#would my works in a different genre resonate with others?

[just-1other-nerd]

I do write, definitely, but do I finish what I write? ... *looks at the massive pile of wips and ideas and looks at the one (1) short story that's actually finished and won first place in a competition* ... sometimes apparently

REBLOG IF YOU ARE A WRITER ON TUMBLR

IT DOES NOT MATTER WHAT KIND OF WRITER YOU ARE YOU CAN BE WRITING: POEMS, FANFICS, IDK NORMAL FICS, NOVELS, SHORT STORIES, IDK ANYTHING!! JUST REBLOG!!!

[always-just-red]

A/N: Poured my soul into this a couple weeks ago, am dedicating it to everyone who's similarly torn between Sylus and their original LI- especially my fellow Rafayel girlies! This is not going to help! It's going to make it worse!! 🥰

Unspoken

Sylus x Reader 🩸 (implied Rafayel x reader)

Summary: You could fix all of this if Sylus would just resonate with you. Why won't he resonate with you?

Genre: Angst, so much angst, brace yourselves

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, injury detail, blood, swearing, possibly not lore-accurate (I've taken some creative liberties with Sylus' healing abilities and MC's resonance for the sake of maximum angst, because I like to suffer!)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Like the first, warm prickle of sunlight when you step out of a cold shadow.”

“Hmm?”

“That is what you said to him, right?”

Sylus’s eyes are closed, his head leant back against the wall and his whole body heavy with tiredness. He doesn’t move as he asks you the question. Doesn’t fix you with that suffocating, crimson gaze— like he usually does— and you almost miss it. There’s a pain to his tone, accentuating the gravel of his voice, and a part of you thinks it isn’t all for the injuries you’ve set about tending to.

If he was looking at you, you would see it, wouldn’t you? That flicker of melancholy that sometimes likes to betray the rest of him. Maybe that’s why he keeps his eyes closed.

You deliberate his words, trying to ignore the way he tenses as you press gauze to a wound on his stomach. They do feel familiar: a simile dancing at the edge of your consciousness, just barely out of reach. It’s hard to pursue the past with the present wetting your fingertips, fresh, hot, and red.

One clue: That is what you said to him, right? Him. Him? Who was—

Ah.

Suddenly the words are your own, at the tip of your tongue, because you're saying them in a memory. You were with Rafayel in his studio, reunited and safely returned from the N109 Zone. He had been holding you close, telling you he’d missed you and that he’d been waiting forever; he was so, so bored. You’d smiled fondly. Laced your fingers through his and resonated: wanting to lose yourself in his power, wanting to forget there was any other kind of warmth. He had sighed softly. The sensation was usually buried beneath blood and battle; you’d forgotten how intimate it was.

Then he’d asked you what it felt like.  

“You heard that?” you say to Sylus.

He hums a little. “Not directly.”

“Sylus.”

His name evokes a faint interest, or perhaps it’s the way you said it: chiding, stern— like you were just getting started. His right eye opens, regarding you warily. “Mmm?”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“You’ve lectured me, sweetie.” He leans back again, eyes closed. “There is a difference.”

You resist the urge to wring his neck, especially when it’s bared as invitingly as it is now. It feels calculated. Deliberate. You can almost imagine him lying there, anticipating the fatal vice of your hands. It was what he always seemed to want: to drag you into sin with him.

“I wouldn’t have to lecture you if you actually listened to me,” you reason, releasing a breath. “You can’t keep spying on me, Sy.”

He hums again: this time sceptically. “Can’t I? But you say such pretty things to him, kitten. It’s like watching a melodramatic film. I’d hate to miss it.”

“You’re jealous.”

“Maybe,” he admits with a half-hearted chuckle. “Then again, maybe not.”

You don’t know what to say, so you pretend it’s because you’re busy. Sylus’s hastily rolled up shirt has slipped downwards, catching the edge of his wound, and you lift it delicately, your fingers skirting over skin. His jaw clenches. His hands fist. His mouth is a tight line and you’re not sure what it’s holding onto more carefully: a short hiss of pain or the rest of his confession.

There are always things he isn’t telling you, but he comes closer to it at times like this, when you could do anything to him— cut his throat, collect on so many bounties— and instead you’re just… nice.

It’s the reason he doesn’t call when he’s slumped somewhere after a shootout, his Evol exhausted and his strength draining from half a dozen wounds he can’t quite heal yet. It’s the reason he lay here for who knows how many hours before you found him, rolling his eyes as you rushed to his side, because Luke and Kieran couldn’t keep their mouths shut.

You want to shout at him— want to scold him for being so goddamn stupid— but you don’t. Here you are instead, humouring him and playing nurse, when a simple resonance would suffice. He’d tried to force it before, but now, when you had thrust your hand into his and willed him to take? He’d snatched his hand back. Insisted on bearing his pain ‘the old-fashioned way’.

He was so fucking stubborn.

“What does it feel like with me?”

Sylus’s voice is gentle but his eyes are sharp— cutting into you like a blade striving for bone. It’s an unintentional violence, a jarring: I know what you’re thinking, but I’d rather hear you say it. Kindred spirits; he sees your mind and your heart and then looks at you like it isn’t a weapon. Like you should be grateful for the knife at your throat because you can trust the hand that’s holding it.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, please,” he scoffs, “if you can conjure up a metaphor for your little artist, you can do the same for me.”

Something is stoked in you, and though you bite your tongue, your careful fingers slip for a moment, pressing into the tender skin at the edge of his wound. Sylus grimaces— hisses— though you could swear there’s a hint of a smile on his lips.

You’d sinned, hadn’t you? “You really wanna know?”

He nods, his eyes on you again. It’s your hand on the knife, and he trusts you implicitly.  

“It’s like… the ocean, I guess.”

“Inspired.”

“Shut up—” you flick his forehead— “just listen, ok? It was overwhelming at first. Zayne, Xavier, Raf… They’re all so powerful. But you? It felt like you could drown me. Like you wanted to drown me.”

Sylus is quiet. You’re running an antiseptic wipe over the smaller scrapes on his stomach, but he doesn’t flinch.

“It was consuming,” you carry on as you work. “Frightening. There was so much of it- so much you- filling my lungs, trying to take my breath away. The entire time I could feel how fathomless it was. I knew if I stopped fighting it I would sink, and that I would never, ever stop.”

You can remember it vividly, especially when you’re as close to him as you are now. Though there’s no more dark energy, twisting around you, dragging you closer, you can still feel its grasp. You can see it, too, when you look up at him: hunger, burning red.

It isn’t a command anymore; it’s a longing.

And you both know you can’t give him what he wants.

“But then I did stop fighting,” you continue, because you can at least answer his question. “And I could still breathe. I was still… myself.” You place a hand on his knee. “It doesn’t scare me anymore, Sy. It’s vast and intimidating, but it’s… exciting, too.”

You smile and give his knee a playful squeeze. “I wanna see how deep it goes.”

He’s stoic for another moment, an apathetic gaze dropping to your hand before lifting to your lips. Then he’s smiling too, leaning closer: “I want to show you how deep it—”

“Don’t ruin it.” You push him back to the wall.

He laughs, running a hand through his white hair, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s a place in his mind where he’s closing the distance again, and he doesn’t care if you know it. You feel the heat in your cheeks betraying you, so you focus back on the man’s injuries: the gash on his stomach has already bled through your bandages. It’ll need stitches.

You sigh, starting to peel back your previous work.

“Does it hurt?” Sylus asks. “Now that you’ve… stopped fighting?”  

You glance up, and he’s examining his hand like it’s a gun he hasn’t yet fired and so can't know the power of. He flexes his fingers, pale in the light. “A little,” you admit, thinking of Zayne’s ice and Rafayel’s fire. Resonating was always a trust exercise: it could kill you, could burn, and you had to be willing to let it. “But I can handle it.”  

Used bandages tossed aside, Sylus’s wound looks as dire as when you’d first lifted his shirt to find it. You lean back, lips pursed in bleak assessment; somewhere at the back of your mind, Zayne is insisting this is a job for a real doctor.

“That bad, huh?”

You huff in answer, exhausted. You shoot Sylus a look of defeat before gingerly offering your hand.

His eyes flit between it and you, and you have to give another nod of encouragement before he surrenders. He holds his breath— it’s slow— his forefinger gliding tentatively up your wrist, spelling a silent question, before tracing a circle in your palm. He closes his eyes. His long fingers spread yours and he’s claiming your hand with something between reverence and sin.

His touch trespasses delicately. His Evol doesn’t.

You bite back a gasp as power surges through you, dark and devouring. Your eyes snap shut and your hand tightens around his, not knowing if it’ll ground you or drag you deeper, not caring so long as there’s something in all this everything to hold onto. This could kill you— you would let this kill you, but it won’t. Your nails are leaving crescents in his skin and you know, you know, the world will burn long before you do.

This is different than the others. Better than the others.

Suddenly your hand is empty and the darkness is not a promise but a place where you’re alone. Your eyes flutter open, searching for an anchor. Your head is swimming.

“Are you alright?” Sylus is looking at you, his hand on your shoulder, steadying you, and it takes everything in your power not to grasp it again.

So empty. So alone. “I’m fine,” you manage, but your voice is shaking.

“Tch.”

He’s not a man who wastes his time, and he knows better than to push that particular lie. Rejuvenated, he sits up, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders— reacquainting himself with the strength of his body. He’s imposing again. Looming over you, again. His wounds have all healed, and you watch as the stains of his blood lift and disintegrate, like embers on a breeze.

His hand moves to massage his neck, and he yawns as he lazily tips his head from side to side. “Enjoying the show, sweetie?”

You don’t really hear him. He chuckles, pulling his shirt back down before waving a hand in front of your face; you catch it in a heartbeat. “Stop it.”

“There you are.” 

He twists his wrist free, but then your fingers are around his hand, turning it over so you can get a better look. Your thumb traces thoughtfully over the marks you’d made. “Aren’t you going to heal—”

“No,” he smirks.

He wants you to ask him why, so there’s no way in hell you’re going to. You both have your secrets: some worn on the sleeve and others, clutched a little closer to the chest. What does it feel like with me? You turn the question over in your mind as you tidy up wet gauze and bandages. You had told him the truth, just not all of it.

Like how you don’t lose yourself in him, but feel more yourself than you ever have.

Like how every time it gets easier, but so much harder to stop.

“So,” you mutter, distracting yourself, “are you happy with your metaphor?”

Sylus mulls it over as he studies you, a faint glow in his right eye. There are also things he wants to say, but he’s thinking of you and the artist, locked in a wistful embrace in a cluttered studio, so he keeps them to himself. His gaze tells you what he doesn’t: that he will bear it with a smile, for you, and that he will hold onto it long after it makes his hands bleed.

“It was a trifle trite, perhaps. Though… sweet,” he purrs. “Who knew a kitten could be so eloquent?”

“Fuck you.”

“Mmm.” He grins as he looks at your marks on his skin. “That’s better.”

[03jyh23]

🩶⌇nights like these┆choi san

established relationship, idol!san x gn!reader

│synopsis: the one where you are san's priority

│genre: hurt/comfort

│trigger warnings: descriptions of chronic illness, pain, nausea, and emotional distress

│words: 2.4 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there my lovely people! this one is a requested work that is very important to me! the person who requested it shared their struggles with me, so i put a lot of care and effort into writing this piece. i hope it brings them comfort and resonates with anyone else going through similar challenges. thank you for trusting me with your story. ♡

love, monika ♡

you: sannie, im sorry but im not gonna make it tonight, have fun! love you x

You barely typed out the message and leaned deeper into the soft pillows. You hated feeling that way, feeling completely out of control of your own body. It was as if your own flesh and bones had turned against you, conspiring to ruin the moments you had been looking forward to. Another rush of nausea hit you, stronger this time, and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around yourself, trying to find some semblance of comfort. The persistent and haunting question lingered in your mind: Why were you so out of control? You wished you could muster the strength to push through, to be by San's side, but tonight, your body had other plans. You were helpless against a body that sabotaged all your important plans. You wanted the energy to be with San, to support him and not to disappoint the person you loved yet again, but tonight, you knew there was nothing you could do to feel better. You just needed to lay through it  

After all this time of having this health problem, you learned just how to live with it, so since early morning you tried to push the symptoms aside, focusing on getting ready. It was a routine you had perfected—ignoring the pain, the nausea, the overwhelming fatigue. You had become a master of disguise, hiding your struggles behind a cheerful facade. But tonight, even your best efforts weren't enough. 

Usually, you would go about with your day, that's why you were currently lying flat on your bed dressed in that pretty outfit San bought for you especially for tonight, all ready to go and celebrate with him. Just as you were about to leave, the usual symptoms hit you with the power of a train. It was as if your body had chosen this exact moment to remind you of its frailty, to assert its dominance over your will. Tonight was supposed to be different. Tonight, you were supposed to be standing beside San, holding his hand and cheering for him. You had been looking forward to this night for weeks, planning every detail. The thought of disappointing him weighed heavily on you, maybe even heavier than the nausea. You knew how much it meant to him to have you there, and the guilt gnawed at you from the inside. 

A burning stomach pain flared up, adding to the discomfort. It felt as though your insides were on fire, each wave of pain more intense than the last. You clutched your stomach, curling up tighter, wishing for some relief. The pain was relentless, a cruel reminder of the battle you were fighting within your own body. It was moments like these when you felt most defeated, most vulnerable. 

"Baby?" you opened your heavy eyes only to see San kneeling beside the bed, eye level with you. You didn't even notice you had fallen asleep. His eyes were filled with concern, his short, black hair was styled back, making him look incredibly elegant. He wore a white shirt with the first few buttons casually unbuttoned. His eye makeup was minimal, with just a hint of eyeliner to accentuate his eyes, exactly the way you always liked it. He must have rushed out straight from his dressing room, you thought as you blinked a few times to get rid of the tiredness. 

"Sannie? What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

San reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. 

"I just had a feeling that today is rough on you. You didn't reply to any of my calls, so I rushed home," he said softly, his voice filled with concern and love. "I couldn't just leave you here alone," he said softly. "I wanted to be here for you." 

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want to ruin your night," you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. 

San shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Hey, don't say that. You could never ruin my night. I just want to be here with you, make sure you're okay," he reassured, his hand gently stroking your head. Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, overwhelmed by his kindness. 

"I just hate feeling like this, being a burden," you admitted, your voice trembling. 

San’s expression softened even more. His fingers traced the few tears that managed to escape your eyes, then he kissed your forehead whispering, "You never are nor never will be a burden." You closed your eyes, feeling the gentle touch of his soft lips against your skin, a tingling warmth spreading through you. The tension in your muscles began to melt away as San’s fingers traced soothing patterns along your arm. You took a deep breath, allowing the warmth of his presence to envelop you. The pain and nausea, though still present, seemed to fade into the background as you focused on the steady rhythm of his touch. 

"But the party?" you mumbled out, "The boys must be so disappointed." 

San shook his head gently, his expression softening even more. "Don't worry about them right now. The boys understood, and Hongjoong reassured me it was all good. What's important is that we take care of you," he said soothingly, his fingers continuing to trace comforting patterns on your arm. 

"Thank you, Sannie," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "For being here." 

He kissed your forehead again, lingering a bit longer this time. "Of course, my love. Always," he whispered back, his breath warm against your skin. You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it eased some of the guilt that had been weighing you down. "Can you stand up? We need to get you in something comfortable first," San suggested gently, his hands ready to help you. You nodded weakly, grateful for his help as he eased you out of the outfit and into something more comfortable. 

"Is it any better now that you've slept for a while?" he asked, his voice filled with gentle concern as he rearranged the pillows on the bed. He brought an extra blanket, knowing you would likely get cold. 

"A little," you admitted, your voice still weak but filled with gratitude. "But I can feel the migraine creeping in slowly," you added, your voice tinged with fatigue and frustration. 

San nodded, his brow furrowing slightly with worry. "I'll get your medication and some water," he said, standing up to fetch the items. 

"I don't think I can take the medications," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "It feels like if I swallow anything, I would just rush to the toilet." 

San paused, his eyes filled with concern. "Okay, let's not push it then," he said softly, returning to your side. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to rest your head on his shoulder. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, a soothing rhythm that started to calm your racing thoughts. He began drawing gentle patterns on your back, a gesture that always made you relax, his touch tender. 

You breathed in his cologne and felt your stomach clenching. The scent, usually comforting and familiar, now seemed overwhelming to your already sensitive senses. You backed out from his arms, holding a hand to your face to stave off the wave of nausea that threatened to overtake you. San looked at you with wide eyes, his brows furrowing slightly in confusion and concern before it hit him. "Love, I'm so sorry, it's the perfume? Too strong? I'm gonna change," he said hurriedly, already moving towards the closet to find something else to wear. 

"It's okay, Sannie," you mumbled, trying to muster a reassuring smile. "I just need a moment." 

But San had already swapped his formal shirt for something more comfortable and less scented. He returned to your side, "Better now?" he asked softly, his eyes searching for any sign of relief. 

You only nodded, and he took your hand, guiding you to the bed. "You are babying me too much," you mumbled as you followed in his steps, your voice tinged with a mix of gratitude and mild embarrassment.

San shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Hm...." he scoffed dramatically, "I think I don't baby you enough, though?" 

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh despite the pain and discomfort you were feeling. San's dramatic tone and exaggerated expression brought a moment of lightness to an otherwise heavy night. "Really?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him, trying to match his playful energy. 

"Absolutely," he replied with a grin, sitting down beside you. "Now, let's get you settled." You settled back into the bed, feeling a bit more at ease with San by your side. The pain and nausea were still there, but somehow, with his presence, they seemed a little more bearable. "Do you need me to bring something?" San asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. 

You shook your head slightly, feeling the weight of his love and care enveloping you. "Just stay here with me, that's all I need," you whispered.

"Alright, I will just put the curtains in case the migraine hits," he said as he quickly darted through the room to the windows. You watched him with tired eyes, the room dimmed as he drew the curtains, blocking out the harsh light that often worsened your migraines. The soft, muted light that remained was much gentler on your senses. 

San returned to your side, his movements gentle and deliberate, as if he were afraid of causing you any more discomfort. "Scoot over," San said softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips. You shifted slightly, making room for him on the bed. He carefully climbed in beside you, wrapping his arms around you. 

"Thank you for being so patient with me. I really needed you tonight," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. 

San held you a little tighter, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what," he murmured softly. San was drawing small circles on your back, your face buried in his chest. Your eyes were heavy, the migraine setting in, and you could feel the pressure building behind your temples. The gentle, rhythmic motion of his hand was soothing, a small comfort amidst the pain and discomfort, allowing you to relax slightly despite the throbbing in your head. 

Just as you began to drift off to sleep, your body started trembling uncontrollably. The sudden tremors jarred you awake, and you felt a wave of panic wash over you. San immediately noticed, his grip tightening around you in a protective embrace. 

"Hey, it's okay, I'm here," he whispered, his voice steady and calming. He gently rubbed your back, trying to soothe your body. "Just breathe, love. I'm right here with you." You focused on his voice, on the warmth of his presence, trying to steady your breath. The trembling slowly began to subside, and you clung to San, feeling a mixture of fear and relief. "Are you feeling dizzy again? Like the last time?" San asked, his voice tinged with concern. 

You nodded weakly, the dizziness making it hard to focus on anything. "Yeah, it's just... everything is spinning," you managed to whisper, clutching onto him. You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing as San's presence provided a comforting anchor. The room seemed to tilt and spin, but his calming voice and gentle touch helped you stay grounded. "I'm sorry, San," you murmured, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. 

San shook his head, his expression filled with love and reassurance. "Don't apologize, my love. You can't control this, and I'm here to help you through it," he murmured softly. "I will keep you safe," he whispered, his voice filled with unwavering determination and love. "Just rest," he murmured softly. "I'll be right here with you." You nodded, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling you under. San's hand continued to trace soothing patterns on your back, his touch gentle and reassuring. Gradually, your breathing steadied, and you found yourself relaxing into his embrace. 

As you drifted in and out of sleep, you could feel San's steady heartbeat beneath your cheek, a rhythm that grounded you. Hours passed in a blur of half-conscious moments and deep, dreamless sleep. Every time you stirred, San was there, his presence a steady source of comfort and love. You could feel his fingers brushing through your hair, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your head. He held you through the worst of it, never once leaving your side. 

When you finally woke, the pain had dulled to a manageable throb, and the nausea had receded enough for you to sit up slightly. San was still there, his eyes filled with concern and relief as he saw you stir. 

"Hey," he said softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he looked at you with concern. "How are you feeling?" 

You took a deep breath, assessing your condition and trying to gather your thoughts. "A bit better," you admitted, your voice still weak but more stable than before. The remnants of fatigue lingered, but you felt a small spark of improvement. 

"I'm glad to hear that," San replied, his smile growing a bit wider with relief. "Do you think you can eat something light? Maybe some broth or a bit of toast?" 

You nodded slowly, appreciating his care and the gentle way he always seemed to know what you needed. "I think I could try," you said, feeling a bit more hopeful at the thought of eating something. 

"Alright, let me order something, hm?" San said, giving you a reassuring smile as he gently helped you sit up against the pillows, adjusting them to make sure you were comfortable. 

"Thank you, Sannie," you whispered, feeling a surge of gratitude for his unending support and the way he always put your well-being first. 

San smiled warmly, his eyes filled with love and tenderness. "Anything for you, my love," he said, placing a soft kiss on your lips, his touch gentle and comforting. As he reached for his phone to place the order, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude and love for having someone like San by your side, through thick and thin. 

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

♡│requests are open │

[sweettofuki]

"Every relationship is different, but ours was my favourite" | part two

pairing: hoshina x emotionally reserved reader genre: second chance, angst -> fluff, a little smut summary: Hoshina finds ways to rekindle your love for him warning: minors do not interact, slight cursing mentions: @swivi @kaoiyeva @sleepymeix @lillycore thank you for your support!! I hope you enjoy this continuation!! a/n: part two! part one here

wc: 3.1k

“I’m home,” you heard the door to your shared apartment clicked open.

You walked over to greet your boyfriend, Hoshina, at the front door, who came home late again.

“Hey baby, how was your work today?” you asked

“It was okay. I’m so tired though,” he replied.

You helped him with his bag and got him settled down.

“Do you want me to warm up your dinner? I made your favorite, katsu curry!” you beamed.

He took a sharp inhale. “Actually, my coworkers and I went out for dinner after work. I’m so sorry, dear.”

You sighed, disappointed, before turning your heel to heat up your portion.

“It’s fine, I can keep yours for lunch tomorrow,” you mumbled.

“When’s your next off day?”

“Wednesday.”

“Oh, that’s great! I’m off that day too! Do you want to do something together? I was thinking of going to that new cafe that just opened—”

You started rambling about plans for your shared day off, but he seemed uninterested. He just wanted some peace and quiet when he got home. He clicked his teeth against his tongue.

“Actually, is it okay if we stay in? I’m just exhausted from being out every day.”

“… You always do this”

“Do what?”

“You always find excuses not to spend time with me. ‘Captain Ashiro needs me to finish this paperwork.’ ‘Officer Hibino is causing trouble again.’ ‘There’s a new weapon that needs testing.’ When is it gonna be ‘Sorry, I can’t, I have plans with my girlfriend?’’ you huffed.

“You neglect me all the time Soshiro. When are you finally gonna make time for me?” you yelled, frustration boiling over.

“Why are you getting mad at me? We can still spend time if we stay in. I just don’t want to be around people on my off days.”

“But we never go out anymore! Do you even remember the last time we went out?”

“Maybe. I’d be more willing to spend time with you if you didn’t spend every single minute of our time together nagging me,” he snarled.

“well, I’m SORRY for wanting to spend time with my boyfriend. Shoot me!” your voice raising a volume higher, hands balling into fists.

It wasn’t usual for you to raise your voice at him.

His eyes widened before his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Fuck y/n. Can you just shut up for a moment?? I don’t have time to deal with this. I have responsibilities y/n. You can’t expect me to just drop everything because you’re clingy.” he snapped.

A veil of silence fell over you. A sharp pang hit your heart, discomfort spreading across your chest.

“You…you think I’m clingy?” you whispered.

His words resonated repeatedly in your head. You looked down, not even wanting to hear his answer. Slowly, hurt morphed into anger. You felt something inside you snap.

“How the fuck do you think I’m clingy? I barely see you. We live together, and I only see you once a week. And even if we do see each other, you look irritated just talking to me, like it was a chore. You're always late coming home or to our dates—”

“Don’t you think I’m always out late because I don’t want to deal with you!? You’re always breathing down on my neck, suffocating me. I have a duty to serve, y/n.”

You let out a sharp gasp, pain etched across his face as he immediately regretted his choice of words.

But it was too late; he knew there was no taking them back. His words would be forever engraved in your mind.

“Fuck you and your fucking duties. Did you forget that I’m also working the same job as you? You don’t see me giving you excuses just because I’m exhausted. You know what? I’m done.”

Then you turned on your heels and stomped towards your shared room.

Hoshina leaned against the counter, breathing out a deep sigh. Then he heard the sounds of something zipping open, closet doors being thrown open, and frantic rustling.

Suddenly, the drop in temperature was the least of his worries. Panic overtook his exhaustion.

“Y/n, dear? What are you doing?” he shouted down the walkway.

You didn’t answer him .

Until he figured it out himself, reluctantly. He watched as you emerged, dressed and lugging a large suitcase behind you.

“w-where are you going at this hour?”

A stupid question he knew the answer to.

“y/n, please wait. Talk to me, baby—.” he pleaded but got cut off by your cold tone, something he had grown to hate.

“I think we’ve talked enough, Hoshina.” you hissed.

He never knew he could hate the sound of his own family name.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words stuck in his dry throat. He wanted to pull you into his arms, to tell you that what he said wasn’t true, and apologize endlessly.

He wanted to tell you that he loves you, that when he comes home after a long day and holds you in his arms, he likes the feeling of your warmth and comfort. He adored your bright, contagious smile and your endless patience and love for him.

It wasn’t his first relationship, but he would be damned if you were his last.

Yet, his feet stayed rooted to the spot. Unable to move.

The moment he saw you take your keys, he knew there was no way of turning back time.

He watched your figure disappear behind the closed door, leaving him to stand alone in their empty apartment.

Well, he finally got what he wanted.

You repeated the line in your head, trying to reassure yourself that what you did was the right choice. With you gone, he could focus on his career without anyone holding him back.

But damn, does it hurt.

Hot heavy tears streamed down your face as you drove towards headquarters, where you had a spare private room.

You managed to hold in your tears until you left, refusing to let him see you at your weakest.

You felt like a dam, that broke down from holding in too much pressure for too long. The pain jabbed at your chest, obstructing your airways, making it hard to breathe—

You gasped awake.

Sitting up in bed, you clutched your chest, breathing heavily.

Calm down. Calm down. It was just a dream.

You sank back down into your bed, back in your dorm, your eyes still brimming with unshed tears. Hugging yourself, you sought comfort and fell asleep in your own embrace.

[…]

The next morning, you carried your duties on as usual. In your Captain’s office, you reported on recent improvements among your officers. Then, you discussed upcoming drills and training plans with your Vice Captain.

“Focus up Officer Izumi. You’re doing well,” you called out.

You nodded in approval as Officer Izumi swiftly took aim at the furthest target.

You have been monitoring your platoon’s progress during the drills, and recently, you’ve noticed Officer Izumi had climbed up to one of the top few spots in your squad.

“Hey, Platoon Leader L/N, did you see that shot? Pretty impressive right?” he said, standing a bit too close to your comfort.

“Yeah, good job officer,” you replied nonchalantly, not bothering to meet his gaze.

Lately, you couldn't shake the feeling that Officer Izumi has taken a liking to you. He always finds ways to strike up conversations with you and sometimes he would ‘accidentally’ brush his arm against yours. It hadn't gone unnoticed by the squad, resulting in him being teased constantly behind your back.

Yet, you can’t deny feeling a hint of flattery from receiving said attention. It had been a while since anyone had paid you this much attention since your breakup.

Thank god my dry pussy spell has lifted.

As you walked down the hallway, you heard your name being called out from behind you.

“Platoon commander L/N! Wait up!”

You turned to see Officer Izumi jogging towards you.

“Do you need something, Officer Izumi—”

“I know this is sudden but…I think you’re pretty and I’d like to get to know you better. Will you go out with me?”

Stunned, you’re not sure how to respond to something like that. For a split second, it brought back memories of the last time someone confessed to you��by a vice-captain.

“Officer Izumi, I’m flattered and I appreciate your interest, but I’m sorry. I can’t accept your confession. It crosses professional boundaries.”

He moved closer, you instinctively stepped back, feeling your back hit the wall.

“Why don’t you take some time to consider it? I can wait. Maybe one week or two—”

“She said no, dumbass. Learn to take no as an answer.”

Izumi froze. You turned to see the figure standing behind Izumi. As if just thinking about him made him materialize into thin air.

“What are you doing here, Vice-Captain Hoshina?” you asked

Your division and Hoshina’s share the same headquarters, so it’s not that odd to run into each other. What’s odd, though, is the sheer frequency of running into him, despite the base being HUGE.

Hoshina grabbed the officer by his jacket, effortlessly pulling him back despite Izumi's towering height. Even though Officer Izumi was a head taller than him, it did not seem to affect the vice-captain. However, the mere presence of the Vice-captain and his menacing grin seemed to have affected Izumi.

His grin bore nothing of its usual friendliness.

He smiled at you as he sent Officer Izumi away, flashing his canines. His menacing grin quickly shifted to a gentler smile upon facing you. You can’t deny that his smile didn’t stir up old butterflies in your stomach.

“I leave you alone for one minute and some poor bastard is already chasing after you, with additional borderline sexual harassment.”

“Why would he be a poor bastard? You don’t believe that I’m capable of dating Officer Izumi or anyone else for that matter?” you retorted

You saw a slight twitch in his eyebrows when you mentioned Officer Izumi.

He backed you against the cold, dry wall once more, slamming his hand beside your head with his thumb brushing against your ear. You felt a flame ignited at where his thumb is touching your earlobe, warmth radiating. His body hunched forward, completely caging you in.

“I know you, Doll. You wouldn’t settle for someone like him” he whispered, his intense gaze locking with yours in the close distance, his pupils dilated.

You blushed, immediately looking away and taking a deep breath.

You heard him stifle a laugh, feeling victorious from gaining a reaction from you.

“I don’t think exes normally care about this kind of stuff, Hoshina,” you teased “Like I said before, you don’t know me.”

“Hm, we’ll see about that, L/N,” he replied.

[…]

You were heading to your dorm when you passed by the training room. Light illuminating from an opening in the door.

“Seriously? They never remember to turn off the lights,” you mumbled to yourself

As you entered and made your way toward the light switches, you were about to flip the switches when your attention was drawn to the sparring dummy standing in the middle of the room.

Memories flooded back as you recalled the time when you were training alone, when Hoshina walked in, and you’d asked for his help.

“Baby, you’re not punching hard enough.”

“I don’t want to hurt you Soshiro,” you whined.

“How many times do I have to tell you, dear? I can take a hit! I won’t get hurt that easily, ya know?” he smirked

“Alright, you asked for it, love.”

Stepping back, you closed your eyes to clear your mind, then launched an attack on Hoshina.

Your right arm swung with full force, but he swiftly caught your fist and pulled you close. His arms wrapped around your waist, and with a swift move, he tripped one of your legs, sending you falling backward. In an instant, you went from aiming at his face to gazing up at him against the bright ceiling. His smirking face hovered just inches from yours.

Then his lips closed the distance.

You let out a small squeak at the surprise kiss.

Even after he pulled away, you still felt the softness of his lips lingering on yours.

You wet your lips.

His hungry, crimson eyes glanced down at your mouth.

He breathed out a deep sigh.

“Have I ever told you how absolutely breathtaking you are?”

“Not that I remember.”

In that moment, he fell harder in love by how your lovely lips curled up into a smirk, replicating the one he perfected.

You felt the hands around your waist and the back of your thigh grip harder, his fingers digging into your skin. His breathing grew heavier than before.

“Well, I’m telling you now sweetheart.” He whispered against your lips “You take my breath away.”

This time, he pressed into the kiss harder. He nibbled on your bottom lip, seeking entry with his tongue.

You let out a sharp gasp, which was immediately swallowed into his mouth, feeling something hard pressed against your crotch.

Trailing kisses along your jawline and down your neck, his warm lips gently nibble at your most sensitive spots.

“Babe not here. People might walk by and see us,” you panicked, whispering in a high pitch.

“Let them watch,” he muttered lowly into your skin.

You palmed hard at his hard-on through his pants. He let out a deep groan.

“Are you suggesting we find somewhere more private? Use your words, you naughty girl,” he added, chuckling lowly.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

You were deep in thought when a familiar voice interrupted you.

“Oops, my bad Y/N! I forgot to switch off the lights again," Hoshina said, lightheartedly.

You couldn’t remember when he started going back to first name basis with you again.

You turned and narrowed your eyes at him.

With him, nothing is ever a mistake.

“Oh? What had you so preoccupied that you forgot something so trivial?”

You noticed irritation flicker across his face. You mentally cheered for getting under his skin

“It was an honest mistake, y/n. Surely you've made mistakes in your life too.”

You paused halfway through switching off the lights.

Meeting his gaze, in a hard tone, you replied, "No, I haven't." If your words had made any impact on him, he made sure not to show it, his expression remained neutral as ever.

“Anyway,” he continued. “I suppose I have my moments of absentmindedness.”

You stared aimlessly at the wall ahead, refusing to make eye contact with him, tension thickening the air between you. Finally, he asked, “Did you remember? That night when the kaiju attacked and you exhausted yourself to the point that you blacked out.”

“what about it?” you replied, your voice hinting with intrigue.

There was a brief pause before he continued, his words carefully chosen.

“ When I saw the medics carrying your lifeless body on a stretcher, I felt like my heart dropped. I waited for you to wake up. I was there first thing in the morning and stayed by your side until you regained consciousness. I brought you flowers, hydrangea, your favorite, hoping that the scent will wake you up."

You remembered. The flowers. The empty chair.

Your hand reached out to brush against the beautiful, delicate petals. You ponder to yourself who could have left such a thoughtful gift. Fresh hydrangeas! Coincidentally, your favourite. What you didn’t notice was the pair of footsteps receding after one last glance.

“Thank god you woke up only after two days. If you had died before I could atone my mistakes, I would never forgive myself for watching you take your last breath.” He choked out the last few words, the pain evident in his voice as he imagined the worst. "It made me realised how much I still love you."

He fought back the tears that were pushing against the water gates.

You have never seen him this vulnerable before. A sharp pain throbbed in your chest at the sight of his unshed tears.

“Did you know how I noticed you hadn’t been leaving your office? Because I’ve been passing by your office every day since you left, hoping to see just a glimpse of your face. To know that you’re doing alright. After a week with no signs of you, I started to wait until you fell asleep on your desk before I dared to enter.”

He vividly remembered the moment he quietly stepped into your office, praying that you were too busy or asleep to notice. There you were, sleeping peacefully with your arms cradling your head. He cracked the door open wider, stepping closer to the front of your desk. Taking a peek at your sleeping face, he noticed your deep sunken eyes, the purple hue under your eye, and the discoloration on your cheeks. Almost as if life had drained from you. He gently tucked a strand of loose hair strand behind your ear.

Despite being overworked, and looking like you hadn’t slept in days, he couldn’t help but admire how angelic you looked at that moment. Then he noticed your petite hands trembling from the chill. He looked around the room, his eyes fell on the thick quilt on your couch. With a sigh, he retrieved it, carefully draping it around your shoulders and tucking it in, making sure no amount of warmth could seep out.

You stood frozen in place, staring at him, unsure what to make of his sudden confession. His heartfelt words clashed with your memories, particularly of your last argument with him. You clench your fists involuntarily.

“I don’t know….I don’t know if I’m ready for something like that again, Soshiro!” you cried. “When I left our apartment, I was nothing but my aching soul. It felt exhausting being in that relationship,” You started crying in hysteria, tears pooled in your eyes before they streaked down your cheeks. It was the first time you had really cried in weeks since the breakup. It felt good.

Without another word, you let him slowly embrace you, tightly, as though gathering your broken pieces.

Then you felt something wet hit your head, followed by another. Looking up, you saw tears flowing down his face.

“Please…give me another chance. We don’t have to start off strong right away. We can start at whatever pace that feels comfortable for you! I know I’m the last person who deserves your love right now, but when you left, I never realized how big our apartment was. I finally understood how you must have felt each time I left you alone. I promise you, if you take me back, I’ll never make you feel something like that again.” he begged.

With a shaky breath, you gripped his shirt close as you cried, whiffing in his familiar scent. “Okay, Soshiro,” you said. “Let’s give it one more try.”

“Really?!” he exclaimed, pulling you back to search your face. He held you tighter. “Thank you, baby! Thank you!” His words muffled against your hair.

Both of you stood there engulfed in the soft glow of the dim lights, reunited at last, each feeling as if a missing piece of the other had finally been rediscovered.

[mokkkki]

the way you write is so beautiful... tips for somebody new to writing who wants to write like you?

YOU are so beautiful, thank you so much! im not sure about any tips i have, but ill give it a shot. these are what i personally believe to have been the most important things:

find your wavelength my writing became a lot more stylized and personalized after i found an author that i resonated with, as well as a couple of themes. it just helps to know what you are actually interested in writing in, versus what you think other people would like to read. im personally interested in writing about relationships and dynamics, so my writing will always be more character than action driven. also, it helps, because youre always going to end up writing what you want to write, even in the smallest of ways, so why not embrace it fully? write what you want to read. otherwise, you wont have fun. and writing is SO MUCH FUN. knowing what youre into and what youre trying to channel gives you a really strong basis for all of your writing - not only will it take time for you to find your wavelength, meaning that youll have to expose yourself to many different genres and authors, which is a must, youll always be able to look back at that ONE creative piece and grab some motivation from it.

expose and explore creativity is everywhere - tv shows, movies, books, fanfics, comics, art, architecture, history (!!!), mythology, sports, reality - literally everywhere you can think of. dont wait for inspiration because its everywhere if you look hard enough. familiarize yourself with the seven basic plots, the thirty-six dramatic situations, basic foreshadowing elements, and other essentials. this isnt something to study or memorize, just to KNOW - its good to be aware of the foundations of literature.

embrace the brainrot and maintain a balance become obsessed w your own ocs, your own plots, your own everything. be your own biggest fan. to enter an abusive relationship with your own work is extremely upsetting, because youre doing wrong by the wonderful world youve made, and doing wrong by that part of you that just wants to be creative, too - and if that happens, its probably because you arent writing what you want to write, or controlling what doesnt want to be controlled. let your characters be individuals, let them go where they want to go, just follow and note what theyre doing. sometimes writing is a passive activity rather than active creation, and thats okay! thats when you know youve built a solid world that can run by itself and you just contribute to. that being said, while theres nothing quite like the hours spent ravenously typing, you need to find a balance. you are as important as your work, because without you, the work wouldnt exist. i also reccomend forcing yourself NOT to write on specific days. some ideas need to marinate, and some people need to rest.

i hope this was helpful <;3 if you ever need more help (and this also applies to those reading), feel free to reach out! im open to being a beta reader or just a brainstorming partner. lots of love!

[rems-writing]

Cyberpunk's bartender

》 Pairing: bartender!Wooyoung x gn!erader

》 Genre: Fluff

》 Wordcount: 1,800 words

》 Rating: nc-17

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

Wooyoung chuckled to himself as he saw a group of girls walk inside the club and saw one of them stand out from the others. She looked sheepish and definitely did not want to be outdoors right now. He understood far too well that sometimes, people just don’t like being forced to go out. As soon as Mingi, the bouncer that let these women in, gave a signal and pointed to the incredibly shy girl that flinched at everything, Wooyoung nodded and gave a thumbs-up in return. After all, he was also used to helping introverts like that woman escape. 

“I NEED THREE TEQUILA SUNRISES FOR BOOTH 1024!”

Wooyoung heard Jongho’s voice resonate within the dingy strip club and he nodded. He set to work on making the mixed drinks, pouring each amount of tequila perfect into the metal shaker before adding ice and closing it. He started shaking it with one hand while the other gathered three glasses so he could pour the drink in. Once he set the shaker down, he grabbed a strainer and placed it over the opened shaker before pouring each drink into the frosted glasses. He grabbed the tiny umbrellas and stabbed three maraschino cherries before topping the drinks with it. 

“THREE TEQUILA SUNRISES!”

Wooyoung’s voice was incredibly loud, even through the booming techno music the strippers were dancing to. Jongho hurried over to the bar and grabbed the drinks carefully before thanking him and walking over towards the booth. Wooyoung sighed and quickly washed his tools so he could prepare for making the next few drinks. He hated using dirty tools when making drinks. He believed that the remnants from the last cocktail mixed in with the new cocktail would make it taste bad. It’s a silly ideology, but to him, it made the most sense. He was currently watching the crowd and observing the different dynamics they got going on here. Soon, he felt a presence in front of him and he smiled brightly. 

“Well well. If it isn’t my favorite customer.”

You giggled and playfully rolled your eyes at his compliment. Wooyoung had first met you when you came in with so much stress. You weren’t one to drown your sorrows in alcohol, but you had just about enough. As an event coordinator and a travel planner, it seemed like you could never catch a break. The only upside to your job is that you were self-employed so you were your own boss and you could take as many days off as you want. After the occasions you helped out with, you were definitely taking a month long vacation. 

“Do you say that to all your customers?”

“Of course not, doll. They aren’t as put-together as you.”

“Ok ok fine. Enough with your pretty words. You know the drill.”

“So the usual then?”

You nodded and Wooyoung set straight to work. He decided to put on a little show for you since you expressed that you felt fascinated with the way Wooyoung makes drinks. From a simple whiskey on the rocks to the most complicated cocktail (i.e. the cosmopolitan), you believed he had the magic touch. After Wooyoung set your drink down, you thanked him and took a sip. You were surprised. Your usual, which was green apple Crown Royal mixed with Sprite, tasted stronger than usual. Not that you didn’t mind of course. You had a strong tolerance. However, this normally only had one shot of Crown mixed into it. 

“Woo. Did you put two shots in this?”

“I did. And before you ask, I didn’t fuck up. I added another shot intentionally. After everything you’ve told me, I figured you’d need to relax a bit more.”

Your heart fluttered at Wooyoung’s thoughtfulness and you thanked him by raising your glass to him. He poured his own shot and clinked his glass with you before knocking it back. He set his empty shot glass in the sink and handed you the menu. 

“Order what you want. It’s on the house.”

“Woo, no -”

Wooyoung reached over and put his finger on your lips to shush you. Normally, you would’ve rolled your eyes and shoved his finger off, but for some reason, you felt a bit flustered under his touch today. It definitely wasn’t the alcohol speaking. You weren’t even tipsy yet! Perhaps it’s just the environment you’re in. After all, you were technically in a place where women’s hormones go crazy. Once upon a time, you used to be like them. Now? You had your priorities straight. 

“It’s fine, doll. I mean it.”

“Fine… I’ll take the takoyaki and katsu pork bites please.”

“Want to throw some potstickers in there as well?”

“Sure.”

Wooyoung nodded and took your order to the kitchen while you sipped on your drink. While you were waiting for him, you noticed a girl trying to shrink back into the booth she was at with, who you assumed were, her coworkers. You chuckled as she tried her best to be a wallflower in a place such as Cyberpunk. You also felt bad for her as well. Mingi told you briefly about this woman and you honestly wanted to beat those women’s asses. Sadly, it’s none of your business. The most you can do is wish that she smoothly escapes them as soon as possible. 

“One order of takoyaki, katsu pork bites, and potstickers for my favorite customer.”

Wooyoung’s voice snapped you out of your observant haze quickly and you turned around to see the food placed in front of you. You were salivating. After weeks of eating nothing but healthy food in your own home, you considered today a cheat day. You grabbed your chopsticks and picked up a katsu pork bite before eating it. Apparently, this was a new thing on the menu. 

And you hoped they’d keep it. 

“Woo… this is fucking bomb! Tell the chef to keep this on the menu!”

Wooyoung chuckled smoothly and found your love for bar food so adorable. He made a mental note to do that before he left. As he watched you eat, he couldn’t help but stare at you. The way your hair fell in front of your face (he wanted to reach out and tuck it behind your ear), the way your cheeks puffed up as you kept eating (there were a few crumbs stuck to the corners of your mouth and he wanted to wipe them away with his thumb badly), and the way you drank your strong drink with such poise? Yeah this man is in love. 

“I NEED A ROUND OF SHOTS PLUS THE STRONGEST DRINK YOU HAVE FOR BOOTH 1117!”

Jongho’s voice broke Wooyoung out of his lovestruck stupor and he sighed deeply. He knew which booth Jongho was referring to. Setting to work, he first made the cocktail since it was a longer process. Once the drink was made, he took out a lot of shot glasses and placed them on the tray. 

“WHAT ALCOHOL DO THEY WANT?!”

Jongho asked the customer real quick on what shots they wanted to order before yelling back. 

“SOJU!”

Wooyoung nodded and took out some soju bottles before pouring the spirit into each frosted shot glass. Once he was done, he double checked to make sure everything was in order before shouting out to Jongho.

“A ROUND OF SOJU SHOTS AND A STRONG COCKTAIL!”

Jongho walked over and grabbed the tray once more before placing a dollar bill in front of Wooyoung. It was a tip. A generous one at that. Wooyoung pocketed the money before turning back to you. His eyes widened at the empty plate and they trailed up to you, still sipping on your drink as if you didn’t order so much bar food. 

“Well I’ll be damned. I’m calling you Kirby with the way you practically inhaled that food.”

“That would require me having a black hole for a stomach though, and we both know I don’t have that.”

Wooyoung laughed at your sassy reply and nodded before pouring himself another shot.

“To our aspirations of becoming Kirby!”

You clinked glasses and knocked back your drinks before setting the glass down. Wooyoung took your empty glass and looked back up at you. 

“You want a refill?”

“Nah. It’s ok. I think I’m done for today.��� 

“Perfect!”

You were confused as to why Wooyoung said that and said it in that tone. It wasn’t until your eyes landed on an empty shot glass that you realized what he was doing. You immediately shook your head. 

“I have work tomorrow -”

“What time do your clients come in?”

“Uh… around noon or 2 PM.”

“Great! Now come on. Knock one back with me.”

“Wooyoung, I don’t know -”

“Did you drive here? If you did, I’ll take your decline.”

“Well no. My car’s in the shop so I took an uber here…”

“All the more reason to take a shot! Come on. It’s Friday!” 

“Woo…”

Wooyoung took your hand in his and rubbed your knuckles with his thumb. You felt more flustered than before and you couldn’t help but find him so handsome underneath the dim lighting of the bar. His black hair was tied back into a small ponytail while two strands hung in front of his face. His jawline was sharp, his lips looked tempting and kissable, and his eyes were shining with mischief and amusement. There was also a sincerity behind them too. 

“You work so hard, Y/N. You deserve this. I’ll take care of you. Like always.”

You didn’t say anything, prompting Wooyoung to continue. 

“I’m not going to lie. I mainly just wanted to flirt with you and get a rise out of you. I’m fine with being friends. However, if you’re on the same wavelength as me, then I will tell you right now. I fell in love with you. I’m so in love with the way you talk, move, and hold yourself. I figured someone like me could never be with someone like you. But I’m willing to shoot my shot and give us a try. The question now is… are you?”

You were taken aback by Wooyong’s confession. The bartender that you like also likes you back. You felt your heart hurt when he said that he doesn’t deserve someone like you when in reality, it’s sort of the vice verse. However, seeing as he’s willing to give it a try, you thought “Fuck it.” in the back of your mind. You were independent, made good money, and had a stable life overall. Why not share that life with someone? You intertwined your fingers with his and a small smile appeared on your face. 

“Yeah… I’m willing to give us a try.”

With that, you both took your shots, and the rest is now history. 

[markrosewater]

I really love animals and how many different species there are. When you started talking about Bloomburrow's mechanics not being directly typal, I was hoping that there'd be a lot of one-off animals. But almost all of the cards revealed so far are one of the main 10 animals, with the main exceptions being the calamity beasts.

Was there ever a point in development where the focus was more on showcasing a lot of different animal species rather than selecting a smaller number that act as draft archetype groups?

I talked about this in my first Bloomburrow preview column. Here's a snippet:

"Once it was on the schedule, I did a little advance work on the genre to familiarize myself with it. I realized that there were two ways it's traditionally done.

Take #1 – Animals represent groups of people. These people are mice, those people are badgers, and these people are otters. Each animal type has qualities that are consistent among that group, usually things that feel resonant with the real-world animal. In this version, the setting is usually a biome, and all the animals in it are ones who would live in that biome. The animals are roughly proportional to what they would be in the real world.

Take #2 – Animals represent individual people. This person's jumpy, so she's a frog. That person's sneaky, so he's a fox. This other person rushes into things, so they're a rhino. Each animal is used to represent personality qualities. In this version, the setting is usually something more human in structure, often a city, and the variety of animals is much larger. The animal selection here is not limited by biome, so you can have animals living together that normally would never see each other in the real world. The animals are loosely related in size (a racoon is smaller than an elephant), but the scope of scale is compressed.

Take number one is easier for worldbuilding. There are less unique types of animals, and they're organized by creature type. Because animals are used to express groups of people, they tend to act more similarly to traditional species creature types, like Elves, Goblins, or Merfolk. This pushes us more toward a factioned typal theme.

Take number two is easier for design because the designers have access to a lot more animals and can make more individually cool designs. The twelfth Mouse card, for instance, is a lot harder to make different than the first Giraffe. This approach pushes us more toward mechanics that tie into a larger animal theme. It's more likely we'd create an environment that was about a lot of different animals working together, putting the focus more on individual top-down card design.

Aaron was more interested in doing take number one, while I was more interested in doing take number two. So, we did a bunch of market research. It came back exactly even. Half the people we polled preferred take one, and half preferred take two. In a tie, Aaron's original vision won out, so we did take one. (Also, I believe more people internally wanted to do take one.) I do want to stress that both takes would have allowed us to make a cool set. They just head down different paths and would have ended up in very different places, mechanically and creatively."

[thesinglesjukebox]

LADY GAGA AND BRUNO MARS - "DIE WITH A SMILE"

14 years after "Grenade," Bruno finally found someone who would do the same...

[5.70]

Kayla Beardslee: Hey, when is that Lady Gaga and Bruno Mars collab being released? [5]

Ian Mathers: Mars and Gaga are both skilled at their craft in a way that often seems like a throwback to an earlier era of the art/industry, taking the biggest swings possible in terms of seeking mass appeal without feeling like they're compromising or calculated, talented mimics and style chameleons when they want to be. Working together on a big, heartfelt, suitable-for-all-occasions ballad actually feels perfect along those lines. The result is the kind of sturdily good (or "good," depending on your sensibilities) song that, if it catches you at the right moment in your life, might make you bust out crying. [7]

Joshua Lu: This collaboration would've been unthinkable in 2010; now that their careers have somehow converged, the outcome feels weirdly predictable. The emotional heft, vocal runs, and vague nostalgia are there, even if all it does is fill that "Perfect Duet"-sized hole in pop radio. "Die With a Smile" can't help but feel underwhelming in the context of their career trajectories — the kind of corny balladry that Bruno's outgrown and that Gaga mostly uses just to recapture the general public — but it's impossible to wholly reject when it's this nicely crafted. [6]

Grace Robins-Somerville: Most Obamacore song of 2024, hands down. "Die with a Smile" is this very specific meld of the era when you couldn't go to the supermarket without hearing a Bruno Mars ballad and when Gaga was doing a country pivot (although this is far blander than anything on Joanne). It's been a while since I've heard such blatant Grammy bait. [3]

Jackie Powell: Entertainment Weekly's Joey Nolfi wrote that “Die with a Smile” is a song that recalls “the emotional bravado” of “Shallow,” the Grammy- and Oscar-winning smash from Lady Gaga’s A Star Is Born. He’s correct. “Die With a Smile” thrives upon accented and intentional dynamics while making vague and simple lyrics mean more than it they do on the page. That’s also what made “Shallow” so convincing. The difference on “Die With A Smile” is that Bruno Mars is more Lady Gaga’s equal than Bradley Cooper ever was. Mars has more to sing on a song that has Gaga’s name billed first, but both artists shine without the other having to sacrifice. Gaga’s part, which begins at around a minute and a half until the song's end, transforms this from a Silk Sonic B-side into something that’s much more memorable, emotionally resonant and cinematic. It's a song that makes me wish I had someone to sing it to.  [9]

Katherine St. Asaph: So old-fashioned that YouTube's preroll ad recommended me Botox, and so definitively a Bruno Mars song that I'm genuinely unsure why the credits are in the order they're in. It works, albeit in an unexciting way, because Bruno and Gaga have practiced melodrama for years -- see "I'd take a bullet straight to my brain" and "not even the Gods above can separate the two of us," respectively -- and have also practiced singing pretty then belting big. [7]

Jeffrey Brister: When it comes to Bruno Mars, I want immaculately executed genre pastiche, something that sounds like the past but keeps a thrilling modern affect. Gaga, for all of her artsy subversion and slight avant-garde leanings, has just as much of a traditionalist impulse, if not stronger; under the right circumstances, the results can be explosive. That alchemy is present here: two artists synced up and bringing out the best in each other’s performances. There is absolutely nothing new here, but it’s polished and perfectly executed. I’m a mark for that sort of thing. [7]

Jonathan Bradley: It's not right to say Bruno Mars is so adept with pastiche that he transcends it; pastiche is his artform, his milieu, the genre that this genre artist seeks to perfect. "Die With a Smile" has two ideas: the first being the familiar terrain of the Bruno Mars ballad, and the second being "What if a Bruno Mars ballad was Jeff Buckley?" Even a few years after the 1994 release of Grace, pop music seemed like it only had room in its past for an artist like Buckley: a soulful and beautiful singer-songwriter who leaned toward rock-god charisma rather than folkish introspection. Mars has Buckley's swooning fragility as well as his stormy squalls of guitar, but for all that Buckley represented the last of something, he never sounded like he was going over someone else's territory. That fundamentally does not work for Mars's attempt to recreate the sound; navigating someone else's territory is Mars's entire point. If "Die With a Smile" has a third idea, it's the addition of Lady Gaga, who is herself no stranger to pastiche (see the Madonna-isms of "Born This Way," the heartland rock of "You and I," or the way she slipped effortlessly into the Hollywood prestige turn that was "Shallow"). Here, she delivers only competence, as if she'd been asked to sing backup on a new recording of "When I Was Your Man" and found out at the last moment that the assignment had changed. [5]

Harlan Talib Ockey: Once you get past the surprise of "Die With a Smile" being a Jeff Buckley impression, it's remarkably insubstantial. "If the world was ending I'd wanna be next to you" sounds clunky and hyper-literal next to, say, "I'd catch a grenade for you". At least the harmonies are nice. [4]

Iain Mew: Bruno Mars's progression makes it a fruitful idea to go back and invert "Grenade" from a distance. Back then, he took the prospect of death as an opportunity to bitterly prove his unmatched love. Now he meets no less than the end of the world with smooth certainty that it's a chance for mutual togetherness. Lady Gaga's way with projecting intensity and sincerity in the most extreme contexts makes her the perfect foil, and for two lines after she comes in, it's transcendent. Then Mars comes back in, and not only is there not enough space for Gaga to shine, there's barely any space at all. Maybe the old anxiety hadn't gone away completely after all. [7]

Alfred Soto: Bruno Mars hasn't sounded this convincing a love man in years, if ever. Too convincing: Gaga is a backup singer on her own single. Mars sure would fuck himself if he could. [5]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Someone pointed out recently how absurd it is that Lady Gaga's Twitter bio is literally advertising for the HBO Chromatica Ball special, Haus Labs cosmetics, Joker: Folie à Deux, and now "Die with a Smile." That sums up my feelings toward this entry into the Gaga canon: random and indicating a certain directionlessness—or perhaps overdirection?—in her career. She sounds great, and the bridge is perfect TikTok fodder, but she and Bruno Mars sound like they have as much sexual chemistry as brother and sister.  [4]

TA Inskeep: Mars and Gaga sound nice enough together, but there’s no frisson, no spark; they’re just two famous singers, singing a duet for you to stream and buy.  [5]

Scott Mildenhall: To the song's great benefit, the annihilatory proposition is underblown. Instead, its precise lilt is folded and finessed throughout, heading hither and thither without over-accelerating or escalating. It's a fine balance between ostentation and undulation. There's minimal vocal chemistry, but the blend is happening elsewhere. [7]

Hannah Jocelyn: I was with family over the weekend, and my brother asked “who is this??” like it was two stunning new artists on their debut single. Upon learning it was Lady Gaga and Bruno Mars, his excitement dissipated. Only Andrew Watt could make two of pop’s best vocalists sound anonymous (don’t get me started on that weightless drum sound he's inexplicably made his signature). I can’t tell where Gaga ends and Bruno begins, which is a horrible mental image. [5]

Taylor Alatorre: The drums treat every other measure like it's a climax because the entire song, or more precisely its billing, is one undifferentiated climax. Which means no build-up, no peaks or valleys, no memorable grooves or meaningful sense of release. It's just those two names together on a lighted marquee, a chart-watcher fanfic straight out of 2012, What Could Be measuring short against What Must Be, which in this case is the greatest common denominator of softer-than-talcum piano balladry. At least "Grenade" had cartoon bloodletting on its side, and "Shallow" had the benefit of context. "Die with a Smile" reaches for that old doomsday rhetoric out of sheer reflex, even when the prophesized end is painted in washed-out watercolors, like a dream whose outlines dissipate five seconds after waking. Andrew Watt's approach to retromania is less playful than the Smeezingtons' was, but also strangely less reverent, since if you truly revere the music of the past then you don't try to half-seriously Mandela effect yourself into its hit parade. [2]

Nortey Dowuona: Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga getting to coast by cornering the market on having both vocal talent and a modicum of charisma -- you know, the old-fashioned model -- would be frustrating, but at least Watt's patient hand is keeping this over there next to the white Broadway crowd. Anything but more Bruno funk. [7]

Mark Sinker: Obviously I want to claim I’m only onboard with Bruno as a project at last thanks to Gaga’s in-video cigarette — casually centred, disgustingly compelling — but I have to admit it’s something entirely more wholesome: the actual topic, the actual melody, the actual delivery! He got me in the end! (Also, I like thinking of him as a little monster. He is a little monster….)  [8]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Would be a [6] with flipped Mars-Gaga ratio, but even then this would not quite get to the force of melodrama that would allow it to reach exit velocity and escape the great and depressing middle ground of tasteful 20th-century pop pastiche. These two have taken enough stabs at staid, boring pop songs for all occasions that they have become the legacy acts they once aspired toward and collaborated with. Good for them; bad for us. [4]

Kristen S. Hé: As much as I wish this Venn diagram had produced something more adventurous, it's arguably harder to write a song like this -- one that'll probably be on radio rotation for decades, and that I'll never object to hearing in any context. I've often found Bruno's schtick cloying and insincere, but here, I'd believe it even without Gaga's added star power. Bruno, please stay in this lane forever. (Gaga, please don't!) [7]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[filmofhybe]

a song from me to you

pairing : park jeongseong x reader Genre : Producer x singer , angsty , ex to lovers , fluff warnings : swearing , kissing 1196 words

a/n : been thinking about producer Jay after he was listed in the credit of sweet venom. So proud of my boy and I hope this comeback would be a success as always!!

> masterlist of all my work

© filmofhybe on tumblr — do not copy , translate or share.

Y/n Y/l/n, a talented singer-songwriter who had a gift for pouring her heart and soul into her music, creating songs that resonated deeply with listeners. Y/n’s career had taken off when she met Jay, a skilled producer who believed in her talent and helped shape her sound.

Y/N and Jay not only shared a professional relationship but also a romantic one. They were deeply in love, and their connection fueled their creative collaborations. Jay is always willing to guide y/n through during recording, praising her from time to time like a good boyfriend he is. Staying up late just to produce songs that are now top hits of hers, supporting her through everything. Both of them were so thankful for each other.

However, as time went on, the pressures of the industry and their personal lives began to strain their relationship. As time goes on, both of them eventually realize their ideas aren’t colliding together anymore, nothing seems to be working between them. As stress and disagreements starts involving constantly, they decided to part ways both personally and professionally. Leaving piles of unfinished lyrics and production behind.

After their broke up, Y/N had written a poignant song for Jay, a heartfelt tribute that mirrored the love they once shared. But she had never released it, believing that without Jay's production, the song wouldn't reach its full potential. It remained hidden away, a secret piece of her heart.

“So have you ever have a song you wanted to release so badly but just can’t?”

Currently, an interviewer is asking y/n about the unreleased song during an interview.

“yeah. I always will have. And it will always be that song.”

“And why’s that..?”

“I wrote it for someone, or should I say ex now. I scrapped it, not because it wasn’t nice or it brought bad memories. Is just I think without him helping me produce it, it just won’t be the same as my other songs. And it just won’t hit different.”

Y/N poured her heart out, explaining that she hadn't released it because she felt it needed Jay's touch to truly capture its essence.

“I feel like I know who it is…”

“I think everyone knows. He really means the absolute world to me. I’m just mad the industry broke us apart.”

“If you guys ever cross path again, would you release it?”

“Absolutely. 100% actually. Because this song can imply with anyone if you are still so In love with that person your no longer with.”

Upon hearing y/n’s words, Jay found himself overwhelmed with emotions. He realized the depth of Y/N's feelings and the impact their collaboration had on her music. They realized none of their music would be perfect without each other. They both needed each other without realizing it until one spoke up. Filled with hope, Jay decided to reach out to y/n, hoping to rekindle their relationship and artistic partnership.

A few days passed, y/n was initially surprised by Jay's contact

“Hey I saw your interview.. it was really meaningful.”

“haha thank you..”

“I know it’s about me. I’m willing to risk everything I’m currently doing just to work with you again. Not just work but to continue our love again. You don’t understand I only work best with you.”

“I know.. you’re the only person that gets me. If I’m being honest with you, my songs aren’t the even close to being the best without your producing. I hate how we thought us separating was a good decision.”

“Baby you know I’ll always wait for you, for you to reach out once again. So I can produce more songs and memories with you.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Come over tomorrow I miss you too much..”

they both took some time to reflect on their past and the love they shared. After careful consideration, she decided to give it another chance. She believed in their connection and the magic they created together.

A few days later, Y/N and Jay found themselves back in the studio, working side by side once again. There was a renewed sense of purpose and understanding between them, having grown individually during their time apart. They poured their hearts into their music, creating an atmosphere of creativity and passion. The studio was once again filled with laughter, pictures and Polaroids of each other, kissing and cuddling section through out, and jay’s praises filled the air once again.

“Baby you’re doing really good, I just need your voice to be more high pitch there alright? You’re doing a good job baby girl.”

“Ugh imma die from all these notes your telling me to do..”

“The other producers must be going easy on you because I ain’t, now focus.”

“Kisses for reward?”

“Always my love..”

“You know you’re so good at producing sometimes is scary.”

“And you’re so good at writing lyrics it scares me sometimes.”

“Stop making me Flattered” I mumbled against his neck. Arms wrapped around his neck as I cuddle into his lap. Watching him focus on fixing the track.

“I’m not I’m just being serious love, you’re really good at it.. the lyrics are beautiful. I can’t believe this song is about me and I’m producing it.” As jay looks at you with much adoration in his eyes

“Everything about you is beautiful that’s why the lyrics are always. And with you producing it, it makes it ten times more better!” You laughed and before you know it jay kisses you deeply before mumbling a small “thank you” against your lips.

And finally, the day arrived when Y/N felt ready to share the song she had written for Jay with the world. Titled "A Song from Me to You," it was a beautiful testament to their love and the journey they had been through. Y/N's heartfelt lyrics, combined with Jay's personal touch as a producer, made the song truly extraordinary. She was so thankful for Jay, so grateful that she can finally share this song she once scrapped to the word.

When "A Song from Me to You" was released, it made waves in the music industry. Listeners were captivated by the raw emotion and the undeniable chemistry between Y/N's vocals and Jay's production. The song struck a chord with people from all walks of life, touching their hearts and reminding them of the power of love. After a year of hard work, the song was now a top hit once again.

Y/N and Jay's reunion not only brought them personal happiness but also propelled their careers to new heights. The success of "A Song from Me to You" opened doors for more collaborations, making more memories in the future, loving each other and them continuing to create music that resonated deeply with their fans. Y/n and Jay's journey was a reminder that sometimes, second chances can lead to beautiful outcomes, both personally and professionally.

And I was delighted to know that jay and the world can hear the lyrics of “a song from me to you.”

taglist : @surefornext @spilled-coffee-cup @skepvids @amymyli @in-somnias-world @okjaeminn @nonotwice1 @thinkmyg @blubbfsh

Reblog , comment or dm to be on my perm taglist !

networks : @k-films @k-neighborhood @k-labels @kflixnet

[kierongillen]

i have to know - as a disco elysium fan who didnt do disco, what would you say is essential disco listening for me?

I'm hugely behind on the asks, but I have to answer this one, because I'm going to answer a connected but completely different question, and then maybe then loop back to you. I'm just looking for an excuse to ramble, and do the writer equivalent of a warm-up sketch (i.e. waste time).

My apologies.

If you wake up and decide that you want to get into a whole genre of music, there's basically two tactics.

(There's also the "Why would anyone care to get into something they don't care about", which is one of the few things I have a "There's two sorts of people..." response to - those who when presented by something unknown either think "why should I know about that?" or "why don't I know about that?" I'm the latter, and it's served me well.)

The first tactic is simple.

Jump on a genre with Best Of in the title and follow your pleasure response. Here's a Spotify one. What interests you? What excited you? What makes you laugh? Probably explore more of that. If not, indulge widely, and see what sticks. At a glance, Disco playlists seem to have the problem of most playlists, in that strictly not everything on it is disco per se. For example, Dancing Queen strictly speaking isn't a disco song - but it's a song about disco, in every way. But if anything has found its way on a playlist, it's found its way on for a reason.

In your case, you're interested in what Disco resonates with Disco Elysium. Which I've bought for C, but not played, but I'm aware of in a "if I was still a games journalist, this is clearly one I would write a lot about." I spent years writing about Planescape Torment, and I know a spiritual successor when I see one.

This makes me think the area you want is basically the classier end - the big bleak emotions, the chilliness, the control, lonely on a dancefloor, lonely everywhere, oh-so-much cocaine, and - to steal Paul Lester's line - glass mountains on fire.

Which leads back to the second way of getting into a genre of music - which is to hit a major artist, and hit them hard.

When asked about "how shall I get into a band" my advice is actually the opposite of what I'm about to give. If you just want to get into a band, get Best Of, see what tracks you like, then go to the albums they're from. But if you're trying to get into a whole genre of music, that's a more serious endeavour, and may reward the opposite approach.

Basically pick a key album from a key band, and get into it, and grow from there. Read about the band - you don't need much, but a little helps. Learn how to listen to what their tracks do. And then you use that band as the single point of knowledge you have to orientate yourself to everything else you listen afterwarads.

There's a huge danger to this - basically, no-one is more ignorant than someone with a little knowledge. You have to be aware that you are the person who knows a bit about Boss Baby, and using that to get into things other than Boss Baby.

The strength is that it's a more holistic, lived in knowledge than just skimming the surface. You understand the music better as an artifact of their times, made by people, responding to their specific situation - which adds different flavours to your appreciation of it. Sure, your own response and how it finds a place in your life is always the thing which over-rules anything else - but the more you can listen for, the more you can hear, the more you can get from a work of art.

Anyway - I'm telling you to go and listen to Risque by Chic.

Chic are basically fucking awesome. If you don't know Disco at all, the opening Good Times chilly ironic take on American late-seventies culture is a great and (I suspect) Disco Elysium relevant intro. You'll know it as a sample, if nothing else, and the eight minutes version that opens Risque is a great way to think about it as both music for dancing (it is endless) and music for listening (it is boundless).

I got Risque as Paul Lester went to bat for it so hard in the Unknown Pleasures book the Maker stuck on the cover in 1995 (it was covering 20 albums that had fell out of the critical conversation, and it absolutely changed the dirction of my listening in the period). Here's Lester writing about Risque more recently for a taste, as the original piece doesn't appear to be online. I just read it in my copy, and it's a burst of love, describing it Disco as music about love - never sex, only love, and mainly love that is denied. That seems solid, at least for the best of chic.

Risque is the Chic album that Lloyd from Phonogram would have been listening to, certainly. I know I did.

(Plus At Last I Am Free from C'est Chic, obv)

There's a lot of Chic to listen to - their own work, especially in the period, and all their productions. Their work with Sister Sledge is of particular import - Lost In Music was one of the working title for Phonogram, and you can see and hear why. They're also the Disco band whose influence is perhaps most obvious in other bands. Everyone liked Chic. No Chic, no Orange Juice, no Orange Juice, no Smiths, etc.

Sister Sledge was the first live band I was at. My mum went to see them when she was eight and a half months pregnant. The temptration to say I'd have heard Lost in Music then and sold is tempting, but ahistorical - it's well before their work with Chic.

Anyway - get into Chic. It'll make your life better - and when your life isn't better, it's a superior context to lose yourself.

However, to go back to your question, as a Disco Elysium fan, I'm not sure it's actually THIS Disco you're looking for.

How about Disco Inferno?

Not Disco at all, but most like itself than anything else, which sounds like what I understand about Disco Elysium. right?

(DI Goes Pop is the starting place)

[not-goldy]

I was listening Taemin's Guilty and am I the only one who hears a subtle hint of "Lie" in it? Its a damn shame we haven't gotten another song like Lie by Jimin. He would absolutely own a track like that cause I could actually hear him singing Taemin's Guilty. And he would have ate that song & choreo up. Wwe already seen what Jimin could with that cause we saw that temptress at work during that Guilty challenge that he did with Taemin. That is what I have been wanting so badly from him during his solo work. Give me sultry Jimin & some kick as choreo that only he can pull off and we will watch others struggle to try to recreate. Give me Guilty, Give me WHO ft JK 2.0. Give me Under The Influence. Give me Earned It. Give me I'm A Slave For You. Please I beg Jimin.

Eh?? Subtle hint???????

The said hint

Its the concept of the song, the tempo, mentioning Lie directly etc

He's been compared so much with Jimin in the past because they had similar sounds and style and I honestly thought Jimin would be making music in that genre forever but I'm glad he went the other route of evolving his own unique style too.

Lie and Guilty are two of the greatest Kpop hits and I recall when Guilty came out fans were making mashups of the two songs and all it was epic.

Two amazing talented singers and musicians.

I actually like Taemin's music. Guilty reminds me in part of his Advice with his signature hook and all but I do see the similarities with Lie also.

You see, you have to be patient with Jimin. He needs to make music that feeds his soul and that comes from his soul first. His best hits are songs he'd searched deep inside him for. He has his own idea of what he wants his discography to look like, he has his own musical journey he is on. He's an artist and an entrepreneur and he gotta test what makes money what don't what needs money and what don't.

You want lie, well he's done Lie and he's moved on to other things too. Perhaps he's not in the same mind frame he was in when he came up with Lie and Promise.

Remember how Tae kept making melancholic songs and I told yall my boo single and depressed and then he started with the happy songs and said welp dude went and got himself a girlfriend.

Jimin is happy 😊

He is is a good place he wants to spread that joy and love. He wants to celebrate that love let him. He's not gonna conjure fake deep wounds and sing about the trauma he doesn't have anymore. Taemin is out here singing about using people, breaking hearts to a good rhythm and we love it. Not all art comes from a dark place. What he is doing is art too and I'm tired of people expressing dissatisfaction with it.

He said he's finally free and he means it yall are just some tortured souls walking earth. And not to psycho analyze yall but you were drawn to the wounds he had and now that it's all healed you can't relate. Don't you think it's why we victimize him the most? Poor boy who got bullied by his younger team mate, half his own Fandom hates, his company hates him, Billboard hates him, every body hates him- and yet he isn't crying about it in songs, he isn't leaving the said man or his company and we are confused as to why.

Whywhy.... tell em that it's human nature. Why why

This is where I start singing Michael Jackson on yall

Not everything he puts out there will resonate and that's fine. It's still good music. Its just coming from a different place now.

Not everything gotta be so intense yall need to learn to be happy

Sultry Jimin will come in due season. It's summer time baby enjoy the sunshine- pan intended

[dustdeepsea]

Writer Interview

Tagged by @my-favourite-zhent nearly 3 weeks ago and I've entirely missed the wave.

I've enjoyed reading so many interesting ones by my mutuals! Tagging (only if you're keen) @graysparrowao3 @coreene @say-lene @luvwich @grossestjay —and if I've missed your interview somehow, tag me in the comments!

Q&A after the cut—

When did you start writing?

I wrote my first fanwork at age 12. It was self-insert fanfiction with me and 2 of my friends in the Slayers anime universe, which meant it was several comedic sketches strung together with with lots of actions denoted by asterisks and emoticons. You know the ones ^_^ ^____^ @_@ T_T *slaps you gently with a trout*

We printed it out on someone's home printer and bound copies in plastic school folders with a two-hole punch. I've lost the original file ages ago, but I would love to read it again.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

When I was younger, I actively sought out "difficult stories" because I wanted to experience things beyond my day to day life. I read Nabokov at 16 because everyone kept saying Lolita was a dangerous book. I also read a lot of Chuck Palahniuk and Bret Easton Ellis without really understanding them.

My pretentiousness definitely peaked in my university days. My dating profile at the time listed: Herman Hesse, Kazuo Ishiguro and Mikhail Bulgakov.

Now that I'm older, I read and write stories primarily to make myself happy.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I'm not remotely at the level where I get compared to any published writers.

My favourite contemporary writer is David Mitchell (of Cloud Atlas fame), and my favourite book by him is The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet.

My favourite "classic" novel is The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I type at my desk, in a study shared with my partner. Sometimes if the scene is particularly spicy or they are gaming too loudly, I take the laptop to the living room.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Bouncing plot bunnies off others on Discord, talking a walk or a long train ride, playing an immersive video game and rotating characters in my head for hours afterwards.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

According to my lovely readers:

"Romantic and sweaty"; "two silly sausages frying in a pan" (thanks to my long time beta-reader @littleplasticrat)

"Purity, temperance, glimpse of [the] ability for real love / real forgiveness" (thank you @tellmeallaboutit!)

These did surprise me a bit when they were first pointed out but it makes sense—I've been accidentally writing Regency romances and repressed idiots in love without setting out to do so explicitly.

What is your reason for writing?

I put aside hobbies for many years because of my work (no matter what advertisers want you to believe—doomscrolling is not a hobby). Started doing more creative things during my sabbatical last year, and writing was one of the things that saved my broken corpo soul.

Nowadays I'm really into bread making and cooking in general. I'm trying to balance work and creative pursuits and I'm much happier overall.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Any and all comments are received with love <3 <3 <3 I really enjoy it when people let me know what lines really resonated with them or point out motifs I'd snuck in.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Friendly and approachable! Not entirely hyperfixated on That One NPC from a Video Game with Five Lines (that one might be harder now...!)

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

A fairly broad vocabulary, including anachronisms, which is useful for fantasy story settings. Writing characters who are actively lying to themselves (thinking one thing and saying/doing another).

My writing tends to be on the more contemplative side and a bit sadder and slower paced, so if you enjoy A Great Deal of Yearning along with your smut, then it would appeal to you :)

How do you feel about your own writing?

I'm pretty happy with it! I write very, very slowly, with constant edits as I go, and would probably starve if I ever had to rely on my fiction writing to be paid. Luckily, I get to do this as a hobby.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

I write for myself, but I am also super blessed to have a very small but vocal audience that I can interact with directly. I guess my best advice is: Write for yourself and your 10 friends who want to read your hand-bound home-printed self-insert fanfic <3

[kyndredravenstories]

Eyes of Infinity: Chapter 13

Hello, I have been posting my work on AO3 and recently decided to venture here to Tumblr. Please note: This story is 18+. No minors. Please read tags carefully. Link to AO3 below but I will also be posting the chapters here.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/150383332

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Content Warning (For the entire fic): Explicit sexual content, spoilers and alterations to existing lore and cards/memories/tender moments/secret times, size kink, size difference, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, anal sex, fingering, all kinds of fingering, elements of consensual somno, dom!Sylus, jealousy, possessive!Sylus, Mephisto stalking, typical game violence, battle and combat

Summary: To love him meant stepping over the threshold and crossing into darkness. To be with him meant accepting the lure of the shadows. And to protect him from betrayal meant sacrifice. I knew not how, only that I would not let time sever our paths ever again.

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4 / Ch 5 / Ch 6 / Ch 7 / Ch 8 / Ch 9 / Ch 10 / Ch 11 / Ch 12

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Morning sunlight filters through the window in Ellara's room when Sylus's phone buzzes with a phone call from a familiar number. He notes the source but doesn't reach to answer. Instead, he shifts to wrap his arms around the woman in his embrace, nuzzling into her neck, breathing in her scent, and pressing a kiss against her cheek. She stirs, giving a contented sigh as she settles deeper into his arms. His body heats in response to her backside pressing against him, and he has to reign himself in to avoid waking her and continuing where they left off a few hours past at the break of dawn.

Best to let her sleep for now. Her Evol returned sometime in the night, and who knew how hard such a thing was on the body?

He trails a hand down her arm. Beneath his touch, her Evol reaches for him with ghostly fingers, mixing with his own. They meld like lovers, intertwined and interconnected as though they were always meant to be. It's beautiful. Like soft white fireflies. When he weaves his fingers with hers, the union of their Evols hums like a singular ethereal note between their skin. The sensation is like fire in his veins, a pulsing that unifies their heartbeats for a moment.

Too long suppressed, it yearns to be set free, to bond with him, to Resonate.

Or, to Devour.

That's the other side of this light - one its owner has no knowledge of. If only Ellara knew how to wield it, he could feel more at ease. The night at the Mythe wouldn't have been such a traumatic experience. All she would have needed to do was come into his arms and take as much as him as she wanted. Standing beside him, she could have swept away all those in her path. She could have kept the LUMINIS from spilling on her skin. And, if needed, she could have healed all her wounds.

She was his to protect, and he'd been built to have plenty of Evol to spare for his counterpart.

Cliché, really.

Light and darkness.

Always yearning for each other yet always opposing.

But, it's not the first time he'd defied fate to get his way, and it won't be the last.

He doesn't think on it too much. What's the use in fretting over what-if's and maybe's? Right now, in this moment, she is real and here, with him. The second half of his heart that went missing eons ago. At least, that's how it feels at times. Though his body aches for her, Sylus tries to settle for just laying beside her. He runs a fingertip against her cheek. She sighs, but doesn't wake. He'll be surprised if she does.

Things had gotten pretty wild last night, and he'd definitely pushed her well past her limits. Stroking her arm, shoulder, and back with feathery touches, he wrestles with a conundrum of simultaneous regret and satisfaction. Her skin is covered in marks attesting to their lovemaking, and he can't be sure why he regrets being so rough with her when those marks look like they're right where they belong. They're his, after all. Had they been inflicted by anyone or anything else --

His phone buzzes for the second time. Same number. There's only two people who would dare call him twice in such a short span of time. Regrettable, but it's likely something urgent. Letting out a weary sigh, Sylus takes in the sight before him one last time. The flimsy curtains on her window allow daylight to fill the room without hindrance. He despises the warmth and cheer of sunrise, but somehow seeing her lying here, her skin and onyx hair gleaming in the soft oranges and reds of a new day, makes the morning bearable. Almost pleasant.

He shifts off the bed, moving carefully so he doesn't wake her. Snagging a towel from one of her shelves, he grabs his phone and leaves the room to go to the bathroom. After closing the door, he takes a quick shower, wraps the towel around his waist, then leans against the wall to redial the number. Two familiar voices answer. It's the twins.

"Boss, calling in to report."

"Did you lose your phone again, Luke?" Sylus asks.

"We were being tracked. Had to destroy it," Kieran answers.

"And the target?"

Luke replies. "Boss, you need to see the photos we took. Sending them now."

Sylus's phone pings as the files come through. He examines them one by one, his brow furrowing. His heartbeat remains steady, his expression still calm. Outwardly and inwardly, he stays the course of neutrality. But, something unfamiliar tugs at his awareness. A thorn in his thoughts, itching and scratching. It's something that started the night of the Mythe explosions and hasn't stopped since. Many have risen up to challenge his rule in the N109 Zone, yet none had truly challenged him. Looking at these photos, however, makes him wonder if that time is approaching.

His worst case scenario theory about Malakai Noxis had been right on target. He's not just some upstart after all. Though Noxis isn't nearly as powerful as Sylus in terms of Evol and influence, he's a damn nuisance when it comes to resourcefulness and cunning. Swiping through the last of the photos, he downloads them to his phone for later examination. Several pieces of the puzzle fall into place like rocks in his gut, and the picture they reveal is grim.

"He's done it again, Boss-man, just like you said he would," Luke says, his voice full of pride and admiration. His fearless bloodhounds. He could send them into a pit of fire and they'd gladly go.

"You did well," Sylus says, giving his most loyal men a rare compliment. "Stay on him. Be ready. This attempt will leave him weakened for a time." He glances at the watch on his wrist. Too early. He'll chase Noxis during the day if he must, but for now he can leave the twins to handle him while the sun is out.

"Yes, Boss."

He stands still for some time, considering his plans and options. His right hand rubs at his temple. It's never been more clear that Ellara cannot continue to stay in Linkon. This conflict has gone past the boundaries of the N109, and it's about to spill over into this shiny little city of glass. Linkon's people and its structures are as fragile as its principles. It's yet unclear what the end game is for Malakai, but a contingency plan must be made to safeguard Ellara's life. If Sylus has his way, the adopted siblings will never meet again.

Hopefully, her memory of Malakai's true identity will never return. Let her heart be at peace remembering the illusion Malakai showed her all those years while he was by her side. Not as a monster, but as someone she could love and lean on. To ensure that, nothing must jog that memory. Nothing can trigger it. But, hiding her away is just a prison sentence to a woman like Ellara. She must be free to do as she will, and she feels the most freedom when she can be the incredible Hunter she has trained to become.

The thought solidifies his decision.

He makes another call, and a grizzled old voice answers. A man.

"I thought I told you never to call here again," the voice sneers.

"Your threats and orders mean nothing to me," Sylus answers. "I don't have time to discuss semantics. I'm calling in a favor. You owe me plenty, and it's time to start collecting."

"You can't reach me out here," he voice hisses. "You're useless outside N109."

"Alright," Sylus smiles. "What do you want to bet against that delusion of yours? Your wife? Your son? Maybe the whole family."

"You monster. You would--"

"Don't ask questions you already know the answers to," Sylus drawls. "If you make me waste any more time, I'll be more aggressive in my collection of your debt."

The voice cusses him out with a few colorful words, but settles down. "What do you want?"

"Nothing too strenuous. I need you to transfer a few Hunters on assignment to another city. I'm sending you the list of names now."

"We're short here as is," the voice complains. The ping ping ping of a tablet touch screen being manipulated. More expletives. "These are some of my best, and you want me to send them away?"

"Not my problem. Put in the transfer now."

The line goes quiet for a few minutes. More pings. When the voice comes back, it sounds tired and defeated. "God damn you, Sylus. One day, you'll pay for all you've done."

"I don't make deals I can't uphold," Sylus replies, pushing the button to end the call.

That done, he makes his way back to the bed. He hasn't slept in a few days, and the edges of his vision are starting to fog. He lays down beside Ellara, examining her sleeping face. It's time to take a rest. Perhaps he could truly shut his eyes for once knowing the twins are following Malakai. Not for long. Just a few hours.

Just for a short while.

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I wake up feeling warm and comfortable.

It doesn't take more than a second to realize that I'm not alone in my bed.

I'm laying in the crook of a man's arm.

I look up, shocked to see that Sylus is sleeping. Beneath my head, his chest is rising and falling steadily, and his heart is beating at a lazy cadence as always. I'm scared to move, worried that I'll break this incredible moment. I've never really seen Sylus asleep. He's always sitting up or leaning against something, even in bed. Always wary and alert even while secure in his home in N109. Then again, I suppose there is never any security for a man like him. The King must be ever vigilant if he is to keep his place and rule over the Underworld.

That's why the scene I'm witness to is so...captivating. Seeing him close his eyes and show me this kind of vulnerability is surreal. How can he trust me to this extent? Sure, we've admitted to having some feelings for each other. But, crimes of passion are a thing. Isn't he worried I might try to hurt him? That I might be deceiving him?

I'd sooner hurt myself.

I check that line of thought.

Man, I'm in over my head with this guy. It's not just the crazy sex, either. It's all of him. If I try to piece together the trail of how I'd fallen this hard, I couldn't. It's an endless reel of flashbacks to moments just like this where he did something that stole my breath away. His gestures, the way he holds my hand, the way he looks at me, the way he has me wrapped around his finger yet never ever encroaches on my freedom or my independence. The way his long eyelashes brush against his cheekbones. How kissable his mouth is.

He smells like my body wash, and there's something really intimate about it. He must have showered while I was sleeping. How he fit his big burly frame in my tiny rabbit hutch of a shower is a mystery instantly solved with flashbacks of how we were both squished in there last night. The thought makes my knees tingle. I run my hand down his bare chest and abs. His skin is light and pale with blue veins accenting an array of battle-hardened muscle. Smooth and hairless except for a faint trail of starlit silky hair leading down to a place I am way too embarrassed to think about right now. My face heats up.

I rise up on my elbow, noting that it's late morning. I should really get up and get the day started. Look at my phone. Report in. But, I'm out of sorts. Discombobulated like an Otto with a damaged AI module. I can't think of anything except the man in front of me. My former workaholic life seems especially far away, like a daydream. Not to mention, I can't explain anything about what happened at the Destiny Café. I'm dreading the missed calls I'll find on my phone, either from UNICORNS or from Xavier. They'll undoubtedly have questions, but I don't have any answers.

I check in with my memories from last night. Something is definitely off. I remember being at my apartment and reading, thinking about my impending meeting with Malakai. After that, everything is a giant gaping black hole until the moment when I stood outside the burning café with Sylus. I remember feeling dazed and confused; I'd thought at the time I might have been in shock. I figured it would wear off, but it hasn't. It worries me that I still don't remember anything.

Did something happen to me inside that café that could have affected my memory? Was Sylus a witness to it? If so, why hasn't he brought it up?

Well, I guess we were busy with other things...

Too antsy to lay still now, I slowly untangle myself from his arms and scoot to the edge of the bed. I'm naked, a fact I remedy as swiftly as possible as I dash to the bathroom for a quick shower. When I'm facing the mirror and washed out lights, I grimace at the sight of my body. I bruise easily; I always have. But, the amount of marks on my skin astounds me. My neck, my shoulders, a few places on my stomach, and - oh god - was did he do to my thigh to make that mark?

Nothing hurts though. No stinging or anything. No soreness except for my lower back, but the way we went at it that's no surprise. Not to mention, I've never been with a guy so...well endowed.

"Ugh," I groan, embarrassed. I try to remember if any of this hurt last night or this morning, but all I can recall is the incredible pleasure I felt and how gentle and thoughtful Sylus was. He's the most perceptive and attentive lover I've ever had, though to be honest my experience isn't much to speak of. Again, I find myself wondering if I could ever handle him when he's not holding back. Judging by the state of my skin, I'm not so sure.

Not now, Ellara. Focus.

I shower quickly and efficiently. The memories I've recently made in this cabin are too much for my sensibilities to handle. I don't know whether I did the right thing by inviting Sylus up last night or not. Part of me feels like I didn't have much choice. I'd wanted him so badly, and no amount of good sense or pride could have stopped me. He's Pandora's Box, and I've only scratched the surface. There's definitely more to him, and I want to see it.

I wrap a towel around my body and carefully sneak out of the bathroom, knowing how light of a sleeper Sylus is. Afterwards I seek out my phone, still in the back pocket of the pants I'd discarded last night. My throat goes tight at those particular memories. I can't help but rush to cover my face with my hands, barely suppressing a sound of pure mortification. Hopefully these flashbacks subsist soon or I won't be able to function today. I'm still doing the walk of shame as I tip toe to my closet to throw on a bathrobe.

Taking a breath, I check my phone and flinch. Missed calls from the Captain, Xavier, even Tara. Running my hand through my hair, I pad to the kitchen and sit at the breakfast table to make some calls while sipping on orange juice. I start with Tara since she's the least threatening in the mix. We talk briefly about what happened last night, but she's primarily focused on inviting me over for a girls night. Her recovery is progressing well, and she's ready to get back into her normal routine. I'm relieved to hear that my friend is alright.

Next is the Captain. I'm interrogated for a good forty-five minutes on this call. The end result is less than pleasant. Jenna is relieved to hear that my Evol has returned but recommends that I take a week off for my mental health. It's clear that I'm a target for Noxis, and she needs time to arrange a new assignment schedule for me. Despite my protests, she wants to temporarily transfer me to work in another city. Knowing Xavier and how protective he is of his partner, she also wants to add him to that assignment.

As it happens, there's currently urgent need for Hunters in Goldwood City. I look up the location on my phone, noting that it's closer to the N109 Zone than Linkon. It's a smaller city; not as developed as here. More rural areas with mountainous regions. Not as many training facilities and not nearly as big a budget for the local Hunters. A sudden outbreak of Wanderers has necessitated the establishment of a quarantine zone. Within a week, the zone will be established and most citizens evacuated to allow Hunters to subdue the threat.

I scratch my head. Well, at least it will keep me busy. I was itching to get back into the swing of things, wasn't I? So why do I feel so dejected as I accept the assignment? Though I try to protest against the additional week off, Jenna is firm, telling me that if I keep arguing with her she'll recommend that I start going to therapy on top of my medical leave. In less than two months, I'd been in several traumatic situations, lost my Evol, miraculously recovered, and now am the target of a major criminal organization. The fact that I haven't had a mental breakdown yet is unbelievable, she says. If only she knew that I had an incredible support network in Xavier and Sylus.

As crazy as that last part sounds.

"There are rumors, Fireborne, that you're in a relationship."

The question comes out of nowhere. I almost choke on my glass of juice.

"E-Excuse me?" I cough.

"Is it something I need to be concerned about?" Jenna asks. Her tone has softened considerably.

"Why would something like that be of concern?" I frown.

She sighs. "It's tough being a woman in this field, Ellara." It's the first time she's called me by my name. "Men can get married, have families, and keep fighting if they so choose. But, a woman has so many more responsibilities and duties. Once we have a child, we no longer just belong to ourselves."

Children? Marriage? My brain short circuits. I rush to stop her. "Please, Captain. Hang on. There's absolutely no reason to think in that direction." I leave it there, unwilling to divulge any more of my personal life.

"I'm sorry if I've overstepped in this case. There was some hearsay, and the way Xavier defended you when you went on medical leave..."

My cheeks grow hot. "Y-You thought...with Xavier?" I'm relieved yet somehow still embarassed. "Oh. No. Not at all. Xavier and I are absolutely only partners. That's it."

"It's hard to believe a partner would look at you like he does," she observes.

I shake my head. "I assure you, Captain, we are only friends."

"I see. Again, apologies if I've overstepped. I just see myself in you, Ellara, and I want to help. You know I care for my team. I have some regrets about never taking time to connect with someone. I hope you can consider that advice. Even if you do find that for yourself, you are going to grow stronger and make it far in our organization. Keep up the excellent work."

"Thank you, Captain."

When I hang up the call, I drop my head over my folded arms on the table. I give a monstrous groan like a blaster rifle venting steam. Did Captain Jenna just try to give me advice on relationships? Despite my initial shock, I actually do appreciate that she cares enough to show me such a different side to her character. Though I do wonder how far her opinion of me would fall if she knew that I already was in love with someone - the leader of Onychinus to be more precise.

Oh Lord.

After a few more deep breaths, I pick up my phone and find Xavier's contact. I don't know why I'm so nervous about this call. It's just as I told Jenna. He's my partner. Just a friend. So then why have things been so impossibly awkward between us since he first brought me back from N109? Why did I feel like I was committing some kind of crime when I told him I wasn't alone over the phone last night? While I'm stewing in angst and emotions, a text comes through and lights up my screen. It's none other than the object of my thoughts. I tap to open the message.

X: Heard about the transfr. Miss U. Will B home tonight.

I read it again. Then again. Suddenly, I'm doubting my sanity. This message doesn't sound like something you would send to a friend.

"My Knight", Sylus had called him.

Mine.

Why would he say it that way? Sure, Sylus likes to play on words at times. But, he's the most perceptive man I know. Has he picked up on something that I hadn't even considered? The thought is like a stake to the chest. Winded, I frantically begin reading through our message history with fresh eyes unclouded by the banalities of day to day survival. What I find is so disturbing that I don't know how to react to it.

All this time, I was under the impression that Xavier and just had a kind of natural platonic intimacy. We held hands and hugged. We spent a lot of time together. We ate dinner and slept over at each other's apartments. We went to the arcade and played games together. Yet, somehow, there was something growing between us that I had completely failed to pick up on. What started as a friendship had evolved over time into something a lot more intimate without me realizing it. Xavier led in his own graceful silent way, and I had followed without a second thought.

My sudden panic gives me a strange kind of courage. I dial Xavier's number, my heart pounding in my chest. He answers after a few dial tones.

"Ellie? Is everything alright?"

I'm not at all prepared for the way I react to that new nickname. I struggle to answer without stuttering.

"Yes...Xavier...I need to ask you something..."

A beat, then -- "Ask away."

"Look, maybe there's something wrong with me. Maybe I hit my head last night and I'm confused. The Captain just called and asked me some stuff, and it got me thinking in a really weird direction. I just need to know that I'm not crazy."

"You can ask me anything you want," he says. I stop. Take a breath. There's definitely affection in his voice. My god, why hadn't I realized it sooner? Maybe it's because he's Xavier - the Xavier. The strongest Hunter. Unbelievably handsome. A star way out of reach for an ordinary little bookworm like me.

"We're friends right? And friends should always be honest with each other." I wring my hands together. "All this time, I've always had a firm understanding of our relationship. We're partners and friends. That's it." I'm biting my lip now, and I can feel myself starting to sweat. "But, after this talk with Jenna, I feel like I might go crazy unless I just talk to you and ask. I've never thought of us in any other way, and if I make you uncomfortable--"

"You're not crazy," he says, his voice going soft.

My mind blanks out.

"What?"

Silence on the other of the line. With each second that passes, I sweat more and more. "Ellie, I don't want to talk about this over the phone. Can you wait until I come back tonight? There is something I should have told you a long time ago. I just didn't want to put pressure on you."

Oh. My. God.

That sounds like a damn confession.

Wait. Hold the phone. I'm not ready to have this discussion. Not in the least. Not when I have a naked man in my bed this very minute whom I've confessed my feelings for already.

"A-Alright," I answer, though nothing is alright at all. "But, Xavier...I don't know if I..."

"Don't think that far ahead. Just meet me tonight so I can say my piece." He stops for a moment. "Can you do that?"

"Yes. I will."

We end the call, and I sit in my chair feeling completely lost. I pull on the ends of my hair, rub the bridge of my nose, eat a whole box of strawberry Pocky from the stress. What am I supposed to do? I care for Xavier. That part is undeniable. He's an essential part of my life. He's my friend. My partner. But, he's also a little more, too. I just don't know how to identify what that "little more" is right now. With where I am right now, do I even try?

I stand up and walk to the bedroom. My breath catches when I see Sylus still laying in the same position I'd left him in. The way the sun caresses his muscular torso makes me swallow hard. All other thoughts completely vacate my head, all of my focus honing in on my gorgeous bed mate. I walk the rest of the way to his side as though possessed. Like I'm in a trance, I sit on the edge of the bed right beside him and lean down to touch his silky hair. I'm afraid to breathe, afraid to shatter this just like I was earlier.

In fact, that's how I feel about this whole thing between Sylus and I. This thing we've labeled as love but have failed to categorize in any other way. It's new, and amazing, and still so delicate. It's too good to be real. It's as stunning and beautiful as stained glass, yet the slightest malignant wind could break it. Sure, I could walk away from it now. I could try. But, something tells me that I would always come back. From the moment I met him, this man felt like destiny embodied. A comet streaking through the night sky destined to collide with my world and make a complete mess of it.

One moment, I'm reaching for him.

Something yanks on my arm.

The next second, Sylus's red eyes are all I see as I'm flipped over onto my back on the mattress. I'm held in place by hands and Evol, and I don't dare to move. I falter under his penetrating gaze and mumble an apology for waking him. For a moment, he doesn't react. I hold my breath against a rush of adrenaline. He may be my lover, but in this instant, he's pinning down a potential threat.

One moment.

Two.

Then his features soften, the aggression in his eyes melting into tired affection.

"You're lucky I'd know your footsteps anywhere," he murmurs, his voice husky from sleep. "Be careful sneaking up on me."

I nod. He doesn't need to explain. Right now, his Evol feels sharp, dangerous. His gaze is cold and wary. Of course he's always on high alert. This is Sylus of Onychinus. He just makes me lose sight of who he is so often that I forget myself around him. I still don't understand how he's able to compartmentalize his feelings and emotions the way he does. Maybe it's a skill he could teach me one day.

He doesn't give me a chance to apologize again. In another blink, he's laying on his side and pulling me up against him. With a sigh, he settles his chin against the top of my head; his large muscular arm wraps around my waist. It's so warm and wonderful. I'm absolutely trapped. Whatever I wanted to do today is probably not getting done after all, and I'm suddenly entirely OK with that. For propriety, though, I need to protest even a little.

"Sylus, I can't sleep now."

"You can," he assures me. "You hardly slept last night."

"I have to go to the armory at UNICORNS and update my weapons."

"Forget that junk. I'll have someone bring much better ones later," he practically waves me off.

"There's paperwork I need to turn in, too."

"Send it electronically. You can't tell me the Association doesn't have holo-mail."

"But, Sylus..."

"You're fussy this morning, kitten," he grumbles. I jerk when his lips brush my ear. "Since you've delivered yourself to me, don't think about leaving just yet. Stay here for a bit."

Well, shit. I can't resist when he puts it like that, can I? And why would I even want to? I let my body relax, wrapping my hand around his big forearm. "I really do have a lot to prepare...I need to train. They're forcing me to take a week off before sending me to Goldwood City on a temporary transfer."

He doesn't say anything to that. "You don't seem surprised," I add.

"They send Hunters where they're needed, right?"

"Yes, this isn't the first time I've left Linkon for missions like this."

"Well, then," he shifts against me. "As it happens, I also have some business to take care of. But, after that, come spend the rest of your week off with me."

"With you? Where?"

"I have a way to help you train and get into shape before your return to duty." There's a playful bit of sarcasm in his voice. Whatever he's planned isn't anything I can possibly predict, nor is it a way for me to just train. But, I'm too curious to turn him down.

"Alright, but can you answer me something about last night? My memory is still foggy..."

"Malakai was there," he replies without missing a beat. "You met with him. When I arrived, you had him on the ground injured and at gun point. He set off an explosive."

My hand tightens on his forearm. "That's why your shirt is in tatters. You protected me."

He makes a noncommittal noise, as though what he did was insignificant.

"Why were you there? Did Mephisto give you my message? Even if he did, you got there so fast."

"I was already in the neighborhood," he says. "As for why, well...didn't you ask me to come?"

I frown. "Did anyone find his body?" I take Sylus's silence as a 'no'. "Does that mean that Malakai is..."

"He escaped," Sylus finishes. "The twins are on his trail now. Once I locate him, he will deeply come to regret his actions."

But, will you kill him?

I don't ask the most prominent question on my mind. Sylus has never once hidden who he is from me. Nor have I ever deluded myself about the depth and darkness of his nature. To be the King, one must be ruthless. It's part of who he is and who he must be to stay at the top. I've never seen him act irrationally. Nor have I seen him murder any innocents. Perhaps that's a way for me to escape from the moral responsibility of loving a man like this. But, I don't care.

"We won't see each other for the next few days, then," I murmur.

"Mephisto will be with you," Sylus says. He sounds like he's drifting off again. "And if you should need me before our next meeting, all you have to do is call for me."

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It's evening when I open my eyes again. I sit up and rub at my bleary eyes, noting that I'm incredibly thirsty. I must have been out for a few hours. I search for Sylus, but the bed is empty. The spot where he slept is cold, which means he left quite some time ago. I close my eyes against a pang of loneliness, but I don't let it slow me down. Checking my phone, I see a text message from an unknown number.

Don't forget to eat.

I add the number to my contacts, labeling it "Mephisto". After downing a few bottles of vitamin water to rehydrate, I throw on a hoodie and leggings in favor of the bath robe I'm wearing and head to the kitchen to grab something to eat. Somehow, when I open the fridge and see it well stocked with ready-made meal kits, I'm not surprised. I reach for the phone in my pocket and write a snarky message:

E: Looks like you raided a flash sale at a nearby convenience store. Was a private chef too expensive?

I laugh at my own words. Just imagining Sylus going to the grocery store is absurd. His reply pings a few minutes later as I'm unwrapping a chicken and rice bowl to put it in the oven.

M: I didn't want him to wake you. If you want, I'll arrange for one tomorrow.

As always, he calls my bluff. I rush to answer with a resounding "no thank you", knowing Sylus is definitely the type to go ahead and send a private chef to my ratty little apartment if I don't cover my bases.

E: Thank you for doing this. It will save me time this week.

M: Take better care of yourself. If you need anything, tell me.

My heart melts at that. I think about him nonstop the whole time I'm eating and washing dishes. Just as I'm wiping my hands with a washcloth, a knock at my door startles me out of my reverie. I pad over to my front door and open it without checking the viewing window.

Blue eyes, clear and true as the summer sky, meet mine. There stands Xavier, wearing a black uniform he's been donning quite often lately. He looks frazzled, something I'm not used to seeing at all. Instantly worried, I step forward.

"Xavier, are you OK? Did you just return from the mission?"

He nods.

"You should have gone home first. Rested."

"No," he cuts me off, his voice low. "I don't want to wait anymore."

"Alright," I answer, my shoulders and body tensing. I haven't exactly been looking forward to this conversation. "Well, at least come in. Sit down. Let me get you something warm to drink." His hair and shoulders are covered in little clumps of white snow. He must be soaked under that armor. He agrees to my offer, letting me lead him to the living room and equip him with a large towel for his head. While he's drying off, I make him some hot tea.

"Here," I say as I serve it to him on a small dessert plate with a box of chocolate Pocky on the side. "Though I still think you should go home and change. You'll catch a cold like this."

"I'll be fine," he counters.

Nervous, I sit down on the other side of the couch. "Xavier, before you say anything, please know that I don't feel ready for this conversation. I don't know how I would respond to--"

"I like you," he cuts in. "I've liked you for a very long time now." His perfect blue eyes stare right through me, confident and unwavering. He shifts toward me, and I shift backwards in response. But, there's nowhere to go. I've reached the armrest. Xavier stops moving when he sees my discomfort. He looks down.

"I waited too long," he says, his voice gravelly and full of regret. He reaches out for my hand. I hesitate, but I can't deny him this. Not when he looks so forlorn. My chest tight, I let him weave our fingers together. That "little bit more" I identified earlier squeezes around my heart like a thorny vine.

"Xavier, I...like Sylus." It comes out of my mouth before I can stop it, my lips stumbling on the word "love" and downgrading it. My mind is numb; my filter went flying the moment Xavier confessed to me. The words keep coming as though released from a dam. "I don't know when or how it happened, but I care about him a lot. I have no idea what we are or where this is going, but...I want to find out." My eyes sting. "I'm sorry. I'm really really sorry."

Using the hand that's holding mine, he pulls me into a tight hug. We stay that way for a while, my shoulders shaking, until he finally speaks again.

"I'll wait," he says past gritted teeth. His whole body is tense, like he's about to jump into battle. "I've waited this long, haven't I?"

I shake my head. "No, you can't do that. That's just--"

"I'll wait," he says again, more forcefully this time. I try to pull back, but he holds firm. "Give me a minute, please. I don't want you to see my expression right now."

A long time passes. Many thoughts fly through my head. At last, I come to a decision. It's one that's going to hurt, but I've never been so sure of anything. When he lets me pull back from him, I raise my chin and force myself to look deep into his eyes.

"Xavier, don't accept the transfer to Goldwood. Let me go alone. We can't be partners when there's this much unsettled between us."

His gaze darkens. "You're asking me to leave you alone again. Just like before."

I shake my head. "No. This isn't the same thing."

"You're my partner, Ellie."

The vine squeezes harder, and I bite my lip. "Yes, but...I can't keep hurting you."

"Give me your boundaries," he says. "Tell me what I have to do to make you more comfortable. I'll do whatever you ask. But, I won't leave you."

I lower my eyes, feeling defeated. "I need to think about all this. It's too much for me right now."

"Then forget we talked about it." He takes a breath. "There's still time before the transfer. Take that time to think. I'll stay out of it."

He stands up and heads for the front door. I can't stop him; don't have the right. Not when there's a chance I was inadvertently leading him on all this time. He's pulling away just like he always has in the past when it seemed like we grew too close. Before, I always chased him. Now, I have to give him space, too. It's only fair.

"Have a good night," he says as he shuts the door behind him. In the wake of him leaving, I'm still sitting on the couch. Still lost. Still hurting. There's only one thing I'm certain of, and it's that my feelings for Sylus aren't just some temporary crush. They're as real as these kind of things probably get, and that means that asking Xavier to wait for me is completely selfish. I need to communicate my stance better, but how can I do that when I really still have no idea where my relationship with Sylus stands?

In that moment, I make it my goal to have that discussion with Sylus during our time together. I can't put it off anymore. I need to know what we are to each other and where he sees all of this going.

It's a while before I stand up and clear off Xavier's untouched plate. I want to text him a reminder to get dry and warm, but I stop myself. Give him space. Right now, we both need time to think. I slide open my living room window, hoping that some fresh air will help clear my head. As though on cue, Mephisto flies inside with a cranky squawk and settles on my shoulder. I pet the top of his head, my eyes stinging.

"Sorry to make you wait, Your Majesty," I say through trembling lips. A tear slips past my self control. Mephisto's ruby red eyes take it in. For once, he's silent. "S-Sorry," I tell him, wiping a trail of snot off my nose. "Life just got super complicated, Mephy, and I have no idea how to deal with it."

[skz-sarang]

♡⃕. ⸻⸻   : ׁ ׅ ୨ MIDNIGHT MELODIES ୧ ⊹ ࣪

ʬʬʬ. 2024 Genre. Fluff pairing. Bangchan x (f)oc!member Plot. Chan teaches Lovey how to use drum pud + reassuring chatter in front of a cup of hot chocolate. Words. 1.7 k

☆ …Keep in mind that English is not my mother tongue, so be kind! ⋆˚｡⋆.

"Oppa, I'm bored," complains Sarang, spinning around on the black office swivel chair. It's around 11 in the evening, and Sarang volunteered to wait for Chan to come home, but he's taking longer than expected.

"I'm almost done," mumbles Chan, not taking his eyes off the screen.

"You said the same thing like half an hour ago," she grumbles slightly.

Sarang lets out a small huff. "I hope you're really working hard over there. I don't want to wait here forever, you know."

Chan chuckles softly, lifting his gaze momentarily to look at Sarang with a faint smile. "Wait for another 10 minutes."

The girl rolls her eyes and pouts like a child. "But I'm soooo bored," she complains.

Sarang sighs and, after casting a frustrated look at Chan, continues. "I just hope all this waiting is worth it," Sarang continues as she stretches and surveys the guy's work desk, trying to shake off the boredom.

There's a crumpled energy drink can next to an open but unfinished cookie packet; two large PC screens with various tracks playing and a kind of tablet with colorful buttons that the guy periodically presses.

"What are you doing with that?" she asks curiously, reaching out a finger to press one of the buttons. In doing so, Sarang tries to lean forward on the chair to get a better look, accidentally bumping into the bigger chair and causing him to lose concentration. However, Chan beats her to it, turning towards her with a sigh, slapping her hand before she can approach the illuminated tablet.

"Could you please not touch anything? I feel like I'm babysitting a child," he asks with a hint of irritation in his voice. Chan is patient and sweet, but he hates being disturbed while working; in fact, he usually prefers to work alone. However, he can't resist the younger girl's doe eyes, so he let her stay with him. But he didn't know it would be quite a commitment, a little bit of a thorn in his side.

"It's a drum pad machine, used for creating music. I can press different sounds and beats here; it's part of my music production activity," explains Chan with a slight smile, trying to explain his passion to Sarang.

The girl blushes slightly from Chan's reprimand and nods understandingly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. But you know, waiting for you to finish is so boring..."

Chan smiles again, this time with a softer look. "I know, little one. Jisung complains the same way. Maybe I can finish a little faster and then we can do something together."

Chan playfully taps the girl's head and turns back to the screen. Sarang, on the other hand, seems to ponder the guy's words for a moment; then her eyes light up with an idea.

"How about this?" she says excitedly. "Teach me how to use that drum pad machine! It might be fun and it'll help pass the time."

Chan's fingers pause over the keyboard, and he glances at Sarang with a raised eyebrow. "You want to learn how to make beats?" he asks, amusement clear in his voice.

"YES!YES!YES! Pleeeeeeeeaase! It'll be so fun!and I'll stop bothering you about being bored," Sarang insists, her eyes shining with enthusiasm.

Chan sighs, but the corners of his mouth lift in a small smile. "Alright, but just a quick lesson, okay? I still have a lot of work to do."

Sarang nods eagerly, scooting her chair closer to Chan's. He picks up the drum pad machine and places it between them, then begins to explain the basics.

"Okay, so this is a drum pad machine. Each of these colorful buttons can be programmed with different sounds. For example, this one here," he presses a blue button, "is a kick drum." A deep thud resonates through the room. "And this one," he presses a green button, "is a snare." A sharp crack follows.

Sarang watches intently, absorbing the information. "So, it's like a mini drum set with all the sounds programmed into it?"

"Exactly," Chan confirms, impressed by her quick understanding. "Now, let's try making a simple beat. I'll show you how to start with a basic four-beat pattern."

He guides Sarang's fingers to the buttons, and together they start tapping out a rhythm. At first, Sarang's timing is a bit off, but with Chan's patient instruction, she soon gets the hang of it. The repetitive task of pressing the buttons seems to captivate her, and Chan can't help but smile at her focus.

"You're getting it, Bubbles! See? it's not that hard, right?" Chan encourages her.

Sarang beams at the praise, her earlier boredom completely forgotten. "This is actually really fun,Channie! I had no idea making music could be like this."

They continue to experiment with different sounds and patterns, and Sarang even starts to add her own flair to the beats. Chan is impressed with her creativity and enthusiasm, and before long, they have a small loop of music playing.

"Okay, I think that's a pretty good start," Chan says, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms. "You're a natural, bubs."

"Thank you, Oppa," Sarang replies, her face flushed with excitement. "Can we make more music together sometime?" Chan chuckles softly. "I bet I'm even better than jisung-oppa"

"Sure, but maybe not when I'm on a tight deadline." He glances at the clock and realizes that, despite their detour, he's managed to get most of his work done. "Speaking of which, I just need to wrap up a few things, and then we can head home."

Sarang nods, feeling much more patient and content now that she has something new and exciting to look forward to. She watches as Chan finishes his work, and within a short time, they are ready to leave.

Chan stands up from his chair, giving her a affectionate pat on the shoulder. "I think it's really late, and you should go rest. Tomorrow we have a lot to do."

Sarang nods and stands up from her chair as well. "You're right, it's late. Thanks for letting me stay."

Chan smiles at her and starts to turn off the lights. "Thank you for keeping me company, little one. Let's go home now." he boops her nose.

The two leave the room and head together towards the dormitory, continuing to joke and laugh along the way. They enter the apartment and take off their shoes. As they move towards the common area, Chan busied himself in the kitchen, and Sarang leaned back on the couch, letting out a contented sigh. The apartment was quiet, all the members sleeping, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only sound breaking the silence.

"Do you want tea or hot chocolate?" Chan called from the kitchen, his voice slightly muffled.

"Hot chocolate, please," Sarang replied, her voice filled with anticipation. She pulled a blanket over herself, snuggling into the warmth as she watched Chan expertly prepare the drinks.

A few minutes later, Chan emerged from the kitchen with two steaming mugs in hand. He handed one to Sarang and sat down beside her on the couch. She took a careful sip, savoring the rich, sweet flavor.

"This is perfect," she murmured, closing her eyes in appreciation.

Chan sits down next to her, taking a sip of his own drink. "I figured you could use something warm after waiting for so long."

Sarang smiles, feeling a warm glow not just from the drink but from Chan's thoughtfulness.

"Do you ever get tired of all the work?" Sarang asks after a while, looking at Chan over the rim of her mug.

Chan thinks for a moment before replying. "Sometimes. But I love what I do, and I know it's worth it. Plus, having moments like this makes it all easier to handle."

Sarang nods thoughtfully. "I'm really glad I got to learn a bit about your world tonight. It makes me appreciate all the hard work you put in even more."

Chan smiles warmly. "And I'm glad I could share it with you. It's nice to have someone to share these things with."

They continue chatting, their conversation flowing easily. Sarang tells Chan about her day and some funny stories from the dorm, and Chan shares a few behind-the-scenes stories from their recent recordings.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, sipping their hot chocolate and enjoying each other's company. Eventually, Sarang opened her eyes and turned to Chan.

"Oppa, can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Chan replied, setting his mug down on the coffee table.

"Do you ever get scared? Like, really scared that things might not work out the way you hope?"

Chan looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. "Yeah, I do. All the time, actually. But I try to remind myself why I'm doing this. It's not just for me, but for all of you. For our fans. For the music. That helps me keep going, even when things get tough."

Sarang nodded slowly, taking in his words. "I guess that's true. It's just hard sometimes, you know?"

"I know," Chan said softly. "But we're in this together. And we'll get through it together. You're not alone, Bubs."

She smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the hot chocolate. "Thank you, Oppa. I needed to hear that."

Chan smiled back, his eyes filled with a gentle reassurance. "Anytime, little one."

As they finished their drinks, the tiredness of the day began to catch up with them. Chan yawned and stretched, glancing at the clock.

"We should probably get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be another busy day."

Sarang nodded, reluctantly setting her mug down. "You're right. Thanks for tonight, Channie. It really helped."

Chan stood up and offered her his hand. "Anytime, Sari. Let's get you to bed."

She took his hand and let him pull her up. They walked to their respective rooms, hand in hand. As Sarang settled into her bed, she felt a sense of peace she hadn't felt in a long time.

With a final goodnight and a sweet kiss on her forehead, Chan closed the door to her room, leaving Sarang to drift off into a much-needed restful sleep, reassured that no matter how tough things got, she had her friends by her side.

©2023 , skz-sarang masterlist

!TAGLIST! : @smh-anon (send an ask to be added to the taglist!)

[elvain]

marvel's boys: from sidekicks to heroes

i've been seeing a lot of talk about my friend ray's post about the mentor/sidekick relationship in marvel as compared to DC (this post is specifically in regards to the movie portrayal of said relationships). find the post here. the discussion around this post has inspired some thoughts in me, so i thought i'd share them below.

steve and bucky's relationship as mentor/sidekick originates in the golden age as part of the "child sidekick/hero" craze phenomenon at the time. kids wanted to know they could contribute to the war effort in these years, that they could also make a difference when their fathers and brothers went to war. so the child sidekick was invented and at marvel, that was bucky barnes + toro raymond.

but even in the silver age, we maintained a younger sidekick mentality: rick jones, janet van dyne (until she turned out be old enough to marry hank pym), and i would even include flash thompson's brief stint as a fake spider-man in this category. but, yes, all these "sidekick" scenarios eventually winded down. but i don't think it's because marvel decided sidekicks weren't a worthy trend anymore. far from it.

i think DC's interpretation of the mentor/sidekick relationship becomes more paternal/familial whereas marvel's becomes centered around guilt and trauma (rick jones, primarily). i wouldn't say marvel hated sidekicks after the golden age; they just become heroes on their own (peter parker, the original x-men, nova, etc.) rather than relying on a mentor-esque figure. i think DC has clung to the paternal side of this trend more and maintained it - it's worked for them, so great. but marvel i think dived the other way which was also great.

i know about the "spider-man killed teen sidekicks by being both a young person and the main hero" take as well and i have some thoughts on that, too, if you'll bear with me.

i think it isn't that we started hating sidekicks. i think we realized that, after the golden age, the kids weren't just kids anymore. there is a genre of kid who was too young to fight in ww2 but who still dealt with that trauma and that kid was reading these comics, sending in letters, collecting stamps, etc. comic mags in the golden age used to be FULL of things like "if you see any war planes over your city, report it to the nearest military office!" or "you can collect scrap metal and donate it to the war effort, just like timmy here!" and after the events of pearl harbor, every timely comic had a big stamp on them, demanding that we "remember pearl harbour".

now its 1962 and that kid is 15 and he kinda doesn't NEED his dad as much cause he's either dead or he's been away for years fighting in the war. this kid needs to be his own hero. [gestures to peter parker, richard rider, steve rogers even if you count the origin story] like it isn't that spider-man killed the sidekicks - it's that he lost his father figure (ben parker) and now had to be his own hero and i think that would've resonated a LOT with kids of that era who had gone through a similar loss.

i think it shows in rick jones too - the reason rick just never REALLY "sidekicked" is because he was a reflection of the young boys/girls at the time who suddenly had no parents or elder figures bc of the wars. now they had to deal with it on their own and thats why he didn't stick it out with steve and why he became bruce's friend instead of the hulk's sidekick, cause he just didn't need that mentor and that protection anymore after what he (as a representation of kids from the after-war years) had gone through.

it isn't that the sidekicks died. it's that they were forced to grow up.

if you're interested in thoughts like this, i have some posts on my rarely used wordpress blog. The Golden Age: overview: how i started reading the Golden Age comics. The Golden Age: I: characters i thought i knew, but did not. The Golden Age II: think of the women and children!

[ghoulphile]

I absolutely love ur fics!! And I want to write fics of my own soon (not for fallout yet..) can u give me any advice/tips? How do u try to write down the characters as accurate as possible?

Aww thank you so much!!

That's awesome, I'm glad you're getting into writing ❤️

I'm more than happy to talk about what works for me; however, no two writers are alike so some things might resonate and some might not.

Take what does, and leave what doesn't.

Read - a lot. Published works, fanfic, poetry, novellas, series, oneshots, longfic; read it all. Explore different genres and storylines. Find what you like about them, and what you dislike. What makes them good or bad in your opinion. Play around with what you'd do differently if it was your story. All of this will help you figure out a few things: one being what you personally like in storytelling, and two the basic structure of storytelling/what makes it compelling.

Find your voice. We all have a unique tone when telling a story, verbally or otherwise. Figuring out what your personal voice is will help you write authentically but also I can guarantee you're going to be 10,000x more happy with what you come up with.

Showing vs telling is a delicate balance. Sometimes things need to be written out plainly, and other times it works better if you add more meat to the sentence. An example would be: she's angry vs her heart rate pulsed in her temples, her fists shaking at her sides as a wave of heat rolled through her body. While they both convey the same thing, one can be more engaging to read over another.

Sometimes you have to write the boring bits - and write them plainly - to further the plot.

Most people are not a walking thesaurus, and using big fancy words like you're writing a dissertation can be very off putting. Absolutely use stronger words if you can, but you don't need to be using furfuraceous to replace scaly.

Additionally, forward momentum: one action should always lead into another which leads into another and so on.

A first draft is never pretty (if you decide to do multiple drafts) and that's okay.

If you get stuck, go back several sentences. Sometimes we write ourselves into a corner without realizing. OR add what you want in brackets and move on if you're getting hung up on certain parts. An example being something like: He was [find word for mix of angry and sad] but had to stiffen his upper lip and move about his day as if [insert phrase mentioning what happened earlier]. Worse case, put it down for a day or so and come back to it later with fresh eyes.

As mad as it makes me, and as hilarious as it is... writing in Comic Sans helps. RIP.

Saying your sentence out loud can help you figure out if something is off, and saying your dialogue out loud can help determine if it's something an actual person would say.

Taking your time and being patient is the best thing you can do for your creativity otherwise you might burn yourself out.

I find music helpful so I create playlists for every fic I write that matches the vibe I'm going for. Additionally, I have pre-writing rituals that help me get into the headspace.

Yes, cryofreeze your darlings - put them somewhere safe for later. You can use those sentences for something else, they don't need to be completely deleted.

As for keeping characters... well, in character, it depends. Watching/listening to/reading whatever media they're in and paying close attention to the words they say + how they say them + if they have any specific phrases, the way they move + their actions + how they react to things helps a lot. Personally, I keep little lists of things I've noticed that I can refer to if I need them. And sometimes, you just have to suspend your disbelief a little and determine how someone might react to the particular situation you've put the character in. When it comes to that, I tend to think back on when I've been in similar situations or have felt the way they should in that scene, and use how I've reacted as a touchstone.

Write what YOU'D want to read.

And most importantly, HAVE FUN.

I hope this helped, nonnie~!!

Happy writing, you've got this 🥰