#a soft vibes piece between other projects

[pidgydraws]

💠 peace and quiet 💠

[obsidian-pages777]

PAC: Your Future Date Scenario and type of relationship you will manifest.[Pick a Date Outfit]

Intro:

This reading is for what kind of relationship you are manifesting. The details included are your partners attributes, the vibe of your relationship, what your partner would love the most about you and a specific date scenario that would be ideal for the relationship to prosper further. So go ahead Pick your Date Outfit!

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✨ Pile 1

Partner Attributes:

Earth sign energy (Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn)

Practical, emotionally stable, protective, slightly traditional

Dark hair, warm eyes, well-dressed but understated style

Relationship Vibe:

A very safe, nurturing relationship where both of you grow slowly but deeply.

You'll have a shared focus on building a future (home, finances, family) together.

Strong emotional security; little drama.

What They Love Most About You:

Your loyalty and the way you calm their anxieties without even trying.

They adore your gentle strength — you feel like "home" to them.

Date Vibe: Cozy, simple, meaningful.

Scenario: You and your partner spend a quiet Saturday together. You start by visiting a farmer’s market in the morning, strolling between the stands while sipping fresh coffee. They hold your hand the entire time, occasionally squeezing it when they see something they know you’ll love — like a little handmade piece of pottery or a specialty food you always talk about. Afterward, you head home and cook a meal together — laughter over chopping vegetables, sneaking bites, and dancing around the kitchen in socks. The night ends with cuddles on the couch, a favorite movie playing, and a warm fire (or candles if you’re city-based).

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✨ Pile 2

Partner Attributes:

Fire sign energy (Leo, Aries, Sagittarius)

Charismatic, ambitious, passionate about their creative work or business

Athletic or striking in appearance; likes to make a statement

Relationship Vibe:

A passionate, fast-moving connection full of adventure and growth.

You both inspire each other to pursue your dreams.

Travel, spontaneous dates, and intense, meaningful conversations will be common.

What They Love Most About You:

Your authenticity and the way your soul lights up when you're passionate about something.

They feel endlessly energized by your presence and respect your individuality.

Date Vibe: Spontaneous, thrilling, memorable.

Scenario: Your partner texts you in the afternoon: "Pack an overnight bag — casual clothes + something fancy. Trust me." You meet them and they drive you to a nearby city you've never explored before. First, you two check out a pop-up art gallery where local artists display wild, colorful pieces. Then they surprise you with front-row tickets to a live music event or a play they know you've been dying to see. You both dress up — you look stunning, they can’t take their eyes off you — and after the event, you wander through downtown, grabbing late-night street food and laughing under city lights. The date ends in a luxurious (but quirky) boutique hotel room, full of kisses and storytelling.

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✨ Pile 3

Partner Attributes:

Water sign energy (Cancer, Pisces, Scorpio)

Emotionally deep, spiritual, artistic, intuitive

Dreamy, soft features; could be slightly androgynous in beauty

Relationship Vibe:

Deep emotional and spiritual connection.

You'll share many unspoken understandings, dreams, and possibly even telepathic moments.

Healing, compassion, and shared creative projects will define this relationship.

What They Love Most About You:

Your sensitivity and your ability to understand and accept them fully.

They see you as their safe haven, someone who makes the world less harsh.

Date Vibe: Magical, dreamy, emotional.

Scenario: You meet in the evening for a moonlit beach walk (or a lakeside if a beach isn't nearby). They bring a blanket, some element of one of your shared interests [books, guitars, journals or painting tools etc.] and a thermos of hot tea or cocoa. You sit close together by the water, being in your creative and emotional flow with each other, speaking softly about dreams, fears, and wishes. At some point, they pull out a small, handmade gift for you — something symbolic, like a charm, a ring or small artwork. The night is full of soft touches, long, meaningful silences, and the sense that you both have known each other far longer than just this life.

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✨ Pile 4

Partner Attributes:

Air sign energy (Gemini, Libra, Aquarius)

Intellectual, witty, strategic thinker; may work in law, tech, academia, or media

Sharp eyes, Tall, Strong, quick smile, always seems to be thinking three steps ahead

Relationship Vibe:

A mental and emotional partnership.

You'll constantly exchange ideas, challenge each other, and create a dynamic, lively bond.

Respect, admiration, and personal freedom will be the pillars of your connection.

What They Love Most About You:

Your sharp mind and unique perspectives.

They are completely enchanted by how you see the world differently, and they love that you can match their intellect without ego.

Date Vibe: Dynamic, smart, stimulating.

Scenario: You and your partner spend a whole day exploring a huge museum or science center — art, history, space, innovation — bouncing ideas back and forth like you're two professors in love. They challenge you to a mini competition: who can find the weirdest exhibit or ask the strangest tour guide question. Later, you both sit down in the museum cafe, still debating philosophy, pop culture, or a random niche topic you’re both weirdly obsessed with. The date finishes with a rooftop dinner where you both dress a little more formally, laughing about how competitive you got earlier — all while they gaze at you like you’re the most fascinating, beautiful mystery they’ll spend a lifetime solving.

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[strangerthingsfanworkrecs]

Artist Highlight: Stervrucht

This week, we're highlighting @stervrucht! All recs this week will be for her work, both fics and arts. @stervrucht writes, and draws for the Stranger Things Fandom for Harringrove and Steddie. We're highlighting Ster for her digital art pieces with expressive faces and dreamy, almost water-colory brush strokes, and her visceral Harringrove fics.

You should check out her ongoing fic, There's a gap where we meet for some incredibly poetic feral wet cat depictions of Billy, and check out her Ster draws st tag for her art.

She answered some questions about her work under the cut

Why Stranger Things?

I've always drifted between fandoms. I started reading Harringrove back when season 2-3 aired, left, came back and discovered Steddie, left again until I picked up writing and drawing in 2024. The ST fandom had been extremely welcoming and met many wonderful people.

What's your favorite ship (platonic or romantic) to create for?

I love many ships and what I create for largely depends on what a story or artwork is trying to convey. Each pairing has its own vibe and I try to flow with that. I think if I had to pick just one, it would be Harringrove.

What's your typical writing process like?

Get a hot drink and a blanket and settle on the sofa. I have playlists for each fic so I put that on. I don't really plan my stories thoroughly, but I generally have some events I'm working towards. Other than that I let the characters' emotions guide me.

What's your typical drawing process like?

I seek out references, draw a crude sketch, put down rough colours, and then paint over top. I especially enjoy doing speedpaints because they force you to capture the raw essentials and embrace imperfection.

Do you have a favorite tool or brush set for your drawings?

I use Krita with its default brushes. My favourite brushes are Bristles-4 glaze and Chalk-soft

What has been your favorite project so far? Why?

Writing 'There's a Gap where we meet' has been lovely. I enjoy writing Billy's voice. It's very different from Steve or Eddie.

What has been your hardest project so far? Why?

That's probably 'The Graveyard Shift' and my Big Bang fic. There's a lot of plot and world-building. I've never tackled a project like that before.

Have you ever had a creative block? How did you get over it?

Just do something else. If I can't draw, I write and vice versa. If neither is working, I read.

Is there a big source of inspiration for you? Books? Art? Games?

I have a lot of love for Anne Rice's writing, both stylistically and thematically. Art-wise I love impressionist painters like Monet and van Gogh.

Is there an upcoming project you're particularly excited about?

I have so many things brewing and I'm equally excited about all of them.

[hyusun]

🐯 - Instructions Not Included - L.MK

Pairing: neighbor! mark × yn (university setting)

genre: soft fluff,, domestic chaos ??, friends-to-(maybe)-lovers word count : 3.1k ? warnings: cozy domesticity, soft chaos, excessive use of ikea furniture and that awkward falling in love with your neighbor energy vibe : you’ve known mark lee since freshman year, hallway nod than bestie. but when he moves into the apartment across the hall and drags you into a furniture-building result in muscle-aching mess, things start shifting. you start to wonder if this is just neighborly kindness, or something much more dangerous. like feelings.

a/n : this was supposed to be a short drabble… idk what this is honestly 😭 i just wanted them to build a shelf but now it’s a short fic with muscle pain and dramatic reaction to leg massage . this was inspired by my last-minute OCD arranging mania. i spent the whole saturday cleaning and rearranging my furniture like a sims character in real life, and now i’m left with sore muscles and regrets. anyway enjoy the delulu, i wrote this between muscle spasms and crying over cracked nails. also if u find a mark lee who builds furniture and massages your leg , pls tell him i’m free this weekend 😭 , enjoy the fic, stay hydrated, don’t trust IKEA screws. ok love u bye 💅🛠️🫶

You’d known Mark Lee since freshman year, not exactly best friends, but familiar in the way two tired students orbit the same academic hellscape. You shared a few electives, some tragically awkward group projects, and the occasional hallway nod that said, "We’re barely holding it together, huh?" Conversations between you never strayed far from the essentials: “Hey, when’s this due?” or “Are we even passing this class?” Just enough connection to remember his name, not enough to know his favorite coffee order.

So when you heard that he moved into the unit across the hall halfway through the semester, you didn’t expect fireworks or fate. At most, you predicted a few polite exchanges, maybe a borrowed screwdriver, maybe a smile when collecting mail at the same time. Maybe, just maybe, you were even looking forward to it. A little spark of curiosity never hurt anyone.

That spark turned into a full-blown emergency when Mark knocked on your door one fine Saturday morning. You had the day off, a rare treasure. The plan was simple: rot gloriously on your couch, binge the latest backstabbing k-drama, and maybe fall asleep with crumbs on your shirt. But the universe said, "Haha, no."

Because there he was, Mark Lee, standing at your door with panic in his eyes and desperation in his voice, looking less like your ex-classmate and more like Bob the Builder with a broken spirit. “Hi…” he greeted, voice tentative, eyes darting around like he was afraid you’d slam the door. “Uh, can you help me build my furniture? I asked the other guys but they’re either working or pretending to be. Jeno’s at practice, and Renjun said you’re good with… tools.” He gave you a sheepish smile, like he knew exactly how unconvincing he sounded.

Honestly, he looked like a lost puppy in a hardware store.

And you? Well, against your better judgment, and possibly your will to live, you sighed, stepped aside, and let chaos walk right in.

You regretted offering help the second you stepped inside his apartment.

Boxes were stacked like unstable Jenga towers. An unopened can of paint sat in the corner like a promise never kept. IKEA furniture parts were scattered across the floor, looking less like potential furniture and more like ancient ruins. And in the center of it all stood Mark, sweaty, overwhelmed, holding a screwdriver upside down as if preparing for battle, not a bookshelf.

Mark Lee was crouched in front of what was supposed to be a bookshelf, but currently looked more like a sad abstract art piece. He held a screwdriver, the wrong one, obviously, with the defeated look of someone who’d battled furniture and lost three times. 

“Hey,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. 

“So I think I built this upside down… three times.” You blinked at the Frankenstein shelf and then at him. 

“Have you… read the manual?” you asked, already bracing for disappointment. 

Mark lifted the instruction sheet, still upside down, and offered a sheepish grin. 

“I did, but… apparently not well.” You let out a long, theatrical sigh. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” That short-circuited him instantly. 

He blinked, once, twice, like his internal system had glitched. 

“W-what?” he stammered. 

“Nothing,” you said quickly, pushing past him with a roll of your eyes. 

“Move over. Let me fix it before this bookshelf becomes a safety hazard.”

You ended up spending the next six hours knee-deep in flat-pack chaos and mild existential dread. Between deciphering IKEA hieroglyphics, hammering rogue nails into place, and discovering that Mark couldn’t tell the difference between ivory and eggshell white, it became less of a building project and more of a bonding experience-slash-sitcom episode.

Somewhere between coats of paint, half of which mysteriously ended up in your hair, and Mark’s dramatic reading of the manual like it was Shakespeare, the awkward tension melted into laughter. Real laughter. The kind that left your stomach aching and your cheeks sore. The kind you hadn’t felt in a long time.

When the bookshelf finally stood upright, miraculously not leaning, or squeaking, Mark grinned and it almost knocked the breath out of you. His eyes lit up with the kind of boyish pride that should be illegal. “I couldn’t have done this without you,” he said, wiping sweat and possibly paint off his forehead. “No, seriously. I think I’d be sleeping on cardboard tonight if you didn’t show up.”

You leaned back against the wall, newly smudged with streaks of off-white and fingerprints, arms crossed and barely hiding your smile. “You still might be,” you replied, gesturing toward the mattress frame behind him. “Your bed’s still missing, like, three screws and possibly a soul.”

He laughed, full and unfiltered, the kind of laugh that crinkled his eyes and made your heart feel annoyingly warm. And then, just for a second, he looked at you. Really looked at you. Long enough for it to feel like time paused, just to make things weird for your heart.

“…You’re cool, Y/N,” he said softly, eyes lingering. “I’m really glad you live next door.”

Your heart did a full-blown Olympic backflip, tripped over itself, and then cartwheeled straight into locked territory.

You blamed it on the paint fumes. You had to. Anything else would’ve meant admitting the truth, That maybe, just maybe, Mark Lee was no longer just the guy from group projects. After helping Mark turn his apartment into a Pinterest board, the universe decided you hadn’t suffered enough. That very night, your manager called, desperate, pleading, and emotionally manipulative, to ask if you could cover a last-minute night shift. Someone bailed, and apparently you were the chosen sacrificial lamb. You should’ve said no. You really should’ve. But instead, you dragged your furniture-abused body into work, and by hour three, your muscles were screaming louder than your soul.

You should’ve known they’d come back to haunt you. The soreness had started like a whisper, tight calves here, a dull ache in your thighs there. But by the time you were walking home that morning, it had evolved into full-blown mutiny. Every step felt like a betrayal. Your hamstrings throbbed like they were mourning their own existence. Your calves pulsed with the rage of a hundred gym classes you never signed up for. And your lower back? Dead. Absolutely gone. Probably chilling in another dimension.

You limped through your front door, collapsed into a dramatic heap, and promised your legs you’d never lift another bookshelf for a man again.

Probably.

Maybe.

...Okay, if Mark asked nicely, maybe one more.

A few days after the hazardous diy olympics in Mark’s apartment, you found a post-it note stuck to your front door. It was scribbled in familiar messy handwriting:

“Movie night @ my place. 7PM. Popcorn provided. Presence required. :) —Mark”

Below it, in a different pen and suspiciously neater, someone had added:

“Renjun says bring snacks.”

His place now looked like something off a rental ad for “wholesome urban escape” walls freshly painted, furniture no longer a death trap, soft fairy lights casting a gentle glow over the living room, and enough throw pillows to suggest he had either excellent interior taste or a strong Pinterest addiction. 

No way this was Mark’s work.

You strongly suspected someone, Renjun, maybe had a hand in the decorating. That boy is known for his creative mind. Or one of his suspiciously stylish friends. Or maybe a girlfriend. Someone with a Pinterest board, taste, and enough rage to color-code the bookshelf. That thought alone made you did double, no triple thinking into accepting his invitation.

You had some hesitation at first, being in a room full of his friends? Socializing? On purpose? And what about his girlfriend? Is he single? He’s in a relationship? Would it be awkward if I go?  But the moment you saw Renjun’s name, you relaxed. You knew him from a shared elective class last semester. He was smart, sarcastic, and the kind of person who always seemed ten seconds away from either solving a physics equation or starting a petty argument for fun. Acquaintance? Yes. Safe zone? Definitely.

So you said yes.

And that’s how you ended up seated in a living room surrounded by the rest of Mark’s friends. One by one, you began mentally dissecting their characters  like in a sitcom you hadn’t signed up for but secretly loved.

Renjun was your safe bet, the kind of sarcastic genius with the face of an angel and the soul of a judgmental cat. Sharp-tongued, yes, but weirdly considerate too. The kind of guy who would absolutely roast you for using comic sans, then silently walk you home in the rain so you didn’t slip in your sneakers. You’d worked with him once in a group project. He carried the whole thing on his back while sipping bubble tea and side-eyeing everyone’s poorly aligned slides. Iconic, really.

Haechan, on the other hand… chaos incarnate. The moment you walked into Mark’s apartment, he stood up like a royal herald and declared at full volume, “may I present to you, her highness, neighbour yn ! welcome in!” You blinked. He winked. And just like that, you were trapped in the tornado that was created by Haechan. Loud, mischievous, and dangerously charming, he introduced himself with the confidence of a man who had never known shame and immediately told you Mark once cried during a dog food commercial. You didn’t know whether to laugh or leave. Probably both.

But still, under all the noise and teasing, you found yourself quietly thanking him. Because somehow, he made it easier to breathe. Easier not to feel like an outsider in a room full of inside jokes and history. You weren’t sure if it was the absurdity or the warmth underneath it, but whatever it was… it worked.

In the midst of Haechan chaos, there is Jeno, the popular university's main soccer player. He is quite funny, effortlessly polite, and always somehow holding a snack. He didn’t say much, but when he did, it was either a one-liner that made everyone wheeze or something incredibly practical like, “That candle’s about to catch the curtain.”

And next is Jaemin, He has a pretty face, prettier smile, and absolutely no shame. He was lounging on the armrest like it was a throne, judging everyone’s snack choices and occasionally complimenting your skin. He called you “bestie” five minutes after meeting you and offered to add you to his skincare group chat. You said yes. Obviously. His skin looked pampered, Period.

And then, of course, there was Mark.

The one who invited you. The one whose smile made you nervous. the one laughter is so infectious and charming, and somehow made you feel like this chaotic group of boys wasn’t so scary after all.

The boys had settled across the living room in chaotic harmony, like mismatched puzzle pieces that somehow still fit. The L-shaped couch groaned under the weight of bodies, snack bags on the coffee table , and energy louder than the TV itself. Jeno was already halfway through a bag of chips, lounging like a model off-duty, while Jaemin, legs perched dramatically on the armrest, sat like a decorative statue blessed with judgmental eyebrows and too much skincare knowledge.

Mark was on your right, lounging casually at the far end of the couch with a cushion tucked beneath one arm and a blanket draped around his waist like he lived in a Pinterest board. Meanwhile, Haechan sprawled across the floor in front of the coffee table, surrounded by popcorn crumbs and chaos. Renjun claimed the opposite end of the couch, locked in a heated debate about which movie to play, already calling the director “mid” before the title screen even loaded.

You, ever the guest but somehow not a stranger anymore, sat tucked into the lazy chair beside Mark. Your legs were curled slightly to the side, a burger-shaped plushie in your lap doubling as emotional support and leg buffer. You tried your best to look chill, calm and collected, like your spine wasn’t stiffening into an overly ripe pear and your hamstrings weren’t crying for mercy. But as the opening credits began to roll and the room dimmed into movie-mode, you shifted, just slightly, to stretch your legs into more comfortable position.

And that’s when it snap. A sharp, traitorous cramps shot up your calf like betrayal in muscle form. You hissed softly under your breath, the kind of pain that made you question every life decision that led to IKEA furniture and impromptu night shifts.

“Fuck.”

The word slipped out of you before you could catch it, half whisper, half prayer. A sharp sting pulsed up your calf like your muscles were filing a formal complaint.

Mark noticed. Of course he did. He just an arm away.

He leaned in, voice low, soft as velvet and warm as honey against your ear. “Legs still sore?”

Lucky for you, the others either didn’t notice your silent suffering… or mercifully spared you the embarrassment. Mark, however, noticed. Of course he did.

He chuckled softly, the sound brushing against your skin like warm static. Then, without warning, hesitation, or a shred of social protocol, he shifted closer. His hand slipped past the edge of the blanket, fingers brushing your calf like they’d done it before in a dream.

And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he gently lifted your sore leg onto his lap... and started massaging. Each movement was deliberate, his fingers pressing into tight knots of tension like he wasn’t just soothing a muscle, he was rewiring your nervous system from the outside in.

He moved slow and focused. Like he was trying to untangle knots in your muscles and your brain. Like he’d done it a thousand times before. Like this was just something he did, massaging your sore muscles in the glow of fairy lights, while his friends argued about movie ratings in the background.

His hands were warm, steady. Firm but unhurried.

You froze at first contact.

Your body went stiff, your brain completely derailed, thoughts screeching into static. This wasn’t just kindness. This wasn’t normal. This was dangerous. This was how the main characters caught feelings and never recovered. You read enough novel to know this is not casual thing, it intimate.

You might’ve enjoyed it for a few blissful minutes, eyes half-lidded, breath caught somewhere between “ouch that hurt” and “that good?” Until, from the floor, Haechan’s voice cut through the moment like a sharp blade.

“ummm ?? Hello?? Is this legal??”

You flinched. Mark didn’t. Because of course he was too busy pretending this wasn’t turning into a public scandal.

Jeno’s head turned, eyes narrowing like he’d just detected the change in atmospheric pressure. Jaemin twisted around too, popcorn nearly flying. His expression morphed from entertained to scandalized in real time.

The room fell silent.

You could hear your existential crisis buzzing in the air like bad Wi-Fi. Lagging. Glitching. Dropping all your emotional signals at once.

The sound of crunching chips stopped. Even the background music from the TV faded into an awkward vacuum of judgment and stunned disbelief.

Four sets of eyes locked on you and Mark like you’d just committed a crime against bro code and public decency.

“Are we just gonna ignore the leg-on-lap situation?” Haechan asked, voice high and dramatic like he’d just walked in on a forbidden office affair.

Mark didn’t even blink. “Yeah,” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “She helped me with everything. Her legs are sore.”

“Your hands,” Jeno deadpanned, one brow arched, “are on her inner thigh.”

“They are not!” Mark hissed defensively, ears flushing a telltale pink.

Haechan, ever the voice of calm chaos, gave a solemn nod. “They’re getting there, bro. Like. Real estate’s been claimed.”

You could’ve combusted. Or dissolved. Or slipped into the couch cushions and requested a new life. If someone opened the window, you were 90% sure you’d evaporate on the spot. But Mark, god bless his soft boy stubbornness, he didn’t stop. He just kept going, cheeks pink, jaw set with gentle determination.

“She helped me build my whole apartment,” he muttered, focused on his task. “I think this is… the least I can do.”

You almost cried.

Instead, you buried your face into the nearest pillow and let out a silent scream that could shatter glass.

Renjun, looking utterly over it, sighed like who had seen too much.. “Just get married already,” he muttered, before resume his attention to the movie like this wasn’t the most unhinged domestic tension he’d witnessed in weeks.

Mark finally pulled his hand away after you smacked his arm with a flustered little slap, cheeks burning. “I’m fine,” you lied, breathless. “Perfect, actually. Might go for a jog. Climb Everest. Who knows.”

He grinned, like he could see right through your nonsense, and gave your knee one last pat before tucking his hand sheepishly into the blanket again.

Your heart? that thing was still buffering. Stuck on loop. Replaying the moment Mark Lee touched your leg like he hadn’t just rewritten your entire nervous system with his bare hands.

The rest of the movie blurred past in a fog. Explosions on screen, popcorn rustling, the occasional Haechan commentary, none of it registered. Your focus was shot, derailed somewhere between Mark’s hands and your rapidly developing crush.

When the credits rolled and the room buzzed back to life, you stood, stretched with a quiet groan, and politely excused yourself. Early lecture in the morning, you explained. Responsible student things.

You said your goodbyes, Jaemin extracting a promise for a future café trip like a girl bestie with an itinerary, and stepped toward the door.

Mark was already there. Lingering, like he’d been waiting.

Hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, eyes flicking to yours, then away again.

He opened the door for you, but didn’t quite meet your gaze. You turned to thank him, for the invite, and the impromptu massage, but he beat you to it.

“Thank you for joining us tonight,” he said, voice a little softer now that it was just the two of you by the door. “And if, uh… if you’re free this weekend,” he added, shifting his weight from foot to foot, “I was thinking of going to IKEA. I need a lamp. Or maybe like… adult supervision.”

You arched a brow, the corner of your mouth tugging up. “Let me guess, you want me to help build it?”

Mark’s smile was soft, lopsided, and dangerous in the way only shy boys with dimples could be.

“Maybe,��� he said, eyes flicking up to yours. “Maybe I just… wanna hang out with you again.”

And just like that, your heart short-circuited again.

You didn’t know where this was going.

But you hoped it went somewhere warm, with less back pain, fewer cracked nails, and instruction manuals that made sense.

And if the universe was feeling generous, maybe even somewhere dangerously close to love.

thank you so much for taking the time to read it and I didn't have time to beta prof this so I’d love to hear your thoughts, so any feedback is welcome! - 🌻 📌 💭 checkout my other delulus in the masterlist

All works are copyrighted © HyuSun, 2025. Please do not repost, rewrite, or distribute without explicit permission.

[bubblyi3]

Between Us, Before Us | KTH

“she wasn’t just his best friend. she was the version of me he didn’t have to answer to.”

pairing: taehung x female reader

genre: slice of life, angst, fluff

word count: 1.6k

content warning: angst, mild smut, trauma, cheating themes, unplanned pregnancy, heartbreak, toxic relationship, time jump here and there, trauma bond

summary: between the past and future lies the aching space of now. with taehyung, you've journeyed through love, heartbreak, and growth. once strangers, then lovers, now something more complicated, your connection is shaped by time, mistakes, and second chances. this is the story of who you were when you first fell for him, who you became through the pain, and who you might still become if you dare to hope again. in the space between healing and longing, one thing remains: him.

author's note: after a long time contemplating if i should get back into my writing era. i've been missing it so this is for anyone who has felt alone. hope you guys enjoy!

© disclaimer: please do not copy, translate or reproduce any part of this work without my permission. thank you!

playlist:

supercut - lorde

hit me where the heart is - mega simone

the cut that always bleeds - conan gray

undressed - sombr

*fiction rooted in real emotions and experiences.

PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || FINALE

The lights of the city shimmered in the distance, casting a warm glow across the darkening sky. You stood there, watching the world move on as you took a deep breath, your hand gently holding Nora's. So much had changed, some of it painful, some of it liberating. But as you looked at her daughter, whose smile was soft and innocent, you realised that the most important part of this journey wasn’t the pain or the broken pieces, it was the healing, the growth, and the hope that came after.

You had lived a life shaped by other people’s expectations, by the idea of what you thought love was supposed to be. The hard lessons taught you that love was never about sacrifice or losing oneself for someone else. True love was about standing strong in one’s truth, finding peace within, and building a future that felt whole.

Looking at Nora, you knew that you had made the right choice. You've let go of the past, and with it, the belief that love could be anything less than real and fulfilling. The journey wasn’t easy. It wasn’t perfect. But it was yours.

This was the beginning of a new chapter, one where you would be the author of your own story.

You were seventeen when Kim Taehyung first stepped into your world. Not through fate, or fireworks, or some cliché hallway run-in. It started with a school project.

You were in your final year of high school, buried in the chaos of final year exams, when your Media Studies class was assigned the task of creating a short film. Your project partner, Nari, was everything you weren’t, she was bold, chatty, and always two steps ahead of deadlines. She already had an aesthetic in mind, a vibe for the film, and most importantly, someone in mind to play your lead.

“Kim Taehyung” she said, without hesitation. “He’s perfect. Everyone loves him, and he’s got the kind of energy that’ll pop on camera.”

Of course you knew who he was. Everyone did. Taehyung floated through school like a beam of light. Funny, charming, always surrounded by friends. He wasn’t the brooding mystery type. He was loud, loveable, and always in the middle of something. Teachers liked him. Guys relied on him. Girls either had a crush on him or a story about him.

You were quieter. Observant. Focused on school and your tiny circle of friends who preferred long lunch breaks under the trees over parties. You existed in the same building, the same hallways, maybe even the same assemblies, but that was it. You had zero connection to him. No shared friend groups, no classes together. You knew of each other, the way everyone does in high school where lives brush shoulders but rarely collide. He was orbiting in a totally different world, until Nari pulled him into yours.

“He already said yes,” she announced casually, like she hadn’t just flipped the script of your entire semester. “He’s keen. I told him you’d be directing.”

That Friday after school, he showed up. Sweatshirt slung over one shoulder, long socks pulled up just below his knees, a lazy grin on his face. He carried a confidence that didn’t feel like arrogance, just ease. He greeted the room like he’d been there before, even though he hadn’t.

“You must be Y/N,” he said.

“Excited to be bossed around by you.” He added.

You smiled back, pretending to be unfazed. “Only if you take direction well.”

And just like that, he was in. Not just in the project, but in your world. He brought energy to the room, made everyone laugh during takes, and took his role seriously in a way you hadn’t expected. He lingered after the others left. Made jokes only you would catch. Asked about your weekend, your favorite films, your goals after graduation. Things that felt too small to mean anything and yet, they did.

“You’re easy to talk to,” he said one afternoon as the group packed up the equipment. “Not many people are.”

And maybe that’s how it started. Not with fireworks or some dramatic scene, but with quiet moments. With glances that lasted a little too long and conversations that stretched past the final bell.

At seventeen, you don’t always know when something important is beginning.

But looking back now, that film project was the start of everything. Not just a story you captured on camera, but one that would replay in your life again and again, long after the credits rolled. And while you thought you were the director of that film, life would prove otherwise.

It’s a sunny Saturday afternoon when Taehyung asks you out, but it isn’t just any ordinary day. You’re hanging out with one of your best friends, Nari, and her boyfriend at the time. You roam around town, spending the afternoon taking in the sights. You spend the afternoon by the Han River, the peaceful flow of the water and the city skyline giving you a sense of calm, the breeze lightly tousling your hair. You’ve always been a little afraid of heights, but today, it doesn’t matter. You’re more focused on the company than the view.

Taehyung is there, too. It’s been a few weeks since you finished the school project. Since then, you and Taehyung have spent more time together, texting, hanging out, and talking late into the night. But today feels different. There’s an unspoken tension between you two, something that buzzes in the air like static electricity. The kind of tension you don’t know how to name, but you feel it deep in your gut.

You’d wander through the city, checking out little shops, grabbing coffee, and just being you.

But when you find a bench outside one of the parks, everything seems to quiet down. It’s just the two of you. Taehyung has been acting strange all afternoon. Fidgety, lost in his own thoughts, like there’s something he’s waiting to say but can’t quite figure out how.

You have your suspicions. Is he going to talk about something serious? Is he having family issues, or is it something to do with his friends? You can’t help yourself, you have to ask.

Is it about family or friends?” you ask casually, trying to avoid the nerves building up in your chest.

Taehyung pauses, glancing down at the ground, his lips pressed tight as if he’s debating whether or not to say what’s on his mind. For a second, you think he might change the subject, but then he looks up, his eyes locking with yours.

“Y/N…” he begins, his voice wavering slightly. “No. It’s about you.”

You blink, your heart suddenly hammering in your chest.

“About me?” you ask, trying to sound calm, but you can feel the heat rushing to your face. This is it. The moment you’ve been expecting, but not prepared for.

He lets out a breath, as if he’s gathering the courage to say the words that have been stuck in his throat. You can see the internal struggle on his face, and you want to reach out, to tell him that whatever he’s about to say, it will be okay. Not going to lie, but you’re getting impatient by the second.

“Y/N,” Taehyung says again, his voice soft but steady. “I… I really like you. And I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I think you’re incredible, and I don’t want to mess this up, but I want to ask you something… Will you be my girlfriend?”

His words hang in the air for a long, breathless moment.

You’re caught off guard. Completely and utterly surprised. You knew that something had been building between you two, but you never expected him to be this direct. This honest with you. And the truth is, you don’t know what to say. Part of you wants to jump up and down, excited that he feels the same way. But another part of you, the one that’s spent years living by the rules, hesitates. Your parents would never approve of you being in a relationship before finishing school. They’ve always drilled into you the importance of education before everything else. The idea of having a boyfriend, especially one like Taehyung, with his outgoing personality and the way everyone seems to love him, feels so… complicated.

He’s watching you intently, waiting for your response.

You take a deep breath. The weight of everything. The fear, the excitement, the uncertainty settles in your chest. It feels like a big step, something you’re not entirely sure you’re ready for, but you can’t deny how you feel when you’re around him. How easy it is to be yourself.

“I like you too… and yes,” you finally whisper, the words surprising you as much as they do him.

Taehyung’s face lights up immediately, his eyes wide in disbelief, like he hadn’t expected you to like him back. You laugh nervously, feeling a wave of relief and uncertainty wash over you at the same time.

“Really?” he asks, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You nod, your heart racing. “Yeah.”

Without saying another word, Taehyung grabs your hand, and you both head for the nearest pizza place. The smell of cheese and freshly baked dough fills the air as you sit down, but all you can focus on is the fact that you’ve just agreed to be with Taehyung. Here you are, holding his hand across the table, sharing a pizza and smiling like it’s the most normal thing in the world. But deep down, you know this is anything but normal. This is a new beginning.

And as you glance at Taehyung, you can’t help but wonder what the next chapter of your story will bring.

[bingbongsupremacy]

Library MeetCute

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Hinted Plus!Sizereader

Warning: Y/N use, mentions reader being plus size but not heavily expanded upon

Summary: You're artsy and chubby. All you were trying to do is study in the library. Why does Steve want to sit with you? Will something come from this?

*Not Proof Read*

□□□□□□□□

The library smells like dust and old paper, one of your favorite scents in the world. It’s a quiet sanctuary away from the gray, drizzly Hawkins day outside, and you’ve taken over a corner table with your research. Stacks of books surround you: art theory, nature photography, and one random volume on the history of Indiana for inspiration. Your sketchpad lies open, a pencil resting between its pages as you mull over ideas for the mural you’ve been commissioned to paint at the park near the middle school.

You adjust in your chair, feeling the fabric of your favorite oversized sweater shift against your skin. It’s one of those pieces of clothing that makes you feel good—soft, comforting, and paired perfectly with your black leggings. You tug at the hem instinctively, more out of habit than self-consciousness.

“Uh, excuse me?”

The voice catches you off guard. You glance up and freeze. Standing there, holding a slightly battered book, is none other than Steve Harrington.

You know him, of course. Everyone in Hawkins does. Former King of Hawkins High, current co-manager of Family Video, and resident heartthrob—even if his popularity has taken on a more grounded, approachable vibe over the years. He looks… well, a little frazzled. His hair, that famous Harrington mane, is still artfully messy, and his jeans are just tight enough to hint at his athletic frame. But there’s something in his expression—a mix of sheepishness and determination—that makes you blink.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asks, gesturing to the chair across from you. His voice is casual, but there’s a politeness in it you don’t expect.

“Uh… sure. Go ahead,” you say, scooping up your pencil and pulling your books closer to make room.

“Thanks,” he says, sliding into the chair. He sets the book down—a DIY guide to car repair—and glances at you briefly before flipping it open.

You try to go back to your sketchpad, but it’s impossible. Steve Harrington is sitting across from you, and your brain won’t stop supplying unhelpful commentary. What’s he doing in a library? Doesn’t he have better places to be? And why does he look like he’s actually trying to read that book?

After a few minutes, he clears his throat, looking up. “So… what’s all this?” He gestures to your table, his tone genuinely curious.

You glance at the mess of books, feeling a twinge of self-consciousness. “Oh, uh, it’s for a mural project. I’m painting something for the park, and I’m trying to come up with ideas.”

His eyebrows lift, and a smile tugs at his lips. “That’s awesome. I didn’t know Hawkins had stuff like that.”

“It doesn’t, usually,” you admit with a shrug. “It’s just something I’m doing to brighten the place up a little. It’s… not exactly a thriving metropolis.”

Steve chuckles at that, a sound that’s warm and surprisingly disarming. “Yeah, no kidding. Good for you, though. Hawkins could use some color.”

For a moment, you let yourself feel proud. He means it—you can tell from his tone.

“What about you?” you ask, nodding toward his book. “Fixing up a car?”

“Trying to,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “The Beemer’s been acting up, and, uh… mechanics are expensive. Figured I’d give it a shot myself.”

You tilt your head, studying him. “That’s impressive. Most people wouldn’t even bother.”

He laughs, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, well, desperation’s a hell of a motivator. I’ll probably break it even more, knowing my luck.”

You smile, relaxing a little. He’s not what you expected. Not at all.

The rain picks up outside, a steady drumming against the windows. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and you glance at the clock, realizing how much time has passed.

“Great,” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone. “Didn’t bring an umbrella.”

“Same here,” Steve says, glancing at the rain. Then, as if on cue, he looks back at you with an idea forming on his face. “Hey, I could give you a ride. You know, if you don’t mind waiting for me to figure out my car situation first.”

Your eyes widen slightly. “You’d do that?”

“Yeah, why not?” He grins, boyish and easy. “Can’t let you walk home in this.”

Your instinct is to say no. After all, you’re you—curvy, artsy, and quieter than most—and he’s Steve Harrington. You’ve never been the type to attract someone like him. But he’s offering, and the sincerity in his voice makes you pause.

“Okay,” you say finally. “Thanks.”

Somehow, Steve’s car starts without much trouble. The leather seat creaks under you as you settle in, acutely aware of how much space you take up compared to his lanky frame. He doesn’t seem to notice, though.

“So,” he says as he pulls onto the road, “what’s the mural gonna be?”

You explain your vision—a vibrant scene of local nature, full of life and color. You talk about wanting to inspire the kids who play at the park, giving them something to look at that feels magical.

“That’s really cool,” he says, his voice full of genuine admiration. “If you ever need help, let me know. I’m not great with art, but I can hold a paintbrush.”

You laugh softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The conversation flows easily after that, and by the time he pulls up to your apartment, you’ve forgotten to feel awkward.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, turning to him with a small smile. “And for not making it weird.”

He grins, leaning one arm against the steering wheel. “Weird? Me? Never.”

You laugh again, feeling a warmth that has nothing to do with the heater. As you step out of the car, he calls after you.

“Hey,” he says, his voice softer. “If you ever want to hang out—or need more help with the mural—just let me know, okay?”

You nod, your cheeks warm despite the chilly rain. “I will. Thanks, Steve.”

As you walk up to your building, you can’t help but smile to yourself. Maybe today wasn’t so gray after all.

[slightecho]

Goldenrod and Aster

commission by the lovely and amazing @turquoisespace35 of a very familiar scene from my Owl House fic, Ashes!!

Then, the clearing in the trees came into full view, and Willow let out a soft gasp. The sun shone through in bright rays, lighting up everything in a warm golden yellow. No leaves touched the ground here. Instead, the clearing was filled in a blanket of yellow, purples and green! The brushing she’d felt along her legs had been lush spikes of yellow flowers, strong and healthy as she passed by them. And where there were gaps amongst the fluffy-looking tufts of yellow, bunches of small, purple flowers like starbursts grew in between. “Goldenrod,” she giggled, reaching out to lightly touch a dusty branch. As she eased forward into the clearing, she was careful not to step on any big stems. Her fingertips drifted easily to the purple next, and she crouched down with a smile on her face. “And Aster…” These were often mistaken for daisies in her dad’s shop. It was getting more common to see these two plants growing together in the wild—their colors contrasted, and that meant they would attract different pollinators. Because of this, growing together would give them each benefit from the pollinators from the other. A whole new set of ones they would have never attracted on their own. They were able to grow more flowers together, than apart, that way. A wonderfully symbiotic relationship. Willow smiled up at Hunter, and snickered. “I’m guessing you probably also found all the major beehives on this side of Gravesfield, but don’t look for them now,” she remarked. The bees were likely starting to go dormant with the days growing colder. It was best not to disturb them. Hunter blanched, his eyes going wide and his proud grin falling from his face. “Wait, what?”

Working with @turquoisespace35 on this commission was an absolute pleasure! I’ve been such a fan of her work for a long time and I knew if I ever commissioned a Huntlow piece from Ashes, it would have to be from her! Thank you again, Turquoise!!

I can’t believe how perfectly she captured the vibe and the ambience of the scene without ever having read a single word of Ashes, just my own TL;DR description of the scene. 🥰

If anyone’s looking to commission Huntlow artwork, please check @turquoisespace35 out!

If you’re interested in checking out Ashes, you can do so here:

[artwithteggy]

Here’s a little sneak peek into my process for this painting of Rexy and Cera 💙💛 To start, I set up a super basic scene in Blender with simple shapes to block out the forest. Then I posed Rexy and Cera, framed the shot, and brought it all into Procreate to paint over the 3D render and give it that soft, painterly vibe. ✨ This piece was such a joy to work on, even though I chipped away at it between other projects, I loved watching it slowly come to life. I'm so pumped to make more like this and explore storytelling through these two characters. Would you like to see more of this style? 🦖🌿🦕

Let me know what you think!

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

part 15 - we’re all misunderstood

"Me and all my friends, we're all misunderstood. They say we stand for nothing and there's no way we ever could." -Waiting On The World To Change by John Mayer

Masterlist Part 14

The Watchtower was a marvel of engineering and fortitude, constantly in orbit above Earth among the star-studded void of space.

Just a quick glance out of the meeting hall window had proved to the Regent that her little brother would love it here. He’d inherited the innovative side of Fentonworks more than she, so the combination of one of his obsessions and tech to fiddle with was a dream come true. 

(She’d inherited the ruthlessness of Maddie Fenton.) 

Batman, the Dark Knight her little brother had trusted and the father of her soulmate, tapped away at a tablet in hand before turning his focus to her at ease form, hands clasped behind her back. Wonder Woman stood at her side and Superman at the other. A flanking maneuver it seemed. 

The Regent would’ve been offended if they didn’t consider her a threat, despite her willingness to discuss war prevention between the Infinite Realms and the Living Realm. Her armor alone was meant to be intimidating at first appearance, but it was the woman sealed into it that gave off the vibes of ‘Approach with caution’. She was a Warrior, not a pacifist,and everything she presented about herself was meant to signify that. 

However, the Regent was trained by the Ancient of Peace and would demand a peaceful resolution to a crisis rather than conflict, even if the Liminal had no desire for a battle against the Justice League. 

Constantine was a familiar presence in the room. The Laughing Magician had a soft spot for her little brother, but she felt the claim she had of his soul. It was cracked and missing so many pieces, but it was still a good one. The Sad Trenchcoat Man might’ve been a career drunk and conman, but that didn’t mean he was unnecessarily bad. 

He wouldn’t be here if he was. 

The man in question spoke first, much to the obvious surprise of those present, “How’s Phantom?” 

Her helmet turned to face him down where he sat a few feet away, an unopened flask resting on his thigh, “He is fine. Would you like me to pass on a message?” 

Constantine seemed to relax for a moment before shaking his head, “Nah, the kid bugs me enough.” 

“Regent.” Batman interrupted. “We would appreciate it if you could answer some questions we have regarding some disturbing files we received from Phantom.” 

The Liminal nodded, “I suspected as much. I cannot speak much on behalf of the King or others not present, but I will answer what I can truthfully.” 

“Thank you, My Lady, for your willingness to discuss such things with us.” Wonder Woman offered with sincerity in her words. 

The Regent shook her helmeted head, “I’d rather peace than be across from one another on the battlefield, Princess.” 

“Wisely so.” 

The Knight tapped on his tablet again, a projection of one of the Ghost Files documents spreading across the wall behind the Bat, the man in question returning his attention to her. 

“Why does the King require a Regent?” 

If Bruce was being honest, which he was, he’d rather be anywhere else than here in the Watchtower about to helm peace talks between the Infinite Realms and Earth. He’d rather be eating dinner with his children, questioning Phantom about Jason’s whereabouts, or even on patrol- anywhere but here. 

It wasn’t even the presence of the armored woman who’d answered in place of the King Constantine had been asked to summon, rather Bruce wanted nothing to do with the Death Energy he felt in lapses radiating from the Regent that felt… cleaner than that of what Ra’s Al Ghul or Talia had. 

Bruce wanted answers. 

But he also wanted to be anywhere but here. 

He supposed it was his self-preservation instincts trying to get him away from the being that’s been summoned, he had no choice but to stay though. 

“The King is too young.” The Regent replied evenly, hands clasped in front of her stomach, much like Diana would when trying to demonstrate that she’s prepared to draw her sword at a given moment. “There is still much for him to learn and experience before he is ready for the Crown.” 

Batman hummed, even though Constantine spluttered in shock- “A kid defeated Pariah Dark in single combat?” 

“Yes.” 

“There are some questions that we would like to have recorded for the record, would you be amenable to this?” Batman interrupts, “We would also discuss public use.” 

Regent nods, helmet tinting a darker green as the Watchtower lights slant across it for a brief moment. “I accept, though there are some answers that are not mine to give.” The woman takes a breath, “I cannot give the identity of the King without his permission, nor can I discuss how or when he died.”

“Is there a particular reason why?” Superman asks. “It is considered taboo to ask a ghost anything related to their death because it can cause them to relieve it.” A pause, “Ghosts, or Ecto-Entites, are a fighting-based culture. They are beings of varying intelligence, thoughts, and emotions- sentient and sapient, much like humans and aliens. Capable of great things, both good and evil.” 

Bruce processed those words, a pit of horror forming in his chest. How many times has this woman said those exact words, hoping for them to be heard? They were eloquent, with the formality that hinted at diplomatic training, but with so much hope that it almost physically hurt. 

Capable of great things, both good and evil. 

Wasn’t that the choice Bruce made every time he put on the cowl? Anytime one of his kids got hurt and he felt such rage in his bones? He made the choice every day to do good and while it may not be great in the broader scale of things, it was to somebody somewhere. That was what it meant to be alive, to have free will, to exist. 

Now he finally understood why Phantom gave him the Ghost Files. 

He needed this. This confrontation of what it means to exist outside of Bats and Birds, the cowl and the mask, as a being. Would Bruce have listened had he not seen the Files? If he hadn’t seen the inhumanity committed upon the inhuman? What evil would he have perpetuated had he refused to listen? 

(Tim might think he had been the only one to watch the video of Danny Fenton’s death.)

(He was wrong.)(What if he hadn’t heard the wail?)(What if he hadn’t seen the rebirth of Fenton to Phantom?) 

With all the bloodshed the GIW had on their collective hands, they would not go quietly. 

The Regent had emphasized their zealot tendencies, hypocritical ideology perpetuated by the Drs. Fentons and somewhat lackluster training, but exceedingly advanced technology geared explicitly towards Ecto-Entities in her testimony to the Justice League in the hours that followed. Several examples from the Ghost Files were explained and expanded on, including the destruction of the Casper High Gym which resulted in the death of a faculty member and the maiming of a student. Evidence of the town roads being utterly demolished, what looks like the aftermath of war being the norm for the citizens as they try to go about their daily lives. 

She had prepared to discuss all the above, and gone through various questions she’d been expecting from the League, but she had steadfastly avoided thoughts of the GIW’s unethical experimentation. Naturally, the League began this particular section with the Files’ opened to what Danny, Tucker, and Sam had included, a warning issued to all present that what they were about to watch was grotesque and to leave the room if they felt unable to hold the contents of their stomachs. 

The Regent was an older sister, a daughter, a leader, and a warrior- but she was still only able to take so much. (She hadn’t known the Fentons recorded Danny’s Phantom’s vivisection.)

(She hadn’t known they called each other sweetie and fudge-kins while digging in his chest cavity.)

Fury was a familiar enemy and friend in equal breaths, existing in the space between her ribs and her heart, trapped by a cage of bone and will. 

Fury echoed by her mirror image that entered the camera frame, sword first and merciless as she gutted Jack Fenton. 

(Regret was nowhere to be found.)(Shame had no place here.)

“By Realms Law 2127 subsection 32f paragraph 3: liminals, mortals, all in between may be promptly judged and or executed on grounds of threat to End a protector spirit or child. May also be decreed as battlefield law when faced with a sufficiently armed opponent and or external force.” The Regent recited monotonously. “Drs. Fenton also could have been tried for Invasion by opening the portal, but Phantom was able to give them a pardon.” 

“On what grounds?” Wonder Woman questioned, “He is a protector spirit, yes?” 

“Yes, which allowed the previous Law to be enacted and legal. By him acting within Amity Park and using Fenton tech to catch Ghosts, he gave them a pardon by an unspoken alliance.” 

“An alliance they broke,” Batman this time was clearly angry too in his clenched fists were any indication, “when they vivisected Phantom.”

“Yes.” The Regent continued, “Make no mistake, I uphold the Realms Law to the best of my abilities and expect my subjects and my council to do the same. We are a people and people have societies, societies have structures and without that, we would be no better than what the GIW claims us to be.” 

“Well spoken, My Lady.” Wonder Woman complemented, clearly taken by the Regent’s speech. 

“This is all gory and horrifying, but we still haven’t talked about preventing a bloody war.” 

While he’d been quietly observing the meeting, minor mutterings here and there, Constantine remained the only Dark member present. The Regent was somewhat fond of the Sad Man, even without having ownership over his soul (or the majority of shards) he would remain a fond memory for the Nightingales. 

 “My Lady,” the Magician belatedly addressed her, clearly having recalled to whom exactly he was speaking. 

“Constantine,” Batman warned, “we’ll get to that.” 

“Indeed we shall. In fact,” the Regent twirled a hand in a graceful motion “the Anti-Acto Acts is the main point of contention on the docket and allows that,” now she thrust a pointed finger at the Files’ section on ‘experimentation’, “to be legal.” 

“It’s been discussed, previously, to bring these laws before the UN with a censored version of the Ghost Files.” 

The Regent nodded almost immediately, “If you can, yes, but I would recommend leaking some of the data for the public to judge.” 

“Amity Park, for instance?” Superman asked, “Let the public choose a side and put pressure on the UN.” 

“Perhaps.” WW nodded, “Though there is likely chance that blame will be shifted onto the Ghosts solely for the damage.” 

“We can show the footage of the attacks that caused them.” Batman interjected, “As well as the videos of Phantom protecting Amity’s citizens at risk to himself.” 

The Regent agreed, “There are also videos of teenagers practicing drills for Ghost and Ghost Hunter attacks.” 

“What about sitting for an interview for a newspaper?” Superman suggested, “I can get a reputable reporter to conduct it.” 

“That can be done.” 

The Regent felt a slight tug on her Proto-Core, a shiver down her spine to follow- her little brother was trying to summon her back to him. Nothing urgent, not with just a slight tug, not an emergency. 

It had been quite a while here anyway and she missed her boys. 

“I’m afraid I am being summoned for a council meeting.” The Regent announced, “If I am needed again-“ 

She took a breath before turning to Batman, “You May summon me, Dark Knight, through your Lady’s Claim.” 

A friendly handshake with Superman, “Have your reporter meet me in the Ridge next Friday during the Witching Hours.” 

A clasping of arms with Wonder Woman, Warrior to warrior, “When this is settled, I would ask for a spar, Princess.” 

And the Regent was gone in a torrent of icy green-tinted mist. 

A/N:

Happy new year!

I can't believe it's 2024 already! Feels like I just got used to writing 2023.

As always, thanks to the wonderful beta @meditating-cat, who also let me who use them as a sounding board for ideas for the Regent earlier. I cannot wait to write those ideas, let me tell you.

As always, if you have any song suggestions please feel free to share and check out the masterlist for the rest of the series. It's always updated afterwards!

Thanks for reading!

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 96

A Night for Two by TheGreatWave74

We’ve got another fun and simple one today!

If you like soft intimacy that also gets like, super steamy at a few points this is the one. Not the full NSFW package but Junko is very handsy, good for these gals!~

I don’t think I could give a super high detailed meticulous breakdown of this one, it’s just a very feel good fic! Mikan is the perfect amount of flustered at all times and Junko is the perfect amount of affectionate as hell. I think this will be a treat for most!~ 

This fic has a great moment though near the end. One of my favorite little things to see in Junkan fics is the sorta compare and contrast vibe of Mikan’s early life and her present life, going from pure misery to pure bliss through the aid of Junko. It’s just a fun way to show off one of the things I love about this ship!~ I might not be able to speak in length about this fic, but I assure ya’ll it’s very worth your time! So go give it a read if you’re even the slightest bit interested!

As for the art itself, this is an interesting point in the progress. Because this was the point where I finally started to get burned out!

It only took 2 comics, a gif, a music video, and 92 other pics to get there! That’s normal!

And to be clear I wasn’t burnt out on Junkan, clearly, because I started drawing more of them the moment I was able to post it out in the open. I was more burnt out on the process of making this project and all the aspects that entailed.

Would you believe me if I said I was trying to take shortcuts on this art? It’s shocking how much I really like the end result! The method I used for shading this wasn’t my usual style, it was something meant to be a lot less time and energy consuming, and yet, by some miracle it actually worked in the arts favor?

Oh so for the concept, I kind of had to just draw them kissing underwater. Both because it was one of the only things I could draw here that wasn’t Junko feeling up Mikan, and also because the image was so striking to me that I thought of the idea for it before I had even picked out the previous few days fics for my work list. That’s right, if I remember right this was the first fic that came to mind when deciding what would be on my list of stories to adapt!

I don’t draw stuff that takes place underwater, mostly because pics like those really set off my perfectionism. Especially in the lighting department. I’m gonna be so real with you, I don’t remember how the fuck I made this one and like, made it look good?? A Lot of filters is the one thing I can say for sure. I really enjoyed adding a grainy texture over it as well, I think that brings it a lot together.

I was quite nervous making this on account of the swimsuits. I’ve drawn proper NSFW before, but when it comes to pieces like this where that isn’t the intention at all, and it just, happens to have characters in revealing outfits, I get way too self conscious about it. This is yet another thing that sets off my perfectionism, trying to hit a good balance between making it look good and not making it too much, if that makes sense at all. I think I pulled it off here though?

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[do0zy-artz]

Earth - 700 Words

Earth Day is practically the only holiday, or holiday adjacent event, that Shadow cares about to any extreme degree. Even Christmas doesn’t get him this passionate, and the hedgehog is known to quite like the aesthetics and general vibe of the holiday season. His teammates know why Earth Day gets such a rise out of Shadow, or course, but they don’t mention it. Discussing the subject when Shadow doesn’t bring it up first feels a little…rude. And like it would be a painful reminder. So, instead of saying anything, Rouge and Omega agree to assist him in his Earth Day plans when they’re asked; knowing how much personal importance the day has to their friend. Shadow allows a rare, soft smile to cross his face, and says he appreciates it; more than they will ever know. A week later, they’re heading out of the apartment geared up and ready to clean the planet. Day five of @teamdarkweek

Earth Day is practically the only holiday, or holiday adjacent event, that Shadow cares about to any extreme degree. Even Christmas doesn’t get him this passionate, and the hedgehog is known to quite like the aesthetics and general vibe of the holiday season. His teammates know why Earth Day gets such a rise out of Shadow, or course, but they don’t mention it. Discussing the subject when Shadow doesn’t bring it up first feels a little…rude. And like it would be a painful reminder.

So, instead of saying anything, Rouge and Omega agree to assist him in his Earth Day plans when they’re asked; knowing how much personal importance the day has to their friend. Shadow allows a rare, soft smile to cross his face, and says he appreciates it; more than they will ever know. 

A week later, they’re heading out of the apartment geared up and ready to clean the planet.

The three of them decide to celebrate Earth Day by cleaning up the local park, and any other grassy area that happens to be dotted around the city. The city has a fairly large park, one that gets a lot of visitors. Even with everyone else running around to clean the place, there will still be a decent amount of trash to clean up. Rouge suggests they should start in the areas of the park that are usually less populated, as people will most likely be looking at, say, the playground area and other densely populated areas for trash. Shadow agrees with a nod, and starts leading them down the trails.

As they pick up trash they split the litter into different, decently large bags; one for recyclables, and the other for non-recyclables. The first bag will be taken to the recycling center at the end of the day. The rest will be thrown in that dumpster behind their apartment. Occasionally, Rouge will fly up a bit, spotting for any extra trash they may have missed. It turns out, in the areas of the park with more trees, it’s really easy to miss the smaller pieces of junk. Shadow stays happily on the ground the whole time, picking up litter with an extreme determination. So much so it’s almost comical to watch.

Omega enjoys the work more than expected, seemingly finding it to be fun. When Rouge askes, he says he enjoys crushing meaningless trash between his claws. Shadow tells him to please save the crushing for the non-recyclables. Omega does not respond. He does seem to crush less trash though, inspecting each item before he decides what to do with it; respecting Shadow’s wishes in his own, killer robot way.

By the time they’re done, the park is absolutely spotless. They combed more than just the back trails and unused areas of course, Shadow not wanting to leave until the whole park had been scrubbed over. (When the hedgehog really put his mind to something like this, it was going to get done entirely or it wasn’t going to get done at all.) And the work, while physically exhausting, is very rewarding; the fruits of their labor is visible whenever they have to backtrack or cross through a previously cleaned area to reach the next. Shadow even stays in an unusually high mood for the majority of the day, even when his legs must be starting to ache.

“IS THE PARK TO YOUR REQUIREMENTS?” Omega asks, a tired Rouge and Shadow resting atop his shoulders. He carries their bags full of litter and litter grabbers in his hands, heading back towards the park entrance. His teammates are too worn out from a day of nonstop movement to do anything but use him as transportation. Omega has never been more glad he doesn’t have stupid meatbag muscles, and will never feel such fatigue.

“Yes, it is.” Shadow says, that smile returning to his face again. But only for a moment. Rouge, catching a glimpse of it, can’t help the grin that stretches across her own face. Yeah, sure, her legs hurt like hell and she definitely should not have worn her heels for this, but it was all worth it to see Shadow looking like that.

[eliotqueliot]

Mosaic Haiku, Chapter 15

This chapter of Mosaic Haiku is dedicated to exploring the theme "Warm Up" for the 2024 micro Magicians fanworks challenge hosted by @magiciansfanworksextravaganza "The 'warm up' theme could include vibes that are warm, cozy, related to winter, being hot (in any sense of that word), warming up or preparing for a big event, just starting out in something like magic, or any spin you’d like to put on it!"—Warm Up, Dec. 1-7, 2024

--------Mosaic Haiku Intro--------------

Welcome! I'm writing a series of haiku about the Mosaic! Disclaimer, I don't own any of these images (they're from the TV series adapted from Lev Grossman's series, The Magicians, which aired on SyFy). I'm just writing about them, ekphrastic style (seeing the image is an important reference when reading the poem, so I wanted to group them together). To read more about the project, the form, my author's notes (including a few more haiku), and to eventually see the paintings and drawings I'm making of these scenes (often with greater visibility/lighting or other small changes), please visit the page for this chapter at AO3 (link below). Note: I'm slowly making the art, so please stay tuned for that as each piece is done! Either way, I hope you'll enjoy these reflections on the best episode of TV (The Magicians, Season 3, Episode 5, “A Life in the Day”) and my favorite ship, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh!

Mosaic Haiku (with Art) - Chapter 15 - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

(Please also find some cool images for "A Life in the Day" at Getty and SyFy.)

We're best friends. That's why we work, why I waited, why we'll be happy here.

Had to go slowly: stakes too high. It's you, it's me: can't risk losing this.

Went to Fillory, fell in love with my best friend. A life worth living.

Fires smoldered all year: be careful; seize your moment. Torches. It’s go time.

* * *

Will you be mine when— —We go home? —Find the beauty of all life? —Right now?

* * *

“Are you cold, honey?” Wrap me up all night: arms, legs. You’re the best blanket.

* * *

Warm summer evenings: nights under the stars, our quilt soft as I love you

-------------------------------

Eliot

“What are you doing?” My heart breaks with yours: brave Q, love of my life—twice.

I acted so cold. Inside, heart I buried deep raged against the light.

The pain of waking: everything’s so real it hurts; such beauty brings tears.

Thaw melts my façade. It’s not spring: more like the fires of hell: I ran away

From a heart so dear. Dared not admit what I’d lost: warmth of home. Love. You.

You’re the lighthouse: love shining from your face. I need that door back to you.

You smiled, asking me. Sunny, soft, such warmth. A kiss wakes love burning bright.

Door creaks, leaking light. Can't leave you; but I must, to find you. My heart melts.

-------------------------------

Sizzling. Smoking hot. Your touch so warm we ignite. Hot as hell, baby.

-------------------------------

Eliot: The Quest Begins

The Great Cock takes time to say Q and I belong: two parts of one whole.

My life’s warming up; not just king: man with a heart, and it goes with Q’s.

-------------------------------

This airplane’s purring! Engines warmed up, we lift off, soaring on joy, love.

So much laughter: it's not tedium, just sameness with purpose: this quest,

Our lives together. Tile-game serves as canvas For our love. Big win.

Best part of each day: teasing, playing between tiles, this warmth between us.

-------------------

First step of the quest through the clock, do you feel it? Magic! It's starting!

World feels fresh and new: it's all possible, even fairy-tale romance.

Warmth surging through us: touch the magic, touch me: your embrace warm, tender.

We leap with our hearts: seize your partner, celebrate with this soul-deep hug.

------------------------

To read all the chapters of Mosaic Haiku on Tumblr or check on which AO3 chapters have paintings or sketches posted:

If you'd like to leave comments/kudos, or see the art I'm making in place with the haiku (highly recommended! Much greater resolution/details for the art on AO3; also, please view on a larger screen if possible), please come back and visit:

Mosaic Haiku (with Art) - Chapter 15 - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

[wilfriede]

FTH: Podfic with music/effects

For Fandom Trumps Hate my offer includes making effect- or music-heavy podfic. To give you an idea of what that could sound like, here are some examples.

For sound effects, there's things like notification and typing sounds in a chat fic, phone conversations (this also has some custom foley effects :D), footnotes and differentiating between characters all of whom are called Death, or creating character voices that don't sound human (also parts of this, and the Death fic from before).

I also like to use soundscaping to bring out the atmosphere of a story. Examples of that are this body horror story and this action fight story (both of which also feature effects for robot voices and different communication channels) or this meta piece with several abrupt shifts in tone, subject matter and humor.

Music can also add to the atmosphere. Here are some examples with a lot of underscoring (music and narration at the same time): futuristic spaceship and haunting AI vibes, tragedy and melancholy, soft contemplation (that one also has custom foley effects). Also, this one which is for a fandom that is about music videos so it features those songs.

Some other options are music in scene breaks, (or here and here, with my own piano recordings), musical themes for characters, or including singing in the podfic.

This is an overview of what I've done so far, but these are just examples. All of these projects have been unique creative undertakings for me and they are always inspired by the text itself. So I'm sure that there are lots of different cool things that can be done and I'm excited to figure out how to bring to life the text that you have in mind.

[park-ranger-is-my-comfort-animal]

Clean Up On Murder Aisle || Nora & Jerry

TIMING : Late June / Prior to the events down in the mines. LOCATION: 'Whitlock's Wares', Downtown Wicked's Rest PARTIES: @honeysmokedham & @park-ranger-is-my-comfort-animal

SUMMARY: Jerry goes to Whitlock's Wares to get some axes sharpened. Nora goes to the same store to steal things. The two bugbears face off and blood is spilled!

CONTENT WARNINGS: Knife play, Injury, Physical violence, Blood, Mentions of parental death, Mentions of parental abuse,

The flat, but comfortingly familiar tone of the dented bell above the door of Whitlock’s Wares clanked as Jerry entered the store, a large canvas holdall at his side. Unlike his usual attire of Park Ranger uniform and padded jacket, Jerry was dressed in a pair of dirty, well worn jeans, red plaid shirt and rigger boots. Covered in sawdust and wood shavings, he resembled a lumberjack who’d just come in from the deep woods.

Simon Whitlock gave Jerry a broad grin as he approached the front desk and dumped the holdall between them, the contents clanking metallically.

“How’s the cabin coming along, Jerry?,” the proprietor asked, opening the canvas bag and taking a look inside. “You need these sharpening?”

“Well, it’s coming,” Jerry said, nodding as Simon took a large axe from the holdall. “Hoping to have it weather-tight before winter. You got them SPAX log screws I ordered?”

“Should be here Thursday,” Simon replied, checking the rest of the tools in Jerry’s bag.

“25% off if they ain’t.”

“You don’t have to remind me, it’s been the rule here since the dawn of time!,” Simon laughed, lifting the holdall off the desk. “I can sharpen these now, if you’ve got time to wait?”

“Sure. I can’t get on until they’re done anyhow,” he agreed, grabbing a fistful of candy from a bowl on the desk.

“Those’re 10 cents each,” Simon called from the back of the store, still laughing.

“I know the rule!,” Jerry countered, turning away as the bell clanked again. He couldn’t see who’d just walked in, there were too many shelves and stacked paint pots in the way, but they brought a strange feeling with them, whoever they were. Something familiar, but elusive… like someone Jerry had met before and whose name was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t quite remember it.

Moving further into the store as the grinder fired up behind him, Jerry lifted his head and inhaled, searching for a scent to track.

Nora needed tools for an important project. That project was vandalism. So far, her weekly terror of the local college campus was going well, but not great. It could be better. Bigger. More organised. Nora needed to make a show piece. Something that would really get people talking, start a buzz, make them nervous. Unfortunately, Nora was lacking in, well, everything. That came with having walked for the better part of two years. Everything she wanted she needed to be carried, and carrying things got tiring.

Normally, Nora preferred not to steal from mom-and-pop businesses. Big corporations could digest the cost of their loss easier, but Wicked’s Rest was a small town with small stores. Which meant today, she was committing the cardinal sin of stealing from a small business. Maybe she could steal some money from someone with enough to cover the cost at a later date. Her extracurricular activities couldn’t wait for monetary acquisition.

The bell let out a soft ding and Nora slipped into the store. The first thing, upon arrival, was the notice of a scent. Animistic. Weird. Nora thought nothing of it. She’d already met a few shape shifters in this town, and other sorts of monsters. Everyone was rocking their own weird vibe here. Who was she to judge? Nora noted two men talking at the front of the store and wound her way around the back.

Nora perused the shelves, hands shoved in her pocket as she went through the mental list of items she need. Hammer. Nails. Paint. Duct tape. Probably needed extra duct tape. They were always running out in the office. God, what was she doing thinking of work during her free hours? Was she becoming a workaholic. Disgusting. Nora slipped a hammer in her pocket. Nora flitted down a different aisle, catching sight of the man who had been talking at the counter. Nora stared him down, deadpan, revealing nothing. It wasn’t hard to stare people down like that, Nora wore her emotionless mask at all times. Today was especially easy cause the only thing she was thinking about was wanting him to leave the aisle so she could continue stealing.

Jerry stopped at the top of the aisle, opposite the diminutive figure who appeared to be glaring at him. The shelves between them were stacked with spools of ropes, chains and plastic hoses of various kinds, alongside a veritable rainbow of duct tape in many different colors and a variety of dust sheets, oil cloths and tarpaulins.

Simon would sometimes joke about it being the store’s ‘Murder Aisle’, which seemed oddly fitting right now with this young woman staring at him with her large dark eyes, as though she were willing him to drop dead on the spot.

That oddly familiar scent which had drawn Jerry to this area of the store was strongest here, as if emanating from somewhere down this aisle. Maybe when the girl moved away, Jerry could take a better look and figure out what - or who - was making it.

But she didn’t move. She just stood there, staring at him with that blank, almost disdainful expression on her face. It was like the girl was trying to stare him down, like an animal in the wild might, waiting for the other to acknowledge their dominance and back down.

The Park Ranger returned the stare, his face settling into its own expression of passive aggressive irritation. In his time, Jerry had stared down moose and sianach, wolves and phobids, and he was not about to let one little child think she could intimidate him.

The light hanging over the aisle swung softly, the light flickering every now and then. Not enough to be annoying, but enough to set a mysterious scene in the hardware store. The aisle around them held an assortment of tools, all of which could be used in a fight against the man standing at the other end. Nora was used to her stare being unsettling, a predator staring at prey. The instinctual fear of humans to move away, their skin warning them with goosebumps. This man, taller than most, gruffer than others, didn’t play by those rules. Oh, he wanted to play. Nora could play.

Magic tickled at Nora’s fingertips, that access to the illusionary magic tucked deep inside of her longed to come out to play. What kind of monster would make this man pee himself? His lack of leaving the aisle during Nora’s initial stare down made her think he might be a figher, not a flighter. Those always went for the illusions, which meant Nora had to be on top of them to make sure contact wasn’t made. If there was a trick to tangible illusions, she hadn’t mastered it.

Something about the man made her think he was the outdoor type. He had the scent of pine trees lingering on him, as well as something… What was that? Nora knew that smell. It was at the tip of her tongue, like something she’d smelled before often but why couldn’t she put a name to it in the moment? The mystery frustrated Nora. She didn’t like the secrets this town held. She especially didn’t like that she was supposed to uphold the secrets. Even now she could hear her mentor’s voice reminding her that this could be a ranger, and she needed to be careful with what she did.

Nora had never been good at careful.

The light flickered again; an idea formed. She waited. Staring. As the light flickered once more, Nora twisted an illusion across her features. Turning her eyes black, and her smile into something twisted and demonic. It lasted for the beat of the flicker then it faded into nothingness. Returning to her blank, expressionless mask, a challenge once more in her eyes. Would he leave now?

Jerry raised a single eyebrow in surprise as the horrific change flickered across the girl’s face. It wasn’t that her altered appearance had shocked or scared him - Jerry had been able to see through fae glamours for most of his life and was well versed at meeting the beautiful & horrific equally with an expression of neutral disinterest - but the fact that he hadn’t noticed it before that moment disturbed him.

Was this something new? Some kind of creature that only looked like lost children to draw people in? Maybe some variation on the anglerfish that used a child-shaped lure? It clearly wasn’t one of the fae, but there had been so many other things in this town that could pass for human. Things that would crawl from the forest, swim out of the lakes and rivers, or climb up from the deepest shafts of the old mine to disturb the peace.

…or maybe she really was just a little girl and he was overreacting to nothing more than a trick of the light.

In Jerry’s opinion, he wasn’t great at interacting with human children. It wasn’t that he actively disliked them, but he just didn’t have the same kind of shared life experience that made it easier for humans to relate and connect with the young of their own species. The formative years of Jerry’s cubhood had been spent living in an extended sloth with other bugbears, not that it had been the happy time in his life that most would expect. Those first six years were filled with memories of being either rejected or abused by his father in equal measure, not to mention the near constant mocking and bullying he’d experienced from the greater community who’d learned his father’s example. Only his maternal Grandsow had shown him any kind of affection, and even then it was with a deep sadness in her eyes for the loss of her daughter to Jerry’s birth.

Ultimately, it was his adoptive human parents who had worked hardest to show Jerry a different world than the one he’d tried to run from that snow-covered night.

Slowly and deliberately, without breaking eye contact with the girl, Jerry lowered himself down until he knelt on the aisle floor, as if he were being approached by a nervous and potentially dangerous animal.

“You lost, kid?,” Jerry asked in a low, calm voice when he was closer to her level. “It’s okay. I ain’ gonna hurt ya none,” he continued, holding out a single piece of foil wrapped candy towards the girl on the open palm of his rough, paw-like hand. “Your parents know you’re here?”

— There was no fear. Surprise had marched across his face, come, and gone in a moment, but no fear. Annoyance flickered across Nora for a brief moment. It never made it to her face which remained impassive and unamused. A tough customer, but Nora was no stranger to people who needed an extra push into terror. Nora could play the game. It was her favourite game, after all.

Above them the light continued to flicker. For a hardware store, perhaps that wasn’t the best advertisement. Or perhaps they were waiting for the right customer with the right questions to come in so they could display just how easy it was to fix a flickering light.

Across from her, the man was lowering himself, kneeling and offering his hand like she was some sort of animal. If Nora was expressive, she would have laughed. She would have keeled over laughing at the sight. The man didn’t know just how right he was, but Nora wasn’t any kind of animal, Nora was a monster and the difference was important. The difference was she wasn’t trying to scare him because she was lost and scared herself. She was trying to scare him because it was fun.

“Help me.” It was an illusion, Nora could never will her monotone voice to hold such vulnerability. The illusion echoed around them, more specifically, the illusion echoed around him. Nora wanted it to trigger the hairs on his arm to rise and goosebumps to cover him with the sensory shock of the word being floated around him from all directions. To activate a primal fear that this human could be surrounded, and now he was kneeling on the ground. He looked old. His knees were probably bad. Old people were always talking about how bad their knees were. Maybe he’d struggle to get back up. Maybe he would fall. It would be funny.

Nora only moved forward with the flickering of the light. The movement was enhanced with illusions, and honestly it was a tribute to the amount of work and practice she’d put into her illusions. From the angle where he sat on the ground, Nora could create a perfect square of art. It showed her, Nora, as she was standing in place, but since the illusion was placed close to the man’s face, Nora was able to walk forward, closing the space between them, while appearing like she was just standing there. Then, as the light flickered, the frame reset, and Nora was closer. As if he blinked, and suddenly she teleported forward.

Flicker.

She was in front of him. He had been kind. He had said he wasn’t going to hurt her. Perhaps he was a concerned citizen, set on helping everyone. But the only help Nora needed was food, fear to sustain her. “I’m going to hurt you.” Nora whispered, her monotone voice holding no emotion behind. No malice. No glee. Empty. Nora pulled a knife from her jacket, letting it catch the light, so the blade sparkled. “Then you can join my parents.”

The illusion – which Jerry was now certain that it was – was undeniably impressive. The words felt as though they echoed from the walls and whispered in his ears at the same time. They had just the right intonation and pitch that the voice could have belonged to a child or a young adult, depending on how the listener was inclined to perceive it, and imagination would do the rest. Someone might say that they heard the voice of their young daughter or son in that whisper, maybe their wife or sister, but every impression would be as valid and as false as any other. It was an unnerving effect to be sure, or it might have been if he were someone else.

For Jerry it was more akin to being a magician, sitting in the audience at a theatre while another magician performed on stage. He could appreciate the artistry and skill involved in every trick, even enjoy the performance itself, but he knew how it was all done. There was no real magic to any of it, just manipulation.

Jerry had never liked stage magicians. He didn’t much like being manipulated either.

He watched as the little girl wove her next illusions and she was so quick in doing so that Jerry almost missed it. In a moment there were suddenly three of them; the girl and her two ghost twins, painted on glass that hung in front of his face. It was undeniably clever and he would have congratulated her, if not for what came next.

The knife in her hand wasn’t another illusion. It caught the flickering artificial light and danced the beam off of its cold steel blade. Her next words made the effect even more chilling.

“I’m going to hurt you. Then you can join my parents.”

It is a fact that most humans would focus their attention on the knife in that situation. Maybe they needed to know where death was coming from and in what form it would take, but that was a mistake. It was an instinctual prey response and in that moment of fearful hesitation, the predator strikes.

The Park Ranger knew this, not least because he wasn’t human, but also because he was a predator. He’d hunted and brought down prey in both man-form and bear. He’d chased for hours until his quarry stumbled with exhaustion. He’d closed his ursine jaws around necks and waited until the light drowned in their eyes. All the while drinking their fear until his appetite was sated, and then gorging himself on the still-warm flesh that was left behind.

His father had disapproved. Told him that there was enough fear in the world for him to feed on without needing to create more. He hadn’t understood… hadn’t wanted to understand.

Jerry fixed his gaze on hers. He ignored the blade, ignored their surroundings, ignored the voices and the illusions. He focused his attention on her, and waited.

One breath.

Two.

...NOW!

A subtle change in her eyes. A shift in focus. His hand snapped out immediately and grabbed for her throat, pushing himself up to full standing height at the same time, momentum carrying him forward and closing any remaining distance between him and his prey.

“Not today,” the beast whispered in Jerry’s voice.

—

The first warning was the lack of fear. Nora had put on a full production, maybe it wasn’t her best work. It might not have brought a grown man to tears as he was confronted with the horrors beyond his comprehension, but it had been a solid display of supernatural horror. It should have been enough to gain a morsel of fear, a treat, a little snack to sustain her power and carry her over into something more terrifying. Instead, there was nothing. The only scent surrounding her was that of her own and the strange man, the man who treated her like a child and wanted to help her. The kindness of strangers was only an exploit for her. She was fear. This would be his downfall.

The second warning was his lack of movement. There wasn’t shock or confusion in his face. Instead, it was a neutral expression of confrontation. If he had tensed a little, Nora hadn’t noticed it. The coiling of muscle ready to react had slipped past her attention, because Nora had the knife. She assumed she was in control of the situation.

The third warning was the split-second Nora saw the movement and assumed he was about to bolt away and not at her. Nora had never been good at heeding warnings; it was one of her downfalls. Today it was her downfall. A hand wrapped around her throat. A tall man, hand wrapped around her wrist and a scowl on his face. Nora stared back at him, her mask of blank expression not failing her. It held.

So, this was it? The consequences to her own actions come to meet her at last. It took Nora a moment to get past the confusion of the moment to realise she was being threatened. Her. Threatened? This man did not know who he was messing with. Nora was the author of her own story. She had spent every night for the last three months training her body to fight. She had sparred partners far better than her and been knocked on her ass time and time again just for a situation like this.

For a moment Debbie’s face flashed across his. The memory. The feel of the hilt pressed against her palm. Nora had to pull herself away from those memories. They haunted her at the worst moments. There was a real knife pressed into the palm of her hand. She had stabbed someone before, and she would do it again if she had to. Nora knew that about herself now. But the guilt of Debbie’s death was still an anchor wrapped around her heart. Those nights of training weren’t just to improve herself, but she couldn’t sleep unless she wore her body down to the point of exhaustion.

“Today.” Because Nora was no victim who would let a man grab her by the throat and get away with it. Because she had never needed saving before and wouldn’t wait to see if she needed it today. Nora was fear and he would fear her. Nora aimed a slash across the arm holding her neck in its grip. All the while she kept her face plain and expressionless. Let him see how much she did not react. Let him fear her. Let him tremble because she was a murderer and what was he? A man trying to prove himself a predator to a monster?

The knife was far sharper than Jerry had expected. It sliced through his half-rolled shirt sleeve like it wasn’t even there and felt like someone had drawn a line of fire across his skin. Blood immediately began to flow, soaking his clothing and pooling on the aisle floor.

Jerry released the girl and let her drop, withdrawing his hand with a wounded growl. Part of him wanted to shift, to take his bear-form and tear her apart for challenging him. Who the hell did this cub think she was, baring their claws at him? Trying to draw out HIS fear?? Spilling HIS blood?!!

The anger drew Jerry’s normally placid, disapproving expression into a furious snarl and the beginnings of another growl rumbling deep in his throat as his ursine eyes flashed dangerously in the flickering light. His heart pounded as adrenaline flooded his body, preparing to fuel the transformation and expanding his already heightened senses even further. Everything became tangible to him at that moment; the taste of his own blood mixing with the residual oil on her blade, the feeling as beads of sweat soaked into the shirt on his back, the familiar pungency of the girl’s scent…

…her scent.

It was the scent.

The one he’d noticed when she’d first walked in. The one that smelled elusively familiar. The one he’d tracked to this place, only to be set upon by this… what even was she??

The illusions she’d summoned. Her words and her actions. Was she… like him?

“What are you?” Jerry whispered to himself, unaware that he’d spoken out loud as the growl died in his throat, his heavy brows knitting into a mix of confusion and consternation.

The knife did its job. Nora was freed and she steadied herself with low breathing. Still, no fear came from the man in front of her. To be honest, Nora was impressed. It wasn't every day that a stranger fought back against her illusions. Much less posed a physical threat to her. "Fear." A one worded answer to his question. She could have said bugbear, but people who knew what that was were few and far between.

Her mouth remained open, ready to congratulate him. Her knife was still clenched in her hand, but it had been fun. Hadn't it? An unexpected encounter in a normally expected answer. Her interest was piqued. Questions danced in her mind. Why wasn't he scared? at the forefront. All those questions fled within a moment.

A new scent, flavored of peppermint, fresh linen, and wood carvings. Nora's eyes flickered as a new man walked up. Curiosity twisted into horror on his features as he saw the knife and the blood. Of course, this was what he'd see. Not the man holding her by the throat just moments before. Being fear had its advantages and its disadvantages, Nora supposed. She was here to shoplift anyway. Nora grabbed a roll of duct tape, the item she'd been after and shoved it in her pocket. She was sure she'd already made the not-allowed-in list and might as well cement her fate.

"This was fun," Nora told the big man in front of her. Honest, even if it sounded bland in her monotone. "We'll do this again." A promise, a threat, whatever he wanted to take that as. For whatever it was worth, he'd earned some respect from her. Their next meeting wouldn't be a game of fear, but an outright questioning. She had his scent and she was sure she'd track him again. The man worker was saying some words about calling the cops or whatever, Nora gave him a salute. "Catch me if you can." She announced, diving into an illusion of darkness that did not cloud the sound of her heavy boots slapping against the ground.

“What the hell was that?!” Simon yelled at Jerry, his expression a mix of confusion and anger. “Jeez man, you’re bleeding all over the place!”

Jerry didn’t answer at first, his focus instead on the diminutive figure in the oversized coat as they ran into the street, quickly disappearing into the crowd. “Yeah, she was waving that knife about. I was jus’ unlucky that she caught my arm is all,” Jerry lied, turning his attention to Simon as the illusionary cloud of darkness began to dissipate. “Jus’ panic. More scared of me than I was of her, I reckon.” He offered the proprietor an apologetic smile. “Sorry ‘bout the blood.”

Simon waved away the comment dismissively. “Pfft… Don’t even worry about it. I’m just glad that they wasn’t better with that thing, or she could’ve done you some real damage.I’ve got a first-aid kit in the office, we’ll get you patched up so you aren’t bleeding all the way to the hospital.”

Grunting his thanks, Jerry followed the store owner back through the aisles and behind the sales counter, doing his best not to drip too much all the way there. It didn’t take Simon long to dress and bandage Jerry’s forearm, stemming the blood flow before pouring them both a drink from the half drunk bottle of whiskey he pulled from a filing cabinet.

“So what was that all about?,” Simon asked, after emptying his chipped ceramic mug of its liquor. Jerry shrugged, staring at the amber liquid in his own mug.

“Damned if I know,” he replied, “Probably jus’ a stupid dare or some such.The girl grabbed a roll of your duct tape an’ ran out with it. Reckon she was put up to it but didn’t expect t’see me down that aisle an’ jus’… panicked.”

“Well, she’ll definitely be the one panicking if I see her in here again!” Simon muttered, pouring himself another. The Park Ranger kept quiet.

There hadn’t been any panic. Whoever that girl was - whatever she was - she knew how to wield a blade and, while she might’ve been angry, there certainly wasn’t any panic. No panic. No fear.

Jerry sighed to himself and thanked Simon for the drink, placing his untouched mug on the other’s desk. Collecting his sharpened axes, Jerry left the store and began to wander aimlessly through the streets of Downtown. He’d lost her scent almost as soon as exiting the store, despite its ethereal familiarity. His arm began to throb beneath the bandage. With another sigh, Jerry turned to head back to his truck, unable to shake the feeling that he’d be seeing that girl again before long and may not come away from the encounter entirely unscathed.

END.

[melodyofthevoid]

Spotify Discovery 10/2

Lot of ukulele tracks in this one, and it’s a mixed bag. I cannot explain for the life of me what makes a ukelele song sound not bad to me but when I crack that code you’ll know.

Generally good though! The bad tracks though I hated more than last time. Also sorry for the delay I had work and a litany of other things (other writing projects) that distracted me lmao.

Good:

Playing on Train Tracks: Very Mountain Goats in its execution, note that it does cover self-destructive behaviors so be wary but the honesty here is captured so well. I love the use of language and metaphor, cutting live wires, standing on the cliff but never jumping, standing on the train tracks, it hits. The simple instrumentals isn’t overly “stripped down” it fits the subject. Good stuff.

What We Have is You: A song from Kipo, a nice little lullaby. Don’t remember what the context of this bit was in the show but I really liked it. Sterling K Brown has a nice voice.

The Dragon of Climate Change: Not one I’ll listen to frequently but I did enjoy the jaunty folk feel combined with the “fuck the rich” vibes. Calling out carbon credits was a good bit. Very bard core.

Lover (take me to the moon): Gives me confused person in love and I think it works. I wish I could really say what makes these sorts of songs click with me vs brush them off as kinda overdone but I’m afraid it’s a mystery to me as well.

Ghost Choir Vocals: Gives the iconic Ghost Choir lyrics in the style of “Mr.Sandman” and the singer is absolutely lovely. Fun and short, always a treat to hear the ghost choir in general and Louie’s instrumentals lend to the singer’s voice.

Davy Jones: I’ve listened to this cover a shit ton on Youtube and still love the vocals. The Davy Jones/Calypso storyline is a fav and there’s just. Mwah. Chef’s kiss vibes. Not much to say here other than absolute banger. (For an improved experience look up the duet version).

Suffering: A dance to agony, it works in a way of celebrating despite it all. The singer is lovely, the guitar is jaunty, and the rhythm is fast and fun. I like it! Gives me Crane Wives vibes and that’s always a plus for me.

Medusa in a Stone Garden: There’s an interesting energy around this one kinda folk rock? I like the Medusa energy, the repetition can wear on at times but other than that? Excellent.

The Water is Fine: Gives me Mariza/Delta vibes, there’s nice overlap on the vocals, there’s energy here too that is fun. A bit Oh Hellos, a bit Amazing Devil.

Anywhere But Here: A lovely little music box style waltz, very romantic. Melancholic too, and just the sort of thing I like to wind down to.

Duet in Death: Another classical piece, I’m sure if I knew more about the webtoon Nevermore I’d have more of an affinity? But a duet between a piano and a violin is one I’m always a sucker for. I adore violins when they’re done well and this one is spectacular.

Devil’s Flesh & Bones: Another WTNV alumni! Eliza Rickman is neat, she’s got a very distinct voice, kinda Cabaret and kinda jazz. This one all works for me.

Neutral:

Rises the moon: The vocal performance of this cover is… a little shaky at times? But I like the song and I think that it’s alright.

Tough to be a Bug: A twee little ukulele ditty, it’s cute but not really one that I’ll listen to. A bit too soft for me ig.

Bird Song: Not the Florence and the Machine song, but a different one. I enjoyed the folk vibes but the chorus has this kinda tropical electronica and that’s just not my vibe? The song has a general montage feel which works for what it is but a meh experience overall.

A Shitty Gay Song About You: The guitar plus the twinkly xylophone and the monotone vocals aren’t… really my vibe. The lyrics are kinda neat, but it’s not for me. I could see someone making a cute animatic to it though.

I think I want to be alone: Relatable but the style is a little too TikTok for me with the playful vibes combined with the depressing lyrics? Doesn’t scratch an itch for me.

Nah

Katarina Josephina: I’m not really sure what to make of this one. It’s got the trappings of a folk story song but it’s got a strange energy to it. Not certain what to say doesn’t work for me, but the trap break definitely does not.

The Spider’s Face: I like the song Nothing from this musical but goddamn this one is too “playful sing song evil” for me. The plucking strings and the vocals… it does not do it for me. Very unpleasant to listen to.

Aisling Song: I do not enjoy listening to children sing. This is a child singing in a very ~dreamlike~ way. I’m sure this works in the movie “Secret of Kells” but without the visuals I would really rather not listen.

PATROCLUS MEETS HIS FATE: I love orchestral stuff, I love video game music, but the artificial strings really take away any of the grandiosity for me. It’s very canned and I’m not a fan.

Typical Me: DSMP song and not a good one. I don’t like the vocals or the lyrics. Very monotone and unpleasant.

Give a Little: The saxophone and vintage swing feel are neat but I reaaaaally don’t like the vocals. They ruin it for me. Sorry CG5 but really not doing it for me.

64 Little White Things: This is Scary Jokes with the vocal style and again. Not a fan of that. There’s something about the vocals that just sets my teeth on edge, the sing/talking style with the modulation and the carnival music… no. Can’t do it.

[k00295630]

Disrupt

These are some of the objects I gathered. My tutor gave me and some others a branch to use as a tool. She showed us how to carve different shapes into it and carve a sharp tip. She also showed us how to make roulettes which is just something that has a pattern on it that you roll onto the clay. An example of this was wrapping string around a branch which I loved because you can wrap it in different ways leaving gaps and using different types of string!

I rolled the string onto the clay and it made this really cool pattern and it was really satisfying. I carved the tip of the branch into small circle and I could press it in softly or hard into the clay, or I could push it in and lift up the clay slightly. I gathered a few mushrooms that were broken but they were too soft, except for this one that was very tough and kinda bouncy and it gave a really interesting print in the clay, it looks a lot like a flower.

My tutor told us we could use some of the prints as our own stamp in the future if we put it in the kiln. So I decided to cut out my favorite stamps and hopefully they'll work once they're fired. I'm not too sure what the first object is its like some sort of weird pinecone. The second object is the other end of my stick, I cut lines into it like a pizza and then a tiny hole in the middle.

To relate it to my project, I wanted to try make a wooden texture on the clay. I used a small stick I found that was broken on one side which gave it loads of little bristles like a paintbrush. So I scraped it onto a log of clay and it looks exactly like a branch!! I quickly made a mini sculpture of my idea, but it was very plain so I decided to add some leaves onto it. I tore off some tiny pieces off a leaf I had and stuck them onto the clay to give it an autumn vibe. And I added some tiny twigs as grass in between the branches!