | ChatKhem - ManSuang]