#a somewhat self-indulgent fic and a present to myself

[helianskies]

It took a little while to sort out papers, but eventually, Mr Mateo Romero Vázquez, a man from some inconsequential town out in Castilla-La Mancha, was driving his little grey car out of the airport carpark and in the direction of the EO16.

His destination was Sarti, a coastal town with beautiful views out across the Aegean sea. A vast blue horizon. A chance to forget.

[ read the full fic on ao3! ]

[wri0thesley]

protection - lucas (yandere oc) x reader (5.3k)

halloween has always been your favourite holiday. with your captor, though . . . perhaps not so much.

a/n: if i cannot be self-indulgent and write a fic about my cannibal murderer yandere oc for halloween when he is such a horror pastiche of a man, when can i? if you would like a primer on lucas, reading this is probably the best thing to do!

cw: yandere, cannibalism, kidnapped reader, descriptions of gore, non-explicit mentions of past dub-con/non-con.

Lucas has one of those perpetual calendars upon his mantelpiece.

You’ve never had much cause to look at it before. It’s another of those mix-and-match décor pieces that are so prevalent in the cabin; a boring block of wood and blocky white font that you suppose someone might describe as ‘minimalist’. It’s certainly not something you’d choose for yourself – and from what you’ve seen of Lucas’s own choices, his clothing, the items he gravitates towards in his little slice of home, it’s not something he’d have chosen either. Had it not, perhaps, been chosen by someone else.

You ignore the way your gorge rises when you consider that it’s one more piece of somebody who must be long dead by now. Lucas’s cabin is full of those reminders; embroidered tablecloths (your own hands are not so steady), handmade blankets (the wool used makes you itchy), clothes in the wardrobe three sizes too small and two sizes too big. A bookshelf of tattered paperbacks; crime novels and romance novels and horror novels, an eclectic mix you can’t imagine belonging to the same person.

That’s not important.

What is important is the morning after breakfast, when Lucas and you have gone out to collect eggs already and he’s held onto your waist while you carefully fried them along with the something-that-might-be-bacon that you’re growing more and more accustomed to cooking.

(It doesn’t even make you throw up any more).

He’s casual as he walks over to it; you’ve never really paid much attention to it before. It’s simply one of those rituals that he does; he likes the domesticity of a daily routine, and though you’ve always been rather more spontaneous . . . You’re hardly in a position to argue about it.

He moves the cube around and you glance vaguely towards it and you see the month and date, clear and bright as if illuminated by a shaft of sunlight.

The thirtieth of October.

You stop breathing, just for a moment. It’s been three months, then – time had lost meaning for you somewhat, after you’d realised you had no choice but to play along if you wanted to keep yourself away from the sharp end of an axe. But . . . three months. Three months of smiling nicely and forcing your mouth around the name ‘darling’ and letting his weapon-calloused hands curl about your waist, slide over bare skin. Three months of making yourself smile, of showering with a stranger in the bathroom (three months and he is still a stranger, though you suppose you know him intimately; three months, though, and you still do not know his surname), of sleeping beside him at night--

“I love Halloween.”

You don’t realise you’ve said it until it comes out of your mouth like the dry squeak of a frightened mouse.

Lucas looks up in surprise. You don’t often volunteer information readily; you answer his questions, but otherwise you’re a quiet obedient little home-maker for him, the way you think he likes you. That’s not to say you think he’d mind, but . . . you still keep some of yourself held close to your chest. You share hearth and home and body with Lucas; you think you’ve earnt the right to not have to share everything.

“S’that so?” He rumbles, after a moment. He doesn’t smile, the way he does when you tell him that you like the present he’s brought you back from town or when you let slip once that the western film he’d been watching on VHS reminded you of your childhood. “I’ve never been all too fond of it myself.”

His green gaze stays steady on you. He lets the moment stretch, waiting for your answer. You are walking a tightrope, as always; there is a right answer, you think, and a wrong answer. Which one are you supposed to pick? You’ve seen Lucas angry – that smouldering, teeth-grit explosion when he’d caught you, early on, trying to open a window.

(You’d sobbed and promised, sworn on everything you loved, that you just wanted some fresh air – that the August air was stuffy and pressing. Enough tears, and Lucas had repented, finally, drawn back his blistering anger. Calloused thumb wiping your tears away and a gruff apology, followed by; “Aww, darlin’, don’t cry like that. C’mon now.”

Followed by kissing your eyelids. Followed by the press of his body upon yours. Followed by hands on your hips, thumbs digging into your thighs to part them. Followed by him murmuring for you to cry for a different reason.

He likes the tears. It’s a good lesson to learn so early on in your life with him).

You shrug helplessly.

“I like the atmosphere?” You give him, your voice quavering at the end. “All of those kids in cute costumes, jack-o’-lanterns, cuddling up warm and cosy on the couch with a scary film on--”

His shoulders relax minutely, and he lets out a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah,” he says to you. “I s’pose those things ain’t so bad. I’m not a scary movie guy – there’re enough things to be frightened of out there in the real world, y’know?” He walks towards you, joins you on the couch. His arm wraps around your shoulder and you let yourself be drawn into his embrace, because you risk upsetting the balance again if you shy away. With a sigh of pleasure, he drops a kiss onto the top of your head. “Gets real busy up here around this time. Trespassers. I prob’ly won’t even be around mosta the night; gotta patrol the area. Think we can rustle you up a pumpkin and a coupla’ videos though, huh?”

You swallow. You know what he means by ‘patrol the area’ – you think of teenagers in local towns, daring each other to spend the night in the woods. You think about twenty-somethings with their tents and their camping and coolers full of beer, telling spooky stories about huge cannibals who live in the woods--

You think of Lucas’s weapons, the axe shining bright mounted on the wall, and the sound it had made as it had thwacked into the ground beside your head as Lucas had realised you were trembling and whimpering and sobbing and merely lost, not some ne’er-do-well out here for any other reason.

How much fuller will his freezer be, come the first of November?

He’s true to his word, as he so often is. Despite everything, he looks at you hopefully when he presents to you the things he brings back from his little foray into town; his head cocked, an echo of the earnest young man he might once have been beneath the scars and the greying.

He presents to you: one large pumpkin, three VHS tapes of movies you haven’t heard of that look like schlocky 90s B-movies, a multi-pack of sweet treats obviously intended to be poured into a bowl for trick or treaters, and a bean-filled plush of a fat black cat.

“I thought we could carve the pumpkin together,” he says, which you think is just an excuse not to leave you unsupervised with sharp implements. He trusts you to cook, now – but he still likes to be in the room, even if he’s not guiding your hand with his fingers entwined around your own over the knife.

“That would be nice,” you cautiously reply, and he smiles at you all soft and gooey-eyed. Your spine still feels like a rod has been shoved in it; being around Lucas can so often seem like a balancing act, and normally he does not come back from town in anything resembling a good mood. But giving you presents and the pleasure that had sparked in your eyes and the truth tinging your thanks have clearly set him well for the evening; he’s whistling as he rattles around in the kitchen to find the implements.

“C’mon here then, angel,” he calls, and you tuck the fat little black cat into the corner of the couch - it will be nice, you suppose, to have something to hold when you are alone later. You doubt the movies will provide much in the way of stone-cold terror, but the knowledge that Lucas is out there stalking the night and it would not take all that much for him to turn his rage on you certainly does.

It will be nice, too, to have something to hold that is yours and is not haunted by the echo of ghosts of Lucas’s past. Once, you had been uncomfortable in bed, rolling and writhing and whimpering through a nightmare – and Lucas had gently shaken you awake and placed a bear into your arms you had never seen before.

You might not have ever seen the bear before, but it had clearly once been loved; visible stitches re-attaching an ear, the velvet flocking rubbed off on its nose, the fur compacted from many nights of cuddling.

You try not to think about someone else, after you, having the little cat placed delicately in their arms.

When you enter the kitchen, you see that Lucas has spread newspaper out all over the floor, placing the pumpkin carefully in the middle with an array of carving implements and pens laid out for you. There’s a waiting candle and a box of matches on the table, waiting for the final touch.

The newspapers are all nearly twenty years old. The matches have packaging you’ve never seen before, the kind of retro artwork you’d see hipsters hang ironically on their apartment walls.

You crouch to get onto the paper he’s laid out, but Lucas clicks his tongue in annoyance at you.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says, and he pats his knee where he’s knelt with them spread apart. “Come sit between my legs and let’s do it together.”

It takes you a moment to gather the courage to do it – touching him voluntarily is always harder than when he makes the first move – but you see that shimmer of frustration in the air, the imperceptible twitch of his jaw, and you clumsily climb over to situate yourself between them. You feel him let out a satisfied exhale as one of his arms wraps around your waist possessively.

“There,” he murmurs, directly into your ear. “Ain’t that better? More . . . cosy?”

You can feel every hair on the back of your neck, the thrum of your heartbeat, as Lucas’s hand fastens over yours and works at removing the top of the pumpkin. His chest is solid behind you, a barrel of muscle and scar – and when he shifts, and his crotch in his fatigues snugly presses against the curve of your spine, it takes all of your grace not to whimper at the feel of him hot and wanting.

Domesticity always seems to stoke something in him – and you suppose this would, under other circumstances, be a perfectly lovely Halloween evening. If Lucas were somebody you loved, and not a madman who kidnapped you from the middle of the woods. If that were so, Lucas’s breath against your ear wouldn’t make your head pound – his calloused fingers over yours wouldn’t make you wonder how he got all of those scars. The sight of a sharp instrument in his hand wouldn’t make you wonder how many have met their maker at Lucas’s behest.

There is none of the joy you would normally find in this activity, doing it with Lucas’s arm around you and his body bearing down over yours. There’s instead, the knowledge that he could break your bones if he wanted to – and a desire beating at your ribcage to get this over with as quickly as possible without alerting him to how much you hate it. Lucas hums softly under his breath as he helps you scoop out the insides of the pumpkin--

You feel your gorge rise at the sight of his hands scooping out the insides alongside your own, at the sensation of the stringy sticky pulp and seeds as they coat your fingers. The viscera of the pumpkin, laid out on the newspaper, as if some grisly crime has occurred right here in Lucas’s cosy cabin kitchen.

(He doesn’t like a mess inside the house. You know about the storeroom that you’re not allowed in, having peeked in it once when he’d left the door ajar to go and pick some meat up for breakfast whilst you stood in the kitchen with the chickens pecking around your feet. When he’d come out and seen you there, you’d stammered something about Dolly the silkie having wandered off – and though there’d been mistrust in his gaze, you’d kept your eyes wide and hidden trembling hands behind your back and eventually he seemed to have believed you).

The flash of a sharp knife in his hand makes you start against your will, your back pressing against him, your rear pushing into him. He lets out a noise that’s half a strangled huff and half a breathy chuckle.

“What’re you scared of, angel?” He murmurs, and you are stiff and frozen as he gently, gently, presses the flat of the blade against the palm of your other hand. “I won’t ever hurt you. Not less you give me a reason to. And you aren’t gonna, are you?” You’re glad he can’t see the deer-in-headlights look on your face, even as you give him a jerky shake of your head, and to your immense relief returns the knife to carving. “Good. Hurts my feelings thinkin’ you’re afraid of me.”

You don’t know how to respond to that.

“I—I’m not?” You guess, stammering it out, trying to weigh out all of the options in your mind. If he was threatening you – one of those late night murmurs of “I’d break you into pieces if you ever tried to leave me, darlin’,” - then perhaps you wouldn’t have said it. But right now, he is pretending the two of you are a perfectly ordinary couple doing a perfectly ordinary thing, and so--

He laughs again, good-naturedly pressing a kiss to the top of your head. The pumpkin has taken shape now; a classic jack-o’-lantern face, jagged triangular eyes and teeth.

“You’re so cute,” he says into your hair. “Here. Look at that. Ain’t that adorable?”

Shakily, you nod. It’s not your best work – in your own kitchen, at home, you’d mastered the art of silhouetting elaborate scenes in your pumpkins. You’d used your favourite horror stills as inspiration (you force yourself not to think of last year’s pumpkin, of spending so much time carefully carving that iconic scene from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre into the orange flesh, Leatherface holding his chainsaw aloft – it’s better not to dwell too much on fictional monsters when there’s a very real one sitting behind you, holding you close, pressing a kiss to your cheek and resting his chin on your shoulder as he admires your handiwork).

This pumpkin is a little lop-sided; one eye bigger than the other, the cuts jagged and messy. But Lucas is smiling at it, and you force yourself to smile too.

“Where shall we put it?” He asks you, as he pulls himself up and offers you a hand to help you too. He’s a little too rough with it; pulling you against him with a throaty chuckle as you stumble, off-balance. Little reminders of your own fragility, your clumsiness and all of the things you struggle with always seem to put him in a good mood. “Windowsill?”

You swallow.

“C-can we put it outside?” You whisper, softly. “I know we won’t get any trick-or-treaters, or anything, but . . .”

You trail off; he’s looking at you again, the green in his gaze impossible to understand. He might be thinking about exploding into anger, he might be thinking about kissing you – but as you feel your knees threaten to knock together, he smiles instead.

It’s another smile that, on someone else, you would read as utter infatuation. Love, in all of its gooey, saccharine sweetness. On Lucas, though--

“Of course, darlin’,” he says. “Come put it out with me.”

You reach for the box of matches, but Lucas’s palm comes down over your hand before you can get a hold on them.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that,” he says, as he picks it up himself, and strikes a match against the striker strip. You flinch at the sudden light, and Lucas makes a soft noise of satisfaction. “You'daa just hurt yourself. Leave this kinda thing to me, sweetheart.”

He lights the candle and places it in the lantern himself, before he turns to you and gives you an indulgent smile again.

“D’you think you can carry it?” He asks you, voice soaked in honey. “Don’t drop it, now.”

You nod shyly as you take it, hating yourself for playing along with him. If he wants a sweet, naive little thing who can barely take care of themselves and needs the big strong hunter in the woods to do it for them . . . well, you suppose your dignity isn’t so bad a price to pay for staying alive.

You are allowed out of the cabin, supervised. You’d earnt that right by being sweet and soft and obedient, by doing what Lucas asks and doing it the way he likes. You go out to collect eggs in the morning and you’re allowed to help him in the garden, planting vegetables and tending to those he already has. But still, every time you open the front door it feels like a treat – a thrill running through you at the reminder that there is a world beyond the four walls of home that have become your prison.

Lucas takes in a hissing sigh through clenched teeth as he opens the door.

“It’s getting’ later than I thought,” he says, to himself more than you. “I’m gonna have to get goin’ soon, sweetheart.”

You nod, and carefully place the pumpkin by the front door, where the candle inside flickers and wavers in the light breeze. You find yourself wishing that it would somehow escape its own cell of pumpkin flesh and set the cabin afire – wondering if it would really be so bad, to perish like that.

(How many more Halloweens will you spend with Lucas? Is it worse if the number is small or large?)

“Do you have to go?” You ask him, voice tremulous.

You don’t know if you want him to go. You don’t want to be with him; he terrifies you, leaves you feeling rattled and confused and conquered all at once, his presence looming over everything you do. But at the same time – you can’t in good conscience want him to go out there, to cut down Halloween revellers who merely thought the woods would be a good place for a spooky experience. Are you far enough away from wherever he might go that you won’t hear the screams?

You wouldn’t be able to pretend even if you don’t hear them. You’ll meet them later on, at the end of your fork.

“Awww darlin’,” Lucas simpers at you, grasping your chin in a hold like iron. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it, I told you. I ain’t gonna let a single thing near this cabin; you ain’t gonna be in a jot of danger. I promise.”

Your face must betray your anxiety, because Lucas tugs almost painfully on it.

“Don’t you trust me, angel?”

Sickly sweet and bladed like ice, you mutely twitch your head in a meek nod.

“Of course I do . . .” You whisper, and Lucas smiles in satisfaction.

“Stay here at the door for a bit while I get ready, okay? Fresh air’ll make you feel better.”

Unspoken goes the ‘don’t you dare try and run’. You can’t see yourself doing it tonight of all nights, either – though Lucas has been sweet throughout the pumpkin carving, you can already see that as he considers the blanket of night out beyond the cabin he is shifting into a predator. So you stand there, breathing in deep, slow, controlled breaths. Trying to think about how pretty the stars are and the candy that Lucas has brought you to eat in front of his crackling old television. Trying not to hear the thud of Lucas’s boots and the sound of him getting down the axe from the wall, the swish of the displacement of air as he gives it a few practise swings.

“There we go,” Lucas says, as he comes back. His axe is slung over one shoulder, and he’s smiling at you. He hasn’t made a single allowance for the cold; he wears the same shirt in a shade of forest green, straining tight over his shoulders and biceps. The silvery skin of his scars shine in the moonlight. “Don’t stay up for me, okay? Get yourself to bed. I’ll try not to wake you up.”

(Will you wake up, hearing him drag a corpse into the store-room? It doesn’t matter – you know you won’t get much sleep tonight).

He stands there in front of you for a long moment. Anxiety sends a bead of sweat rolling down the nape of your neck. He’s waiting for something – he wants something, and you don’t know what it is, and he’s going to be angry at you for being a bad beloved and he’s going to lodge that axe in your skull--

“Don’t I get a kiss goodbye?”

His tone is teasing, but laced with simmering anger. Grateful he has thrown you a lifeline, you practically trip over your tongue as you reply in the affirmative.

One slow, lingering kiss – possessive. You’re shivering as he pulls away, and he smiles as he wipes his thumb over the corner of your mouth with something that might be fondness and might be triumph, like a hunter who has his prey cornered.

“See you later,” he says. “Don’t scare yourself silly, now.”

You stand at the door-frame, waiting for Lucas’s hulking figure to disappear into the darkness of the trees. His axe is swung over his broad shoulders. The jack-o’-lantern beside you flickers and gutters in the breeze, your only companion out here. Lucas turns and waves one hand at you, and then makes a very firm ‘shoo’ gesture that you interpret to mean ‘that’s enough, now. Get back in the house before I make you’.

You close the door behind you and turn the key as he disappears fully from your view. You’ve always felt awkward being alone in the cabin – about three weeks after your arrival here, he had given you heavy warnings and set out to the nearest town for the kind of supplies he couldn’t make himself – but tonight, it feels all the worse.

You jump at shadows and feel like you hear screams with every footstep, your brain already playing out thoughts of Lucas in the woods surrounded by corpses, bloodied and grinning and feral-bright. You have to try twice to get the video into the player, and your hands are trembling as you attempt to open a packet of M&Ms and spill them all over the sofa. You pull the curtains closed for full immersion and almost give yourself a heart attack when you see light flickering outside, until you remember the jack-o’-lantern.

Eventually, though, you do relax into the movie.

It helps that it’s a movie about a werewolf stalking a suburban town; you don’t know if your nerves would hold out if Lucas had brought you some kind of killer in the woods movie. Even he, though, seems to have realised that – a quick glance at the other movies show you that one is about giant bugs attacking and the other is set in a hospital.

It’s not a good movie. In a different lifetime, you’d watch this with friends and laugh and joke over the cheesy special effects and the over-acting. On your own, though, you at least feel somewhat comforted by the familiarity of the horror recipe. The coquettish blonde in the hot pink outfit will die first; the outcast girl in her too-big denim jacket will survive to the denouement and will perhaps kill the werewolf herself.

There’s a sound from outside.

You’re half-asleep in front of the sagging middle act of the movie, but the crunch of leaves under feet has you bolt upright. Lucas can’t be home already, can he?

Time stands still. There’s a muffled giggle, and then a low voice murmuring something. You slowly, slowly, pull yourself up from the couch. You’re grateful to have pulled the curtains closed. At least they can’t tell you’re in here.

A hundred scenarios run through your head, none of them ending well. You think of every home invasion movie in a holiday home in the middle of nowhere you’ve ever seen. You could laugh at the absurdity of dying like that, when you’re literally the prisoner of some cannibal psychopath already . . . all of that, and some other horror trope catches up with you instead?

Three knocks on the door, and a voice jokingly calls;

“Trick or Treat!”

Oh, saying all of that stuff to Lucas about trick or treating was so stupid. Wanting a pumpkin out there so you could pretend to have one little bit of normalcy left in your life.

A rumble of conversation floats through the walls; something about a dead phone battery, needing to find somewhere with a landline, a map that didn’t seem to have any of the landmarks they’d seen marked on it.

(You can sympathise with that; the map you’d been using, once upon a time, hadn’t made a single lick of sense after you’d gotten into the heart of the woods, like some nature spirit was messing with you).

But that could just be a way to make your defenses fall, you think. You’ve seen that in movies time and time again – I need the bathroom, I need to use your phone, I’m sorry I fell over and I’m injured can I rest here--

One of them has the nerve to try the door; the key jingles traitorously in the lock.

You’re shaking as you approach. You can hear conversation now; a male voice and a female voice, arguing. They sound about your age.

“There’s a fucking jack-o’-lantern burning, and there’s a key in the front door, of course someone’s in--”

“Look, this is some horror movie bullshit, I don’t like it--”

“Do you think anyone keeping fuckin’ . . . those fluffy-ass chickens is gonna be a murderer? C’mon. It’s probably some old couple with their hearing going. I’m gonna knock again--”

Three raps on the door and you find yourself collapsed against the cabin wall, your knees trembling. You know you should answer the door and you should tell them what’s going on here. You should beg them to run and take you with them.

But now you’re faced with it, you don’t know what to do.

“Hello?” The girl’s voice is louder now. “Is anyone home?”

Oh, she shouldn’t be shouting. Lucas can hear when you drop a fork doing the washing up from halfway across the yard, and always comes hurrying to make sure you haven’t hurt yourself.

“Look,” the boy, “We just need to use your phone, we’re lost—”

Another voice cuts across the squabbling – one deeper and darker and grittier. A thick Southern accent.

“You sure as hell are,” it says, and there’s outright hate in it. “What the fuck do you think you’re doin’ on my property?”

The girl screams. You can’t blame her; at six foot four and bound in scars and muscle, Lucas is a frightening prospect at the best of times. But when he’s appeared from nowhere, holding his axe, like a horror movie villain . . .

“Shit!” The boy is swearing. “Look, man, I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

You do not see the axe come down – how could you, from the hallway, behind the door? But you hear two screams, this time – both his and hers – and you hear the wet sound of something sharp meeting something soft. Blade striking bone – the slick noise of an axe blade being pulled out of a body and then swung back in. The sound of someone choking on blood, of someone sobbing--

You don’t know how long it goes on for. Your knees give out long before the girl gives up on screaming, as you sink onto the floor and hug yourself tight and squeeze your eyes shut against the noises.

It could last forever. You try and think of something else; somewhere happier. What would you be doing right now, if you were at home? How different would your October have been?

But the slosh of blood and the hacking noise of blade and flesh worm into your consciousness, the very real massacre going on outside the front door seeping into every memory you try and recall. Your pumpkins smashed to pieces, accusing staring eyes of the corpses of your friends at last year’s Halloween party as a man with an axe mows them down in your living room--

The noises have stopped. There’s not even heavy breathing, now.

“Darlin’?” Lucas calls out, from behind the door. “C’mon. I know you’re there. You can open the door now. You’re safe.”

You can’t disobey him, you remember, as you shakily climb back to your feet, using the wall as leverage. If you don’t do as he says, then you will also meet the business end of his weapon – and he’s already said, in those jealousy-fuelled threats that he whispers into your hair at the most intimate of moments, that for your betrayal, he’d make it hurt.

You turn the key with a trembling hand, and have to force your fingers to close around the door handle. Slowly, slowly, you pull it open--

The front porch is a mess of blood and flesh and organs and other things you carefully do not look at. These people have been butchered for more than just meat – but you look up at Lucas’s eyes instead and ignore them. You can’t think too hard on it.

There are splashes of blood all over his face, flecks of red in his stubble. His clothes are ruined.

“You’re safe now,” he murmurs, and he steps forward and the tang of blood invades your mouth and your nostrils and gets on your clothes as he pulls you into a tight embrace. “Don’t worry. I told ya’, I won’t let nothin’ happen to you. Not tonight, not ever.”

He says it like this poor lost couple were a threat, and not just unfortunates who happened upon the wrong woods at the wrong time. The wrong house.

(If you hadn’t put that pumpkin out, they wouldn’t have thought that there was anyone here. It’s your fault.)

His grip around you is tight. You squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face in his chest for a moment, and try to pretend nothing has happened.

It can’t last. Lucas pulls back, takes hold of your shoulders.

“Well?” He says – and bile rises in your throat as you realise you have to say it. You have to do it. If you want to stay on his good side--

“Thank you,” you breathe out, hating yourself for every syllable. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

And as you stretch onto your tiptoes and Lucas bends down to meet your lips for a thank you kiss, you pretend that there aren’t two corpses outside of the front door.

You carved a pumpkin. You ate candy. You watched a shitty horror movie. It’s like every Halloween before it--

He pulls back; a hand ruffling through your hair, a smile on his face.

“Happy Halloween, darlin’. You get back inside while I clean this up, okay? Night ain’t over yet.”

[euphoricfilter]

i would like to share this smut fic idea that’s been rotting my brain for days now

(cw: smut, dom! jimin, sub! reader, both wearing skirts while they fuck and a little bit of spanking, use of a dildo. mild talks of body image)🕺

likely to be titled: ‘the feminine pact’

this is half a product of a tiktok i saw and half part of the conversation that was brought up last week… maybe two weeks ago about how femininity and dominance can coexist within the same sphere

and a mildly self indulgent fic to heal my weird mindset when it comes to clothes and how undeserving i feel of actual nice things or ways i present myself

☆ jimin and you who have been in a long term relationship, both know you’re each other’s lasts and neither have any plans to break it off as you are both very much obsessed with one another and hold too much love for the other to even think of someone else in more than a platonic sense

☆ i’m thinking maybe you stumbles across a pretty little dress or skirt, something super feminine and so far out of what you would normally wear. and maybe jimin notices you’ve been looking at it for a little longer than you usually would and asks why you don’t buy it

☆ you’d shake your head and tell him it wasn’t really for you (and jimin would pick up on the double meaning). you’ve both talked about self image and self depreciation before so he knows it’s more than just not thinking it’ll fit your body— you feels undeserving.

☆ and so, as the best boyfriend he is, jimin would obviously order it for you. but he wouldn’t stop there; he’d buy one for himself too!!

☆ and maybe you would cry, a little overwhelmed, scared, worried even. but so very much in love with jimin and how much of a sweetheart he is that you don’t know what else to do but cry and cling onto him with a blubbery thank you tumbling off your lips between hiccups

☆ jimin wouldn’t have been oblivious to talk of his own frowned upon femininity. not exactly the perfect man, too lithe and too pretty. probably having grown up in a household that held ‘typical’ masculinity above everything. and so, his own personal growth would play a part in the story too!! as he discovers that it’s okay to be a mid-point. that being a ‘good stereotypical’ man isn’t the be-all-end-all and that actually accepting femininity as a part of himself makes him feel more comfortable in his own skin

☆ and hence forth the femininity pact!

☆ you’d probably both talk about it again because communication is important for the both of you! how when you wears skirts or dresses you feel strange in her own skin. and jimin talking about his own little fantasies of just, not being restrained to what has been expected of him and exploring a part of him he hadn’t felt comfortable to explore before

☆ and then comes the conversation of how you’d even approach this. starting off small. glittery pink eye shadow and hours spent watching make up tutorials from youtube, streamed on the tv so you can really take in what is being said

☆ learning how to do eyeliner, with you sat on the counter in the bathroom as jimin leans closer to the mirror. and maybe he learns how to do it a little faster, less chunky, maybe even learning how to do it with eye shadow. and then each morning, he does his own and then yours

☆ once the dysmorphia becomes somewhat more bearable with the make up, still a new feeling for the both of you. then would come the clothes. probably one of the biggest challenges

☆ both of them starting with cute tops, an easy start but still a little daunting. jimin would make sure you’re always matching, always changing before you do and then helping you into your clothes. kissing each insecurity he knows you have before helping with your buttons or zipping up a skirt

☆ and of course, jimin would find you utterly beautiful. it’s not that he hadn’t seen you as anything but before. but this, this was something new.

☆ and so, he’d fuck you with the both of you wearing skirts.

☆ glittery eye shadow clinging to the pads of his fingers that leave a shimmery path of pretty love down your body as he pulls your shirt over your tits

☆ his eyeliner a little smudged— print of your lipstick painting his cheeks, maybe dark red, or a blush pink.

☆ maybe he’d fuck you on the bathroom counter, make up and skincare clattering to the floor as he thrusts up into you. silk pyjamas pulled over your thighs and jimin’s pooling at his ankles, calling you pretty and perfect and so utterly his— he wants to stuff you full of his cum until it’s dripping down your thighs and you’re a total mess with zero thoughts except him.

☆ and maybe the days you needed that little push, swallowed by your own self deprecating thoughts and ugly emotions that made you feel shitty. jimin wouldn’t have it. tugging a skirt up your hips and then laying you over his thighs, deft fingers coming down to slap your ass until tears cling to your waterline and slick soaked the crotch of your frilly panties

☆ and maybe he gets a little carried away while the two of you are out. dragging you into the bathroom, kissing you until your lips are smudged and sticky with lipgloss that he re-applies after fingering you. your pretty glittery nails digging into his shoulders and raking down his back

☆ and being the little menace that he is. he’d buy you a glittery pink dildo. all cute and fun until he makes you bounce on it in front of him. his cock straining under the dress he’s wearing.

☆ and you’re not allowed his cock until you’ve made yourself all pretty and messy for him. pretty pussy a little puffy and used before he slides between your walls and claims you as his all over again. making sure you lick his cock clean of your juices and stuffing his fingers back into your cunt so his seed doesn’t spill out of you.

☆ just jimin fucking you in a skirt and the both of you being pretty people that learn to love yourselves and pretty things

[chickycherrycola]

Summer Nights

Hello and happy 4/20 friends! 😎🚬 In honor of the holiday, it is finally time to unveil a very special new fic! This one is a joint (hehe) effort between myself and my dearest pal @moriohpissky - our degenerate little love child, Summer Nights! I've teased bits and pieces of the first chapter over the past several weeks, and I'm so excited to finally release it to the world today, in all of its smutty, self-indulgent glory 😉🔥 featuring SoMa, the dorks in love as always, in a college/university, friends-with-benefits setting, and Soul as I've always wanted to write him - as a tattooed, weed-smoking, rock band guitarist 🤘 Full summary below:

Summer Nights

Rating: E (for explicit sexual content, marijuana use, partying and alcohol consumption. Adult stuff up the wazoo.)

Summary:

"On the heels of a messy breakup, Maka Albarn finds herself at the end of her junior year in college trying to pick up the pieces of her broken heart and fit them back together. When her roommate drags her to a frat party, an unexpected hookup with her handsome, tattooed, guitarist friend Soul leads Maka to scheme up the perfect remedy for her aching heart and shattered confidence: a hot summer fling with no expectations, no commitment, and no strings attached.

That is, if she can make it to the fall semester without catching feelings."

Ch 1 preview under the cut - or you can head right to AO3 and read!

Leah has also been cooking up a COMIC to go along with this first chapter! So if you like what you see here, please keep an eye out for that today as well!

She doesn’t usually do stuff like this. 

As her back hits the mattress and her field of vision tilts upward, she finds herself taking a mental inventory of her current state–a task that proves more difficult than usual, given the fuzziness in her brain and the tingling ache blooming low in her gut. Through the roar of her heartbeat in her ears and the electricity crackling in her veins, she craves the comfort of that which has always brought her solace–facts. Logic. Common sense.

Unfortunately, all of the above seem to be in short supply at present. 

Maka Albarn doesn’t go to frat parties.

The sour aroma of cheap beer in the air and the faint rumble of bass notes, the distant din of intermingled voices and the occasional whoop or shout from the lower floors of the house suggest otherwise. 

Maka Albarn doesn’t smoke weed.

The pungent, earthy taste in her mouth begs to differ, as well as the heat in her blood and the lag in her thoughts, the weightlessness of her limbs and the floating sensation permeating her senses.

Maka Albarn doesn’t hook up with guys she isn’t dating. She doesn’t hook up with anyone at all, ever, in fact.

The current body of evidence points to the contrary. 

The rustle of bed sheets beneath her and the tickle of rough lips tracing the line of her pulse, the callused hands cradling her face and slowly mapping the curve of her waist. The warm, intoxicating weight of a body–solid, hard, masculine–pressed against hers and the soft, pale hair tangled between her fingers. The heat of his breath and the lingering taste of smoke when his mouth presses to her lips, the click of her teeth against his and the slow, tentative trace of his tongue around hers as the kiss deepens.

Maybe, she thinks to herself, somewhat distantly, if Maka Albarn doesn’t do any of those things, then maybe… maybe, just for a little while, I can be someone else. 

Even if it’s just pretend.

Read the rest on AO3!

[chiricat]

another ramble about art again so i’m hiding it all under a ‘keep reading’ thingy so as to not clog ur feeds :]

aka thoughts about imposter syndrome, fanart, and what it means to draw stuff loosely disguised as a ‘ramble’. maybe a bit of akito almost-kinnie-isms (and probably ena) in there too because why not. also sorry this gets a lot less coherent as it goes on (i lost my train of thought near the end. it’ll come back someday)

i want to keep getting better. i want to keep growing and improving, so that i can convey the ideas in my head to others. i’m afraid to stagnate for too long, because what if it means i’ve hit my limit? what if i’ll never get better than i am right now? an irrational thought, really, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. hell, i felt like i hadn’t improved all that much from a year ago, when i tried to redraw a few of my older posts.

part of this stems from the question ‘how do people see my art? what kind of artist am i to them?’ which comes from when i got into fanart and fandom spaces, a long time ago. i would categorize the people i looked up to, my idols, my role models. there was the one that made comics that felt like home with your friends, and there was the one that made pieces that felt like i was sitting in a café in the middle of a busy city, and there was the one that made renders that felt like i was looking at liquid gold. i was fascinated by the effects of all these different artstyles, and decided that i wanted to do the same. i wanted to make art that made people feel at home, like a fic that you keep coming back to, or art that conveyed how i felt well enough that others felt the same way, or could understand it at the very least. 

naturally, as i continued to draw and admire these artists from afar, i wondered why exactly their art appealed to me. at first, the answer was simple: i like looking at it. but that wasn’t good enough - what about the things i didn’t really care to look at, then? what made this piece any different?

so i tried to understand, why i liked something, or why others liked something. after studying art for a little (yay classes) i understood more, i understood why those artists made the choices they did. for one, it was their powerful composition, and how they wanted to pull the viewer in with the characters. for another, it was their color palettes, which were always balanced yet strong and guaranteed to catch your eye because of it. other times, it would be the lighting, angled to present the characters in such a way that it made you feel like you were there too, or linework that made you feel just how much the artist cherished the characters. there were other, less technical things too, but i was trying to build a foundation before diving into things that were harder to learn.

in short, there was so, so much more to everything than i had realized as a kid.

so i asked myself the same question. why do people like my art? why is my art appealing and worthy of your time? and where did i fit in, if i were to categorize myself? 

these questions got a little worse. incredibly irrational. imposter syndrome was kicking in when i saw that more people were liking my art, especially when i compared it to myself from a year ago. or when my favorite artists were following me back. (it was weird, somewhat. i had always seen them as worlds away from my own space, artists that i had admired from afar and thus never believed that they would turn around and see me.)

‘do people actually like my art? is my art actually worth anyone’s time?’ i wonder. ‘do i deserve these nice comments, or even these likes?’ 

‘am i even getting better at all?’

these are a bit foolish of me to think. it shouldn’t matter, really. as long as i’m enjoying drawing and having a fun time, then why should it matter whether others like it or not? i don’t have to be doing my best, giving it 110% all the time, i’m allowed to make goofy art or self-indulgent art. this is my motto, for the most part. as long as you’re enjoying the craft, then it’s worth it.

but with the goal of improvement, i don’t always want to stay in my comfort zone. i want to keep pushing my limits, even if its just a little at a time, so i can make something impressive, something that really resonates as much as i want it to, as much as certain pieces resonated with me when i was younger. the same way that i kept coming back to certain pieces (and still do), i want to be able to do that too. i don’t want to feel like a kid playing at an adult’s game, like someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing and it shows.

it’s a tricky balance. i’m not sure if i’ll ever truly feel like i’ve ‘finally done it’. i think that most artists are never truly content with their work as a whole, anyways, and that’s okay. that’s something i should be more okay with. i can make art just for fun, and i can also make art with the intent of solely improving or practicing. i can even combine the two, and most of the time, i try to anyways.

(sorry, i lost my train of thought after writing the last few paragraphs... i dunno where i wanted to go with this exactly HHH.

tldr; i’m always stuck between ‘i’m happy making this art even if its bad’ and ‘i need to get better and leave people in awe to feel like i deserve the love and nice comments i receive’.

if you somehow managed to get to the end of this, ty for reading, even if it was a hot dumpster fire LMAO)

[diminuel]

hello, currently enjoying your lord of amara story and it is torturing me in all sorts of ways. don't normally enjoy abo stories but your writing is captivating!

but have to ask something. as a trans myself, keep seeing the medicine 💉 Cas uses as an allegory for hrt, was this intentional at all? obviously abo dynamics and gender dysphoria aren't one to one, but my brain is mush and won't let it go.

either way thank you for writing it! looking forward to more of your ideas coming through.

Hello! Thank you for giving the story a try! I’m glad you’re enjoying it so far! ♥

In parts! It is probably as close as it gets to HRT in this fantasy 19th century a/b/o society. Though I’d say it’s not intended to be an allegory for HRT due to the negative connotations the medicine has. I would maybe argue that it is rather an allegory for the harm we might do to ourselves to fit into the expectations other people have for us.

But this is mostly due to the nature of the set up for the story that uses Cas being blindsided by being an omega and consequently forced to suppress being an omega as the catalyst for drama. If his father would not have forced him into the role of successor in a society that only accepts alpha sons as successors he might have felt comfortable being an omega. So I think Cas' trouble with his presentation is situational and the use of the use of the medicine is understood as a sacrifice he brings for the sake of his family, not necessarily because he makes the choice to be an alpha. But because he has no other choice.

Since I’m writing this fic for self-indulgence, this fic will mostl likely take the scenic route to tell an omega Cas story. That said there are hints in the narration that point towards Cas being somewhat critical of other characters pushing the fact that he’s an omega and that he must come to term with his body and the new set of expectations and odd rules that come with it. And again, being able to openly be an omega is tied to Dean's promise to him. So that might also be an issue. I try to sprinkle in some points every now and then that Cas did grow up as an alpha and that he was also very good at being an alpha.

But at the end of the day I’m not really the kind of author who tells you how I want my fic to be interpreted. ;3 I'm also not particularly good at telling you about the thoughts behind my writing because it took me like two hours to write this answer X'D

[wilchur]

Saw someone else do it and I think I've done this before too, but the list has grown since then a bit so here's my current lineup of read dead wips that I'm working on!! :D Minus the stuff that's already posted on AO3 cuz I see no point in doing a synopsis for things that have left my google drive and you can go and read ahah.

Turned out loooooong so lookie under the cut if you're interested in knowing what I'm up to.

Morston Soulmate AU (title tba, multichapter, around 20-30k when finished) - An AU where you can feel all the injuries your soulmate gets, both minor and major ones. There's no soul marks, seeing your soulmate get hurt and connecting the dots is the only way to find out. Has a lot of time skips and focuses more on feelings than events, but starts out pre-canon when John almost gets lynched and works its way towards the end of the canon story. Chapters alternate between Arthur's and John's POV. Canon compliant :)

RDR2 "Modern AU" (title tba, multichapter, long as shit) - I only call it a modern AU for the sake of simplicity... I'm not sure if it counts as one. Set in 1999 and focuses on the case of Arthur Matthews -- a 36 year old adoptive son of the infamous criminal defence lawyer Hosea Matthews, who went missing without a trace for six months and then reappeared miles from his hometown, seemingly unharmed, but also... not quite right. Delusional, confused, suffering from some sort of memory impairment. The story is about Arthur struggling to adapt to being back home in a reality that is apparently foreign to him. Outsider's/John's POV, but not really shippy. It can be read as pre-slash, though.

My Self-Indulgent Jesse/Arthur fic (another title tba lol, it's too early to tell but I'm thinking multichapter? A collection of scenes from 1878 to 1899) - This one is for me and me only, though I will eventually post it 😂 Written in second person, like a reader-insert and can be read as one if someone wants to, but I am including Jesse's backstory and feelings that are way too specific to be immersive for anyone but myself... I'm working real hard to write it in a way that portrays growing up queer in that time somewhat realistically, so it's not always pretty, but I do try to keep it not that depressing. Features: Jesse's early-life backstory, the story of the scar, his first Gay Experience, how his brothers died, the ups and downs of his relationship with Arthur, why they eventually broke up for what felt like last time, how he got arrested (altered RDO storyline bit) and how he got back up with the gang. I'm planning to do a rough rewrite/fix-it of the canon story with him in it too, but that's... an "one day" thing ajsddjfk

Morston Omegaverse (title tba, one shot, around 10-15k probably? I can't keep things short, sorry) - Young-ish and freshly presented Alpha John, "Closeted" Omega Arthur. Ngl this one is smutty as hell... but! I think my take on omegaverse is rather fun (very transgendered) and it's porn WITH not without plot so something for everyone there lol. John's POV again + lotsa feelings, misunderstandings and some angst :) Just the way I like it.

Vandermatthews Daemon AU (had a title but ao3 yeeted my draft and I forgot what it was, oops)- I say Vandermatthews, but it's more of a "curious couple, unruly son" genfic than real slashfic 😅 This is supposed to be the beginning a series of oneshots from different characters' POV. This one is maybe a 1/3 done (needs a serious rewrite tho) and written from Hosea's POV. It's about him and Dutch finding and taking in young Arthur -- a very traumatised child who has undergone intercision and therefore lost his daemon. More of a collection of vignettes from that moment to when they take in John than a real coherent fic tho. The next one is going to be John's POV coming of age thing and we'll see where my brain will go from there. I want to do a separate big ass post about this one later because I have Opinions on the gang members' daemons that I need either challenged or validated...

1907!John/Isaac fic (title tba... a two parter, one set in the epilogue and the second is a RDR1 fix-it) - NOW HEAR ME OUT!!!!!! PUT DOWN THE GODDAMN PITCHFORKS FOR A SECOND PLS This is a plot bunny that Refused To Fucking Die. Isaac is obviously an adult in this (22), they have never met before, and the story begins in the months where Abigail and Jack were gone and John worked alone on Pronghorn ranch. It's not so much a romance (despite the slash) but more two people dealing with different types of grief in Very Unhealthy ways, okay. It's supposed to be a bit iffy because of that and the... 12 years of difference between them in this universe. I'm not trying to make this shit uwu or anything. It's also a bit of a daddy issues vent piece for me and I've been working it for MONTHS because I want to write this one right. This is the the fic I redacted in my last WIP showcase, but now decided that... fuck it. Here you go.

(Doubt anyone has made it this far, but if you did ily.. please lemme know what you think? My ask box is open for questions too... I love talking about the stuff I'm working on even if it's not posted yet ❤)

[yand3r3-everything]

Your Pain, Their Gain

Yandere sun and moon x reader

Warnings: is a fic involving reader having periods and period pain

Self-indulgent cuz holy FUCK it hurts this time:

"Hrng. Fuuuck why now!?" You mentally complain as another spike stabs you through your organs. Usually, they're tolerable, even moreso if a pain reliever and caffeine are used. However, this time not even any of that helped.

It stabs yet again aggressively enough to make you hunch yourself on the chair behind the daycare desk. Your breath is forced slowly out to not wake the sleeping kids.

You've managed to act normal enough through the day so as not to worry Sun and Moon. It was hard, and all you wanted to do the whole time was put pressure on your lower stomach.

Since arriving for your shift, the day is almost over. The kids will just be picked up and then it will be time to end the shift as well.

Sadly, you were a bit too unobservant of Moon, who noticed your sudden hunching. He quickly comes over, rather concerned (not that he’d ever openly admit it). “What’s wrong?” He asks, lowering the volume of his voice.

“It’s fi-” You clench your fists tight enough for them to shake. “Fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Sure doesn’t seem just fine," he quips, already knowing what it might be.

"Shut it," you snap, not liking his tone. "You can't do anything anyways. It's just a girl thing."

"A period?" He replies, ignoring your unusually snappy act.

You look at him questioningly. "You guys know what it is?" You honestly doubted it before since the kids around aren't usually in the normal age range.

"It was programmed after Sun freaked out on a 9-year-old before. Embarrassed her so badly she never wanted to come back.

You instantly felt bad for the girl. "Fine. There's still nothing you can do to help."

Moon knows an idea that he and Sun will agree on. And they've already agreed on making you stay the night to help, even if the light has to be turned off for Moon to get you.

He comes up behind your chair, wrapping an arm at your lower stomach, faintly squeezing to add pressure. He then heats up the arm. A function made more for kids who fall asleep on them.

The relief is almost immediate. You let out a quiet sigh.

Moon can feel Sun's excitement through their mind. A bit of guilt too for planning to use your pain for their benefit. Moon has no guilt whatsoever about it.

"Have Sun take care of sending off the kids. We can't have you snapping at a nuisance of a parent now, do we?"

You're too tired to really care, and just nodded to his question. It's probably true. You can't even count how many times a kid almost made you yell. A problematic parent would be a final straw.

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

It didn't take long for Sun to send off most of the kids. Luckily, there was only one parent Sun had a little trouble with, but security was called to deal with it.  

The final kid leaves and Sun immediately turbs towards you, who is standing to seem more presentable to the parents. “Alright, time to clock out, head home, and bury myself with the heating pad and blankets.” Just imagining the comfort makes it so much more enticing to leave immediately.

Sun opens his arms wide. "Come here, starlight! Let us help your pain again!"

Eh, you’d rather not. Earlier felt great, though it was a bit weird. “Sorry Sun, but I’d really rather just go home. Maybe some other time.”

Neither attendant liked that answer.

You’d have to pass him to leave the daycare.

Sun crosses his arms instead. He’s sad about it, and doesn’t have the willpower to force you to stay, but Moon sure does. The lights are supposed to shut off in just a few minutes, he just has to stall a bit!

“But why not!? It’s not fair Moon got to hug you for a bit earlier!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. It wasn’t a fully willing thing earlier. “Again, some other time. I’ll be fine until getting home.”

Sun shakes his head. “Fine! But at least a hug before you go? Just to make it somewhat fair?”  

Fine. If it will get him to stop. You trudge over, stopping for a second as yet another spike decides to make its presence known.

Yeah, you’re staying. They agree even more on now.

Sun walks up to you instead, wrapping his arms around you.

After a second, you try to let go and push out of the embrace. Sun won’t let go.

… The lights go out, having Moon come out.

They made sure not to let go of you during transforming.

Moon comes out and looms over you.

“Alright, you can let me go now. I gotta go home before Vanessa loses her head at me.”

He pretends to think. “Mmm. no.” He summons the wire to hook onto him, lifting you both into the tower.

“Moon! Bring me back down!”

He turns you around, pulling your back to his front, starting the heat again, slightly higher than before. They’re more than willing to slightly overheat if it comes down to it for you. “No.”  He brings you over to a pile of pillows and blankets, forcing you to lay down with him. Your squirming and struggling completely fruitless. Even trying to hit him does nothing.

He tightens his grip on your lower stomach, making you stop. “Hush, time to sleep.”

They absolutely love the feeling of you against them. They’ll definitely have to force this again sometime.

The pressure and heat is too comfortable… Fuck. Ugh, might as well enjoy it since they’re not going to let you anywhere anytime soon.

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

I am so torn between them both calling you starlight, or sunflower/moonflower. It will probably hop between the two ways a lot.

[stardust-kenobi]

Calm Your Mind

Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Your bond with Din continues to grow stronger, as do your intimate feelings for one another. You open up to him about being stressed, and he offers his assistance. 

Warnings: fluff, light smut, fingering, Din being an angel and the king of consent

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: Ok so this is sort of a sequel to Stay but it can be read independently, which is why it’s named differently rather than as a part two. And just like that fic, the child isn’t with Din. It worked better for the plot I was writing. That remains the same in this fic as well. Side note: this is self indulgent

GIf is not mine

“Told you I’d win” you chuckled, throwing your cards flat in front of him.

He breathed out heavily with a subtle laugh trailing the end.

“You won because I’ve never played this before” Din attempted to justify his loss.

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just really good at it” you teased.

“Probably a little of both” Din remarked.

You were both on your 4th card game of the evening, sat on the floor of the Crest’s cockpit so that Din could safely monitor the status of your trip. Unbeknownst to him, you stared at him, admiring his company, while he gathered his cards to start a new game.

A week had passed since you shared your first kiss together by the fire on Endor. You worried that things would be awkward. They were, at first, but it was your own fault for not knowing how to act with all of your built up romantic feelings for him. The issue of not being able to see him, though, thankfully didn’t create any barriers for you two.

That same night of your first intimate moment, Din asked if you would sleep in his bed with him. He claimed he felt bad that you were always shivering when you slept on the floor, but you know he needed your warmth and company during the night. It was so dark in his compartment that housed his small bed that he was able to comfortably sleep next to you while his helmet and armor were all removed considering you couldn’t see him. So now you sleep next to him every night. It’s cramped in his quarters but the comfort of his touch soothes you to bed every evening without fail.

To no surprise, you two couldn’t keep your lips off of each other. The access to his bare face in the darkness tempted you to no end. Overall, though, you were taking things slow with each other’s bodies. You’d not progressed any further than making out with him on nightly basis. His body provided a multitude of signals that he wanted more, some of those signals were more obvious than others, but you both understood that slower was better.

Through all of this, he also offered you a kindness that you’d never experienced before. He cared about you. He was protective of you. He never failed to make sure you were always feeling okay and that you were happy. Din was falling for you, too. That much was clear.

“Another round?” Din suggested.

“I’m feeling a little tired, actually” you announced, hinting that you were done playing.

“Okay. Get some rest” he looked back at you. It remained that you were only able to adore the reflection of the beskar that protected and covered his physical features. You stare for an obvious amount of time before he notices. Din observes the slight frown now present on your expression.

“Is everything ok?” He inquired with concern.

“Oh yeah, I’m okay. Really, I’m just tired” you admitted. That was the truth. You were tired. But you also had too much on your mind. Your past was haunting your memories. You hoped that sleeping would clear your thoughts.

“You seem stressed” he stated. How could he read you so well?

“Yeah...Just a lot on my mind” you confessed to him.

“Do you want to talk to me about it?” His tone was warm and worrisome.

“I know I haven’t been very open about my past, it’s just something I want to leave behind me. I used to live on my own...I was living life in constant danger” you started. Your eyes were glued to the floor. You were shy when discussing your life, specifically that part of it.

“You’re safe with me, y/n” he reminded you. “I’ll never let anyone or anything hurt you, cyar’ika. I promise”

A small bundle of tears formed in your eyes. You believed him, which made it more emotional for you. Memories of your cold, harsh past was absent now. All your attention turned to the warmth you felt for him inside your heart. He sees your sorrow building and pushes himself from where he sat to sit next to you.

“That means so much to me, Din” you looked up at him.

“You mean so much to me” he responded certainly.

His gloved thumb stopped the tear from trailing your cheek. Din was getting better at expressing his feelings, and you’d like to think you helped him achieve that.

“I don’t even know how to respond to someone saying something that nice to me”

“You don’t have to say a word, y/n. I just needed you to hear it. I needed you to know”

“Thank you” you said softly while leaning against his shoulder.

“No...thank you, y/n” he said, grateful for your presence.

“I haven’t always known how to express myself...or my...feelings I guess” he began “but somehow, with you, it feels easier”

“You say everything that you need to say” you consoled him.

“Are you happy?” He inquired suddenly

“I’m happy with you, yes. I just wish I could calm my mind” you breathed out in frustration.

“You really should go lie down, get some sleep” he suggested, wanting you to be able to relax.  “That might help”

“Okay” you agreed. Din rose to his feet and turned to lift you onto yours as well. You smiled sweetly as his gestures and migrated out of the cockpit.

“I’ll be there shortly, need to adjust some things on the ship first” He said, turning toward the ships controls, assumedly to set it to autopilot for the night. His attention snapped to you behind him once more to see you smiling back at him.

You changed your clothing. You remained only in a tank top and some shorts. As you crawled into the bed, you closed the door, waiting on Din to join you soon. You knew he had to remove his armor before entering and you wanted to close yourself off from accidentally seeing him helmetless.

As you laid there, you wondered if you had the time to masturbate. Your tension from your loaded stress and racing thoughts could likely be somewhat deflated if you could relieve yourself in that way. You feared being too forward by asking Din to help you, so you wanted to do it quickly on your own.

In the process of making the decision, Din knocked twice onto the door, meaning he was going to open the door and to shut your eyes.

You hear the latch close as the weight of his body joined next to you. When you opened your eyes, It returned to complete darkness as your mind is beginning to calm itself with his close presence. You couldn’t wait to feel his body against yours. As you turned over, you feel the bare skin of his chest, a new experience for you. Normally, he keeps his undershirt and pants on when he sleeps at night.

“It’s a little warm in here. Is it okay that I’m like this?” He asked. You never got over how lovely his pure voice was when he was without his helmet and so close to you.

You took in the feeling of his unexpectedly soft skin on his torso and firmness of his abdomen against you. Your fingers travelled from his neck to his stomach, admiring the way he felt. The way he really felt.

“This is more than okay to me” you said, a satisfied tone in your voice.

“Okay, sweetheart”

Your heart melted at this new name for you. You shyly giggled.

He responded by pressing his lips against your forehead delicately before bringing them down to your mouth and pushing his kiss deep into you. You savored his scent and his taste while you could.

“Goodnight” he whispered.

“Goodnight”

You tossed subtly back and forth, and in the small space, it was apparent to Din. You couldn’t fall asleep, not with your current state of mind.

“Y/n are you alright?” He worriedly asked when your restlessness persisted.

“I can’t sleep” you frustratingly stated.

“What can I do to help?” He inquired.

Here’s your chance, y/n...

“Well you could....” you started, unable to finish your sentence.

“I could what?” He awaited your request.

“Um, usually when I’ve got a lot on my mind I’ll...y’know...” you continued hesitantly

“What do you mean?...oh!” He realized what you meant after it processed with him.

“You don’t have to do that though, just forget it” you spit out, not wanting him to pleasure you if he didn’t want to.

“I...um, I’d like that, actually”

The way he said it you could just tell there was a giant smirk plastered onto his expression.

“Really?” You rhetorically asked, shocked at his response.

“I want to help you feel better...and feel...good” he struggled to find the words. Your heart began to beat faster, this was the first time he’d touch you, really touch you.

“Is that okay?” He requested your consent.

“Yes” you breathed softly.

“If you want me to stop just tell me”

“Okay”

“I’m gonna get on top of you okay?” He walked you through his actions because of the darkness inside his quarters.

You laid flat on your back and he placed one knee between your partially opened legs and the other knee to the left of your hip.

You heart fluttered and the butterflies inside your stomach were so excited that they tried to fly away from you. You were nervous, but you were ready for him to have his hands on you, and in you.

His lips crashed into yours again. He pressed them into you deeply and your mouths danced together in sync. It grew more intense while his hand wandered your body gently, his bare hand. His skins against yours. His fingers curled under the hem of your shorts and tugged lightly. You lifted your hips, allowing him the ability to remove them. As you shimmy them off at your ankles, the warmth of his hand slowly travelled up your thigh.

The kiss was removed from your mouth and relocated to your neck. Something barely resembling a moan was released from your mouth at the feeling of him exploring you. He smiled against your skin, continuing to place delicate pecks down to your collarbone.

His finds his way to your slit, barely accessible to him with the narrow opening you provided with your legs.

“This still okay?” He wanted to reconfirm with you before he went any further.

“Yes, please” you begged, so aroused already that you could barely stand it. You opened your legs slightly wider.

“You’re so soft” he whispered as he trailed his fingers up your slit, finding your aching clit and applying slightly pressure.

“Mmm” you moaned softly

He took it slow, responding your voice and body language as you rolled your hips up into him. He laid 3 fingers flat against your clit and rotated them slowly.

“Does that feel good, cyar’ika?”

“Yes, Din” you breathed.

He rubbed with more pressure, adding to your pleasure as he continued to focus on your sensitive parts. You whimpered at his touch while he hovered above you, listening to your sounds and focusing on making you feel good.

You didn’t think he had much experience in this area but he was proving to be a quick learner.

You were dripping wet now and needed to be filled. He must’ve read your mind because as soon as you felt your own wetness pooling between your legs, his fingers arrived at your entrance.

“Shit” you cried as he pushed two fingers inside of you. Your walls were tight around him while he pumped his digits slowly.

“That’s it” he encouraged you. “tell me how good it feels”

“It feels so good, Din” you moaned to him. His lips pressed firm against yours again, unexpectedly. You slipped your tongue between his lips and he gladly reciprocated the action. You continued to moan into his mouth in reaction to his fingers pumping faster.

Subtle, precious noises came form within him too. He was turned on by pleasuring you that it too brought himself pleasure.

He was consistent with his motions inside of you, making it easier for you to reach your orgasm quicker. His fingers curled as they retracted, hitting a deep sweet spot against your walls. 

“You like that? Huh? You gonna cum baby?” He seductively asked after pulling away from your lips, his mouth close to your ear.

“Yes, I’m so close” you breathed out hard to catch your breath.

“Cum around my fingers, cyar’ika. C’mon” he coaxed you closer to your climax. His voice was no doubt the sexiest thing about him, you could cum to the sound of his voice alone. His words words were filled with an alluring tone, something you really hadn’t heard from him before.

“Fuck, f-fuck yes, I’m gonna cum, Din” you whined with your climax arriving gradually.

“Yeah, there you go, cum for me”

On his command, your stomach tightened. The orgasm formed and washed over your body so gracefully.

“Yes, Din, fuck!” You cried his name before rolling your eyes into the back of your head, seeing stars, overwhelmed with the pleasure that flowed through your body. Your hips rolled up into his body still hovered above you and your back arched in response to the sensational feeling radiating through you.

Din slid his arm under your arched back and held you close to him. He focused intensely on riding you through your high. He showed how deeply he cared about your body and making you feel good.

“Oh my god” you whispered through your heavy breathing, realizing as you came down that it was one of the most intense climaxes you’ve ever had.

“You sound so beautiful” he spoke softly, removing his fingers from you gently.

You giggled and wrapped your hand around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. You pulled at the top of his pants, showing him you wanted to return the favor. He stopped you.

“This was about you. We’ll worry about me another time" he gestured. Unknown to him, you smiled at how polite he was.

“Are you sure?” 

“Let’s just sleep now, okay?” He kissed your forehead delicately and returned himself next to you. You feel his arms wrap around your body, and his hand pulled your head onto his chest, so that you could rest peacefully with a clear mind.

IDK WHY I FEEL LIKE THIS SUCKS BUT I AM POSTING IT ANYWAYS OK BYE :)

[strawbunniiee]

(insert creative title here bc no ideas head empty)

anywayssss heres my new ficcy yayy enjoy

yet another dumb self indulgent frens fic lmao

taggin frendos in case they wanna see!! @salamifuposey @monsterbride99

~~~

"The Phantom of the Bwahpera?! Bahahahaha!"

Jawaii had been attempting to tell one the other students at her school all about her new best friend Phantom and how they met during lunch.

"He's not even real! He's just a dumb fairy tale to scare little kids. You're so friendless that you just have to make imaginary friends, huh?" said the other student.

"N-no he's not! He's just as real as you and me." protested Jawaii. "I'll prove it to you!"

Jawaii cleared her throat and began to sing the song Phantom had slipped into her pocket the day they had met. Her singing was quite off key but it usually summoned him right away. No answer. None of the usual dramatic entrances he would usually make. Nothing.

This only made him laugh harder. Jawaii hid her face, holding back tears.

~~~

After school was all said and done, Jawaii ran into the woods that day. She was crying, somewhat even angry at Phantom that he didn't even come. Why didn't he come when she needed him?

Instead of singing the song, she personally ran to Spooky Trails all by herself. She brushed through messy, tangly vines, pricked her legs on thorns, even. But that wouldn't stop her. She was going to give him a piece of her mind.

She came to the Moon Gate and angrily pushed her whole body on it with all her might. Then she had remembered: it wasn't a full moon nor was Phantom present to open it. Instead, she began to climb it, using the intricate patterns as rungs. She jumped off the top and onto the other side. She stomped over to the stage, looking around for where Phantom may be. The rotund ghost rabbit was nowhere to be found.

Jawaii looked around, looking behind the stage props, looking all over for him, until she found a basement door tucked away behind a curtain. She burst through the doors, dashing down the stairs.

~~~

The place was very intricate, almost like a haunted palace. Jawaii, despite still feeling rather miffed, was enamored by it. Soft velvety rugs and fancy decorations everywhere! It all looked quite expensive. How was he even able to get all this stuff anyway? thought Jawaii. ...I've got no time to be stupid, I know what I'm here for and I'm gonna do it.

She looked around, looking through all of the doors until she found a great big one. She pushed it open to find Phantom sitting on a massive mountain of pillows, reading a book with some tea. "J-Jawaii? What are you doing in here? H-how did you get across Spooky Trails all by yourself, are you all ri-"

"Yeah, yeah, I have something to say to you, Phantom." huffed Jawaii.

"...D-darling, what's wrong? Was it... something I said?" Phantom stuttered, taken aback. He had never seen Jawaii angry at him before. He had NEVER wanted to hurt her, in any sort of way.

"No, dummy." Jawaii said, clenching her small fists. "It was something you did. Or didn't do anyway."

"...What was it?" He began to internally panic. Phantom knew that Jawaii already went through quite enough, he just wanted to be there for her during her time of need, he didn't want to add on to her pain!

"At lunch today I sung the song to call you over 'cause this other kid told me you weren't real, and I wanted to show him that you ARE real. But then you didn't even come!" Her tears came back, little liquid drops streaming down her small cheeks.

"...Am I not even that important to you anymore, ever since you got with Peach...? Is that why we've been hanging out less?" she sniffled.

Phantom's eyes widened in saddened shock. "Jawaii, of course not! You will always be important to me. I'll always make time for you. And... you called me at lunch? I didn't know... I'm so terribly sorry I didn't come..."

"I embarrassed myself and that kid just laughed at me. People treat me like garbage, except for you, Peach and my family. I'm lucky all the other kids there were too busy. Or else they would have just laughed at me too." weeped Jawaii.

"Wait a minute, there were other children present?" Phantom came to a realization. "That must be why I didn't hear it. I am not able to be called around crowds of other people... or else they may try to harm me, or alert others of my existence. So I made sure I cannot be called in the midst of the living... sincerest apologies my child."

"Ohhh. That makes sense." said Jawaii. She hung her head. "But... when can we hang out more? I miss hanging out with you and playing with you..."

"Well, now that you're here... I suppose we can now!"

Jawaii perked up, her eyes the size of saucers. "Really?!" she gasped.

Phantom chuckled a bit. "Why, of course we can! Now, what would you like to do first? There's plenty of things to do here, I assure you!"

[phoebe-delia]

Hello, Phoebe. I’m back :)

How are you doing? Just put whatever you feel like here! This ask is the Phoebe Show; make it yours!

Lyssa, it is always a pleasure to see you in my notifs, but especially in my ask box! Thank you for filling it with kind words, awesome prompts, and fun questions for me to play around with.

This blog is the closest I imagine I'll ever come to having the Phoebe Delia Show, and since you have given me free rein with this ask, I shall endeavor to make it count.

I've gotten some incredible asks about my interests, but I'm going to answer a question that has been asked by exactly no one and rank Taylor Swift's albums.

This will be in order of my favorites; this isn't necessarily a reflection of what I think the rank would be in terms of objective quality; instead, this is based on my own personal enjoyment of the albums.

As always, I will provide a little explanation as to my reasoning, because I am nothing if not indulgent.

I actually really surprised myself with this ranking; as I looked through the albums I evaluated each by counting the number of songs I liked off of each one, and the ranking I thought I had has now changed. (I will explain in my comments!).

So! With that said. The Phoebe Delia Show Presents: Ranking Taylor Swift Albums.

1. Speak Now--To me, there is only one skip on this entire album; it is bop after bop. (If you're wondering, I think "Innocent" is the skip). Every song is just fun! I should also point out that this is also my favorite in part because Taylor said it was inspired by theater/Broadway.

2. 1989--I'm gonna be honest and say that I'm ashamed to have sort of slept on this album for so long. Don't get me wrong--I listened to and enjoyed it a lot when it came out, but I always sort of automatically pushed it further down on my list in favor of my 3rd choice because I liked the songs on my 3rd choice more. But now that I'm older and my music taste has somewhat evolved, I think I can say that 1989 is my 2nd favorite. There are truly no skips on this album. Yes, I know I said SN has a skip, but that album holds a special place in my heart so it gets number 1. I was thinking it over today, and while Taylor has always been amazing, I think this is the album that launched her into superstardom. We, her fans, knew she could do anything, but she still shocked us all by making the transition to an entirely pop album. Remember the "Blank Space" and "Bad Blood" music videos? I still think those are two fo my favorite of her mvs, though LWYMMD is a close second.

3. Red--Oh, my beloved. This album is wonderful. I have a lot of memories associated with this one, particularly watching the WANGBT music video and the IKYWT parody with the fucking goat that makes me laugh so hard even to this day. I am SO pumped for TV in November!! And while, yes, "All Too Well" is my favorite song on the album (and my fave TS song overall), "Holy Ground" is slept on and amazing.

4. folklore--This album is probably the most meaningful to me of them all just because of when it came out. We as an entire global community were struggling, and I know I had immense privilege to have been healthy and safe during that time. Still, like everyone else, I was depressed, lonely, and felt trapped inside my home and inside my mind. I will never forget listening to this album in my room and gasping when I heard TIMT. Not long after this album came out, I also lost my family dog, and this album was essential in helping me grieve. This album saved my sanity and gave me a cathartic outlet. I will be forever grateful to Taylor for writing it.

5. Reputation--This is another one for which I have a lot of memories. I will never forget when the LWYMMD music video came out and the world lost its entire mind. Taylor said there are still easter eggs we missed and I want someone to find them please and thank you. There are a few songs on this album that I'm not obsessed with, but the storytelling is so cohesive and creative. On the surface, one might think Taylor was being petty or whiny, but if you look closer--and remember the utter hell she was going through at the time--I think there are deeper meanings than her just getting back at Kim and Kanye.

6. Fearless--Oh, this album. It has some of her most iconic songs: YBWM, "White Horse," "Love Story"," "Forever and Always," etc. I truly wish I could tie this one with Rep, but I think Rep edges this one out *just* barely with songwriting/lyrical quality. I also don't know if I'll ever fully get over the fact that she kept "Mr. Perfectly Fine" from us for so long, but I suppose I can consider the 10 min "All Too Well" on Red TV to be proper repayment. ;)

7. evermore--I could not believe my eyes when she announced this album. How can this woman write this fast and this well!! I will never forget listening to "champagne problems," "no body, no crime," and "tolerate it" in particular. I ranked this after reputation just bc I think I enjoy listening to Rep more, but some of the songwriting on this album is *chefs kiss.*

8. Lover--I know, I know, I'm sorry. I don't want to put this one so low on the list but I just kind of can't put it any higher? I really love some of the songs on this album, but SYGB is too sad for me, "London Boy" kinda annoys me I'm sorry, and I just never really got into INTHAF or "Afterglow." But, that said, every other song on the album is a bop, even ME!, although I listen to the live version over the studio recording. It's a great album though.

9. Taylor Swift (Debut album)--I feel a little bad ranking this so low but I cannot honestly tell you that this album is better than her others, and something has to be last on the list. There are also some great, classic songs on this album. So, instead of being critical, I'm instead going to say that I remember vividly seeing a snippet of "Teardrops On My Guitar" advertised on Disney Channel for Radio Disney. It makes me smile to think of how far she's come since then.

And that concludes this episode of The Phoebe Delia Show! Tune in next time where I post some other self-indulgent opinion about one of my interests and hope it reaches people who care to read it :)

Send me an ask about Harry Potter, broadway/musicals, The West Wing, and/or Taylor Swift! Or just about life in general :).

Also, I have a playlist of my 99 most listened-to songs of the year so far. Pick a number 1--99 and send me an ask and I'll write you a fic based on it!

[atlaese]

Hi, love,

very excited for the Spencer fic coming our way. It's been far too long since I've indulged myself in some blissful Reid fanfiction. I hope you're doing alright now? I have read your post the other day about your anxiety symptoms getting bad again, and felt even worse for not taking action in providing help/comfort. (Not that I'd be able to add anything beneficial to the equation, but still...) I was conflicted about whether or not it was my business interfering/interacting with your personal venting on here. (+ if you even wanted people to comment on that post at all)

I sincerely apologise, and hope you're, at least now, having a somewhat pleasant day, mental health-, as well as physical health-wise.

PS: I think your blog title should be "im wind", not "am". At least grammatically, but if it's based on anything I don't know, and therefore is deliberately written that way, I've not mentioned a word.

-love letter anon

aah, hi my love!! i missed talking to you, i was actually thinking about you this week and almost posted something about you :).

i'm so glad you're excited for the fic! it's a super self-indulgent, cliche, fluffy piece, so nothing special really, but i'm so excited to write for spencer again! i'm trying to write a fitting end to it now, so in the next hour or so, i might publish it :).

Thank you, but unfortunately, my anxiety hasn't really eased up yet.. i have a huge presentation on wednesday, so i hope that after i'll finally get some relief. and no worries, i just needed to vent somewhere, so please don't feel pressured to ever react or feel like it's your responsibility to help :). sometimes it helps to shout something into the void and put my feelings into words. but your caring words and just knowing that you were a bit worried mean so much to me!

i hope you're doing well, too, both mentally and physically. the short, cold and dark days aren't good for anyone, so please take special care of yourself <3 you're too important not to.

ooh, i felt like something was off! it's from this song though, so maybe i misheard or the artist just took creative liberty?

[lettersfromn0where]

ZFAW: Self-Love Saturday

For the last day of @zkfanworkweek!

It’s no secret that I love writing more than almost anything in existence, or that I’m somewhat absurdly passionate about my work. I’m well aware that a handful of people probably think this is annoying (how many people who have had the misfortune to be in any kind of chat with me never want to hear the name “Hina Oyama” again? Probably most of them), and I was hesitant to do this at all because I know I can be self-centered and I’m trying to work on that. But I realized that I’m not doing this for feedback or because I want people to read my work - if I were to talk about my fic like this, it would be coming from a place of excitement about sharing something I love with others, not about finding new readers. (Have I done a little too much networking of that kind? Yes. Am I proud of it? Not at all. That’s why I had to make sure that that wasn’t why I was doing this.) 

So I’m going to go for it, and give you guys the background behind a few of my favorite things I’ve written. Stories below the cut. 

Story #1: The One That Taught Me That It’s Okay to Fail As a Writer

and I'll write you a tragedy (June 2020)

I wrote this back in June, when I was first getting into AtLA - I think it was my third or fourth published Zutara fanfic. I didn’t have many friends yet; most of the ones I talked to at the time, I've since lost touch with. So my participation in the fandom was largely isolated. I’d just write things and yeet them into the void without a care in the world - that’s what I did with “And I’ll Write You a Tragedy.” I had this grand idea that it would be ~the angstiest thing ever written~ and I was SO excited to get home (I was at the beach when I got the idea) so I could work on it...

Only to find that I simply wasn’t ready for the story I was trying to tell.

Oh, I wrote it, and it was...decently well-reviewed for something that caused me so much existential angst. But it fell so short of the concept that I had for it that, the moment I hit “post,” I was so frustrated that burst into tears. (Like a kindergartner. One can never say I deserve to be called an adult.) I wanted to establish myself in this new fandom so badly that anything I perceived as substandard was a crushing failure. And it was the process of talking myself through that frustration that taught me something I’ve tried to hold close ever since: every writer writes a dud every once in a while. No one is at the top of their game 100% of the time; those who appear to be probably don’t post the duds. Should I have posted this, then? Well, the jury is out on that. I still hate it. But it deserves a spot here just for the lesson it taught me. 

Story #2: the One That Broke the Angst Ceiling 

who lives, who dies, who tells your story (July 2020)

I have no idea how this took my angst from the coltish awkwardness of “sort of sad, but not very well-done” to genuinely depressing, but it did. Maybe I should blame quarantine and all of the difficulties that brought with it, or just the additional writing experience I had gained by that time. Whatever the reason, I remember this - even though it never got very popular - as an absolute triumph for me as a writer, because this is when I FINALLY learned how to write effective angst. For *years* I had thought I was simply incapable of writing anything sad, but this showed me that I wasn’t. I’ll never understood what flipped the switch (maybe it was @hiniwalay, whose help in forming this idea was invaluable...I love and miss you so much <3), but it’s a very important part of my writing journey even so. 

Story #3: The One That Got Inexplicably Popular

Tethered (Zutara Week - written in June 2020, posted in late July 2020)

Zutara Week 2020 was sort of the point at which I established myself in this fandom and I have super fond memories of the warm reception I received at the time. It was such a positive, encouraging experience - and perhaps the one and only time that people have actually wanted to indulge my somewhat ridiculous obsession with fluff. And this was sort of the peak of my entrance into the ZK fandom. 

And I am...not sure how I feel about that. 

Soulmate AUs are obviously super popular, so I knew that “Tethered” was going to be one of my better-recieved ZKW fics if I did it even marginally well. What I did NOT expect was that, by the time of this post, it would be exactly tied with The Waiting Game for my most kudos’d work. It’s almost insane to me that that is a thing, because, while I don’t hate how “Tethered” came out, I definitely don’t feel like it deserved the hype it got. It’s...just another soulmate AU, but seeing that I was capable of writing something that people would gobble up did wonders for my confidence - and, I think, for my reputation in the fandom as well. It was definitely a mile-marker on my journey, even if I would rather it have been a different ZKW oneshot (this one was my favorite).

Story #4: The Twitter Favorite

Four Days and Three Nights (written August 2020)

I will never, ever forget the day I posted this. 

I joined a Zutara group chat on Twitter just before Zutara Week 2020 began, and I quickly became...a little bit desperate for their attention. “The Waiting Game” (much more on that later) sprung from that desperation, but this was the one that actually did something about it. Which is funny, because it was actually a complete accident! 4D3N, as it is affectionately called on Twitter, was the result of my dumb butt reading “Five,” thinking “I want to write something that depressing!”, and just...going for it. I told myself not to overthink things as I desperately banged out the 3166 words of this story in two hours (because I needed to go for a run before it got dark and didn’t start writing until 3), and that is probably the one and only time in my entire life that telling myself something like that actually worked. Writing 4D3N was just sort of this rush that I barely even had time to recognize while I was caught up in it and the result was something I genuinely felt that I could be proud of - that’s pretty rare. My Twitter friends went slightly insane, half of them wanted to stab me (in a good way), and I finally felt like I actually belonged in this fandom - like I had done something to earn a place there. [Caveat: fandom is for everyone and you never need to “earn the right” to be in one, but my brain latched onto the idea that I didn’t deserve to be creating things for a fandom that didn’t want me and would not let it go. Figures.] Lately, I’ve been struggling with this one a little bit because it’s getting a lot of comparisons to “Five” in which it never fares favorably, for obvious reasons, and it was never actually my favorite fic to begin with, but it still means a lot to me. This is the one I recommend to people who are curious about my work and probably always will be. 

Story #5: The Sleeper Favorite

Lean On (written August 2020)

I have no earthly idea why I like this one so much, but it has to be my favorite oneshot I have up. It’s hurt-comfort and dives into the implications of the Agni Kai for Zuko’s health, both physical and mental - maybe it’s the uniqueness of that premise that endeared it to me, or maybe the personal-ness...is that a word?...of the narrative. The bare-bones summary: Zuko’s health is declining a year after the Agni Kai, Katara shows up to do something about that, and what follows is a year of Pain and Heartache for both of them as they try to navigate their conflicting feelings for each other. But really, it’s a story about healing: physically, yes, but also mentally and emotionally. I certainly relate a lot to Katara in “Lean On,” as I’ve been the friend caught in the crossfire of others’ battles with their mental health many times and I wanted to try to write from both sides of that conflict. But I think I probably wrote more of myself into Zuko than I originally anticipated, as well. Quarantine has not been good for my mental health...at all...and I’ve found myself lashing out at my family far more than I should without even knowing why, isolating myself and growing thorns so that no one would come near me. I hate seeing myself like that, and I hate that I can't seem to make myself do anything about it. So really, I was hashing out my own feelings both past and present, and what I ended up with, whatever you might think of its quality, came from the heart. I also, for whatever reason, really liked my writing here, so I have a special place in my heart for “Lean On.” 

Story #6: The Fluff I Didn’t Hate

Waffleosophy (written September 2020)

Look, there's not a lot to say about this, but it’s definitely my favorite fluff that I’ve ever written. I felt like I finally managed to hit the right note with this so that it came off as sweet without being saccharine, and it feels...I don’t know, wittier than what I usually write? I write a lot of fluff but something about “Waffleosophy” made it feel more polished and coherent than most of my other fluff. This was one that, as ridiculous as its premise was, I felt like I could truly be proud of; since I’m often a bit ashamed of how much of my work is fluff (it feels like “cheating” sometimes, as if I write this way because I lack the skill for real emotional beats), that’s saying a lot. 

Story #7: the Insanely Niche AU

Once In a Lifetime (ongoing)

This one gets updated at the speed of snail, but. ZK ice dance AU. It just makes me so HAPPY. 

Story #8: The One That Actually Did What It Was Meant To Do

Hanabi (written October/November 2020)

This heading is ironic because this was originally supposed to be an angsty slow-burn about surviving on an uninhabited island. Instead, it became as unerringly Sarah S---- as any fic ever has. Oops. 

Hanabi sprung from a desire to write something incredibly soft and wholesome. Seriously. That’s it. I had just finished writing a story that got a lot more violent and dark than I had expected it to, and I wasn’t comfortable with that; I wanted to return to my roots, if you will, and write something ~soft~. I wanted to write about good people, doing good things, being good to each other, with as much tender pining as I could cram in on the side. I wanted unique worldbuilding and a relationship that had to be built rather than handed over under the guise of Soulmateism (because this was the period in which I hated The Waiting Game and everything it stood for, aka...that. It was a weird time). And I actually? Did all of that? There’s this F. Scott Fitzgerald quote about how writers have to “sell their hearts” that I think about often, and I did that here. This has as much of my heart in it as anything ever will, I think, and if I had to pick a favorite thing that I have ever written, it would be “Hanabi.” I love it a lot. 

Story #9: The One You Knew Was Coming

The Waiting Game series (written July-October 2020)

I have so many feelings about this that I can’t even really articulate them all. Where would I even start? 

There was the fact that the first installment was written in two weeks (thirteen days, 94,832 words) to try to get the attention of a Twitter chat. There was the matter of Hina Oyama, my blog’s namesake, an OC who took on an absolutely massive life of her own to the point where she was quite literally my coping mechanism over the summer and I annoy everyone I know by constantly banging on pots and pans and screaming about her. There was the way this universe spiraled outwards from its original installment and now has three generations, two sequels, and a prequel in progress (Hina’s origin story, which I am writing for a friend but will most likely never post). There were the friends I made because of this series and all of the inside jokes and headcanons we’ve developed while discussing it. There were all of the existential crises I had (over negative comments, over whether or not this career-defining series is even decent, over the moral implications of writing about people getting stabbed in the sequel...please don’t ask). There is the fact that everyone I come into contact with now knows what Haang is, and that by a close-reading of any passage about Hina or Kya, you could probably learn a lot about me. 

But all I can say, in the end, is that I don’t know if I’ve ever written something that I fell in love with so quickly as I did “The Waiting Game,” or that had as much lasting impact upon me. (It has been five months, and I’m STILL writing in this universe, still talking about it constantly.) I know my TWG obsession is a little annoying, and I know that this universe isn’t really anything special - but it’s special to me, and it always will be. Will I shut up? Abso-freaking-lutely not. Do I care if no one knows what my username means because it refers to an OC in a fic not a lot of people actually like? Not in the slightest! I won’t pretend that TWG is a perfect story, or even that it deserves to be thought of as particularly good, but I will absolutely defy anyone who tells me that I need to “get over it.” (No one has, but my brain likes to tell me that everyone is thinking it.) 

I will never be over stories that move me, especially not ones I created.

And especially not Yangchen Oyama. 

~finis~ 

[willowistic22]

The pleasure’s all mine... Prince Romeo

A grand party is held in the palace tonight, but one of the royal family member isn’t in the mood to indulge in it like how they’d usually be. Luckily, a stranger comes to save them. It just so happens that this stranger is so dangerously handsome. 

Word count : 4688

Part : -

Warnings : light mentions of alcohol, cursing, and that should be it. it’s nothing too serious. 

A/N: HIIII this is my gift for @s9da (well technically for paranormalsoup... i think you can piece in together why i asked you abt paranormalsoup in the wormsie discord server hehe) for the @newsiesgiftexchange i had fun making this bcs i absolutely love newsies royal au, so i hope you don’t mind i wrote a somewhat self indulgent fic for your gift hehe. it was still spromeo like you asked, but uhh idk i hope you like it bcs half of me think it’s not as great as i thought it was in my head. But anyways enjoy!!! :D

“Romeo! Get your ass out of there!” 

“How long does it take for you to get dressed?!” 

The two muffled voices turned into banging on the door. Romeo rolled his eyes, deciding to ignore his brothers and continuing to adjust his tuxedo in front of his full length standing mirror. 

His bedroom door swung open with no warning. In turns, two boys formally dressed came storming in. 

“Race! Crutchie! You could have at least waited for me to let you two in!” Romeo protested, adjusting sleeves under his dark blue blazer. 

“My God, Ro! You’re not even ready yet!” Crutchie commented, walking over as fast as he could with his crutch to get to where Romeo is standing. He takes the silver tie from the dresser and slings it around Romoe’s shirt collar, “The party is supposed to start right now and you know dad would want all of his sons to be present!”  

“He was probably too busy talking to the cat, weren’t you?” Race flops on the big bed, causing the dozens of velvet pillows to jump. It also seems to have awakened a huge white fluffy cat in the midst of the pillows. 

“Racetrack! Snowy was getting his beauty sleep!” Romeo protested, seeing the scene unfold from the mirror. 

Crutchie flipped both of his brothers off, telling Race to be careful so he doesn’t mess his own outfit up and making Romeo stand still while he helps him get ready. In under five minutes and Romeo is properly dressed just like his brothers. 

Crutchie places Romeo’s crown on top of his black locks, the magnificent silver object goes perfectly with the intricate silver curlicue designs on the shoulder and back of his dark blue blazer. With the tiny silver crown lapel pin and its tiny chain draping on the fabric to wrap up the dashing outfit. 

The three head out of the room. They strut through the grand hallway like it’s a fashion week runway, feeling confident with every step following the red velvet carpet till they reach the grand ballroom decked to the nines just like them. 

A huge chandelier hanging above the open space. A few tables and chairs neatly organized for the awaiting guests but still leaving enough space for a dance floor. The huge glass doors wide open to make use of the huge balcony for the party, also letting the evening breeze through the door. 

“About damn time you three show up!” Jack, the oldest brother exclaimed. 

“Jack! Do mind your language!” Their father protested. 

His three younger brothers walk up onto the podium, greeting their father who’s sitting on the only throne present. 

“It was all Romeo’s fault. He didn’t know how to tie his own tie!” Race joked. 

The brothers have their little silent squabble as they stand behind the throne. Crutchie decides to not get himself involved in it and tries to break it up, “Oh, grow up you guys!” 

Those words did nothing to help. In turn, Crutchie turns to their father in hopes to ignore those three. 

“Jackie-love! Listen to your brother, please!” A different voice chimed in. 

The three turn their focus away towards it and see Jack’s husband already fully dressed up. In a classy dark purple suit with a grey tie in the same shade as Jack’s own suit. 

“We’re celebrating our sixth anniversary and Sarah is finally home from her travels. The least you could do is to keep yourself presentable!” 

Jack pushes aside the squabble, switching on his loving smile for Davey. Romeo and Race pulled away from the squabble right after Jack. Their father silently sighed in relief to see his sons finally deciding to act like fully grown adults. 

He tells the royal guards to let the guests in. In under five minutes, the ballroom was instantly filled with guests in formal attire. Some fill their assigned seats for the dinner that was promised in the invitation while others mingle with each other. The band, playing lovely tunes loud and clear but it wasn’t time for the guests to get up and dance. 

The princes have also indulged themselves in the party. Jack and Davey can be seen mingling with the guests they’ve invited, listening to their congratulations on their sixth anniversary. Crutchie has gone to god knows where, which is surprising because he’s wearing a flashy yellow and black suit in the midst of all the mostly dull colored outfits in the ballroom. Race had gone off to fulfilling his promise to their father of introducing his new lover, the future king of Brooklyn. 

Romeo is left to slump on the round table with leftovers sitting idly on his plate. An odd thing for him to do, and he’s quite aware of it too. Romeo adores mingling, making new friends, or even catching up with some old friends that he has indeed spotted somewhere amongst the crowd this evening. Though, his energy to do so doesn’t seem to be there in this particular moment. 

The young prince watches from afar as his big brother finally introduces Spot Conlon to their father. Spot’s dark red suit is really contrasting to Race’s own outfit, a bright blue suit with golden curlicue designs on the shoulders and back which is a bit like Romeo’s. It matches perfectly with his blond messy curls and electric blue eyes. 

Romeo smiles, seeing his brother’s face lighting up as their father seemingly approves of the dashing Brooklyn boy that he has so helplessly fallen in love with for the past two years. Romeo doesn’t linger on it though. He returns his focus towards his empty table and plate, a sad smile painting his face as he observes his own reflection on the ceramic. 

“Well, aren’t you the life of the party!” A voice interrupted his thoughts, causing him to lift his head up, “But if I do say so myself, and I mean no offense to his royal highness, you’re quite the tragic sight sitting here all alone” 

His eyes landed on a gentleman standing proud and tall in a maroon suit, a black tie neatly tucked under his blazer. His complexion reminded Romeo of the topaz rocks in some of the castle’s intricate decorations, rich with brown but always glowing bright with the rest of the gems. In this case, his glow comes from the simple smile and the lovely brown eyes behind the silver framed spectacles. 

The initial comment brought a smile to Romeo’s face and a little laugh along with it. He fixes his sitting posture, eyeing the stranger with a head tilt while his head tries to figure out who this guest could be. 

“And you’re what? Here to be my savior from my little slump?” Romeo replied to match with the stranger’s cleverness. 

Seeing the success his opening line has brought, the gentleman pulls out an empty chair next to Romeo and sits himself down, “Well, you’re the prince here. Whatever it is you command me to be, I’m pretty sure I need to follow” 

Romeo lets out a small fit of laughter through his smile, looking away from the man’s eyes. It also makes the stranger laugh along with him. 

Romeo returns his sight back to the man in front of him. He walked right into a gaze-off he cannot look away from. In no means for intimidation, but a brief yet firm infatuation through the art of eye contact with the man he just met. Only now did Romeo realize how dangerously handsome this stranger is. 

“Romeo!” The call of his name pulled him away from the gaze and back to the world around him. 

He spots Crutchie zipping through the crowd. A smile painted on his face, just as bright as the yellow and black suit he’s currently rocking in. Romeo stands up to give his brother a hug. 

“I see you’ve met one of my friends from the lab!” Crutchie gestured back to the stranger Romeo was just previously speaking to, already slightly bowing his head to pay his respects to the two members of the royal family. 

“Oh, you work in the lab!” Romeo concluded, turning back to face the stranger who’s already on his feet. 

“Yeah. We call him Specs!” Crutchie giggled, making the other man laugh along while Romeo looks back to where he’s currently standing, “And Specs, this is my brother, Romeo!” 

Specs pulls up a simple smile for Romeo and a firm head nod. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you two!” Crutchie apologized, a few moments after remembering they were previously having a conversation. He adjusts his crutch to get ready to leave, “I’ll leave you two to it, okay?” 

Romeo watches as his brother walks away to mingle into another group. It leaves him with the previous gentleman he was talking to. The only differences now, he’s not much of a stranger anymore. 

“So... That’s what they actually call you? ‘Specs’?” 

“Well, it’s because, if you can’t already tell…” 

Specs gestures towards his spectacles that rests on the bridge of his nose. Romeo chuckles, playfully rolling his eyes. But the smile tells Specs he’s still in the clear from offending a royal family member. 

“What’s your actual name? Unless you don’t have one” 

He laughs, parting his lips to let it out before saying, “It’s Julian. But now people mostly refer to me as Specs” 

Romeo nods, staring directly into his sparkly brown eyes. Whatever is gleaming under it is very inviting, and Romeo isn’t opposed to this mysterious invitation. He’s rather pleased by its presence. Before he knows it he’s already engaged with it, letting his own obsidian gemstone eyes linger in the gaze. 

“A pleasure to meet you... Specs” 

“The pleasure’s all mine... Prince Romeo” 

- 

Soon enough the sun has fully set. The night sky takes over the heavens above, thread by sparkling pearls to break up the deep blue. But the party didn’t stop. The royal family’s favorite performer, Ms. Medda Larkin, has finally arrived in the most fashionably late way. Her grand entrance was welcomed with warm arms by King Denton himself. 

With the presence of the superstar, the band picked up its lack of entertainment as Ms. Medda picked up the microphone after a quick dinner. The jazzy upbeat tune sends all the guests roaring for the dance floor. 

Romeo though? He has his own entertainment, in the huge balcony by the bar with his own partner. 

“No dance?” 

Romeo pries his eyes away from the dance floor he’s observing from outside. He glues them onto Specs, leaning his shoulder on the shiny bar top while twirling his glass of scotch. 

Romeo shakes his head, making a semi weird face, “Not really up for it” 

“Huh, you’re nothing like what Prince Charlie says” Specs commented, taking a gulp from his glass to finish his drink off, “He says that you’re very energetic and flirty” 

The comment makes him scoff through his smile, “I can’t say that he’s wrong. But… I’m just not feeling it tonight” 

The little silence between them is giving Romeo the impression that he should explain even further. But he takes this chance to finish his own drink and change the subject, “So, you work in Crutchie’s lab?”  

The subject of Specs’ profession quickly did the trick. It also reveals some basic facts about him. As it turns out, Davey was the one that pushed him to work in the royal lab. He’s been friends with Davey since college and has been partners in crime ever since. Davey was first to get the job as a chemical engineer at Crutchie’s lab after a year of switching jobs to match his preferences, while Specs was still continuing his studies for a masters degree. Since he’s been an A+ student at a young age, the first application he sent got him the call for the job interview and got in quickly. 

Romeo was very impressed by the story. Half way through it he starts to question as to why he’s been given the honor to talk to Specs. There is no way Specs is anywhere close to Romeo's league. 

Regardless, Specs doesn’t seem to question all of that. While there’s a noisy ballroom in the background, they’re having a party of their own. Smiling, laughing, and basically having a great time in their private little universe. Romeo is very much infatuated by the gentleman and wouldn’t want anything in the world to ruin the moment. 

“Y’know, you should probably just drop all the formalities at this point” Romeo lightly mentioned, between sipping his third drink he had only touched after half an hour upon asking the bartender for one, “It’s just me” 

“Just you?” Specs questioned, lips wrapping up into a warm smile that makes Romeo’s heart melt. 

He froze in place, admiring the wonder to behold. It makes Romeo smile wider as he slowly nods at the question. 

Before he could say anything else, the loud sound coming from inside took over their center of attention. A loud cheering of guests over something neither Specs or Romeo knows about, as the view was blocked by dozens of backs. 

Romeo turns his head away from it, focusing back to where he is currently at. He glances over at Specs and says, “Let’s get out of here” 

Specs looks back at Romeo, a little confused with his offer, “And go where, exactly?” 

Romeo sips the remaining liquid in his glass, setting it back with a loud clang against the bar top. He spontaneously grabs Specs’ hand and drags him away, leading him to the stairs on the side of the huge balcony. With every step down, the twinkling Manhattan view slowly fades away from their eyes. 

It was soon replaced by the view of the royal garden in the dark. A cobblestone path stretching to as far as the eyes can see in the dark, pass the green trees with overgrowing plants hanging over it, and various shapes of bushes strategically placed all around the settlement. The smell of the grass is so fresh and different, unlike anything Specs has ever encountered before. 

However, Romeo drags him to the other direction. They walked under a dimly lit tunnel, under where the balcony and the ballroom is. They can barely see each other in this kind of lighting, though Romeo’s crown was able to let the tiniest ray of light reflect on its figure. At the end of the tunnel, they can see an opening which would lead them to the center of the palace where another garden is located. 

“Where are we going, if I may ask?” Specs returned to his previous unanswered question. 

“Just… around, I guess” 

The two smile at each other, Specs nodding along to whatever bullshit he was just fed but still getting entertained by it anyways. 

“So… are you gonna tell me why you decide to detach yourself from the party?” 

So he noticed. Well, it isn’t like Romeo has been sneaky about it but he was hoping it wouldn’t be brought up. 

“That party isn’t for me so…” Romeo started, fiddling the hem of his blazer, “... It didn’t felt right if I were to mingle in there” 

“Because that party wasn’t for you?” 

Romeo stops in his tracks, realizing how wrong that sounds, “Okay, wait, I take that back umm…” 

“No, it’s okay if you’re a little… self centered” Specs half teased. 

Romeo scoffs at that, playfully shoving his arms with his shoulders that sends the taller boy laughing. He recollects his composure and re-explains himself, “I mean… Jack, Race, and Crutchie are up there because they have…’something’” 

The two continue to walk through the tunnel, Specs fixated to Romeo as he explains himself. 

“You see Jack, already living up to his reputation from being a good leader. Charismatic, fearless, all of that. He’s just waiting for our father to step down from the throne so he can unleash his full potential” Romeo started out, which made no sense to Specs question but he kept listening anyways, “And then you got Race. However big of a dumbass and a troublemaker he is, he’s smart! He doesn’t work full time at the lab but you’ve seen him there a few times, right?” 

Specs nods, recalling the memory of him seeing prince Anthony while he was working. 

“A great problem solver. Despite being the one that causes the most problems in the castle” Romeo added, making Specs chuckle a bit. He lets himself smile at that but it didn’t linger long. 

“And you know Crutchie. He’s smart and wants nothing more than to help others. Hearing the voices of the little people” Romeo continued. 

He stops walking, causing Specs to do the same. They’ve almost made it through the tunnel, just a few more steps away. The moonlight can reach just far enough to illuminate their faces and highlight their main features. 

Romeo looks up to the other boy, “I’m almost 23 and I haven’t really done shit” 

Specs fully turns his body towards Romeo, his words from before finally clicking in his head. 

“I thought you were a performer” Specs said, “Isn’t that something to be proud of?” 

“It is something I’m proud of. But people talk, Specs” 

His older brothers are famous for what they’ve achieved that are viewed as ‘useful’ with their title as royalty. Romeo, on the other hand, is a famous Broadway performer. Whether it’s playing the lead role, a side character, or just a part of the ensemble, no one will deny his talent. But people still talk badly about his title mixed with his love for theatre. 

Specs stays silent while waiting for Romeo to continue. He let’s Romeo walk out the tunnel first, letting the glow of the night illuminate his whole body along with the garden he’s in. Though, his heart doesn’t seem to be enjoying it the way that he should. 

Romeo turns around to face Specs, already slowly stepping out of the shadows of the tunnel. He takes his crown off his head, letting it dangle freely in his right hand, “Living here has its perks. But the downside is people expect you to be a leader of some sort” 

The taller boy stands next to Romeo, observing one side of the castle. The bright lights from the chandeliers clear as day through the huge windows. 

“So you’re really going to let the stupid comments old people say about you affect the rest of your life?” Specs questioned, letting a small smile creep up his face, “I mean, you’re the one that gets all the girls drooling” 

“I guess, but I prefer guys anyways” Romeo half chuckled, his smile yet to return. 

“Then it looks like the odds are with me” Specs said in a cheeky manner, taking a few steps ahead of Romeo. 

It caught him off guard. He dumbfoundedly stared at the boy for a good few seconds while his back was facing him. Heart beating very fast. Heat rising up his cheeks. The corner of his lips picks up on the tiniest bit of joy and excitement his heart is indulging in. 

Specs turns around and Romeo shakes away any obvious adoration towards the boy, pretending to admire his crown in his grasp. 

“I mean, I think you’re a very talented actor” 

“So you’re a fan?” Romeo asked cleverly, looking up to meet his eyes again while placing his crown back on his head, “Is that why you came up to me in the first place?” 

“Among other things… yes” 

Well, that’s something to know. 

Romeo and Specs roam around the garden in the dark, though they stay quiet in fear that other people might hear their presence. The laughing felt more personal and heartfelt when it’s secretive like this. Somehow Romeo is falling out of his usual confident nature, getting shier with every giggle that escapes their lips or clever remark Specs added on to the conversation. 

Romeo brought up the idea for the two to head to his bedroom after spotting a glimpse of his balcony on the second floor. Well, from the ground it’s three floors up. Regardless, they were still able to utilize their environment to work in their favor on climbing to the balcony. 

Romeo avoided entering his bedroom because it was embarrassingly messy. So they stayed where they are, carefully sitting on the balcony railing and continuing their conversation. They picked it up so easily that they’re soon laughing together like before. This time, they get a view of the garden below, a glimpse of Manhattan, and closer to the night sky. The warmth of his bedroom through the open balcony doorway defeats the freezing temperatures from outside. 

Specs was interrupted mid sentence after an odd feeling came by his leg. Fluffy and warm, like it’s a living being. 

“Who’s this?” Specs looks down to see a white fluffy cat looking back up to him. He gently picks up the white furball and cradles it close to his chest with a loving smile. 

“About time he decides to wake up from his nap” Romeo commented, scooching closer towards Specs so that they’re shoulder to shoulder so he can pet his little feline companion, “His name is Snowy” 

Snowy purrs at the love he’s receiving, giving the two boys long and slow blinks with every pet they provide. 

“Do you have any pets, Specs?” Romeo asked. 

“My apartment doesn’t allow pets. It actually sucks because it can get a little lonely” Specs replied. He lets Snowy go after the cat starts stirring in his grasps. Specs cleans any excessive fur that got stuck on his blazer before turning back towards Romeo, “I’m glad I get to have my own space after needing to live in a foster home for the majority of the time. But I got used to having lots of people around so…” 

“Not courting anybody?” Romeo asked again, “You look like the kind of guy who’d win a lot” 

Romeo you fucking idiot. His mind was yelling at him for saying that. No one with common sense would blatantly say that to someone they just met that day. 

Specs chuckles through his smile, staring at Romeo with a little twinkle hidden in his brown eyes. It could just be the stars from the sky reflecting in his eyes, but it’s not possible because there was a meaning behind his glimmer. 

“Not really my style” Specs replied, a flirtatious smirk making its way up to his face, “Though, I met a guy recently and… I’m trying my best to impress him” 

Oh. My. God. 

Romeo didn’t realize how close their faces were getting. Hot breaths circulate the small gap between their faces. Romeo diverts his eyes away from Specs’, but it absentmindedly went to stare at his lips. He imitated the way Specs has his lips slightly parted. 

“A-and how’s that going for you?” Romeo dared to ask, stopping the gravitational pull towards each other. Any closer and Specs might know how fast his heartbeat is going. 

“Not sure” He replied breathlessly, “You’ll have to tell me” 

If stomach butterflies could explode then that is definitely how Romeo is feeling right now. But they stayed still. Neither quite seem to have the courage to take the next step. 

Specs took the initiative, slowly guiding his hand up to cup Romeo’s cheeks. He then whispers, “Can I-” 

“Romeo!” A muffled voice interrupted their little moment. They quickly pull apart and stare at Romeo’s bedroom door inside the dimly lit bedroom. Violent knocking followed after the voice and it continued, “Romeo, are you in there?” 

It didn’t take long for Specs to catch on to what’s happening. He scrambles himself away behind the brick wall of the balcony, just next to the doorway. Romeo fixes his suit and answers the door. 

Just as he expected it, it was Race. No one in the family knocks as violently as he does. 

“My God, Race! Can I ever get some time alone in my room?” Romeo answered the door. 

“Why are you even in here? You’re supposed to be at the party!” Race said, “Dad was looking for you, y’know” 

“I just needed a little air but I’ll be right there, I promise” 

He flips Race away and turns around, seeing the previous boy he was with coming out of his previous hiding spot. He smiles sheepishly at Specs, which was met with his own chuckling. 

“Guess, we better head back” Romeo said, looking up to meet Specs’ eyes, “But you’re gonna have to use the balcony” 

“I figured” 

Specs sits back on the balcony before swinging both legs over the railing to climb down. Romeo leans his body against the railing, held up by his arms. It’s only polite to wait for Specs to climb down before he leaves to get to the ballroom himself. 

“By the way… thanks for keeping me company” Romeo felt like he owed him a thank you. After all, Specs could’ve had some fun or gained more than just a casual get-to-know-me conversation if he were to fully participate in the party. 

Specs looks up from minding his steps down, back up to Romeo’s eyes with a loving gaze towards him, “Of course. When else will I get the chance to be this close to you?” 

Rome looks down to his hands to hide away his blush and bashful little smile. He notices Specs hands are still on the railing, placed quite close to his own. 

“But how did I do? Were you impressed?” 

Romeo looks up, finding the other boy’s face is already two inches away from his own. The exact same position they were in before getting interrupted by his brother, just this time Specs is hanging on the balcony.

“Is that something you want to know?” Romeo questioned back with a little giggle following it. He thought it would be fun to tease him around before they finally part ways. 

“It’s not usual for me to straight up ask but… “ Specs caught on with the teasing, “... technically you were the one that ask” 

Romeo giggles along with him. He nods to his question and answers properly, “Yes. I was very much impressed by you, Specs” 

The next seconds were filled with silence. The high from their little banter turned into adrenaline to do something with how they’re positioned now. They both realize it, as both smiles slowly fade to parted lips with hot and heavy breaths hitting each other’s faces. Romeo glues his eyes on Specs’ lips, he could only imagine the other boy did the same. 

“Do I get the permission to kiss you?” Specs asked, barely above a whisper while his hands traced up Romeo’s arm until it reached his cheek once again. 

Romeo stuttered through his next few words before replying with a little giggle, “Permission granted” 

Specs wasted no time, softly crashing his lips on the other boy’s. Fireworks set off in their heads as the feelings developed for each other from this short period of time are released in one gentle kiss. Romeo moves one hand to hold his neck, as a means to deepen the kiss and to secure Specs from falling. 

They part with heavy breaths escaping their lips. The heavy breathings turned into giggles and giggles turned into goodbyes. 

Romeo watches as a giddy looking Specs makes it to the ground and walks towards the previous tunnel. Before finally escaping his vision, Specs glances back up to Romeo. Despite the distant Romeo can see a stupid grin on his face, which only made him laugh. 

As Specs finally escapes his view, Romeo lets out a long and adoring sigh and melts into the moment. Lowering his body and placing his head on top of his hands that are gripping on the balcony. 

He hears his beloved fur ball meow near him, but he’s far gone for that boy to even care what the cat wants. 

“I know, Snowy,” Romeo said, as if understanding the language his cat speaks, “He’s such a dream…” 

[bigskydreaming]

So just out of curiosity, what inspired the whole Beacon Bay idea? What kind of sharks and dolphins are they? This entire thing is very intriguing to me and I can't wait to see more.

So first off, anyone who’s ever played soundingboard to my original stuff like Moukie or Adam can attest to the fact that I’m ocean obsessed, so there’s pretty much nothing I’m interested in that isn’t a mere two or three steps removed from an ocean/merfolk/sea witch AU in my head. Gimme anything and like, five minutes, and I can make it ocean themed. Space operas included. I grew up near the ocean, been surfing for ages though of course I haven’t in years, blah, but like. I’m a big fan of the deep blue sea. Its just....neat. ghaskfhalkfhla

So I’ve always had a bunch of ocean-set concepts. This particular AU came about from like, smashing a couple of them together to preserve them when my plans for doing original stuff with them fizzled out, at least for the time being. Cuz the other thing about me is the way some people like, take their fanfic and file off the serial numbers to turn it into original novels, I more often do the reverse, lmao. When I have something I can no longer do something with original-content-wise, for whatever reason, but I still like the idea, I turn it into fanfic so I can still play around with it whenever I want and like, have purpose to that, so I don’t feel like I’m wasting time by still ‘indulging’ in that concept or whatever.

Like my Batfandom fic By Lost Ways, as I’ve mentioned before....that actually started out as an original high fantasy novel set in my ‘Tales of the Citadel’ shared universe. BUT the setting ended up being similar enough to a sci-fi project I wanted I to move forward with, ‘Waveriders’ (the one with the sky pirates and the ATLA-style benders only instead of evoking the four classical elements, waveriders could each ‘hack’ a different kind of wavelength, that one) like....basically, the projects FELT similar enough in setting and various superficial elements that I started to feel derivative of myself moving forward with both, so I picked Waveriders and then recycled the setting and a lot of the plot of the sky-set fantasy novel for fanfic, just for fun.

Same thing here, though Beacon Bay is basically the mash-up of two different shelved original projects. Basically, its the plot of a CW-style show about teen sirens and the sea witch making like the Fagin to their Oliver Twists, from a pilot I wrote years ago.....it got some interest but I refused to make it less gay because lol have you met me, so it ultimately never went anywhere but I still liked the plot. 

And then remember the werewolf books I mentioned awhile back, that had the mongoose shifters in them? LOL. Yeah, so I’d written two and a half novels in that series and had this whole expansive worldbuilding of twelve different shifter clans each with their own innate magic, patron deity/creator, etc, but all my agent and editor contacts at the time were like yeah sorry, shifters are over for now, and I was like wow, can’t believe cancel culture’s real and publishing cancelled werewolves, wtf, rude, and then I was like eh, still wanna play in this universe especially with the dolphins and shark shifters which I never even really got to in those books, so I’m just gonna air-lift them out of that and drop them smack in the middle of my CW siren plot and fanfic away to my heart’s content and call that ‘being productive’ when I feel like it.

Anyway, found family was a big theme of those books and the world-building I did there in general, because again, have you met me, I’m not predictable or anything (shhh, the word is consistent), and one of my initial things there was I wanted the various shifter types to all have innate magic, because for literally no real reason that I can discern other than Whimsy, I have always been Team Werewolf in vampires vs werewolves, and I was tired of werewolves always being by default the underdogs in those narratives. Even if that does make for a good pun.

SO, I wanted to come up with werewolf magic that felt natural and organic to werewolves, like nothing too flashy or obscure, but that would make them a legitimate threat even to other supernatural creatures. And I made it so each of the shifter types were granted an active and a passive magic by the god that created their type of shifter, and with werewolves, their active magic was that of the pack gestalt. I took the idea of ‘their whole is greater than the sum of their parts’ that TW kinda briefly touched on when presenting (but never really doing much with) the idea that the more wolves in a pack, the stronger that pack was.....and I decided okay what if being part of a pack upped stats all across the board AND all shifters have a SLIGHT innate resistance to magic, being innately magical beings themselves? 

So a werewolf pack, with enough pack members, would thus not only be formidable in strength, speed, senses and speed of healing....but compound that innate shifter resistance to magic, which in a single shifter is negligible, like, just enough to make them slightly harder to track with magic or curse or whatever.....but in a whole werewolf pack, that adds up to make the pack effectively immune to foreign magic. Vampires can’t compel them, demons can’t possess them, witches can’t curse them, etc. So a lone werewolf, not part of a pack, is formidable, but nothing another supernatural being can’t take on. But a lone werewolf who IS part of a pack....different story entirely, because now most other supernatural beings, no matter what their USUAL strengths, are reduced to taking on that werewolf hand to hand, as their own supernatural gifts or spells or whatever, like, aren’t gonna do them any good against these particular foes. And werewolves are USED to fighting with just brute physical strength and attributes, which gives them the edge against opponents who are more used to being able to fall back on magic in battle.

But as much as I like sticking to a theme, I like to diversify that theme where possible, so when it came to the other shifter types, I wanted to similarly come up with ways where ‘the whole would be greater than the sum of their parts’ but in like, entirely different ways.

So with dolphin shifters, their ‘passive magic’ (in quotes cuz that’s not quite the right word for it but whatever) is that they’re all empaths, with their more active magic being weather manipulation. Their empathy is a two-way street....they project emotions as well as just feel other peoples’, which ties into the fact that their patron deity was Dionysus. Dolphin parties....legendary. But in an extremely wild, dangerous and Bacchanalian kinda way. In terms of Beacon Bay specifically, this is a bit of a problem for the BB dolphins, as the closest thing they had to an official Triton (the dolphin shifter version of an Alpha) was Peter, but they were like nope, not loving this guy, and kinda drove him out of town in the AU S1 backstory of this ‘verse, which means Scott and the others are kinda just making it up as they go along, and don’t really know the ins and outs of BEING dolphin shifters. (Derek is....elsewhere, in this. Mostly). 

So bottom line is they have reputations around school for being loud obnoxious goofs and trouble-makers, constantly playing hooky and such, but its because they don’t really know HOW to safeguard against spilling their emotions onto everyone around them so they try and err on the side of being the life of the party whenever possible, as that’s better than the alternatives in their opinion. And when they’re just having bad days and bumming hard, the whole pod will just skip school and glomp around the bumming pod member whilst self-caring, rather than like, accidentally bum out the entire school.

But their weather manipulation magic is where the gestalt idea comes into play with them, as I love weather manipulating powers, but I didn’t want to make them all Ororo Munroe, y’know? Only Ororo Munroe can be Ororo Munroe. Don’t make me scoff. I’ll do it. I’ll scoff so hard. SO I went with the idea of weather control married to manipulating storms via song and was like, okay what if a dolphin pod is like, a symphony of shifters. 

Basically, its like each individual dolphin shifter is a single voice in a chorus, and there’s magical equivalents of being a baritone, an alto, etc. Like, none of them can whip up a storm on their own. Its more that each of them can summon or conjure a PIECE of a storm with their song, with it being different for each of them....symptomatic of their magic as an expression of them as an individual. So for instance, Scott’s song is ‘tuned’ to lightning. He can call down a bolt of lightning from a clear blue sky.....but he can’t summon so much as a drop of rain to save his life. Literally. Its an actual plot point at one point. Whereas Isaac’s song is all about calling down rain, Boyd’s is more of an arctic wind, and Erica’s kinda summons a pressure front that in harmony with the two of theirs can whip up a mean waterspout. And then Corey’s all about conjuring fog banks with low visibility while Liam can whistle up a strong, gale-force wind but sucks at using his song as a precision instrument. Etc, etc. But the real magic is when they all use their voices and magic in concert....as a group, they can summon huge magical thunderstorms.

Also, one thing I love about using different kinds of shifters is the opportunity to explore enhanced supernatural senses that aren’t just keen sight, smell or hearing. So the dolphin shifters aren’t like wolf shifters in being able to detect chemosignals or anything like that....in fact, their sense of smell isn’t much different from anyone else’s. But they do have an ability to use what’s effectively supernatural echolocation even above water, and their sight is adapted for optimal viewing underwater, making them particularly good at seeing in the darkness even on land. 

(Also, related but somewhat tangential to both the shifter senses and dolphin ‘voices’....all dolphin shifters have a strong talent for mimicry, but this isn’t technically a form of magic, more just a combination of their control over their voice and their keen senses of pitch, etc).

The shark shifters, on the other hand, have some of the keenest senses of all shifters. Not only is their sense of smell even better than a werewolf’s, they’re sensitive to changes in pressure, for one thing. Which means on land, they can even feel changes in atmospheric pressure.....so like, the shark shifters of Beacon Bay could be in math class and then ‘feel’ a sudden drop in air pressure and thus even before some strange weather phenomenon occurs, they’re groaning like ugh fucking A, what the hell did the damn dolphins do now.

Also, their magnetic field perception is such that they can kinda ‘sense’ when people are around, just by being aware of the approaching magnetic field of another living being.

And then with the sharks, I was looking for ways to lean into the associations we have with sharks and blood, but subvert them to be less macabre and more communal. And another big theme of mine in general is like, I am DETERMINED to go to my grave shouting at the top of my lungs “Its THE BLOOD OF THE COVENANT IS THICKER THAN THE WATER OF THE WOMB, NOT BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER, HOW DID PEOPLE GET THAT SO BACKWARDS ITS SUPPOSED TO BE THE EXACT OPPOSITE OF HOW ITS USUALLY STATED!”

Like, that’s just...HUGE pet peeve of mine. Its like nails on a chalkboard, lmfao, that drives me nuts. That phrase is usually cited by people using it to express like, the idea that there’s no greater force than family, specifically BIOLOGICAL, ‘blood’ relations, but its literally meant to be the exact opposite, that the blood of CHOSEN bonds, of covenants, of vows or promises, is a greater force than the water of the womb, ie being born of the same womb, as in biological siblings. The entire point of the phrase is biology ain’t shit, family is what we choose. And somehow it got turned ENTIRELY around.

(Note: Okay, so for the record, its not ‘somehow’, there’s actually a very clear reason for why that particular interpretation gained so much momentum, and that’s because for a long time it was conflated with an old German proverb from like a thousand years ago that basically translates to “kin-blood is not spoiled by water.” Which basically was meant to mean that nothing can ‘dilute’ blood relations, not time, not distance, not water. So that phrase DOES correspond to the idea that ‘blood is thicker than water.’ Problem is, there isn’t a direct trace from that particular proverb TO most USAGES of ‘blood is thicker than water,’ which when you throw in the OTHER phrase, which in its entirety is “the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” what you end up with is a lot of people SAYING that one when they actually MEAN to say ‘kin-blood is not spoiled by water’ and that’s where the meanings get switched. But I fucking digress. Per usual).

Anyway. So combine that particular pet peeve with my found family fixation AND the fact that this is about magic and magic means I can do whatever the hell I want, fuck your biological connections mwahahaha.....I decided to base shark magic on the idea of the blood-ties of family....but CHOSEN blood-ties, as in blood of the covenant ties.

What I mean is okay, so it first of all just made sense to me to have shark shifter communities be heavily focused around adoption, because like....let’s be real, shark shifters going around biting people to change them into shifters, and then people magically healing from....shark bites....was going to attract a lot more attention than people turning after being attacked by other types of shifters. Not to mention the fact that not only are shark attacks always big news, part of why they’re big news is because they’re actually pretty rare.

So, shark shifter communities were never really gonna propagate via lots of random shark shifter attacks turning people. So the way they DO expand and grow is by, well, family. Both biological AND adoption...as well as of course shark shifter communities taking in people who ARE attacked by rogue shark shifters, when that does happen. 

But bottom line is, there’s an additional element in play in shark shifter communities, beyond just the gene pool....and that’s like, a magical tidepool of talents, let’s call it. Because I do love me some alliteration. But also tidepool of talents is just a cool phrase, IMO.

Anyway, the main part of shark shifter magic, and how THEIR whole is greater than the sum of their parts, is that any shark shifter can draw upon or channel the talents, skillsets or knowledge of anyone else in their communal family. And whenever that family gets added to, the talents, skillsets and knowledge of the new addition gets added to the pot, so to speak. So shark shifters are kinda all like Rogue, if Rogue’s focus was less on the superpowers of other people and more on things like Beast’s scientific knowledge, Cyclops’ strategic skills or Cable’s weapons expertise.

And then their ‘passive magic’ is a form of psychometry whenever they come into contact with blood. By touching even just a drop of someone’s blood, they can get a vision of how that blood was spilled or even get a sense of where the person who spilled it is now.

As to the types of sharks and dolphins they all are, for that I went with the thing about the shape you take reflects the person you are.....all the shifters here are full shifters, and there’s no genetic component to their shifting, its purely magical, so like....just because Peter turned the various dolphins of BB doesn’t mean they all turn into the same kind of dolphin he was. In fact, I don’t even know what kind of dolphin he was on account of I don’t really care tbh, lol. Whereas Erica’s an Atlantic spotted dolphin, Liam’s a pygmy killer whale which looks like an orca just tiny in comparison and is actually a dolphin, and I found that combination of factors hilarious, etc, etc.

Same thing with the shark shifters. Even among biological relations, there’s a ton of variety of shark types. Like the twins aren’t even the same type...Ethan’s a blue shark and Aiden’s a bull shark, Tracy’s a tiger shark and Hayden’s an angel shark. Danny’s actually a throwback to an unnamed prehistoric shark, not Megalodon big but big enough to shut up Jackson when he goes on about being a great white shark. Shark and crocodile shifters are the two oldest shifter clans, old enough that literal dinosaurs fall under the umbrella of their shifter type, and thus occasionally show up even in modern generations.

[cyanoscarlet]

2020 writing review

Thanks for the tag, @gladiowrites​! (I know it’s not a tag, but this is fun to do lol)

I.. honestly wrote a lot this 2020. No kidding. Quarantine productivity was real, but so is residency languishing by the wayside while everyone was busy surviving and adjusting. I highly doubt 2021 will be the same, but I’ll always cherish 2020 just because of the writing and nothing else.

This is gonna be long.

FIRST CREATION + MOST RECENT CREATION OF 2020

8:15 am  - Final Fantasy XV. Lunafreya. February 2020. - First piece ever written for the year. - Intended to be a Luna-centric AU, in which the Nox Fleurets were deposed and she’s now a regular teacher. Never managed to write anything beyond that, though, because residency. (Back then, I didn’t know it was gonna be the beginning of the end, so I had hopes. Oh well.)

irresistible!, or the summer ramblings of nene yashiro and everything that followed - Toilet-Bound Hanako-Kun. Nene, Hanako. March 2020. - First one published on AO3 for 2020 (yes, there’s a distinction). - If you think the title sounds familiar, you’re right.

versus

first yuletide - Final Fantasy XV. Nyx. December 2020. - Written for the FFXV Secret Santa event on Twitter. - Before y’all object and say what unwinding is, that’s an old fic uploaded late.

ONE OF YOUR FAVORITE CREATIONS FROM 2020

Do I seriously have to choose? Omg.

take heart - Bungou Stray Dogs. Dazai/Chuuya. Gods/Humans AU. - Discovered so much about myself writing this. Also (hopefully) I managed to get into Dazai’s headspace correctly. He’s an extremely difficult character to write, so finishing this brought so much gratification.

you don’t raise heroes, you raise sons - Final Fantasy VIII. Laguna, Squall. Post-canon. - Probably my most heartfelt work of the year- scratch that, ever. Also happy with how I just let myself go writing this and didn’t need to think twice.

A CREATION YOU’RE REALLY PROUD OF

oneiric moments (or, five nights with you) - Bungou Stray Dogs. Dazai/Chuuya. - Written for the SKK Fic Exchange for Summer 2020. - Five interconnected fics. 18,985 words. - Might not be a big deal for others, but this was taxing because I don’t usually write long, multichaptered stuff. I got carried away, though. It ain’t as well-polished as my more recent stuff, but I’m proud of myself for pulling this off.

A NEW STYLE YOU TRIED THIS YEAR & A FIC THAT USES IT

I... don’t think I have tried anything of the sort. My repertoire is sorely limited compared to others, I’m afraid. I’d probably have an answer for “explored new themes,” but again, I’ve a limited arsenal, too, in that regard.

A CREATION THAT TOOK YOU FOREVER

all in a day’s work - Bungou Stray Dogs. Atsushi, Akutagawa. Cells at Work AU. - It’s still being written, with a lot of side stories planned but never drafted. - I fell out of love with BSD, recovered from that, then got busy with residency.

YOUR CREATION FROM 2020 THAT RECEIVED THE MOST NOTES KUDOS

Also take heart. While I am proud of it, I guess it hit the right spot for mainstream shippers, too, somewhat? My feelings about mainstream things have changed a lot because of things, but I am still happy.

A CREATION YOU THINK DESERVED MORE NOTES KUDOS

amīcitia - Bungou Stray Dogs. Dazai, Chuuya. Final Fantasy XV AU. - Petty indignancy for my self-indulgent baby aside, I’m also proud of how I wrote Dazai in this one, similar to take heart.  the fun they had - Bungou Stray Dogs. Kajii, Port Mafia Ensemble. - ... Guys. Please notice genfics.

A NEW FANDOM YOU JOINED AND A CREATION YOU MADE FOR IT

Everything I wrote for Bungou Stray Dogs. (I kid you not.)

If you want a single answer anyway:

on the flaming mountains - act-age. Chiyoko, Kei. Princess Iron Fan Arc. - arc words: “what shall i do with this ire?” - I wouldn’t really say I “left” the fandom, more like it fizzled out after Matsuki-sensei got arrested.

A CREATION YOU MADE THAT BREAKS YOUR HEART

a cycle of; - Bungou Stray Dogs. Dazai/Chuuya. Medico-legal AU. - Written out of much anger and frustration over things. Also because this in itself was frustrating to write.

Also  you don’t raise heroes, you raise sons. Because no matter how much I hate my family at so many points in my life, I know I can’t truly hate them from the bottom of my heart. This fic is a reminder of that.

A SIMPLE CREATION THAT YOU REALLY LOVE

express delivery for love - Bungou Stray Dogs. Dazai/Chuuya. Real World Quarantine AU. - It’s funny. It’s orthodox. It’s sweet. I don’t think it can get any better than that.

A CREATION THAT WAS INSPIRED BY ANOTHER ONE

rather be - Bungou Stray Dogs. Yosano. Pre-canon. - Inspired by yesterday is another world by @wctercress​ - The whole of primum non nocere, actually, but specifically this one, and the rest followed. - This is also my first BSD fic. Ever.

A FAVORITE CREATION CREATED BY SOMEONE ELSE

... You sure? There’s a lot, and this is just on the surface. (unleashes the proverbial waterfall)

The aforementioned yesterday is another world by @wctercress​

silencer and snow white days by EKmisao - Bungou Stray Dogs. Dazai, Chuuya. Dead Apple canon-divergent. - The aftermath of Dead Apple, in which one of two goes wrong. - They’re unrelated, I know. But they’re both sisters! Just trust me on this. - The proper entry for this would be silencer, but I can’t very well mention one without the other, so have both anyway. I read both only this year, after all. Waiting for Godot by @eternal-aegis​ - Bungou Stray Dogs. Dazai, Fyodor, Chuuya. Canon-divergent. - Amazing theme, amazing philosophy, amazing writing. It makes you think. It makes you analyze and explore. This writer definitely knows her stuff, and it shows. Catharsis by @gladiowrites​ - Final Fantasy VIII. Rinoa, Gen. Caraway. Post-canon. - The denouement to the Caraway family drama we all deserve. I love how Rinoa is presented in this fic. She’s a normal person who makes mistakes and learns her lessons. So is Fury. Burned bridges don’t always have to stay down, and this fic illustrates that wonderfully.

Culmination by @gladiowrites​ - Final Fantasy VIII. Squall, Rinoa. Post-canon. - We can’t all have happy endings. This fic also illustrates that very well. While I, a Squinoa fan, personally ascribe to the happy ending Squall and Rinoa must have had after the events of FF8, this fic is so compelling and grounded and reflective and I totally buy this. 

Here Without You by @muselover1901​ - Akagami no Shirayuki-hime. Zen/Shirayuki. Real world quarantine AU. - One of the sweetest stories I’ve ever read this year. I can definitely relate to a lot of things in this fic. I’ve been rereading all of Muse’s ANS stuff whenever I feel down, and they all hit the spot.

Savor The Moment by @joeys-piano​ - Bungou Stray Dogs. Oda. Pre-canon. - Yes, yes, YES. One of the best stories I’ve ever read this year, ever. (And I mean stories, not fanfics.) Great character study about a man named Oda and a day in his life and a page (or three) out of his book of relationships. The love poured into this is simply overflowing and precious. I’ve been following Joey since this fic was being written, and I’m so proud of him.

False Equivalences by @slowquotesquill - Dai Gyakuten Saiban. Asougi, Ryuunosuke. Fullmetal Alchemist AU. - This fic also! Oh, My Heart. The cynicism of a state alchemist and the optimism of a foreign doctor. It perfectly hits the spot for everything FMA, and we all know that SQQ’s Asouryuu fics are always to die for. It’s the ultimate combo.

The whole Promptober Leo/Will/Despair series by @eternal-aegis - Kekkai Sensen. Various themes, many of which are dark/mature. - I’ve said this with Waiting for Godot, and I’ll say it again: Aegis knows her stuff. This is her exploring further in that direction, and you can feel the improvement with every fic in the series. I really love how adventurous these stories are, and how much depth you can go with every one. Her characterization is layered and exquisite, and the underlying lore is well-thought-out. - tl;dr: B3 Goddess.

Predestined by Galkimasera - Final Fantasy VIII. Rinoa, Squall. Reverse/Fateswap AU. - A very well-written reverse AU! The circumstances of Squall and Rinoa in this ‘verse fit so well and are so well thought out. I love this AU so much, you don’t even know. It also fills my nostalgic shipper’s heart with much joy at seeing quality content in this Year of our Lord 2020.

For auld lang syne, my dear by @by-nina - Fullmetal Alchemist. Roy, Riza. Canon-compliant + post-canon. - Holiday feels, snapshots through time, and all over showing Roy and Riza’s budding relationship over the years. And it does remind me of a lot of the SKK fics I’ve written (thematic-wise). This was such a treat to read and to follow. All her FMA fics are. She does Royai so much justice. Am not yet finished reading smoke without fire, but I’ll get to that, too!

SOME OF YOUR FAVORITE CONTENT CREATORS FROM THIS YEAR

Everyone in the answer above. There’s honestly a whole boatload of more, but this is getting too long already lololol

(might edit this when I feel like it, tho!)