#after effects goes brr

[miiukkaa]

little animation tests!! sonas belong to @hellishgayliath and @spectra-bear which i have wanted to draw for a while now!! 💗💗

[starfirette]

School Reunion

He was a a lithe figure of all rhyme and very little reason...

...especially he gestured for you to come closer. Tousled tufts of soft, brown hair flopped over his forehead, not so strictly gelled back today. His hair was ultimately the first thing that warmed you up to him. His previous face was undoubtedly your first, true love--all blue eyes and ears, knit sweaters under leather jackets, and a secret soft side...

❇Tenth Doctor x Fem Reader

❇hmmmm this took a month to perfect! I shall page @bellaswansrealgf because this does indeed have a size kink portion :)) this is cross posted to my ao3 (username is the same if you want to check that out!)

❇ masterlist | 17+ | size kink goes brr | cheeky Tenth doctor | "Mr Smith" | Sexual Roleplay | Vaginal Fingering | Penis In Vagina Sex | Age Difference kinda technically | this word is so gross but I have to put it in the tags Squirting | Also some degradation | Overstimulation | Creampie | switchy Tenth doctor, but he's a dom rn | Older Man/Younger Woman and teacher student vibes but also not really

You were the illustrious and young English teacher, and he was the older, more experienced Physics teacher.

But it had only been a game. It was the ruse for a job at some school.

Of course you had "just" graduated college; you needed a guided hand to show you how to handle those rowdy students. "Professor Smith," you said as you batted your eyelashes. The size difference between you two was enough to make you squirm, thighs clenched and heart beating in anticipation. 

"Poor thing," 'Mr Smith' had said. His hand is ruffling up the chiffon of your knee length skirt. "You're so needy for attention. You'd take any bit of attention from even the science teacher." 

You wouldn't yet go into further detail of what conspired that day. After all, it was a little bit inappropriate of you two to do such fooling around during the hours of an investigation. Rose would have been livid to know that while she was slinging chips and pizza to students and staff, you and the Doctor were rather preoccupied with teaching not the students but yourselves just how Miss [L/n] and Mr Smith ought to behave. 

Of course, the roleplay was divine. Mr Smith was a role that the Doctor deeply enjoyed to act with, especially when it came to shamelessly flirting with you as if he didn't know you. You suspect he had all his fun that way. 

Apart from the canoodling in the workplace, everything else was really a ruse. The way it all started is a little bit convulated, but Rose heard from Mickey who must have heard from someone else that strange things were going on back in her hometime. (Hometime was a bit of a private joke between you, Rose, and the Doctor, it's a play on the word hometown! You and the Doctor fight for the credit of who actually coined the term but Rose often sides with the argument that you truly did.) The Doctor went into full dramatic effect, as he tends to do, and he created you a full fledged identity and a college degree. In real life (for lack of a better term)you're almost done with college where you're honestly pursuing a degree for English Literature.

The Doctor surprised you with the position at this school. Albeit it's undercover, he wanted you to have some fun. His face lit up like the lights on a Christmas tree when he saw how excited you were. Granted, this was a far cry from being an English professor at a prestigious university, as you drunkenly confessed to his prior face while celebrating the win against the nanogenes during the second World War. Though he looked different then,  he still loved you with the same, big heart. 

Hearts. 

Force of habit. 

Day One of the mission was the easiest mostly because day one didn't require real work. Rose helped you research the winning numbers for some lottery tickets. She dropped off two winning tickets at the homes of a couple teachers from the school: one from the Mathematics department, one from the Literature. 

Needless to say both resigned in an instant. Unfortunately this sparked nasty rumors which accounted the two teachers (who really didn't know one another at all) were having an affair. Well, so long as they enjoyed the money. And since neither of their spouse's seemed to believe these rumors, you supposed there was no real harm done. 

Day two consisted of applying for the jobs and actually getting them. The interview process went well. You interviewed with the superintendent who claimed the headmaster was busy. 

'This isn't fair,' Rose said. 'I want to be a teacher.' 

'You'd look so cute as the lady administrator,' you pointed out from the sofa of the Tardis common room. 'You could wear fake specs. Y'know, look over them and give students dirty looks. Type obnoxiously on your clunky laptop. It's such a shame mini iPads weren't invented sooner. I'd look soooo cute carrying mine around.'

Rose groaned theatrically as she collapsed onto the sofa. She rolled on top of your lap, pushing the remote out of your hands so you could pay attention to her. 'Tell your boyfriend to make me a teacher,' Rose indignantly said.  Her nose scrunched as you shifted your thigh to push her off. 

'My hands are full,' The Doctor said through a mouthful of snack food. He tossed a sprinkle of crumbs at Rose, consequently catching some on your lap. You shoved his face with mock disregard. 'You mean your hands are tied,' you corrected.

'Sure,' he said, 'that too.' 

The start of day three. You dressed in a knee length skirt with pointy flats and a smart looking blazer. You decided to forgo a pair of fake specs (though you were known to occasionally need a pair of real lenses ever since a strange trip with your blue-eyed, prominent-nosed Doctor to an interesting laser show which had some nasty effects on your eyes; it was some sort of festival on Mars in the year 3000). As you walked down the hall to your class room the Doctor walked past, heading the opposite way to the Mathematics department. He sent a prolonged look up and down your outfit. 

"Hello, Mr Smith," you said curtly. You had to fight the grin that tussled with your lips. You enjoyed playing your role too, too much.

Mr Smith uncharacteristically fumbled over his feet as he looked over his shoulder to meticulously study the way your bum and hips moved as you went about your merry way. Needless to say this is when he decided to amp up his game. 

The children in your classroom couldn't have been older than fourteen. You didn't expect anything outwardly startling at this point, because you didn't yet realize the secrets this school held. 

You took a look at the lesson plan the students had been going through before their previous teacher took a miracle vacation to Sicily to renew their marriage vows.

Good for them. 

"Who would like to examine the motifs of this scene?" you asked. You were picking through a bit of Macbeth. A beginning scene with the three witches; it should be easy enough. How typcal to have stumbled upon their Shakespeare unit. An obligatory staple of middle school. Or highschool. Whatever grade these kids are in. You tried thinking of it in terms of Harry Potter; are they fifth years? Harry Potter was certainly fifteen during Order of the Phoenix. 

You contemplated this as no one actually tried discussing Macbeth. 

"Would anyone like to mention anything?" Your attempts to get them talking was dismal. Perhaps they missed their old teacher. You felt a little guilty. Even more guilt poured in you when you obnoxiously thought that their old teacher wasn't missing them, not while they were having a second honeymoon in Sicily!

"Anything?" 

You could have heard an eyelash drop in that room. 

"Going on about motif, it's rather interesting that when Macbeth enters, he notes...? What does he say that directly links him to the witches? Oh, goodness, I've lost my place...'So foul and fair a day I have not seen.' Does anyone remember what the three witches say in the opening scene?"

Finally a hand is raised.

You want to thank the kid profusely as you call on her. "What's your name?" 

"Addie Jones," the girl said. 

"Wonderful! Nice to meet you, Miss Addie. Do you remember the line?" 

"'Fair is foul and foul is fair. Hover through the fog and filthy air.'" 

"Excellent," you tell her with a smile. "Not only does this line set the overarching theme for the story, it also is a neat trick Shakespeare put in. Macbeth enters a few scenes later and by repeating their words, he's effectively sealed his own fate. This is a pretty good example of a motif. Does anyone know what a motif is?" You scanned the room, hoping for another arm to pop up, but Addie's hand waved shyly in your sight. You understood, then, why teachers threatened to call on students at random. You'd threaten that yourself if you knew anyone else's name. Besides, Addie seemed eager enough to share her answer. "Addie!" 

"A motif is a series of repeated patterns, often dialogue or imagery, in literature used to further a narrative." 

Whoa. 

"Great answer," you told Addie, a sincere smile capturing your lips. "Given that definition, can anyone find other motifs in the play?"

Addie raised her hand. 

"Does anyone other than Addie have an idea?" you tried. To no avail, you nodded at Addie. You took a seat behind your desk, grabbing a pen to jot down a forethought about Harry Potter. 

Addie took a loud and deep breath. "Another integral motif in the play is sleep. Banquo states, act two scene one, 'And yet I would not sleep. Merciful powers restrain in me cursed thoughts that nature gives way to response.' Act two, scene two, Macbeth by now has killed the king. 'There's one did sleep laugh in's sleep, and one cried Murder!' 14 lines later, same scene, Macbeth then says, 'Methought I heard a voice cry 'sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep. The innocent sleep, sleep which knits-,'"

You were extremely puzzled. You tried to gently interupt Addie's train of thought, which seemed to be more than just reading directly from her book than actually answering your question. Taking a stand, your flats smacking the linoleum floor, you strolled back to the front of the classroom, your lesson plan in hand. You caught a glance at Addie's desk. Wherein you'd been expecting to see her fingers eagerly scanning along the pages of her open book, you found that her textbook was rather shut, her hands clasped atop it as she waited for you to say something. 

Blinking in surprise, you looked back at the lesson plan. You skimmed through a couple pages. Just when did they begin studying this play? That thought was muting all of your prior Harry Potter saga theories. Only at the start of the week...and they were only assigned an at home reading for the first four scenes. 

Perhaps Addie liked to read. Perhaps she enjoyed Macbeth so very much that she chose to memorize the entire damn play.

You hadn't seen any notes marking Addie's remarkable abilities in the subject, so you wondered on about how she could have done such a quick study of the play. "He certainly prattles on about sleep, doesn't he?" you asked Addie, who grinned toothily and nervously. "What do you think it means?" you continued as you hugged the lesson plan to your chest. 

That smile faded. "Oh. I'm not sure." Addie, who had memorized all the lines and their scenes regarding 'sleep', was at a loss for words. 

You felt a little bit guilty to find that she seemed incredibly embarrassed to be without an answer. You didn't necessarily care, but you wanted to probe for more answers. "Want to venture a guess? Why do you think sleep is so important here? What might it symbolize?" 

Addie went red in the face. She played with the edges of her textbook. Her nails pulled apart the layers of the hard cover, flaking specks of cardboard across her desk. 

"We could ask ourselves what a literary symbol is," you continued, quickly trying to move on before Addie could explode. "What's a symbol in literature? Maybe someone aside from Addie?" 

You sighed. Defeated again. Tomorrow you'd have to try harder. "Alright, Addie, take it away." 

After taking a breath of relief, Addie prattled away, "A symbol in literature is one of the literary devices that an author might use to convey a hidden message or theme. Symbols often are represented through objects or ideas that serve with a literal purpose but have metaphorical meaning which furthers the narrative, much like a motif." 

Puzzled by her in depth definition all you could really do was nod in response. 'That's correct," you informed her. Though it was far too correct. It didn't sound at all like the answer of a thirteen year old girl. It sounded like a line from a thesis paper or even from some dictionary. Her knowledge us certainly expansive but robotic in nature. She can identify patterns, like motifs and sleep and what not, but she can't analyze their meaning. 

You frowned. More accurately, she couldn't form her own thoughts on the subject matter. 

During lunch break, you searched the cafeteria for the Doctor. You went through the line, declining food after food. You made a scene of asking Rose for an apple, and then  you leaned in close as she handed it to you. "I found something a little bit strange. Sweet girl in my class basically memorized her English textbook. She might as well have memorized mine. Have you seen him?" 

Rose's brow twitched with contempt. "No," she said sharply. "Fuck 'im, really, I'm stuck back here slinging chips at bratty kids and he's off doing who knows w-oh, there he is." She pointed him out in the crowd of students, the man sitting at a table and picking apart a turkey and cheese sandwich layer by layer. "He's bein' weird again," Rose snickered. The Doctor smelled one slice of bread. "Oh, God, go stop him. I can't watch him deface himself like this. Wait, take your apple, now. If I was working on commission then you'd be of no use to me. That's right, take some milk, too. Not the skim, you daft. That's basically water. Take the two percent." 

You tried to juggle the milk and apple that Rose had tossed in your arms as you sped walked towards the Doctor. You dropped the apple on the table as you took a seat in front of him. His nimble fingers dropped the bread in a split second and he eyed you close. "I've got something," you said. 

"Ah, ah," the Doctor said sharply with a wag of his finger. "I don't even know you and you're going to sit down, without even asking, and try and engage in conversation? Tsk. You naughty thing." 

You rolled your eyes. "It's nice to meet you," you told him, playing into his game. "I'm Y/n L/n, yada yada. Anyways. Girl in my class-"

He shook his head. "Nope. You didn't ask my name." 

"I know your name," you mocked his tone. "We met at the staff meeting." 

"How do I know you actually remember it?" the Doctor challenged you. "Go on, just ask my name!" He looked much too amused as you angrily peeled open the cap to your milk. 

"What's your name," you therefore said monotonously, trying to void the words of any inquiring tone. 

"John Smith, physics professor. I'm single, by the way." 

"Anyway! Girl in my class! Basically memorized the entire textbook. She had an answer for most of the questions. However, those answers were all...materialistic. I don't know how to describe it. She didn't know how to input her own thoughts. It was like she just downloaded all the information to her brain. Does that make sense?" 

The Doctor nodded. "I've had a similar experience. Kid in my own class has knowledge way beyond planet earth." He pushed his plate of food forward. "Try some."

"No, thanks," you said politely. "I'm not very hungry. Something about this food weirds me out," you drawled as you poked his lightly tousled food around. He was more sampling everything rather than eating. "I've always hated school food. The chips look...odd. The smell of them is somehow off. Does that make any sense?"

"Come with me," the Doctor responded, not saying anything to your earlier rebuttals regarding the school food. "Toss that, I'm not going to eat it," he added. He took the tray and dumped it. You followed behind him as he slid his tray with the other dirty ones. Rose sent him a glare so foul you were surprised he didn't collapse on the spot. A glare like that could make him regenerate. "Found anything strange?"you ask Rose before she and the Doctor can get into a cat fight, an occurrence which frequents the TARDIS.

Rose gossiped, "Half the kitchen staff got replaced not too long ago. And this lot are weird. Get this! The entire lunch menu has been designed by the headmaster himself. What qualifies him to even do that? Don't you have to study...nutrition?" Rose shook her blonde fringe from her milk chocolate eyes. A flare of mischief came in her eyes. "I bet he didn't."

"Is nutrition a course of study? Actually, it is, isn't it? Oh, Rose you should be a nutritionist!" You said gleefully. 

The Doctor sighed. He furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to keep up with his two companions.

"Oh, shush," Rose chided to you. "The point is we've been at this for three days! We don't even know what's going on. More like you two don't even know what's going on. I've done my part! I reported back to you an' all!" She looked at you both with arms folded across her chest and her eyebrows raised indignantly. She licked her lower lip in a dare for you or the Doctor to argue back, her chocolate-brown eyes strangely malicious. "That's right, isn't it? You've got nothin' to say but-"

"Stop yelling at us!" The Doctor finally dished back. He seemed irritated beyond his senses, which was typical of him. "Your boyfriend is the one who called us."

Rose's mouth quivered at the term. Her lips opened and closed as though she was a fish out of water. "Mickey's not my--hang on a minute, where are you two going?" she finally demanded as the Doctor started to manhandle you. You looked vaguely surprised, staring at him with incredulity. 

"Research!" the Doctor called without looking as he kept his deft fingers tightly wound on your wrist. "We've get a lead!"

You struggled to let her know as he escorted you away. 

The halls were empty as the Doctor pulled you contently down the Mathematics hall. His classroom was certainly empty, all students eating their lunch for the next thirty or so minutes. 

"Show me what you've got," you told him excitedly as he turned the lock on the door. You looked around eagerly for whatever gadget or gizmo he was going to produce. You waited for another moment before you watched with curiosity as the Doctor settled himself easily on the edge of his desk.  "Where is it?" you asked.

"What do you mean?" The Doctor countered, crossing his arms with some semblance of an attitude.  You mimicked the pressing of a sonic screwdriver. "Where's the...gizmo...aren't you going to sonic something?" 

"Oh. No gizmo," the Doctor said. "Not this time. Well, not right now, actually, I'm sure I'll sonic some sort of gizmo sometime soon. No, I actually wanted this time for ourselves. I'm not fond of your attitude, Miss L/n." 

You raised a brow. "My attitude?" 

The Doctor nodded. "Exactly. Your behavior has been nothing short of abysmal. Neglecting me, running about with Rose, and entirely disregarding your duties here. I supplied you with a title of superiority and you have sorely misused it. There's only one word to describe you these past two days." 

For a brief moment your heart stuttered with genuine fear, but then you watched the sparks which flickered in his hazel brown eyes burst into a large flame. 

"Naughty." 

You barked a laugh. You put a hand over your fast beating heart. "That's not funny," you chastised. "I thought you were being serious!"

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. 

No going back now. Not with the rapid pooling of warmth in the bottom of your belly. The Doctor shook his head, tutting his tongue as he folded his arms. 

He was a a lithe figure of all rhyme and very little reason; especially he gestured for you to come closer. Tousled tufts of soft, brown hair flopped over his forehead, not so strictly gelled back today. His hair was ultimately the first thing that warmed you up to him. 

His previous face was undoubtedly your first, true love--all blue eyes and ears, knit sweaters under leather jackets, and a secret soft side with a not so quiet splash of kinky foreplay. There were zero hints of that face in this one, and the first time you saw it you didn't know what quite to think. 

The Doctor had burst into a bright, ball of golden light. Spheres, marble sized, of such light fizzled around him, orbiting his figure while Rose gripped your hand. Her fingers slipped on the fresh blood, making you wince as she slid over the fresh slice.  The fight against the Daleks had been the most important matter in all the world just moments ago. And now you felt as though...you were about to lose everything. 

Your mouth burned with the hard kiss the Doctor had given you. His tongue had meddled against yours, sweeping the roof of your mouth the way he knew you liked. His thumbs swiped away the tears that dotted the corners of your eyes, and just like that, he was saying goodbye. And then this. 

Dizzying rushes of blinking in and out of reality coursed through you. This almost felt like a dream. The image charading in front of you didn't seem right. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, afterall. You three were supposed to find Jack and go home, wherever 'home' was. No matter where home was, the day would always end with you laying on the Doctor's chest, ear to dual hearts while he played with your hair. 

And yet that wasn't how this was going to end. 

Rose gripped your hand tight. Your vision flickered with stars as her fingers slipped into the gash on your hand. Nausea punched you in the gut as the light grew brighter and brighter. Stop, you wanted to tell him. It's not funny. 

It wasn't funny at all. 

The energy surged, so loud you could almost hear it, you could practically feel it sizzling inside of you. Energy sang inside the TARDIS: the chime high and loud, the pitch far beyond any regular frequency. And God, it hurt. 

The ringing ascended frequency and finally it shut off as the Doctor cried out just a bit. 

The light disappeared. 

And so had your Doctor. 

You crept closer. 

He pushed his leg out, patting the top of his thigh. "Take a seat, Miss L/n," he sighed, making a point to sound disappointed. He would really be if you didn't play along! So you hopped up to take a seat, holding onto the back of his neck for leverage as you made yourself comfortable. 

It wasn't unusual for him to become unexpectedly horny, especially in the midst of a mission such as this. He was one for taking fortified risks. 

"What do you have to say for yourself?" he asked. 

"Just that I've been a very bad girl," you informed him with an exaggerated pout. You puckered your lower lip. "I just wanted your attention, Mr. Smith." 

"Consider it done. You've certainly caught my attention with this little garb," the Doctor said as he pushed a hand up your skirt. His lean fingers squeezed the inside of your thigh, making you squirm. The flash of quick pain on the easily bruised skin made your heart rush. Looking up at him, it was easy to spot the remnants of the other Doctor. Your first Doctor. 

Though his face has changed, and you love him all the same-if not more-he'll always have that face. 

"Professor Smith," you said as you batted your eyelashes. The size difference between you two was enough to make you squirm, stomach clenched with eager anticipation.

"Poor thing," 'Mr Smith' said. His hand kneaded the jiggling flesh of your leg, pinching it and grinning at the way you wiggled in his grip. "You're so needy for attention," he cooed. "You'd take any bit of attention from even the science teacher." 

His mouth pressed against yours. Lips against lips, both soft as the petals of a flower, but clashing hard, as if you two had never kissed before! But kisses are less than few-and-far; they're frequent. They're the Doctor's favorite past time.

Even with this face you two spend nights in his study, laying in the chaise lounge, your ear against his chest and listening to his dual hearts. Even with this face do you two kiss passionately into the hours of the ambient night lights that the TARDIS has set for you. Your hands plucked at the buttons of his shirt.  His build was entirely different from the previous one he bore. Where then he'd been slightly bulkier with more muscle and mass, he was now slender, lithe, and graceful. He walked like a cat with cunning mischief on his mind. His deft fingers were slipping up your skirt, hooking across the band of your underwear and cheekily tugging them down as he pushed his thumbs into your hips.

He loved, loved, the curves of your body (he always had. It wasn't something that would ever change). He liked to grip the fleshy parts of you tight, squeeze and fondle any parts of you he could get his hands on.  You splayed your fingers out like a starfish, pushing your hand on his sternum just between both hearts. You could feel them both beating fast as his shirt drifted open,  framing his clavicle and abdomen like a picture. He couldn't be more gorgeous than this; freckles constellated his pale skin. The shades that stood out on his skin compared  to yours made your lips curl. The colors were like blots of paint on a pallet in the hands of an artist. 

Confidently, you believed that a painting with every shade your two bodies had to offer would outshine the Mona Lisa or Starry Night. 

The Doctor's hand crept below the threshold of your underwear. His thumb padded through the plush lips of your pussy, nudging at your pearled clit. "Not nearly as wet as I'd prefer," the Doctor chastised as he flexed his thumb in a circle on your clit, not bothering to start at a slow pace. The quick lashings of a hurried pleasure made your body tremble. Like a startled newborn you spasmed in his hold, nearly collapsing backwards. If he hadn't had an arm around your waist you would have made a fool of yourself. 

"Can't stay still?" The Doctor cooed. "The more I rub this little clit, the more wet that oozes out of you. That makes it so easy for me to simply..."

Your voice strained as the Doctor slowly pushed his middle finger inside of you. He moved slowly so that you could feel every bit of your cunt that he stretched out. For all the times you'd ever attempted to stick something inside of yourself, this really took the cake.

Every time you tried it just felt...like you were sticking something inside of yourself. Like there was just something inside a vaginal cavity; Just something inside that was vibrating.

Not sexy, nor pleasurable.

The amount of times you'd attempted to do gymnastics around your bedroom in your home time, stretching your legs or doing back bends, all to find the magical spot that the internet claimed existed. These exploits were all for naught.

Imagine how strange a feeling it was for you to be proven wrong by the Doctor. You swore up and down there was something wrong, something maybe even broken, but no matter what, you just didn't have what other women suspiciously claimed to have. Well, the Doctor loves to prove others wrong. You can imagine how that first night went, with him grinning down at you and touching both the inside and outside of you at once to bring about a genre of pleasure you hadn't realized existed. 

You gnawed on your lip as the Doctor slowly pushed a second digit inside, still tending to your clit to keep the feeling from being too uncomfortable. "It's alright," the Doctor said softly. He shifted his body, making a swift stand as he set you on the desk and settled between your legs, without removing his hand from you at all.  He widened the gap between your legs so your knees laid hip length apart. His tall figure stood straight as he looked down at your cunt which dropped over his hand. 

"And there it is," he sighed. "You're taking it like a good girl, aren't you? Even though we're in a school. A learning facility. Have you no shame?" 

Whether or not he wanted an answer, you couldn't say. Your vision was blurry as he pumped up into a secret place inside of you while also stimulating your clit. The small bundle of nerves was pulsating, having become a bulbous bud of despair and anxiety. It tensed and twitched under every touch but ultimately it yearned for more. You kept tensing around his fingers, holding onto the lapels of his jacket tight. 

The Doctor looked down at you. He smirked. 

"You're holding onto me with quite a strong grip. Afraid I'll pull away? Afraid I'll stop? Your cunt just keeps squeezing onto me. So hot and wet. So comforting. Don't you wish it was my cock?"

You panted out a reply, not bothering to sound witty or naughty. Not the time. "Yes."

A laugh. A genuine sound. The musical chime of it faded before the Doctor replied, "I do, too. But first I'll watch you cum on my fingers. It's alright. Door's all locked. My attention is entirely on you. You've been working so hard, so eager to please Mr Smith. Now you ought to let Mr Smith please you. Although...I should be punishing you. Shouldn't I? I'm sure it wouldn't be much of a real punishment, though. After all, you tend to enjoy it when  I spank your sweet ass."

The mere words sent the images into your brain. The thought of it made your pussy flinch, and the Doctor laughed again though this time round it was a touch harsh sounding. "I knew you enjoyed it," he said quietly. He kissed your forehead, his lips curled into a smile as he did so. "It's alright, dear, it's only me. You can be honest. I quite like it. Oh, my, you're dripping all the way onto my wrist!" 

He feigned annoyance. "Just look...look at this mess you're making."

You dared to take a look. 

A small gasp choked in your throat, the sound making the Doctor chuckle. The muscles of your thighs twitched. The knee length skirt was thrown back so you were sitting bare assed on the cool desk, the skirt gathered around your hips. Your panties were stuffed in the Doctor's trouser pockets: you could see them sticking out. When had he done that?

The tendons in his wrist were flexing as he thrust his two fingers up and in, while his thumb angled upwards to continue the steady pace on your clit. The lazy rhythm which he had set was making you sweat. He didn't seem terribly bothered by the writhing around you were doing.

"Don't you like the sight of it?" The Doctor's content was evident in the way he spoke, looking at the mess with a dreamy sparkle in his eye. 

He appeared visibly intoxicated as a long and loud 'mmm' escaped you. You had a difficult time remembering that the sounds were your own; you didn't always feel physically mounted in your body during your horny escapades. Sometimes the thrall of an orgasm separated your physical self from your metaphysical self like the whites and yolk of an egg. You were being gradually poured apart with every furthering motion the Doctor made. Joules of an intense pleasure rumbled inside of you. Your stomach had a slippery feeling, like a pad of hot butter on a skillet, fuzzy and warm and enticing. 

Your legs jerked around, ankles flanking into the back of his thighs and effectively pulling him closer. He was trapped between your legs-just the way he liked. 

Tension unfurled in your shoulders, slipping away like drops of rain on a window pain. It tingled down your back and you tilted away, Your chin raising towards the ceiling as one of your hands roughly gripped the edge of Mr Smith's desk. Anchored to the British classroom of 2005, you started to feel the edges of a smooth and velvety orgasm close in on you. It was a feeling that couldn't be physically embodied by much else than a velvet ribbon, or a warm vanilla latte, or-

"Fuck!" You whined. "It's-"

The Doctor pushed the familiar feeling forward. It was an intensity that you could only ever feel with the Doctor, with his hand or his cock or his anything. It no longer mattered that the year was 2005; the pressure on your clit felt nothing short of a pulsing burst of energy and fire. Gold fizzled in your vision. Your cunt felt heavy. Something tickled behind your bladder, the feeling making you beg. "Doctor, wait!" You urged him as you pawed at his torso. "I think I'll-"

"That's what I want," the Doctor muttered. "Don't worry, darling, I'll take good care of you. It's alright. Just keep squirming like that and let me rub your pussy to completion. Don't tire yourself-I want to feel you with my cock, too, so just relax and enjoy it. Can't you try?"

The urge to clench your walls and even the muscles around your clit was hard to fight. But when you did, it allowed an enormous wave of pleasure to drown you. You tremored and babbled a string of incoherent words. Some kind of begging, you think, or perhaps declarations of love, hatred, or anything in between. Passions had built up inside you and now  they're spilling out like the waters from a broken dam. Judging by the bleary grins of content through your teary eyes, you were praising him to high ends. Likely spilling out your love for him and his hands. 

Pressure started to release as the gradual high came about. It wasn't an overt transition from pleasure to climax; it was never black and white, it was a grey scale that slowly blossomed to a bright gold and silver.  Weight transpired from the top of your head to your torso and then to your belly. It sank low, behind your ovaries. A heavy, swollen sensation was hanging right over you, taunting the burst of energy that would soon make a mess over the Doctor's hand and shirt. You feared the worst as you pathetically tried to wiggle your hips around. You were so close to that feeling. If you just pushed yourself a little bit more than you could reach it. 

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you're about to cum all over me," the Doctor murmured in a harsh tone. "That's repulsive. That's so human of you. It's disgustingly easy to make you leak with just a hand."

You buried your face into the chest of the Doctor, trying not to be too loud with the whimpers and shallow breaths you were releasing as though you were a television woman in labor. 

Babbling out vowels, your entire body released a burst of warmth; like pink ribbons and fresh croissants and the tops of your thighs after you sat by a bonfire. The convulsed through you as that swollen feeling finally burst, indeed making a mess on the Doctor as you feared. 

You looked down at yourself in shock. A grim sense of shame started to take over the pink-flakey-croissant-bonfires-with-Rose feeling. "I'm so sorry," you whispered, your voice a cracking piece of foil as the Doctor licked the corner of his mouth. He quickly licked his fingers clean before shaking his head. "No, no, don't apologize," he said as he quickly moved his fingers to the button of his pants. "It was quite a learning experience, I should say. I learned that you are a very cute, young, little cunt in desperate need of an older, wiser cock. I'm just going to give you what you want. You don't have anything otherwise to say. I know you don't."

You shook your head as you watched the Doctor palm himself. His bulge was prominent and you had to restrain a whimper as he pulled back the boxer briefs he wore, which you insisted on because he wanted to wear boxers, but you found boxer briefs undeniably sexy, and so he wore them; he couldn't exactly do otherwise when the Tardis was replacing his go to wardrobe with other garments--it was totally accidental the way the Tardis now listened to your opinion before his. But he couldn't deny: blood runs thicker than water. And your blood had sizzled on the heart of the beloved Tards. So yeah, sometimes the Tardis chose to play Christmas music when it was only November (according to the earth-calendar programmed into the mainframe, but that was also another story). 

You pulled him down by the scruff of his neck, forcing him to kiss you as he played with himself. Your sloppy kiss was all tongue against tongue, open mouthed groans into one another as you guided his hand up and down on himself. 

Now leaking precum, he smothered himself   In the lubricant and thumbed the slit of his cock, a clenched-teeth hiss escaping himself as you urged him to prepare. But the Doctor likes to edge himself; he likes the discomfort of wanting to chase an orgasm, the self control it required to ignore the body's instinct. 

"Come closer," he groaned against you. His forehead rested on yours. You both watched him pump his cock a few more times; your chest was rising and falling as hard as his. 

He guided himself inside you, kissing your forehead as he slowly inched forward. The brief discomfort as he pushed past the curve of your walls was strictly rewritten into a song of bliss. Mint green paint, fresh croissants with oozing chocolate, an open campsite by the sizzling fire. 

He hunched over your little figure; he was completely towering atop you, the size of a dire wolf pinning a rabbit against his own torso. He grunted as he pulled himself out only to slam his way back in, the motion making you feel full and heavy. 

He worked his hips to thrust in and out of you, pulling himself practically to the tip each time. His hand was tending to your clit as he moved. Each touch on your clit felt like torture, in the best sense. You already felt swollen and every touch was amplified. The starts of a new orgasm made you tired and shudder, your mouth desperate for water as it worked its way through your body. 

"You're so small," the Doctor huffed through a laugh as your figure jerked with each thrust. You were trapped against his torso, feeling the doubly beat of his hearts pounding as he plowed in and out of you. "So pliable," he added as he groped the side of your thigh exposed by the wrinkled fabric of your skirt. "So hot and tight while I have my way with you. You couldn't help yourself. You just had to be fucked right now, just like this. Always needing my attention, always, always. I never thought you'd be so bratty in public! I like it."

"Stop talking," you groaned. "That's all you ever do. Talk, talk, talk. I think you like that, more." 

The Doctor gripped your chin, slowing his movements down. His hand skittered away from your clit but you were quick to pin it in place. You pushed one of your fingers inside of his mouth, watching him pucker his lips around the digit and sucking. His thick eyelashes fluttered before he jerked his head back. "Not your turn, princess," he sneered. "I'm in charge right now." 

"You like when I'm in charge, too," you retorted. "You could just give up, you know." 

The Doctor once again groped at you, squeezing hard on your pebbled nipples with a growl of warning. "Not the time," he told you with a rough thrust up. It made you gasp and heel over as the spotlight of sudden pleasure shone over you; the Doctor smirked as he carefully weened his way back into a quicker pace than he had been previously going at. "Don't you dare stop," you pleaded as you gripped him by the collar of his button down. "Or you're in for a load of trouble when we get home." The Doctor's brown eyes twinkled at the idea: home on the Tardis, being straddled and used by you, it sounded like a marvelous plan. 

"I'm not the one who's about to get a load," the Doctor said, grinning at the gross slang, but he was unable to really care because your cheeks had tears dripping down them. "Can't wait to see how full you become. I'll be dripping down your legs the rest of the day." 

"Shut up," you whimpered as you tilted your head back. 

Honestly speaking you quite enjoyed his babbling chit chat. He really did like to hear himself talk. You liked it as well. 

"Make me." 

You two pressed your mouths into a rough mold, your tongues slithering over tips and teeth. Your arms wrapped over the back of his neck, locking him in place. His chuckles dripped down your throat as he vocalized his own pleasure. Your breathing hastened. Panting like a dog in the summer heat, you were kissing him back as if it were a fight for your life. You clenched all your body into a rigid stake as the peak of the orgasm finally prodded into your cunt. The Doctor's hands pressed into your hips and legs, his thumbs rubbing calming circles into you as he moaned. He was much more accepting of the pleasure wave as it rode through him. 

Hiccuping whimpers fluttered into the Doctor's mouth as your slick, wet released. The feeling made the Doctor groan, loud and strong as he finally released the gates of his own seed. He grunted as he made sloppy thrusts; cum mixed and squeezed out of you like the lemon custard in a powdered donut, a rare, sweet, tart taste that made your eyes water. 

Your mouths pulled apart with a loud smack. You both looked down at the mess. He pumped in and out a few times, hissing as you suckled a bite on the underside of his jaw. You cried out a curse as he swiftly pulled out and gripped his cock, the limb still half hard. He pushed the tip of himself against your clit, making a harsh circle so your bodies both shuddered. "Too much," he said between clenched teeth. He released a breath as final spurts of his seed painted on the lips of your pussy. 

The strain on his chest eased. 

The Doctor swayed forward. His face lulled into a lazy grin, tucking itself within the crook of your neck. Carefully exhaling your last deep breath, you slid back so you were laying face up, looking at the ceiling as the Doctor remained curled atop you. He hummed with content, rubbing his hand over the soft skin of your pelvis. Your skirt was still flipped up; his pants were unbuttoned. 

Panting. The fluorescent lights seemed so homely in the aftershocks of this feeling. Left over in your core was the tingling of the orgasmic pain on your clit, now soft and bruised, but for good reason. 

"I really think there's something strange going on," you mentioned after a few minutes of calm silence. You softly scratched his scalp, combing through his soft hair while he purred at the feeling, reminding you of a cat. "This school seems off." 

"I'm tired," the Doctor said. "Work seems boring, now." 

"It's life or death," you pointed out. 

"Is it?"

"You're just fucked out, aren't you?" you pointed out again but with a laugh this time. 

"Yeah, you're probably right...probably." 

"I'm always right," you informed him. "The sooner you realize that, the easier your life will be." 

[palismet]

belos' va has that very nice vocal tone that makes my brain go brr, it matches the easy condescending tone that belos hones so well.

that uh-puh-pup sound he makes in young blood, old souls (00:16 in this clip of it) at the beginning of his confrontation with luz is just so nice. the demeaning, mocking ease of it. the okay. i'll play of it all, when luz attacks (first! first! going to talk about that soon too), like he has time to waste on seeing where she's at in battling with her glyphs.

bc it is just a game to him, then. he'd been there the whole time, after all. waiting, expectational, like he'd knew lilith would betray their cause and lead luz there for their rescue. that it was going to happen just like this, the plan of it, and how everything just falls into place, like - how much of this could be seen so clearly? all of them acting like good pawns along a predestined path?

and there's this removed amusement while he fights luz, if you can even call it a fight. he plays with her, toys with her, lifting only a finger the entire time. it's the joy of the catch, the thrill of getting closer to his hands on the portal, what he wants, but there's no rush. how he knows it's going to happen eventually, soon, so he can just chill and go with the flow of things?

it makes me wonder how long he's waited, how comfortable he is now with patience when things are in the works, steadily moving on.

we don't see belos use magic like this in season two. it's a controlled flame, without the anger and emotion that is central to it in king's tide. it's as if here, in s1, he knows what's happening before everyone else, and he flits and melts like light, liquid, almost effortlessly.

there's no reason to try if no one is actually going to test your ability.

it is a game to him, and there aren't any real consequences to any of it until the portal door goes up in flames. he got what he wanted out of lilith, and now he's near enough to reap the rewards of it. but it isn't entirely upsetting either, when he loses it - it just changes the game.

it's similar to this ominous voice trick he does a couple of times - how the visuals turn negative and double themselves atop one another to show the effect - we don't see it again.

it's as if he is a kind of omniscient being, that lingering i will know while they steal borrow the relics, and again during the fight. i love the idea that he has such a control over this artificial magic that he can make his voice actually sound like it is coming from everywhere; that his knowledge, his control, is so overwhelming that it must come from the titan itself / how there are no other possibilities.

go on then. go be a hero, he mocks, but it's such a soft thing. one look, a few words and some oversight and he knows exactly what makes someone tick. i imagine it's why we see hunter do it so well to amity in eclipse lake. he manipulates, so he must know the heart of you.

what a villain! even when we barely know anything about him or his motivations, he's still so powerful and intimidating. and that's good writing. to know just enough to be curious, just enough to be afraid.

[lussterpurge]

Okay, okay, it’s another sad RWBY song, but another great song for Alain is Like Morning Follows Night(by the same people as the last two. They’re the main singers for the series. The song also features Lamar Hall).

You can read it as Alain and Sycamore, Alain and Mairin, or really any duo with Alain. I think it’s a great song with Alain reflecting on his time with Lysandre and the effects of his manipulation and lies, yet they’re still both standing beside him as much as he may try to push him away. It even stands with Alain trying to push them away before/during the league after Chespie was put in a coma and both the professor and Mairin trying to stick close even when he’s pushing them away.

I think lines like “Always regretting what you've done, Spending time counting every little mistake” and “The pain is when you shut me out and take off on your own” are really powerful and encapsulated Alain’s feelings and their relationship with him, especially Sycamore’s since Alain is basically his son. Those aren’t the only ones but the song makes my brain go brr and I’ve been listening to it at work at least once every day this week, sometimes even on repeat for hour just thinking about it.

There’s more I want to say about the song, but it goes into spoiler territory for RWBY and I don’t want to spoil anything if you plan to watch the series. If you want to hear what I have to say, I’ll happily talk about it, but like I said, a lot of it is spoilers for the series itself.

Song - https://youtu.be/GgsOG56iFNU?si=Q_pBra2TdX9bk_LF

HI. SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO GET TO THIS BUT OMG. I love how direct the lyrics are.. this is crazy. Alain constantly trying to push the blame on herself while everyone around her tries to help her understand that it wasn't her fault. Like. It's true! These lyrics (aka the more direct ones) were the ones that caught my attention most..

"Always regretting what you've done Spending time counting every little mistake."

"You don't have to spend your life looking backward We've been through this over and over again You can't just wish it away The past is the past, it'll never change That was before."

THIS IS SO CRAZY ACCURATE I MIGHT PASS AWAY. TY FOR THIS !

[shozaii]

title: the free! boys reacting to you holding their faces. (headcanons)

genre: fluff.

masterlist.

extra notes: a few months into dating, and their s/o finally gathers up the courage to hold the boys’ faces. how exactly would they react? i’ve also added some songs which would possibly go great with the boys! enjoy~~~

first of all, makoto.exe has stopped working.

you were probably on the couch, in the most comfortable cuddling position. and you can’t help but look into his beautiful, emerald green eyes, now glowing brightly under the ceiling light of the living room. it somehow is so effective - you drown in them the more you gaze into them. even the eyes look like they’re smiling. how was that even possible?

so involuntarily, your hand reaches for his face, your palm resting in between his cheek and jawline. 

makoto go SHOOK !!

“e-eh?!” he gasps at the sudden contact of your skin against his. realizing it was only you, he softened, now nuzzling his cheek against your palm. “you took me out of my daze...! would you like anything, angel?”

you brought your face up, his point of view now completely matching yours (cue pov by ariana grande oOPS)

 “you’re too cute.”

“y/n-chan, i might explode from blushing too much— but i must say, you’re cuter.”

he can get really smooth when it comes to praising you and such, i can tell. makoto has the blood of being husband material, and i will stand corrected.

tons of blushing, lots of kisses too. expect that coming your way \OwO/

no thoughts, head go brr

literally, this man just went brr when he felt this new feel of contact on his face. his eyes open wide, like this 👁👁

this probably happened after the two of you took a relaxing dip in the bathtub (because he found out that you were vv tired from all the workload you had waiting for you), and the both of you laid in bed, with you hugging him, and his arm wrapped around your figure. it’s almost his favorite position, but he wouldn’t admit it.

“are you feeling better now....?” he asked you with the usual soft tone in his voice.

slowly, you reached your hand up to his face. “absolutely.” (hmmm, cue art deco by lana del rey)

cue the brr !! what is this new form of contact? was he dreaming? this was you, right? hello...??

“haru! haru, love, are you doing okay? why do you look...flushed?”

“who, me? not at all.” and to think that he would say all of this in the most calm and collected manner, without stammering. when in reality he is slowly turning red, and his heart is violently beating, completely being in love with you.

“actually......i like this. can you do it more....often?”

when i first saw rin, the only thing i can think of when he is with his s/o is that he is a genius. in. making you. fluster. he doesn’t even have to try so hard to make you melt into a puddle. with a literal grin, your heart could skip a beat or two.

shark boy do be looking good tho, need i say more?😌

so i’d like to believe that in order to make rin malfunction, just give him affection. give him headpats. peck him on the lips before he goes out for training. enough to make the boy blush all the way, till his friends notice.

then there’s this face holding. you’ve never exactly held his face before, and you wanted to, so badly. (she by harry styles. wink wonk)

it was probably because he kept teasing you that one particular day. 

gou supports this 1000000000%

before his swimming practice, he needs his pep talks from his baby, because why not ;))))

and he’s a lil worried this time ‘cause he wants to make you happy, so he’s moving around a lot more, his breaths shorter, his hands getting colder.

“hey, hey rin. look at me.” and slowly, you place your palm on his cheek, bringing his face to look at you

at this point he’s already red. like red red. “eh? huh? i’m....wha-...?”

“win or lose, you’ll always be the best to me,” you smiled. your hands were warm at that moment, which was why he did not flinch away. the difference in body temperature was huge anyway. cue him sinking into your touch, while he covers his face with his towel. “you got me good this time.”

“now i’m only stating the truth, rin-kun~,” you cooed, sticking your tongue out.

you are his serotonin booster. 10000/10 would want you to hold his face again. please.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

(a/n): i only wrote three for today!! i promiseeee you i could’ve written more, but hey, let’s start it off pretty simple for now, shall we?? i hope you do enjoy reading this! take care and ily all! kissy🥺💕💕

[jaminjims]

「BRAIN GO BRR」

anon request: Heyyy! Could I request for an imagine for prompt 83? An ot7 platonic bts 8th reader crack / fluff? Like they’re playing around and it gets a wee bit competitive? 😅

prompt: “if you want me, come and get me, motherfuckers.”

pairing: platonic!bts ot7 x gender neutral!reader

genre: crack >:), fluff

warnings: strong language?? should that be a warning?

words: 1.3k

~**~

You looked seriously into Taehyung’s eyes, determined that you would get it right no matter what he did. The stakes were high as your team was only one point away from winning.

Tae meowed.

“Monkey!”

There was a brief pause before several different things happened at once.

“Monkey?! I meow and the first animal you think of is monkey, oh my god. Can I hit you?” Taehyung looked at Jin for permission, “Can I hit Y/n?”

“Yah! I can’t help it if you sound like a monkey all the time; you never evolved past caveman! That’s natural selection Tae! Aish, why couldn’t you just evolve past caveman brain.” You whined and messed with your hair in frustration. Jimin and Jungkook looked on in despair as now the Hyung team was a point closer to winning the game and now the two teams were tied. Hoseok and Jin did all they could not to pass out from laughter while Yoongi just nodded to your exclamation like it was universal knowledge that most people, indeed, did not evolve past caveman brain. Namjoon looked like he would like to end his suffering and was contemplating if it was too late to resign as leader. He should let Yeontan take up the mantle. Or maybe get a lizard. Lizards are patient and wise, right?

Ah yes, the elegance that was animal association; where you make an animal noise and if your partner gets it right then the team gets a point. If your partner gets it wrong, then the other team gets the point. Simple really.

Well, unless it came to you, apparently. There was really a 50/50 chance with you.

It was your birthday and you were all gathered in the dorm living room, having a mini party to celebrate while v-living the event. It seemed like the mass lack of IQ you had spread and lowered the general intelligence of everyone in your vicinity though, as Taehyung exclaimed;

“You never evolved past tadpole brain!” He pointed back at you and you had half a mind to bite his finger.

Before you could act on your biting instincts, Jimin laid a hand on your shoulder with a grim expression on his face. “Even I knew it was a cat, Y/n-ah.”

There was obviously something missing in their brain functions because no, that was definitely a monkey. You lunged for the phone to consult ARMY in the decision but Namjoon had enough sense to pull it away from you before you did something rash. Coincidently, you tripped trying to get up to get it back from the leader, and he just looked down at you with something akin to utter misery for this game in his eyes. Or maybe it was war flashbacks. Probably war flashbacks.

Hoseok couldn’t help it; he was basically wheezing he was laughing so hard and Jin went to help you up, though, he was laughing too and almost fell on you in the process. Yoongi was trying his best not to laugh but he kinda looked like the embodiment of the 👁👄👁 face to you.

“Hey! We can still win this, team! They can still get the next one wrong!” Jungkook exclaimed with determination in his eyes. Jimin nodded along with him as you four sat off to the side and the four eldest got together. It was Jin and Yoongi’s turn and Jin thought of an animal that they haven’t done yet.

He hissed.

There was a tense few seconds before Yoongi, quite confidently, replied with “Hedgehog.”

Jin’s eyes widened as he smiled, that caused Hoseok to whoop in victory because if Jin was acting like that then Yoongi had obviously gotten it right. “Aish, you’re so smart.” Jin complimented. Yoongi smiled and looked at the younger ones with smug victory in his eyes. Namjoon sighed like the long suffering parent he was.

It only goes downhill from here.

Your poor brain struggled to make sense of it. “Hedgehog?! What the fuck?! Do hedgehog’s even hiss!?”

This time Hoseok, Jin, and Yoongi started laughing and celebrating their victory while your other three team members looked at you.

You met Jungkook’s cold stare first, “I am going to defenestrate you.” Then they all lunged at you. You yelled and bolted up, grabbing one of those sticky, stretching rubber hand things you can throw at walls to get them to stick there. (if you know, you know) You had insisted you have them as party favors.

You ran around the couch so there was something between you and the other three maknaes. “But we live on the fourth floor!”

“Exactly!” Jimin added, “Maybe if you hit your head hard enough you can gain some brain function back!” Tae continued.

They ran around one way as you ran around the other. You used your sticky hand to hit them in the face when you could while the Hyung line stood a respectful distance away from the chaos and got it on camera.

“Pause!” You yelled and you all froze. You pointed at them while they pointed back at you. Hoseok started laughing again because it reminded him of the one cartoon spider-man meme.

You smirked at them, “If you want me, come and get me, motherfuckers!” Then you bolted away and the poor hyungs didn’t realize you were running to them before it was too late. You hid behind Namjoon as Jimin, Jungkook, and Tae came at you.

You growled and barked at them like the rapid animal you were and it spoked Namjoon enough to almost drop the phone (that was still running the v-live, by the way).

“Did you just bark?” Yoongi said in disbelief while Hobi and Jin also had a look of confusion mixed with concern mixed with slight horror directed at you. Namjoon quickly moved out of the way so he didn’t contract whatever brain cell eating illness you had. You moved to get behind him again before the other young ones could get to you.

He would would have poked you back with a stick if he had one, “Back! Stay back I say!”

You paled when you realized that you had no cover and bolted down the hallway, Jimin hot on your feet and the other two not to far behind.

The hyung’s followed to wherever you were going to make sure everyone made it out somewhat still intact.

You ran into your room and only paused momentarily when you saw that, huh, when did you open the window?, before regaining your senses and dodgeing the three others as they came barreling into the room.

So, the scene looked like this. You on one side, closest to your closet and desk, while Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung were across from you, backs facing the weirdly opened window. The four oldest were watching on with non concealed laughter and amusement (well three of them were, Namjoon looked a little bit like he wanted a nap.)

With nothing between you and your attackers, you did the last thing you could do; which was throw the sticky green hand at them.

You missed and you all watched as it went falling out the window.

There was a few seconds of nothing before you all jumped at the sound of Hoseok’s phone. He looked at it and then back at the other members.

“It’s Sejin Hyung.” He answered the call and put it on speaker.

“Hoseok-ah, would you like to explain the sticky, green, ... hand thing that just flew out your dorm window and into Y/n’s cake?” That was Bang PD’s voice. Which only meant one thing; their boss was with their manager and they had just witnessed you throwing something out the window and landing in your cake.

Wait, it landed in your cake?!

“Wah! It landed in my cake?!” You whined in misery as Hoseok couldn’t help the incredulous giggle that escaped him. It was quiet on both sides before you heard your manager laugh from the other line.

After that it was a domino effect and you all started laughing, even Bang PD himself. While laughing you still couldn’t help the little whines that escaped you.

“But what about my cake??”

[end]

~**~

end note: PLEASE, i live for crack fics you guys. along with writing angst (which i seem to write the most, for whatever reason) crack is one of my favorite things to write. i feel like i get to really just let my already deteriorating mental stability go and write whatever comes to mind with prompts like these so i had sooo much fun! thank you so so so much for the request anonie! i loved it so much and i hope you like it as much as i did 💜

masterlist

request something!

taglist: @boba-tea1206

[stitch1830]

Sokka and Yue huddled by the fireplace at night after making snow angels in the fresh snow.

Thank you, Stitch💜

Hi Purple G! Sorry this took a while, but have no fear! Yukka fluff is here :D I hope you enjoy <3

......

Their fingers and toes were frozen as they stomped their snowy boots at the entrance, but the reason for their numb limbs was worth it.

A snow day. A day filled with snow angels and snowball fights and snow forts and if there was a proper hill, it was a given that they went penguin sledding down it.

Still, the aftermath of it all left them cold. Really cold.

Sokka shivered and groaned as he rubbed his hands together quickly, hoping to regain the feeling in them soon. But he flashed a smile at Yue as she did the same, her cheeks looking rosier than ever from the sudden change in temperature. “Brr, it’s cold!” she exclaimed. “I can’t feel my fingers!”

“Yeah,” Sokka chuckled. “That’s what happens when you’re out in the snow all day!”

“Oh shush and just help me.”

He continued to laugh as he faced Yue, placing her hands in his and warming them up with his breath. Yue let out a sigh of relief as Sokka warmed up her fingers. “My fingers are warm now, but my toes are still frozen,” she commented.

Sokka paused in warming Yue’s hands. Was she—was she asking him to warm up her toes?

Well… if it would warm her up, he supposed…

He knelt down to untie the laces to her boots and replied, “I’m uh, not sure how effective this technique will be for toes, but I can try—”

Yue’s giggles stopped him mid sentence. Sokka looked up to her, confused. She tried to stifle her laugh as she looked at him. “I was joking, Sokka.”

His cheeks reddened as he registered what she said, and the fact that he didn’t catch the sarcasm? Well…the cold must’ve been getting to him or something.

In an attempt to brush off his blunder, Sokka chuckled with Yue as he stood up. “Right, of course. I knew that.”

“Mhm,” she hummed.

“Absolutely,” he replied. But then, an idea struck, and he couldn't contain his smile as he kissed her wind-chilled cheek. “But I do think I have a solution for your cold feet.”

“Yeah?”

Sokka smiled and replied, “Yeah.”

……

The couple let out a content sigh as they huddled closer to each other and the fire. Wrapped up in blankets, their feet no longer numb, and their hearts warmed by the company and hot chocolate made for a pretty fabulous end to their evening.

As they lay there, Yue kissed Sokka’s cheek, then buried her face in the crook of his neck. He smelled of snow and pine and a little bit of leather, and she soaked in the moment with him.

His arm was wrapped around her shoulder, and he began to rub it soothingly. “Feeling warmer?” he asked.

“Mhm,” she mumbled.

“I’m glad. I was afraid I’d have to actually warm your feet with my hands and everything,” he teased.

“If the fire goes out, maybe,” she jabbed back.

Sokka playfully groaned at her comment. “And this is why snow days are bad! We turn into icicles after.”

“For what it’s worth, you’re a handsome icicle.”

She felt his laugh through his chest and she relished the feeling of his laugh and his heartbeat when she placed her hand on his chest. And in a voice no louder than a whisper, Yue said, “Thank you for making snow angels with me, even though it turned us into icicles after.”

Sokka laughed as he pulled her in closer to his chest, watching her eyelids flutter as sleep overcame her. “Anything for you, love.”

......

Send me an ATLA ship and a prompt to write about!

[dsknsk]

A guide to Thorns: Don’t hug me, I’ve got spikes

(image source)

This is an analysis of the upcoming 6* ranged guard, Thorns. In this post, his performance on the field will be observed, analyzed, his skills will be dissected and his overall kit’s output is compared with the other ranged guards. This post is translated from this post, and all calculations are from there.

Ranged Guards for dummies

Thorns is a ranged Guard and any Arknights player probably knows what that means: that he has a longer range and can carry out ranged attacks at 80% of the base ATK that can hit aerial enemies. They will carry out melee attacks when blocking an enemy. They normally have some RES as well as capability to deal Arts damage (usually) and this makes that this is a pretty powerful archetype to be in. 

We can see here that Thorns’ stats are fairly in line with that of fellow 6*-ranged Guard SilverAsh. His ATK is lower, but his DEF and HP are higher to compensate. (It is also interesting to see that Lappland has 15 RES and not 10 RES).

This table shows the stats of some ranged guards and their stats at E2 max trust (any talent modifiers are not counted). With Midnight and Frostleaf, their potentials are also maxed. Thorns’ stats are bolded since this article compares them with his stats.

Talent 1

Similar to Blue Poison, Thorns poisons the enemy when attacking, and this poison damage is doubled in the case this is dealt by a ranged attack. (if you want to know why: never step on a crown-of-thorns starfish. don’t say I didn’t warn you). While he is often compared to Blue Poison, they should not be. They fulfill entirely different roles and Blue Poison compensates her lower poison damage by firing faster than Thorns attacks. I persume that the doubling on ranged attacks is to compensate for the 80% ATK that is applied on ranged attacks.

Talent 2

His second talent (which unlocks at Elite 2, should to without saying) makes him recover a certain percentage of HP when not attacking. This is somewhat similar to Hellagur, except it is a percentage and not a flat amount. It translates to 91 HP per second for Thorns (after stopping attacking for 2 second) and 60 HP per second for Hellagur. He can also withstand poison haze damage, like in H5-3, however this is only the case when he’s not attacking. This means that if you want to make use of this (i.e use him as bait), he has to be positioned so that he doesn’t attack.

Skill 3: Thorns' bread and butter

Thorns has 2 directly offensive skills, his S1 and his S3. His S1 is simply an attack buff, just a pure DPS output skill.

However, his S3 is interesting. It is the second skill that works differently when it is used for the 2nd time (the other is Eyja’s S1). During the time it is running, his range will be expanded as well, enhancing his poison doubling and his general ability to hit enemies while it is active.

Thorns deals physical damage by default, but that doesn’t mean his S3 doesn’t assist his DPS. Let’s pit him against this fucker:

This fucker right here has 400 DEF and 50 RES. What happens if you let loose his S1, his S3 and then his infinite S3 on it? And how does that compare when you pit the other ranged guards against this fucker?

Local starfish goes brr, more at six

All these ranged guards have this enemy in their range so that they can attack it, and their skills are set so that their ranged penalty is not or barely in effect (except for Thorns S1). In Lappland’s case, the penalty is removed, in the cases of Ayerscarpe and SilverAsh, the skills treat their attacks as melee (thus not suffering from it). Frostleaf and Midnight both have no way to get rid of or bypass this so they are not counted.

We see here that on sustained damage on this single enemy, Thorns’ infinite S3 is leading. On a total, the skill is leading as well. 548 DPS to start with is good, but you can clearly see a large difference between the first activation of the skill and the second one. This is because the second activation, the skill does not only become infinite - it also doubles the granted effects. In practice, this means that at the first usage (at M3), the attack interval is changed to 1.2 seconds, the ATK is buffed by 40%, and at the second usage, the attack interval will be 0.50 seconds, the ATK is buffed by 80%, so it has a significantly different output because he’s dishing out more ATK faster.

Multi-targeting

But what if there are more of these fuckers in their range?

Lappland’s S2 actually gets higher DPS, because she can target 2 enemies at once with it. Similar case goes for SilverAsh’s S3, which also increases the enemy count he can attack. Ayerscarpe’s S2 as well makes him able to attack all enemies that are blocked instead of one (i.e this is important because while ranged Guards can block 2, they will only attack 1. Ayerscarpe’s S2 bypasses this and makes him able to attack both if he is blocking 2). This is something Thorns cannot do, even with his S3 activated twice (this would probably make him more OP than he already is). When pitted against waves, SilverAsh’s S3 deals more damage, but even Ayerscarpe’s S2 deals more DPS.

Furthermore, the output of the S3 is, at its second activation, more powerful than his first one, as we’ve already seen. From level 7 to M3, this goes in increasing order: 11.7%, 20.93%, 36.62%. After all, 40% and 60% is a large difference. So it is worth mastering his skill, I’d say that it is just as impactful as mastering Angelina and SilverAsh’ S3.

However, Thorns is still the strongest ranged Guard when pitted against a single enemy. While his S3 is significantly stronger and more versatile, it is charges on hit whereas his S1 charges passively. It can be concluded that Thorns does not have crowd-control (Lappland’s silence, Frostleaf’s slow), supportive abilities (Ayerscarpe’s ASPD buff, SilverAsh’s invisibility reveal and redeployment time shortening) and burst damage for high ST DPS.

And so, many doctors use him to stand behind a Defender, like here. Saria is a handy partner for him, especially if he has his S3 equipped, because Saria gives SP to him on heal even when he does not passively regenerate SP. Similarly to Ifrit, you can use his increased range on S3 to ‘break boundaries’, like here in 4-10. Other ranged guards cannot hit the enemies blocked by Saria, whereas he can.

Things to note

Be aware that Thorn’s skill usage counter resets when you retreat him. For example, when you retreat him after using his skill 2 times (why would you?), you have to use it 2 times again in order to make it infinite again when you redeploy him. This is not noted in the in-game description, similarly to how it isn’t noted at Eyja’s S1.

Skill 2: a more protective approach

Acanthaster planci “has no mechanism for injecting the toxin, but as the spines perforate tissue of a predator or unwary person, tissue containing the saponins is lost into the wound.” according to Wikipedia. Thus, Thorns is blessed with a similar spike-like ejecting ability in the form of his S2.

1. Basic overview

Skill 2 makes Thorns stop attacking (remember the note about self-healing also), and instead deals damage when he is hit. This damage can only be dealt in a certain cycle that is independent from his actual ASPD (at M3, this is 0.6 sec). However, his DEF is also boosted to keep him alive long enough so he can dish it out.

This has multi-targeting built in, in contrast to his other skills. If he can do this, he can hit pretty hard even if he’s not attacking normally. Let’s compare it.

2. Comparing DPS

In an ideal situation, his S2 can even surpass True Silverslash in terms of DPS. Because every hit can hit multiple enemies and poisons them on hit, this means that this can be absolutely devastating if used correctly. However, it also has many conditions - its range change is not as large as that of his S3 and he stops attacking, which means that in terms of usability, it may be more awkward to use than SilverAsh’s S3. It does have a high ceiling though.

3. Comparing Regen

But as I noted before, the defensive stance Thorns takes on in his S2 is beneficial to his second talent, as him stopping attacking allows him to regenerate. Let’s compare this to other Guard’s regenerative skills:

(Astesia’s is the only one in this list that does not recover HP but ATK. Idk why it’s in the list.)

It can be found that the survivability of Thorns after the second skill is activated is basically the same as the SilverAsh’s S2 at the same level of training. The two are very close in terms of final defense power, HP Regen, and total HP Regen. The only difference is the cycle rate (which has to do with the amount of activation) and the ATK output. As long as SilverAsh does not switch forms, the skill duration is unlimited, while Thorns' skills only have a 50% turnover; SilverAsh has extremely low output capacity with his S2, but Thorns' output potential is extremely high.

All in all, Thorns’ S2 performs very well in terms of survivability, and it will not interrupt the talent when he ‘attacks’ using the spikes in his S2. Although the total amount is not as high as Sideroca’s, the ATK of this skill is significantly higher. During the skill period, his DEF is lower than that of Utage, but the turnover rate is faster and the total HP regen is higher. Thorns’ survivability is not a huge advantage for a single attribute, but is reflected in every aspect.

4. In practice

If Thorns uses his S1 or S2, he’s mostly useful if he is deployed behind or next to a Defender, and he will (with his S2) require someone to cover for him, to withstand the enemy's attacks, draw aggro and become a "shield" for teammates. His talent can also be used when drones attack him, but not in his range (reversing the roles as he’s the one drawing aggro now).

5. Mastery

The second skill mastery of Thorns is very important if you’re planning on using it. It can not only improve the attributes of offense and defense, but also shorten the interval between triggering it. From Level 7 to M3, the output increases by: 9.6%, 16.2%, and 31.9%, with the M2 -> M3 increase being the largest. Thorns’ S2 and S3 are worth mastering, and you can choose which to (or both, if you’ve got the mats). It depends on your playstyle.

RIIC Base skill

Thorns’ RIIC Base skill relates to the Workshop - he gives a 50% output rate when processing any kind of stuff. This is improved upon his E2, which, instead of a higher output rate, gives an additional effect: if processing does not give byproducts 2 times in a row, he will recover the morale lost that went into processing these 2 items.

50% is not as good as Magellan and it is also lower than Mayer (65%), DeepColor and Estelle (60%). But the advantage is that it is long-lasting: when no by-products are produced 2 times in a row, Thorns will regenerate morale. can be regarded as 50% lower than other operators. However, considering that the bonus of infrastructure skills for any type of material bonus will drop, its current role is very limited. Only when there is a lack of a certain type of stuff, or when it is "mass production", it will play a role. Therefore, the overall practicability of Thorns’ RIIC Base skill is not high.

Evaluation

There are two completely different functions Thorns can fulfill: When he uses his S3, he is one of the most powerful single physical output operators in the game, not only having high DPS, but his poison is also very good. When he uses his S2, the positioning is a bit like a half-output reload, with hardness, survival, and damage. These two skills can be switched according to different combat needs in order to make him reach top output. It’s not that hard and the intensity is absolutely up to the standard. If one plans to bring him, he’s worth pulling for and raising. 

A personal note: he certainly does not replace Anti-Air Snipers. Why is not noted in this post (I’m guessing that the perception that Thorns replaces them is not as prevalent on CN?). When the infantry does not form the main problem, but rather the drones, Thorns is not programmed to prioritize drones over infantry.

[jiangchengrights]

and i want to be wanted more than anything else in the world

A/N:

Based on this post 

Title from “Homosexuality” by Frank O’Hara

Also available on AO3!

Marriage, Lan Wangji knows, is not about love.

He’d known this, he’d always know this; Uncle had always been very clear on that. Marriage is about duty. Marriage is about allying Gusu Lan with another sect. It is Lan Wangji’s job in this to ensure profitable trade for the disciples of the Cloud Recesses. It might even, one day, require him to move away from his home and into that of his spouse. His father had married for love and look where that had gotten him; Lan Wangji would never succumb to the same fate. So no, marriage was not about liking his spouse and being liked in return.

Though he had steeled his heart to this fate, there is a memory that he holds deeper somewhere that thumps quiet and soft with every beat of his heart. He usually tries not to think about it; it makes an old hurt flash deep in his bones, throbbing from his toes all the way up his spine to settle like a leech at the back of his neck.

He remembers kneeling at his mother’s side, small back straight, resisting the urge to lean fully into her. She had seen him though, she always had even when he hid behind a solemn face and sparse words. And so with a smile and a fond shake of her head, she had gathered him up into her arms, petting the hair out of his face and said, “My love, my light, you are still my baby.”

He hadn’t laughed exactly, but he’d smiled up at her, the corners of his lips tilting up just enough to ball his cheeks. But she had seen it, of course she’d seen it, and she’d rubbed her thumbs gently against his face, leaning down close enough that her lips brushed against his skin when she whispered, “No matter what happens outside of this house, you are loved.”

And then she’d folded him up in her arms as if he actually was a baby, resting his head on her elbow and guiding her arm beneath the hollows of his knees and swug him around sharply, teasing, enough to have him squirming away and she sang, “My baby, my baby, my baby.”

Leaning forward to grab a slice of loquat, cut perfectly to fit the shape of a small, child sized mouth, from the bowl placed gently on the table in front of them, she’d then brought it up to Lan Wangji’s mouth and said, “Open up, darling.”

And he had because she was his mother and he’d do anything for her. So he’d let her feed him tiny chunks of loquats and pet his face until finally she’d said, almost too softly, “I really hope you find someone who loves you a lot one day.”

He’d looked up at her and then relaxed into her arms even more, settling in her embrace and asked, “Enough to cut up loquats for me?”

Her laugh still sounds like music to him when he remembers it; loud and gentle all at the same time, bathing him in a joy he had yet to know, and she had laughed then, leaning down to nuzzle her nose against his and said, “Yes, baobao, exactly.”

By the time he’d wormed his way out of her embrace, she’d turned her wrath onto Lan Xichen, dragging him closer to her and laugh-crying, “My bigger baby!”

He wishes now he could remember more of that day instead of just that flash moment. Had she been sad when they left that night? Where was that night, in the span of time? How much longer did he have with her, even if he didn’t know yet that there would ever be an end in sight?

And what had she meant when she wished that for him? She had to have known what his life was destined to look like, she had to have known what kind of marriage was in his fate. And yet she wished it anyways, giving a voice to his greatest yearning, to his deepest secret. Hadn’t she known that was impossible?

Hadn’t she known it would haunt him?

::

There was never really any hope of her wish for him coming true.

Even when Lan Wangji was small, he’d been described as cold, frigid; his classmates had been scared of him whether it be because of his skill, his quiet, somber face, or his dedication. His all encompassing grief after his mother’s death had only served to strengthen that.

For them his kneeling, and continued kneeling, at her door had not been an act of love. They could not see the desperate pain in his eyes, the hands that shook, crying out to be held just one last time. They thought it had been a display of duty, of rigidity, of a soulless creature acting as they were meant to.

He remembers once, being fourteen and kneeling outside of his mother’s door. By then, he knew she would not return, would never return, and though his grief had subsided, was now just a throb in his throat instead of cold fire in his veins, he still owed her this. His respect, his sadness, his yearning; he owed her this and so he kneeled in her garden, muscles frozen and lips blue until Lan Xichen had hurried over, crouching in front of him and muttering one quiet, desperate, “Didi.”

He’d stood then and allowed Lan Xichen to walk him to the Jingshi, never once leaning on his brother but glad for his steady presence next to him all the same. His steps never faltered, expression never wavered, even when he heard his fellow disciples whisper his name.

Gossip is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, of course, but some things cannot be stopped in their entirety and this is one of them. And Lan Wangji knows, even if they would never believe it, how to pick his battles. So when he hears his name called out in the shape of chapped lips and fogged breath he doesn’t flinch.

“There goes the Twin Jades,” one of the voices whispers into the moonlight.

“Jade?” the other snorts back and responds more hushed, “Maybe Lan Xichen, but the younger one? Look at him, he’s made of ice.”

“Brr,” one of them chuckles, pretending to shiver, “So cold even the snow can’t touch him.”

“I feel sorry for whatever poor girl ends up leashed to him,” the second voice continues, “You’d never see a colder marriage bed.”

Lan Wangji’s breath hitches minutely, but his strides never stutter. When he glances over from the corner of his eye, he can see the serene and utterly fake smile plastered across his face, the one he wears at meetings and particularly detestful events (and sometimes, just sometimes, when talking to Uncle), so he knows his brother heard as well as he did.

Shame courses through him and he blames the fire under his skin on the cold wind that blows around them. There, that night, he vows never to leash someone to him if he can help it and if he cannot he will remain firm but open and let them have their happiness without any regards or hindrance from himself. He will not be his father.

When they make it to his door, Lan Xichen opens his mouth to say something but Lan Wangji finds he does not have ears to hear it. He bows quickly but perfectly and says, “Goodnight, Brother,” and makes peace with that which he should have years ago.

His mother was wrong.

::

Wei Wuxian bounces into his life like a bomb.

He yells at Lan Wangji from across rooms and runs to catch up with him on busy walkways and laughs loud enough to hurt Lan Wangji’s ears. He throws loquats through the air and brings pornography into the library and never remembers to bow until someone else does before him and-

And.

And he gives Lan Wangji bunnies and sings to them in silly voices and says things like, “You’re so good, Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, you’re the best!”

The worst part is, Lan Wangji is pretty sure he means it.

~*-*~

“Have you ever thought about getting married?” Wei Wuxian asks him from where he’s lounging ill-mannered next to Lan Wangji.

“I have!” he continues without waiting for Lan Wangji to reply, leg jittering up and down, “She’ll be the prettiest girl out there, I just know it.”

“Mm.”

“And she’ll be an excellent cook and be friends with Shijie,” he continues, lolling his head to the side and shooting a lazy grin Lan Wangji’s way, “Obviously I can’t marry anyone my Shijie doesn’t like.

“And I’ll marry for love!” he laughs this time, one of his feet coming very close to nudging at Lan Wangji’s thigh before he moves away steadily, sending a half glare Wei Wuxian’s way, “None of this arranged stuff, uh uh, no good, I’ve seen what it does to people.

“I’ll only marry when someone stops my heart and then restarts it, when they smile and I melt, when their touch is all the warmth I need,” he laughs at the frown on Lan Wangji’s face and tries to kick him again, “Come on, Lan Zhan, I know I’m being mushy but let a guy live, will you?”

Love, Lan Wangji wants to say, does not always solve your problems.

But he says nothing and mourns the loss of his presence when Wei Wuxian stands, brushing off his already dirtied robes.

“Hey, Lan Zhan?” he asks, lip curling up wryly on one side, leaning in close as he whispers, “I think you’re pretty too.”

“Wei Ying!”

Wei Wuxian’s laughter can be heard in the courtyard outside as he flees the library pavilion.

::

“Quick, Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian yells and then Lan Wangji is ripping off his headband and tying it around their wrists, joining them together to stop Lan Yi’s guqin from hurting the smaller man further.

It doesn’t mean anything, Lan Wangji thinks to himself even as the handfasting takes place, binding them together, I will not leash him to me.

It’s enough to join them together, not a marriage persay, not a proper one at least, but a promise. I will protect you, the ribbon says for Lan Wangji where it rests, cradled around Wei Wuxian’s wrist, because you are my beloved.

It holds long enough to speak to Lan Yi and spit them out again and as they lay in a heap on the earthen floor, Wei Wuxian smiles down at him, lopsided, bunny teeth in full effect and yanks they’re tied wrists up to see, laughing out, “We’re connected now!”

It has Lan Wangji shoving him off, a cold chill running up his spine that has absolutely nothing to do with the ice water he’d come from, making quick work of yanking the headband off Wei Wuxian’s wrist and cradling it morosely to his chest.

“Not together,” he absolutely does not pout.

“Aw, Lan Zhan, it’s okay,” Wei Wuxian waves off, standing up and offering his hand down to Lan Wangji, “It’s just a headband.”

The relief he feels in knowing Wei Wuxian doesn’t know the meaning of what just happened is only half present, mixed with a disappointed, a longing, so intense it has his breath stuttering.

When he stands, he does so gracefully, carefully untying the headband from his own wrist to return it to its rightful place around his forehead.

He does not accept Wei Wuxian’s hand.

::

“I’ll have to leave you here bunnies,” Lan Wangji can hear Wei Wuxian’s voice, loud as ever, through the trees, “And you have a very important job!”

At this Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow, wondering what possible job Wei Wuxian could have for a rabbit, so instead of making his presence known he listens on as Wei Wuxian whispers conspiratorially, “Without me here to keep him company, I suspect Lan Zhan will get very lonely.”

He’s right, is the thing. Lan Wangji is sure that’s why the statement sends a jolt through him.

“Can you keep him company, little rabbits? Make sure he feels loved,” Wei Wuxian says, holding up a bunny to his face to look it in the eye, “Give him lots of nose kisses for me, okay?”

Lan Wangji turns around and leaves before he can do something stupid like grab Wei Wuxian’s hand or ask him to stay.

::

“Let me carry you!” Wei Wuxian says to him so earnestly that Lan Wangji is tempted to believe he actually means it. Though his leg pains him, he limps with every step, he steadfastly ignores this request, stopping only to send a familiar glare Wei Wuxian’s way.

::

The cave they’re stuck in now is so much darker than the previous one. The monster has been slain and Lan Wangji has spit out the bad blood that haunted his veins but all is not well. There is no cold here like there was in Lan Yi’s dwelling, a humid air seeps up from the water below, making Lan Wangji sweat in his robes.

And still, curled up next to him Wei Wuxian’s shivers and moans. His skin is so hot, Lan Wangji can feel it in the air between them and yet the man still moans, “I’m freezing, Lan Zhan, why is it so cold?”

Lan Wangji does not know the answer to this so he gathers Wei Wuxian into his arms, hands stroking slow down his back the way his mother had once done for him and said, “It’s okay, Wei Ying. We are here together.”

And then he hums him a song meant for their ears only and wishes him a peaceful sleep.

::

There is barely restrained fury in Wei Wuxian’s eyes when he steps forward and says, “Lan Zhan, do me a favor.”

“What’s the matter?” Lan Wangji asks, taking his eyes off the mockery in front of them to rest on Wei Wuxian, changed, sharper, but still Wei Ying.

“Let me borrow your headband,” the man in front of him says, though he doesn’t dignify it with a response. He can’t.

Because he wants to say yes.

Yes, yes, take my headband, Wei Ying, know what it means, Wei Ying, Wei Ying, Wei Ying.

Wei Wuxian is unperturbed without the headband though, he merely steps forward and unwraps his own sleeve, tying it around his eyes. His arrows are shot with the blindfold still held securely in place, each one finding home in the wooden target instead of the Wen Quishan prisoners below.

He plays it off with a smirk and a smile, a grand display of skill, but Lan Wangji can see him. Can see the fury in his gate, can see his goal; even now, in the face of people he does not know, he protects them all, bearing the brunt of ridicule on his own shoulders.

Lan Wangji finds him later, in the mouth of the woods with no one else around. The blindfold still plays around his eyes and a glance around confirms there is no one here but the two of them and Lan Wangji finds his own self control rapidly draining.

I will not leash him to me.

But Wei Wuxian’s eyes are closed and he will never know, so he steps forward, ignoring Wei Wuxian’s “who’s there?” and gently presses the man against the nearest tree, lips finding Wei Wuxian’s fast, pliant and warm. He’s there long enough to swipe his tongue across Wei Wuxian’s bottom lip, to taste the half smile that lingers there and then he’s gone just as quick deeper into the woods, completely missing Wei Wuxian’s little grabby hands and whispered, “Mm, Lan Zhan.”

::

“This is my A-Yuan,” Wei Wuxian says, laughing at the confused frown on Lan Wangji’s face, only adding to it when he says, “I birthed him from my own body.”

He knows Wei Wuxian is lying obviously but he accepts the child all the same, lets him cling to his leg, buys him play swords and grass butterflies and relishes in watching him play with Wei Wuxian.

Even now, Wei Wuxian grins so easily, so beautifully, it astounds him, stops Lan Wangji in his place and leaves him breathless.

“Ah, A-Yuan, don’t bother Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian complains when A-Yuan climbs into Lan Wangji’s lap uninvited, giving Lan Wangji a half embarrassed look as if Lan Wangji might really be bothered by this.

Instead he snakes his arms around the child’s waist, ignoring how right it feels, how easy it would be to imagine them at a family lunch and says, “He is fine.”

A-Yuan holds a grass butterfly up to Lan Wangji’s face and says in an obnoxiously high voice, “I like you” and then uses the butterfly to kiss Lan Wangji on the cheek, snorting with laughter as he does so.

“See?” Lan Wangji nods, hoisting the boy further into his lap, “Everything is fine.”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t say anything for once, just shakes his head and gifts Lan Wangji with the softest smile he’s ever seen.  

::

“Wei Ying,” he pleads from the other side of the roof, “It’s time to stop fighting.”

But Wei Wuxian doesn’t stop; he plays his flute and dances across the field and ignores Lan Wangji as he skitters around him, stopping every sword meant for Wei Wuxian from finding home.

Lan Wangji fights and fights and pleads and prays with anyone listening to stop this, to help Wei Wuxian. Mother, he screams in his mind, afraid to look at the sky where he knows she must be watching over this, Mother, I love him, help, help-

But there is no help. Wei Wuxian smiles up at him with blood stained teeth and says, “Lan Zhan, let go, it’s time to let me go,” and he’s slippery and heavy but Lan Wangji won’t, he won’t-

The decision is made for him.

Jiang Cheng’s blade digs into the mountain next to Wei Wuxian’s hand, hard enough to crack the Earth around them. When it breaks and falls, Lan Wangji knows he will fall with it. He makes his peace with it in the millisecond it takes for him to realize this. But Wei Wuxian, kind and beautiful Wei Wuxian rips his hand away hard enough to startle Lan Wangji backwards and falls alone.

Lan Wangji watches, yells his name and clenches his fists at his side, looks around at the chaos around him and knows he’s been saved.

He looks at the space where Wei Wuxian had been, now lost in darkness and destruction and rubble and thinks, I’ve been saved, but for what, Wei Ying? For what?

::

The child is heavy in his arms as he carries him up the steps to the Cloud Recesses. He’s heavy and sick and too warm and Lan Wangji vows with everything in his being to make this boy better, to make him happy. He is Wei Wuxian’s child but Wei Wuxian is gone, the Wen clan are gone, and so Lan Wangji will protect him the way he failed to protect Wei Wuxian.

“Rich gege,” the boy mumbles into his shoulder, little hands making fists in his robes. Lan Wangji uses one hand to support him, the other to pet down the boy’s back, to comb through his hair.

“It will be okay,” he says into the air, hoping one of them will believe it.

::

A-Yuan, Lan Sizhui, keeps him company while he recovers. He lays flat on his stomach, ignores the ache in his chest, the sting of his back and smiles ever so slightly when Sizhui finger dances up his arm, careful to steer clear of his wounds.

“Will you be okay, Rich gege?” he asks, laying down on the bed next to Lan Wangji and kicking his feet in the air.

“Of course.”

Sizhui rolls over on his stomach, resting his chin on his hands and kicking his feet out behind him, “Okay, enough to take care of A-Yuan?”

“Will always take care of A-Yuan,” Lan Wangji says and tries not to think about how nice it would have been to have help with this, to take care of the boy with Wei Wuxian, to do this together.

“Of course he’s going to take care of you,” Lan Xichen says as he walks inside the Jingshi, carrying medicine and bandages in his arms, “But remember what we promised? You’re Sizhui now.”

“Yes,” A-Yuan nods, head bouncing seriously as he does, “I promise, BoBo.”

The look of delight on Lan Xichen’s face is almost enough to forget the loss in the room.

Almost.

::

Lan Wangji presents Lan Sizhui as his son to the elders. He looks at his brother and thinks, Look I have a son, I have an heir, I have brought an heir for the Cloud Recesses, I have done my part, marrying me off will bring you nothing now.

He doesn’t know what Lan Xichen is thinking, but he smiles a small, sincere smile as he always does when he’s looking at his younger brother. He nods and says, “Seeing as I have no children to call my own, I accept Lan Sizhui as the resident heir to the Cloud Recesses.”

He bows perfectly to the child who stands in front of him and delights when the child bows back.

::

Sometimes, not often but often enough, A-Yuan has nightmares so violent they leave him trembling in his bed. The first time it had happened, he’d been too scared to get up from his cot, only feet away from Lan Wangji’s own, so he’d simply called out into the night through chattering teeth, “Baba? Baba!”

And Lan Wangji had been there to scoop him up and carry him back to his bed, holding him tight in his arms, tight enough to will the shivers away and had said, “It’s okay, I am here.”

He holds A-Yuan against his body as his mother had once held him and begins to tell him the story of Wei Ying. Not the Yiling Patriarch or even Wei Wuxian. He tells him about a boy scared of dogs, a boy who loved his brother and sister with his whole being, who held everything close to his heart, and laughed sun rays into existence.

A-Yuan no longer remembers Xian gege, which is probably for the best. But he knows Wei Ying.

“Where did he go?” he asks one night, leaning against Lan Wangji even though he is now far too big for this; Lan Wangji wraps an arm around him anyways, pulls him in closer.

“He had to go away,” Lan Wangji replies, looking out at the full moon, “But he would’ve loved you.”

Lan Sizhui settles into sleep for the night and Lan Wangji only feels marginally bad for changing the would’ve from did.

He did love you, A-Yuan, Lan Wangji thinks, but knows enough not to say, And from wherever he is now, he loves you still.

::

Uncle brings up the topic of marriage once.

He reminds Lan Wangji of his duty. Reminds him of what he should be doing. But throughout the entirety of the conversation, Lan Wangji is reminded of the hole in his heart held steadily in the shape of doe eyes and a smiling mouth and a little mole. He knows he will never be able to look anyone else in the eye and call them husband or wife. There is no point.

“I have a son,” he says instead, meeting his Uncle’s eyes as he shoots down his plan, “I have brought an heir to the Cloud Recesses. I have stood for this sect and I have stood against it and paid my dues. I have nothing more to give.”

He turns away before Uncle can respond without so much as a bow. He lets his robes ripple in the air as he storms away. He wishes he had been nicer to Wei Wuxian when they were kids, when they were happy, wishes he’d let the boy hover in close.

Uncle is not always right.

::

He knows it's him the second he hears the song.

Wei Wuxian, Wei Ying, stands in a clearing playing their song to control Wen Ning. He wears black robes and a red hair ribbon and though his stature is different Lan Wangji knows it is him and his heart calls out to get closer, to listen more.

Wei Wuxian hides from him but that is okay. He smiles at the man’s antics, pretending to be wild to keep up with appearances, Lan Wangji lets him do whatever he wants this time, he’ll let him do anything.

But when they are alone, he pulls the mask off with gentle fingers and caresses this face, a new face to house the same soul, and says, “Wei Ying, you are back.”

And just like that Wei Wuxian’s eyes crinkle damp with tears, fingers twisting hard into the fabric of Lan Wangji’s robes as he cries, too soft to have ever come from his mouth, “Lan Zhan.”

::

The events at the temple are – a mess to say the least and the bolt of fear that had run a course through Lan Wangji when Jin Guangyao had held Wei Wuxian by the throat still has him feeling shaky, lost, the idea of losing Wei Wuxian again to the same cause too much for him to handle.

But he stands here now, berating their son with a smile on his face, hip cocked out to the side.

“You see that pit? You see it?” Wei Wuxian laughs, trying despite himself to look stern. Lan Sizhui’s head whips back and forth between the pit and Wei Wuxian’s pointer finger, waving around wildly in front of him. But Lan Wangji can see the grin growing on the boy’s face as he realizes what is to come next, just in time for Wei Wuxian to say, “I’ll bury you again, my little radish, don’t think I won’t!”

Lan Sizhui smiles and laughs a half sob and throws himself down against Wei Wuxian’s leg, clinging on like he’s afraid the man will disappear. Wei Wuxian steadies himself in this new hold and then reaches a hand down to comb through the top of Sizhui’s hair and says, “Oh, you silly boy. I’ve missed you so much, my A-Yuan.”

“Missed you too, Xian gege,” Lan Sizhui mumbles into the fabric of Wei Wuxian’s leg, one hand reaching up blindly to hold onto Wei Wuxian’s own. His family stands in front of him, whole and laughing and happy.

Lan Wangji has never felt more content.

::

It doesn’t end there, as much as Lan Wangji may wish it did.

He accepts the position of Chief Cultivator and Sect Leader in the interim that Lan Xichen remains in seclusion. He sends Sizhui, his son, off with Wen Ning to reclaim his roots. And Wei Wuxian...

Wei Wuxian looks at him one day, restless as ever, and says, “Well I should really get going.”

“Going?” Lan Wangji had asked, one eyebrow raising in question.

Wei Wuxian plays with his own fingers, bites his lip, and then looks up at Lan Wangji with a grin, “I’m on my second life, Lan Zhan! I’ve got to see the world. It’s not like I have anything holding me here, right?”

He wants to pull Wei Wuxian into his chest and hold him there for safekeeping. He wants to wrap Wei Wuxian up in all of his best blankets and say, Remember when I held you in the cave? I can take care of you now, better than I could then. He wants to comb Wei Wuxian’s hair and thread soothing oils into it and say, See? You deserve gentleness, let me be soft with you, let me, let me.

But he sees the antsy way Wei Wuxian taps his foot, the way his eyes keep flickering to the door like he’s ready to leave at this very instant. All of his belongings are already packed and lay neatly, ready to be taken up at any time. The only thing left is Lil Apple but she never needed much and Lan Wangji knows if he really wanted, Wei Wuxian could be out and into the world in half a day, Cloud Recesses a forgotten dream.

I will not be a leash, I will not be a leash, I will not be a leash.

“If you wish to see the world,” Lan Wangji says, keeping his words careful. He does not lie but he neither spills the truth, “Then nothing would please me more than to see you off. All I’ve ever wanted for you was your happiness.”

“Ah, Lan Zhan, so nice,” Wei Wuxian laughs and falls onto the bed behind him, “You really are the best.”

“Mn.”

“I’ll leave tomorrow morning,” Wei Wuxian says to the ceiling, “Get out of your hair for once.”

“Mn,” he says again and bites his tongue to keep the don’t go at bay.

::

When Wei Wuxian is gone the world is quiet again.

Lan Wangji used to relish in silence, used to bathe in it. Now the neverending quiet is suffocating, it itches his skin and leaves him irritable. He navigates political meetings and handles his sect and waits and waits and waits for news from his son and from Wei Wuxian.

The last he’d heard from either of them, Lan Sizhui had been happy in Yiling with Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian had been enjoying tea (though from the looks of the water stained letter and sloppily painted characters, they had been drinking more than just tea) with Nie Huiasang.

He tries to tell himself not to let it bother him. Wei Wuxian had left to see the world, to explore. And if he wanted to explore places he’d already been and spend his time with people he already knew then that was. That was fine.

He just wishes, maybe one day, he might want to explore Cloud Recesses and spend his time with Lan Wangji again.

::

The monotony of it all is only broken when Lan Xichen comes out of seclusion.

Lan Wangji is proud to say he is relieved Lan Xichen is out of seclusion and feeling okay with the world again; he is ashamed to say he is relieved he does not have to deal with sect duties anymore.

Lan Xichen’s first act as returning Sect Leader is to pull Lan Wangji into the Hanshi for a meeting.

“I think,” his brother starts, sucking his tongue to the roof of his mouth, “It is time for you to get married.”

Lan Wangji is quiet for too long; shocked mostly, the rest filled with utter defiance even if this is an order from his beloved brother. His silence, though, is apparently enough to encourage Lan Xichen to continue as he pours tea for the both of them.

“I want to create an alliance with Yunmeng Jiang,” Lan Xichen smiles up at him, looking pointedly at the seat across from him, waiting for Lan Wangji to sit. He does, again shocked, “What better way than through a marriage?”

There is a brief and horrific moment where Lan Wangji genuinely believes his brother plans to marry him off to Jiang Cheng. He will not, he cannot even entertain this, he would defect before he allowed that to take place. But surely Lan Xichen would know this, would never marry him off to that grape of a man.

“I, I cannot,” he begins and then stops himself with the shake of his head, “Brother, have I not given enough?”

Lan Xichen just smiles at him, gentle and fond, and continues on like he hadn’t heard a word, “I’ve already written to them, we are to begin arranging the ceremony soon.”

Then with an edge of annoyance Lan Wangji so rarely sees on his brother he says, “Though there are considerable debates as to where the ceremony should take place.”

“Brother,” Lan Wangji says again, desperate.

“There is a letter which should answer all your concerns waiting for you in the Jingshi,” Lan Xichen explains, “It will address the terms, what is expected of you and the like. You’re free to go look at it whenever you please.”

Lan Wangji leaves without another word and makes his way to his home throat closed entirely and hands shaking. He doesn’t want this but if the talks have already begun there is no turning back. The only thing left for him to do is leave. But go where?

He’s lost in thought when he enters the Jingshi; he blames this on why he doesn’t immediately notice another presence in his home. But when he takes a breath and opens his eyes, there stands the man he’s been longing to see, smiling that little real smile he only keeps for special occasions, eyes already watering.

“I considered writing a letter,” Wei Wuxian says, keeping his eyes focused on Lan Wangji, “But I thought it would be more effective in person.”

“Wei Ying.”

There is a beat of silence, it lasts one heartbeat, two, three, four–and then they are both moving, meeting in the middle as they slam into each other. Lan Wangji’s arms go around Wei Wuxian’s waist in an instant, holding firm, tight, too tight, he tells himself to calm down but he can’t, Wei Wuxian is here. It seems the feeling has overcome Wei Wuxian as well, if the way his fingers alternate between bruising Lan Wangji’s shoulders and yanking his hair to pull him in even closer is anything to go by. Lan Wangji doesn’t complain.

“Did you talk to Xichen gege, Lan Zhan, did you agree, did you,” Wei Wuxian is crying into his neck, words coming out rapid fire, “Will you marry me, Lan Zhan? I was gone but I wasn’t because I left myself here with you, you’re the most important part of me, I love you, I love, I promise to love you forever, let me take care of you, Lan Zhan, let me hold you, I’ll tell you everyday, please say yes.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji cries, somehow dragging him in even closer, face darting over the other man’s, pressing his lips and nose against every patch of skin he can reach, “Wei Ying, yes.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian wails as if he’s just said something monumental, which he supposes he has, “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, I had a whole speech, it was so romantic, I promise. But then you came in and you looked upset and I missed you, I missed you so much, it was terrible without you and I didn’t know if you’d want me back, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, I’m so glad you said yes, I want to wake up with you everyday, I want to be yours, I want to be yours-”

“You are mine, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan interrupts Wei Wuxian’s babbling, “And I am yours. I do not need romance as long as I have Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan!” he cries, pulling back to smile blearily at the man in front of him, “Be careful with your Wei Ying, his heart can’t take it!”

“I know this heart,” Lan Zhan says, worming a hand up between them to rest over Wei Wuxian’s chest, “I know you can handle it.”

“I can’t wait to see you in red,” Wei Wuxian whispers, when he’s finally calmed down, looking up at Lan Wangji with the brightest smile he’s ever seen.

“And I you, Wei Ying.”

::

Wei Wuxian is still in red where he sits across from Lan Wangji in their shared boat. To be fair, Lan Wangji himself is still adorned in wedding colors as well, having just snuck out of his own reception hosted lavishly, much to the chagrin of one Lan Xichen, in Lotus Pier.

Wei Wuxian is talking, babbling happy nonsense that Lan Wangji listens to with one ear. He can’t stop watching the other man, the delicate twists in his hair, the way he keeps scrunching his nose and laughing big, like he’s trying to give all his joy and hopes to Lan Wangji. They share them now, afterall.

“Lan Zhan, while we’re here you have to let me,” Wei Wuxian begins, already rolling up his sleeve and grinning mischievously, “I know you don’t like stealing, but really stealing from Jiang Cheng, it’s nothing. Besides, he insisted we have the wedding here, really it’s his fault if you think about it.”

Before Lan Wangji has the chance to reply, Wei Wuxian is already half launching over the side of the boat, arm digging out in search of the best lotus pods. He inspects them carefully, placing some on the floor of the boat, tossing others back out into the lake.

This surprises Lan Wangji not, Wei Wuxian loves lotus seeds and he’d fully expected his husband to indulge while they were here. He watches on fondly as Wei Wuxian curses and resolutely doesn't notice the growing mud-cased mess that is his wedding sleeve. Lan Wangji does not feel bad; the robes are beautiful, yes, but they are for Wei Wuxian and Wei Wuxian alone to enjoy himself in on the day he marries. Even if that means fishing around in muddy water in them.

Wei Wuxian continues to chatter, all the while making quick work of peeling seeds. When he has a neat and sizable pile, he looks up at Lan Wangji with a smile so big it dimples his cheeks and says, “Lan Zhan! Hold out your hand!”

“These are,” Lan Zhan begins, confused but holding out his hand all the same, allowing each of the seeds, carefully peeled and ready to be eaten to fall into the palm of his hand, “Not for Wei Ying?”

“Oh, I’ll peel some for me, don’t worry,” Wei Wuxian waves away, now crawling across the boat to seat himself in Lan Wangji’s lap. His head lolls on Lan Wangji’s shoulder and he smiles up at the man, leaning forward to kiss the underside of his jaw, “But I wanted my Lan Zhan to have some too. I promised you, didn’t I? All those years ago, I swore if you came to Lotus Pier with me I’d pick the best seeds just for you.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, suddenly feeling choked in a good way, a happy way.

Wei Wuxian just smiles at him and pats his jaw lightly, “Eat your seeds, Husband.”

Lan Wangji does, crunching down on a seed, leaning forward to press an upside down kiss to the corner of Wei Wuxian’s mouth, whispering, “My mother would have loved you.”

“Lan, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asks, eyes big and doey as he keeps watch.

“This was all she ever wanted for me,” Lan Wangji explains, “She told me once, she wanted me to find someone who loves me very much. Enough to peel my seeds for me.”

“That’s a noble wish,” Wei Wuxian sighs, smile soft and warm as he pulls Lan Wangji down to kiss him again, “I promise to peel your seeds everyday. I promise to love you that much and more.”

There is mist rising from the water around, climbing over their boat to cover them like a blanket. The moon shines bright overhead and maybe they should be cold, with only wedding robes and the night sky around them but Lan Wangji has never felt warmer. He could stay like this forever; with Wei Ying in his arms, beautiful in red, the moon watching over them and seeds that taste like love in his mouth.

He thinks maybe, wherever his mom is, she’s smiling down on them.

Coda:

“You thought what?” Wei Wuxian laughs, rolling around in Lan Wangji’s lap so raucously the boat tips precariously with him.

“It did not, you had been gone so long,” Lan Wangji tries to explain himself, “I did not wish to presume you would ever...have me.”

“Oh, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, still laughing only softer now. He reaches one hand up to cradle Lan Wangji’s face, eye shining when he says, “Wait till I tell Jiang Cheng you thought you were to be married.”

“Please do not.”

“Could you imagine?” Wei Wuxian asks, pressing his laughs into the pit of Lan Wangji’s stomach, “What a marriage that would be.”

“I’d rather not,” Lan Wangji replies, rolling Wei Wuxian over and climbing on top of him, “Can only imagine one marriage, will only marry Wei Ying, only want Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian asks, a grin on his face and voice low, fingers stroking gently down Lan Wangji’s jaw, “A marriage bed doesn’t have to strictly be a bed does it?”

“Nn.”

[writingonesdreams]

A little life update

I have so many books to read it's not even funny. Damn where is all the time going? 2020 has been insanely productive. I found the best faculty and my passion in EE, I reworked the plot of 5th Magic into Stormkeeper and even a newer version of that with a less plot and mor literary fantasy feel, I wrote 95 diary entries per 500 words minimum since September, having altogether more than 45k for sure...I'm surprisingly happy about that. Look at that I can put words onto a page.

It's been fun having school at home. I feel like I have more control over my life not having to travel and I feel way closer to my parents and brother. We have been all stuck at home and getting along and finding even more about each other. It was nice. Studying inspiring stuff. Writing diaries. Reading. Getting ideas. A pleasant pace for the year.

I'm wondering about this blog. Like I reblog lots of posts about writing about right the themes I'm thinking about, but I have very little personal content? I have to stop being afraid of posting more about myself and what I enjoy. Like maybe people will like it, maybe they won't, but how else are birds of the same feather going to connect and find each other? I'm going to give it a little try and see. Can't solve everything by thinking only right? XD

Books to read

Fiction:

Uprooted: Reading right now. An excellent fantasy inspired by polish culture. A mix of retelling but the setting is amazing? Wizards are fighting an evil sentient forest called the Wood that terrorised and eats the villagers. I love love love Dragon. The most powerful wizard around, precise orderly magic, brooding and mean but keeps saving people wherever he goes...and so hopelessly clueless about human interaction that he and the heroine don't understand each other at all XD.

Spinning Silver - also from Nami Novik. I read the first chapter only and I'm charmed by the voice. I missed 1st person narration. I'm diving into this after Uprooted for sure.

Shadows between us - enemies to lovers and an evil shadow king that isn't so evil? I remembered this premise from a long time ago and suddenly got the urge to read it.

Addie LaRue - the new book from Schwab that wrote the amazing Darker Shade of Magic trilogy. The hype around this book is awesome, but so is the premise of a girl that traded eternal life for invisibility.

About writing:

Letters to a young novelist - I'm 25% in. This book is amazing. Written in letter format while pondering about writing, it's charming, intelligent, intimate and speaks right into the soul. Finally a writing theory book that fits me - nice change after the disasters that Bird by Bird and Thorn Necklace were. Brr.

War of Art - Looks inspiring. Something about art being in a fight with a being called Resistance.

Storytelling Animal - Why do people love stories so much and how they are weaved into our every day and life.

Mindset by Carol Dweck - not really writing but it's about the way how to switch from fixed to growth mindset so I'm keeping an eye on it.👀

Research:

Biology of Belief by Bruce Lipton - how human thoughts affect the brain and cells on biological level. We can literally program ourselves by controlling our minds. Whew.

Becoming Supernatural by Dispenza - mystic life through research? If nothing else it will be inspiring for fantasy.

Street corner society - The ethnographic study about an italian quarter in Boston. While written by scientist as part of his research for university qualification it became a bestseller on market and was read by wide publicum, gaining amazing attention? This is a cool way how to make studies. Plus this is field research, where the social scientist becomes part of the people and groups being studied.

Writing for social scientists - the parallels with creative writing while writing scientific works is unexpected but very interesting. The research, the fieldnotes journal, the coding and scanning, the actual writing and then editing...there is not doubt about the need to edit and rework and build on thoughts, it's part of the process without ever calling anything a "shitty" first draft. At first it's jumble of thoughts, then it's the meat, then it's being polished for beauty and effect.

[engimono]

@casecmplx​​: a moment's hesitation, before sayaka speaks. "You shouldnt-- you should just, put that down.." obviously referring to the gun he's holding, she tries to reach out one hand-- obviously not intending to take it from him. her reach goes higher, gently reaching out so she can cup his cheek in her hand. "please- I don't want to see anyone else get hurt.. just for a little while. *please...* ( saya for mm!naegi bc hehe pain go brr )

         RECALL THE CRANE, RECALL THEIR HISTORY.             RECALL HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO EACH OTHER !

     shortly after his  dramatic  reveal as the mastermind, the courtroom became alight with  tension  and  dismay. interruptions were aplenty and any existing structure to the trial’s proceedings was promptly  decimated  with everyone’s desire to air their  copious  grievances -- everyone except  sayaka  maizono.  she had remained unusually quiet throughout the medley of arguments and undoubtedly, naegi confessed himself to be  disappointed. not unlike the previous trials, her opinion was  treasured  above all and she had yet to voice anything worthwhile ---- no  objections,  no  fervent  denial, just  silence. unsurprisingly, the absence of judgement stung more than any outspoken  abhorrence  against him.

     as much as he would have liked to believe that her opinion of him was  preserved, the epiphany surely would have made her re-consider the  authenticity  of their conversations and his feelings towards her. for the first time in a long time, maizono’s emotional state was intentionally kept hidden from him and naegi  loathed  being put at such a  disadvantage.  with their podiums placed side-by-side, all he  yearned  for was a sideways glance or a whispered word in his direction --- anything to  prove  that she hadn’t shut him out, anything to prove that his words didn’t fall on  deaf  ears. no  scorn  would have been directed at her even if she ultimately condemned him as an irredeemable traitor, as long as she still felt  something  towards him;  hatred  was better than  indifference.

     after several failed attempts to meet her eye, eventually naegi had  abandoned  the initiative in order to defend himself against the others’ uproar with a mix of  apodictic  fact and tangible threat ----  brandishing  a firearm to discourage anyone from partaking in a more physical means of retaliation; where his height and stature  failed  him, the presence of a weapon  succeeded  and effectively deterred acts of  recklessness  to better facilitate the trial. whenever someone spoke, the barrel of the gun smoothly directed their way along with his line-of-sight. the firearm’s threat added an  incentive  to not waste his time and although the temptation to shoot certain people frequently  clawed  at him from the inside, self-restraint was shown for the sake of  equality  and a  twisted  sense of comradery. when the sound of one particular voice reached his ear, however, did naegi’s stare redirect accordingly without the gun’s added persuasion.

                                          finally.

     hazel eyes bored into hers  expectantly, making a point of slowly turning his body towards her and away from the others so that she was  markedly  aware that she had his undivided attention. time seemed to slow and his surroundings became dulled to his senses,  saturated  and  lifeless  in comparison to sayaka maizono. her plea didn’t originally register until her outstretched hand breached the contained space of her podium in an apparent effort to disarm him. naegi’s jaw became  tense  with unspoken  disapproval  and his posture stiffened, ready to lean back and keep the gun out of reach; the power imbalance had to be maintained and despite his  devout  partiality for her, she couldn’t convince him to surrender his only means of defense. feet shifted in their limited area but when the moment came for her to neutralize the gun’s threat, fingers found his face instead and an  uptick  in his heartbeat left him  speechless.

                                                                 ❝  sayaka ..  ❞

     like a  sacred  hymn did her name leave his tongue, saccharine sweet and woven from deep-seeded affection. naturally did he find himself  leaning  into her touch,  skepticism  forgotten for the time being as his cheek pressed against her palm and his free hand rose to rest atop hers with the same tenderness. naegi’s stare held hers to scan for any signs of deceit, any glimpse of insincerity that would suggest that she was merely looking for an opportune moment to leverage his lowered guard; the evaluation lasted only a few moments and should have been more thorough but, in the end, the  hopeful  whims of his heart conquered rationality and she was deemed wholly genuine. she had always been honest with him and although certain  revelations  had come to light, the present moment shouldn’t have been an  exception.

     ❝  ------------ all right.  ❞    apprehension  melted  away and the gun was lowered, placed in front of him on the far-right side of the podium’s surface near yamada’s greyed out portrait. a shaky chuckle played off the action and the tension in his muscles evaporated, an  earnest  smile finally taking shape for her and her alone. even if his judgement of her was based on  fallacy  and betrayal loomed ahead, she was decidedly  worth  the risk.   ❝  just  for  you,  okay ?  ❞

[joelmorricone]

I SENT THIS TO MY DISCORD SERVER SO GUESS WHAT TUMBLR

YOU’RE GETTING IT TOO

I PRESENT TO YOU

BIKO NERDS OUT ABOUT NEW INVENTION BY iDKHOW

alternate title: biko pretends to know music things but doesn’t actually

- THE PERCUSSION IS,,,THE RIGHT AMOUNT OF BOUNCY N RIGID AT THE SAME TIME???? I THINK THAT’S A GOOD WAY TO EXPLAIN IT ID ONT KNOW- - BASS BASS BASS BASS  - and you can hear the sliding!!!! like!! the fret noise thing!!! i dont know why but that always makes me happy sjfdjbkgb  - THE   P I A N O.  - all of the synth. all of it. ALL OF IT.  - there's like an effect on dallon's voice or smth and it's so nice??? like i don't know what it is but especially during the chorus i just sdjhfDHd  - "and now the room is getting quiet-" " shhh... "  - the bass/guitar/smth like that part at 2:00 gives me vibes  - i have no idea what kind of vibes but wOO it go brr

- okay you either know exactly what i'm talking about or have no idea what the fuck i'm saying but yknow that sterotypical choir singing (?) thing that's supposed to be like the "noise that plays when you enter heaven" ??? - WELL - at 2:17 when dal says "you're dragging me back into heaven" iT DOES THE THING!!! - LIKE I KNEW MAJ7 CHORDS WERE PRETTY BUT THAT IS THE PRETTIEST BbMAJ7 I HAVE EVER HEARD IN MY ENTIRE LIFE - AND I'M NOT EVEN JUST SAYING THAT BECAUSE IT'S DALLON - AND IT JUST CUTS OFF- "I'M HAVING-" B A M NICE CYMBALS - did i mention the percussion - there's a beepy boopy noise during the "i am just a new invention" part and you can barely hear it but its there and its nice - THE "BAD DREAMS" AT 2:26 WOWZERS - “IT SLAPS YOU IN THE FACE 10 TIMES, DROPS A TON OF BRICKS ON YOU, AND THEN RUNS YOU OVER WITH A 16 WHEELER. THE DRIVER THEN GETS OUT AND PEPPER SPRAYS YOU.” - ^all in a good way - at 2:32 when it goes low -> high instead of staying on the same note??? - listen- - it hits in a different way - the part just after the second chorus with all the beepy boopy stuff - take a shot everytime i say beepy boopy - there's a weird synth thing during the chorus and it's like a descending progression or smth (i dont know music terms sjdghf) and holy goodness gosh something about things like that just make me asjdhfghfvgJHDGFHGSDFHV - C   Y   M   B   A   L   S - THERES A NOISE AT 3:08 ??? I DONT KNOW HOW TO DESCRIBE IT BUT ITS LIKE "WEEEEOOO WOOooo" IDFK- 

and there you go tumblr

hope you enjoyed my mess of thoughts

farewell

[murasaki-murasame]

I wasn’t planning on summoning on any gala this soon after Gala Leif, but Cat Sith is way too overpowered for me to skip her [I still regret skipping Mars lol], and I suffer from a specific form of brain damage called “haha cute board game son boy machine goes brr”.

Somehow in the last month I managed to go from 330 summons left after the Leif banner to 580 summons going into this one, so let’s see under the cut what I managed to get with that out of this gala :) [Also I’ve got some opinions on Eugene and Catherine now that they’re out and we know more about them]

I only ended up spending about 230 summons on this banner [I think, since I’m back down to 350 now], since I got everything I wanted by that point, but to be specific, the new stuff I got was:

-Albert [!!!!!!!!! Finally I’ve managed to get a new, non-featured adventurer off of a gala lol. I know he’s not even that great but I’ve wanted him for ages, and he might at least get a good spiral later]

-Eugene [I ended up chasing after him and got him at the end of my summon session]

-Styx x2 [lol]

-Cait Sith x4 [Yeah I got like four copies of her while chasing Eugene lmao. Like with Tie Shan Gongzhu, I ended up putting one copy of Cat Sith aside, and using two sunstones to make the other copies into a single MUB copy. I think Cat Sith is at the very least as good as a MUB Shinobi at 0UB, so I think it’s worth it]

I didn’t get Catherine, but I don’t really mind much since I already have a highly invested Xainfried who I like more.

And also in terms of dupes I got:

-OG Maribelle

-Xainfried [speak of the devil, lol]

-Lathna [I actually got her and Albert back to back in the same tenfold fairly early on in my summons, which really just made me doubly convinced I was gonna get Eugene and Catherine. Also I swear to god I’ve gotten at least one copy of Lathna from every single gala since her first banner. The haunted demon child continues to haunt my summons]

-Prometheus [I already have him MUB, and I already have enough good flame dragons that I might actually just sell him instead of keeping him a second copy]

-Poseidon [I think he’s at 3UB now. I didn’t have a single goddamn copy of this dragon before the Gala Alex banner happened and now I nearly have a MUB copy just from gacha dupes]

-Garland [I think he’s at 1 or 2UB now]

Even though I didn’t clean out the whole banner like I did last time, I think this went really well for me. I got a whole lot of copies of Cat Sith, and I at least got the one new non-limited unit who I actually wanted. Now to just switch back into hoarding mode for whatever banner interests me next, lol. We should be getting Gala Laxi at the end of July, but honestly I don’t think she’ll interest me much, so I might just keep saving for the next gala dragon. I have a feeling the next one we’ll get will be Thor as a gala light dragon, which is exactly what I need right now. Then there’s the second anniversary and the holiday banners to consider too.

Anyway, now that we have all the numbers and stuff on the new units, I think both Eugene and Catherine are a lot better than I was worried they might be, but I’m not sure how they’ll fit into the Ayaha/Otoha meta since neither of them have status effects.

Eugene at least has his buff zones going for him. They seem to be about as big as Gala Cleo’s [but square instead of circle], and his S1 seems to charge really fast, so I think he has a lot of potential as a buffbot. His S2 is also really interesting, since if you think about how his whole kit works, and how you’ll be using him in practice, it looks like his burst damage potential might be surprisingly close to Chrom’s. On paper the damage mods aren’t as good [2.5k vs around 6k], but if you time it right with his inspiration passive you can guarantee that it’ll be a critical hit, and since he can store two Check buffs at a time, you can use his S2 twice in a row, so I think it balances out in the end.

All in all I think he’s a much better unit than a lot of people think he is, if you can at least make use of his buff zones properly. He almost seems unnecessary when OG Elly exists, but the fact that he has much better personal DPS than her due to his S2 is interesting. Also I just really love his whole aesthetic, and how his skills are based around board games, lol.

Catherine also seems really strong, at least just going off of her numbers. She seems to do super high damage, mainly with her S2, but overall I think she’s kinda held back by the fact that she’s an entirely selfish DPS unit with no team utility at all. Which isn’t a deal-breaker, but Ayaha/Otoha benefits from you having multiple forms of status effects, so having someone that just does damage is something you have to work around. And as hard-hitting as her S2 is, it also seems to have an extremely high SP cost of around 23k. I think with GC she’ll be extremely good, but without it her average DPS might drop down a lot. 

You do also have to account for how she loses one of her stacks if you get hit, though, and there’s at least a few bits of unavoidable damage in Ayaha/Otoha, so if you’re not really good at dodging that’ll probably also bring your damage down. All in all she seems like a better version of Kirsty, including the fact that she doesn’t have a status punisher ability for a status that she can’t inflict herself, so she’s more self-sufficient.

But even though she’s really good, I don’t think she invalidates Xainfried or Fjorm. They’re both still really good for their frostbite/freeze utility in Ayaha/Otoha. And also they have burn res and Catherine has stun res so they’re safer picks for High Brunhilda.

Styx on the other hand just seems really bad, lol. Maybe she can be good on these two, but I feel like any type of regular strength dragon would probably work out better, especially since these two would probably benefit a lot from using GC. At the very least she really got done dirty by being released at the same time as Cat Sith, lol.

Now I’m wondering what we’ll get after this to fill out the rest of the event duration. We might just get a water focus banner like how we got the light focus banner, but maybe we’ll get a wedding banner. Or maybe we just won’t get one of those this year at all for some reason or another, lol.

[euphoriarps]

❊ ◜ORLANDO.// weather

general //. those who have never made the great pilgrimage to florida often associate the sunshine state with, well, sunshine. they imagine a tropical paradise where they can frolic through disneyworld, contentedly eating a mickey bar and taking wall pictures for the `gram. the reality of the matter is, florida is not the paradise that so many think it to be. and those cute disney instagramers? they thank god for face tune to hide just how fucking awful they feel. the moment you leave the orlando international airport, it feels like chuck norris became the human embodiment of heat and punched you in the face. while there are occasional periods of reasonable temperatures, they are punctuated by a lot of rain and devestating heat and humidity that leaves many a newcomer experiencing this lovely thing called heat stroke. let us dive further into florida's imaginary "seasons." hurricane season //. hurricane season runs from june the first to november the thirtieth. it is during this time that florida's weather is the true embodiment of hell's front porch. on a normal day, temperatures can range anywhere from the high eighties to the low one hundreds with humidity that leaves things feeling like it's twenty degrees hotter than they actually are. those that have keyless start up for their cars are thankful during the summer time, as they can get the a/c in their car going before they get in. for the plebs that do not have those privileges? they have to hachachachacha their way into their car and start the car and get their seatbelt on without burning off all of their skin. and for those of you with leather interiors? you're basically fucked. june and july are certainly hot, but they're not unbearable. morning time is reasonably comfortable, and you can almost certainly guarantee that there will be an afternoon rain storm sometime between the hours of 1PM and 4PM. the period fo time in which it rains varies, it can be anywhere from downpouring for fifteen straight minutes or raining light enough to be an inconvenience for four whole hours. it is a truly floridian thing to place an umbrella into your car, and then to never actually use the umbrella because it rains so frequently that you give up on lugging the umbrella everywhere. during the more dramatic of thunderstorms that occur during the summertime, the thunder can get so intense that it can shake houses and apartment buildings. roads will flood, and everyone will mysteriously decide to turn on their flashers and drive thirty miles over the speed limit on the interstate. because for being a state where it's always raining, nobody actually knows how to properly drive in the rain. most of the tropical storms and hurricanes that form in the atlantic end up affecting florida in some way, shape, or form. in instances of the outer bands brushing up against the state, it'll prompt the usual amount of rain. nothing too shocking or devestating. life will go on as it usually does. if a category 1 to a mid tier category 3 storm threatens to hit the state, floridians will rejoice as work and school are cancelled and go buy out the entirety of the liquor aisle to ride out the storm. "hurricane parties" are a legitimate thing in florida. no exaggeration. for an upper tier category 3 storm to a category 5 storm, floridians will act like it is the appocalypse and will effectively buy thousands of dollars of supplies. for those non native to florida, they typically fall into the "act like it's the appocalypse" category no matter what the level of storm is. they'll barricade themselves in their house or their apartment until after they've done the hurricane thing a few times and then it becomes normal. if you thought the heat before the rain was bad, the heat after the rain is exponentially worse. the humidity increases tenfold and you're not only wet from rain, you're wet from sweat that largely feels you leaving like a drowned rat. the worst of the florida summer is august and september. the heat and humidity can get so bad that it feels like you are venturing outside into soup. the air is thick, and sticky, and forget looking cute because you are guaranteed to have swamp ass two seconds into leaving the air conditioning. influencers and beauty gurus have to pump hundreds of dollars into luxury setting sprays to keep their faces from melting off, and frizzy haired chic may as well become a trend during this time of year. the recommendations for surviving the heat, the rain, the hurricane season? drink water. now drink more water. now drink even more water. find a hurricane buddy, someone that has grown up in florida and can recommend the best brand of tequila to make hurricane margaritas with. keep several changes of clothes and shoes in your car for the inevitable downpour, maybe consider using that umbrella for a change? who am i kidding, we all know it's worth it. and, of course, drink . fucking . water. sfall and swinter //. the end of hurricane season (october and november), and december through february be labeled sfall or swinter ... essentially, slightly less bad summer punctuated by occasional and surprising cold fronts. if the temperature drops below seventy five degrees, that is when you'll see floridians pulling out the knit sweaters, thick hoodies, and the uggs. non-floridians will question what on earth is wrong with them as they are standing their in their t-shirts and flip flops enjoying the fact that they don't feel like death for once. these tiny dips in temperature, however, will typically last all of two to four days before it spikes right back up to being eighty five degrees with humidity making it feel like it's ninety eight again. you see why it's sfall? because it's still summer. late december through february can get a little more brr. temperatures will briefly drop anywhere from the low fifties all the way into the upper twenties depending on the cold front and where it is coming from. the orange groves will threaten to ice over, floridians will descend upon target to purchased puffed jackets to insulate themselves, and the non-floridians will once more question their sanity levels. florida cold should be identified as a wet cold, the humidity having a similar effect to the cold as it does with the heat. it makes it feel colder. factor in the fact that the cold times are also windy with a wet sort of wind chill and it goes highly recommended that you at least wear a light jacket. florida does sometimes have bizarre cold fronts where it'll be thirty eight degrees at 8AM and then by 2PM it is in the mid-eighties. it is always recommended that you plan your "warmer" outfits with layers that can be taken off to reveal layers more suited for the summer. or just carry a change of clothes and shoes in your car. and drink . fucking . water. the pollening //. march begins the season best known as the pollening. the temperatures are finally manageable, ranging anywhere from the high sixties to the low eighties with the bare minimum in humidity. when it is humid, there is typically the presence of a nice breeze to cool you off and keep you from getting too sweaty. so while you're comfortable physically, if you are one of the many to be afflicted by seasonal allergies then your sinuses will be making you miserable. there is only so much that one can do to enjoy the weather when they have a stuffy, runny, crusty nose and watery, itchy, eyes. invest stock in claritin and tissues, my friend, because that pollen is going to fuck you up. the pollening typically spans march through mid to late april. it's gonna be may //. late april through may is the most ideal time to be living in florida. there is some heat and humidity, and there are occasional days of on and off thunderstorms ... but it these times when you need to make the pilgrimage out to cocoa or clearwater for a needed beach day. it's sunny, it's comfortable, there is a breeze, and a distinctive lack of pollen. it's not the best time for theme parks because it's spring break season and everyone from other states are there, but floridians will take advantage of the good weather for barbecues, picnics, and beach days. it does get notably hotter very fast the later you get in may, and the last two weeks of may start that late afternoon rain that you can set your watch by; foreshadowing the june through november misery that is hurricane season. conclusion //. florida, like most places people live, is an acquired taste. there is very little that can be done to warn you about the actuality of the weather. with temperatures that can range anywhere from the hundreds to the high twenties, and a sticky humidity that can make you question all of your life choices ... there is only one thing that can be said about surviving florida: drink . fucking . water.

[rainbyotes]

for your any or all of your ocs, 5, 6, 9, 16!

Favorite color?

Louis- light blue or any cool color really

Cheshire- brown bc it was the color of thoth-mes’ eyes

Eko- anything shiny, her lizard brain go brr

Ivy- Black (it’s really pink but she’s got a reputation to uphold here!)

Nick- Blue, I know he’s a basic bitch

Salem- It changes all the time but for now it’s orange, but like pastel orange

Describe their eyes.

Louis- a light shade of green, very striking I’d say it’s like a mint green

Cheshire- titanium white

Eko- white like pearls

Ivy- Dark green like a cucumber :p

Nick- brown but a nice brown :)

Salem- green grey? Kinda just a subtle green (Salems basically my ideal self and I love green eyes so ;))

If they have a love interest, how did they meet them? How would they describe said love interest?

Louis- his bf, Jesse, was the new kid And Louis was head over heels, they started talking and Louis asked jesse out (they got dinner then a movie and Louis got a lil kiss) he’d describe jesse as literally the best person in the world and the love of his life

Cheshire- he’s had a few host he’s been in love with but his first was Thoth-mes an Egyptian priestess who was his first human host and the first one he was willing to spend the rest of his lifetime with, he was able to give her a very long life but he couldn’t make her immortal (he could make her not die but she’d still age)

Eko- she is SUPER romantic like she will woo anyone with cute gifts, cheesy pick up lines, and romantic gestures (literally no one can say no to this giant buff raptor lady)

Ivy- be all cool and make the crush come to her, will also flirt with them a lot

Nick- Emotions? Don’t know her. (He’ll ignore it and just push it down til it goes away)

Salem- will try to get to know the crush first (in case they’re a jerk) then try be roamantic but is way to nervous to do it and will give up

Do they have any mental illnesses? If so, what are they and how do they make everyday life harder?

Louis- he struggled with anxiety a lot and worried about everything when they first moved to New York, mainly bc his mom finally divorced his dad and they both just got out of an abusive household, and Louis being scared that he’ll get outed as trans and gay. After he broke up with his ex, Jason, he fell into a depression bc they had been dating for a year and a half but Jason was in the closet and didn’t react that great when Louis told him he was trans. But other then that they don’t make life harder (mainly bc he has Cheshire uwu)

Cheshire- he has chronic bitch disease 😔 he’s had it his whole life and sadly it’s incurable

Eko- a very small form of add (mainly bc of lizard genes) and she gets distracted very easily and she can’t really pick up on social queues bc her culture is very different then human culture, she is also very touch based meaning she’s like having contact with someone (bc of her culture) so sometimes she’ll want to hold hands with someone or just touch them (kinda hard bc she’s a LITERAL giant)

Ivy- she has insomnia, it think it’s mainly bc of her plant powers and stuff but she has a REALLY hard time falling asleep and when she does she’ll ask if she can sleep with eko (they’re roomies) and then ivy’ll fall right to sleep

Nick- he has pretty bad depression, bc his powers got out of control (they’re emotion based) and he accidentally killed his sister Lily :( so he feels A LOT of guilt (even tho it wasn’t his fault), he takes meds for it but he’ll generally try to not do anything bc he’s afraid he’ll hurt someone again

Salem- they deal with adhd but kinda just barely where they’re definitely on the spectrum but it not super extreme, it doesn’t really effect they’re life too much but there are times they’ll get overstimulated and have a “bad brain day” and they can’t do anything

[scaryscarecrows]

Storm's Here

Subtitled, ‘our heroes learn valuable lessons about being Meddling Kids, and the author pulls a dick move because this chapter grew too long’.

He doesn’t like it.

Kitty’s brilliant, evidence-gathering plan is to go out there, break into the shack, and dig around for something that proves that Wicker is dead or otherwise not okay.

It is a terrible plan, but he can’t come up with anything better and letting her go alone means that she’ll probably get herself caught and killed. Or worse.

He agrees anyway, because getting out one last ‘I told you so’ is better than her heading out there alone and just vanishing. Stupid? Maybe. Potentially suicidal? From a certain point of view. Does he have a choice? Not much of one.

Besides, it’s threatening rain-wind’s gettin’ ugly-so the odds of them actually being able to do anything are pretty small. Thankfully.

Unfortunately, the wind has the side effect of making Granny an uneasy sleeper, and his trip downstairs is one fraught with paranoia and was that a mouse or a footstep and a fair bit of if I look up will she be there?

She doesn’t come, and he’ll grant that she could just wait for him to come back (or lock him out to be struck by lightning), but for the moment, at least, he’s safe. Almost, anyway, if the humidity hadn’t swollen the damn door, come on-

It pops free and he stills, expecting any second to hear the angry swish-thump-swish-thump of his approaching demise, but the house is still. He slips out, carefully dodging the creaky board in front of the door, and wrestles it shut. There’s another nerve-wracking moment after it pops back into place where he waits, a lie about ‘saw someone in the fields’ on his lips, but she doesn’t come.

He skips the steps-safer than risking more noise-and, with one last glance upwards,

If she’s at the window, I’ll just not come home.

he deems himself out of danger. For this bit, anyways. Getting back in is always riskier, because she could have moved in his absence and he wouldn’t know about it.

Kitty’s waiting for him in the road with her backpack, though a closer look says the backpack is empty.

“What’s that for?”

“Evidence.”

“We are not robbing his house-”

“I never said anything about robbery.” She gives him a shaky smile. “Honestly, Jonathan, you can’t yell at me for getting into trouble if your mind goes straight to robbery.”

That…he didn’t…she said…

Humph.

He closes his mouth after that and gestures to the road.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Do you have a better one?” He shakes his head. “You don’t have to come.”

Yes he does. She’ll get herself killed without him, he can tell.

“Let’s go.” he mumbles. “It’s gonna rain soon.”

She clicks on the flashlight and a small flurry of moths appears out of nowhere, their fluttering throwing strange shapes into the light in the dust.

Their footsteps seem loud in the silence and he strains to hear a third pair, but maybe he wouldn’t hear them, not with this racket.

He doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like this and he should have kept his mouth shut rather than spreading local wisdom. This is what he gets for friendship. Lesson learned, all right, go ahead and stick it on his tombstone. If he even gets one.

They reach the Wicker place without incident. The dog’s gone, and he’s glad of that, even if it’s clear they just dragged it away-the dirt’s all disturbed and there’s a dark trail that tapers off just outside of the flashlight’s beam.

Brr.

The house itself looks empty. No lights, no strangers with guns, no nothing. Maybe they’ve moved on, got what they came for and figured if nothin’s been said by now, everything’s gonna be fine.

He should be so lucky.

Kitty clicks the flashlight off and on one hand, good less attention, but on the other hand, bad, they could miss things. Like strangers with shotguns.

“Well?”

She leans over the fence and his fingers itch to yank her back.

“I don’t think anyone’s home.”

No, so they should be grateful and leave now. If Old Man Wicker wanted to be found before judgement day, he should’ve been less of an asshole. Someone’ll turn up eventually. Tax collector or somethin’.

“Nope.”

“That’s good. We’ll try the door first and go from there.”

“Kitty-”

“Shh.”

A thought occurs to him and he looks down at her.

“Have you done this before?”

“It was a church, and it was for something else.”

“You broke into a church?”

“Shh.” She pats his arm. “It was raining, that’s all.”

“But-”

“Quiet.”

He closes his mouth and wonders what else she’s done. She jumps the fence and he swallows down a fit of cursing and goes after her. He’s never making friends again if this is what happens, Geeze Louise…

Nobody appears in front of them (of course they don’t, life isn’t that dramatic) and they make it to the porch without incident.

The door’s locked. Good. Proof that this is all over and maybe someday someone’ll come out here and find a skeleton, but it doesn’t have to be them.

“Dammit.”

He can’t find it in himself to be disappointed.

“Let’s just go. They’re gone. Obviously.”

She ignores him-of course she does-and steps back. Then she goes around the side of the house. What’s she doing? They need to leave!

“Kitty!”

“Shh. Over here.”

He doesn’t want to go over there. He wants to go home. Well, off this property, anyway, home’s not that much better.

He goes over there anyway and finds her pointing up to the attic window. It’s a fold-in window-they’ve got one, too-and it hits him what she’s got in mind.

“No.”

“Yes.”

There is hope to get out of this, and he latches onto it.

“Kitty. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but…well…” He gestures between them. “You’re awfully little. You can’t get up there. I can’t get up there.” That’s probably a lie, but she doesn’t need to know that. “No.”

“I can get up there.” She gives him that stubborn look, the one that he’s not sure how to feel about. “Watch me.”

Yeah. Sure. There is an end in sight to this, thank God-she’ll give up eventually, when she realizes there’s no handholds.

He’s not expecting her to grab him and walk him over so he’s standing up against the house.

“What are you doing.”

“Getting up there.”

“Kitty?”

“Stand there and don’t move.”

“Kitty, what are you doing?”

She steps back, looks from him to the window, and before he can ready himself she’s scaled him like a damn tree, stood on his shoulders, and given the window a little push. There’s a creak, a sudden pressure, and then she’s…

Did she get in there?

He tilts his head back, expecting her to be clinging to the sill or something, and finds that no, she’s managed to squirm in there. A startled laugh escapes his throat and you know, he’s a little impressed.

“Kitty?”

“Hang on, I’m gonna find a way downstairs.”

“Get out of there, are you insane?”

She doesn’t answer. He makes an angry gesture anyway, because it’ll attract less attention than shouting at her to get out of there right now, Jesus Christ, does she have a death wish? and heads back around to the front porch. Sure enough, the door opens a minute later.

“Told you I’d get up there.”

She’s got splinters and a dust bunny in her hair, but he’ll give it to her-she did. Now that her point’s been proved (on his life, he’ll never underestimate her again), can they go? There’s no reason to be here. Obviously.

“Are you coming in or not?”

No!

…

Yes.

He steps in, flashlight sweeping the floor. It’s just as run-down inside as it is outside, but the dust’s all stirred up and there’s a large brown stain by the bed that he suspects might be blood. The attic ladder is hanging down from where Kitty came in, just next to the trunk.

“Now what?”

She shrugs and drops down to look under the bed.

“Look for bloodstains.”

He thinks he’ll look for potential murderers instead. Much more productive.

Does she have to make so much noise? This is how you attract serial killers and bears! Hell, this whole escapade is how you attract serial killers and bears. If they survive, they’re going to have a long talk about ‘self-preservation’ and ‘leaving people to die’.

“Shine that light over here, the trunk’s locked.”

As trunks usually are.

All the same, he shines the light towards her voice and glances out into the weeds. Nothing. That’s good, that’s best-what’s she doing?

“Dammit, this might be why people use hairpins…don’t suppose you’ve got one?”

“Think about what you asked.”

“You’re always prepared!”

“I don’t make a habit of picking locks!”

“Ugh…okay, maybe there’s something-”

Crunch, crunch.

“Forget the trunk.” he hisses. “We need to-”

Crunch, crunch.

Okay, they’re a lot closer than he thought and he doubts they’ll be able to use the front door.

He shuts it, locks it, and nearly has a heart attack when Kitty grabs his arm.

“Attic.” she breathes. “Come on.”

He lets her pull him up the ladder. It’s cramped up here, more of a glorified crawlspace than anything, but it’s also mostly empty. He drags the ladder up and hopes nothing’s out of the ordinary.

“Window?”

“Getting down is always harder.”

Great.

The door opens and he holds his breath, convinced that any second now the ladder’ll be pulled down or bullets will start coming through the floor. He’s not sure which sounds like the more unpleasant way to go.

A sliver of light rises up a little ways in front of him and he bites his lip, eases himself onto his stomach. His glasses try to slide off his nose and after a brief but furious battle with them, he gets them to stay put and not be foggy (well, mostly) and generally permit him to peer through the crack in the floorboards.

It’s not a bad view, actually-the size of the shack makes it easy to see most of it-including the person inside.

They’re not familiar to him-it’s a man, as far as he can tell, tall, tanned, shaven head. He can’t see his face, not at first, but then he turns.

Jonathan will admit, to himself, that he’d been entertaining images of horrible scarring or some other, blatant sign of stranger-that-shoots-at-people-in-graveyards. Silly? Maybe. But books always make it clear who the nut is.

This man is…normal. Apart from the shaved head, he couldn’t be more average if he tried. It’s almost annoying.

Annoying or not, any possibility of this being someone else goes out the window when the whistling starts. It’s the same song it was before and for a second Jonathan’s convinced he knows they’re up here.

He doesn’t seem to, though-he picks up a shovel and heads back outside, leaving the door open.

So, really, his momentary JESUS CHRIST when Kitty taps him is a little silly.

“Well?”

He shrugs and sits up, trying not to make too much noise.

“I don’t know him.”

He comes back inside and they freeze, plastered together. It’s worse, not being able to see him-what if he’s reaching for the ladder? Or just waiting for them to move again?

Nothing happens and after a minute he goes back out. The sounds of digging reach his ears and he relaxes. A bit.

Okay. That window isn’t that wide, but he’s gotten through some pretty small spaces before. He can probably get down (it’s not that high if you’re not, you know, miniscule).

“I think I can get down.” he breathes. “It’s not that high. If we’re careful, there’s a back way through the woods.”

“Okay.”

“Hold my glasses.”

The digging doesn’t seem to be stopping and he stands up, sort of, and works his way through the window. It’s a little tighter than he thought it would be, but dammit, if he can be wedged into a locker (by his choice or not), he can fit through here.

He’s right. It’s a nerve-wracking few seconds, but eventually he’s on the ground and a little scratched up but otherwise unharmed. The digging doesn’t stop and he takes a shuddery breath.

Kitty drops into his arms a second later and he sets her down. She gives him his glasses without a word and points towards the woods. He nods, takes a few hesitant steps forward, and deems it safe to make a run for it.

The woods loom up like splintery teeth and he shoves the irrational idea (rooted in Grimm’s Fairy Tales, no doubt) that they won’t make it out in one piece. They’ll be fine. They’ll be fine, they’ll weave their way around and back to the main road and they’ll be fine.

At least, that’s the plan. They’re barely in the trees when Kitty pulls on his sleeve.

“What?”

“Look.”

The man has discarded his shovel and gone around to the woodpile on the side of the house. If he looks up he’ll see them, they need to leave, who cares what he’s doing?

Kitty’s not moving, though, because clearly she either has a death wish or they’re in cahoots and she’s trying to get him murdered. He risks tugging on her sleeve, but she doesn’t move.

“Kitty…”

“Shh.”

“But-”

“Wait.”

He doesn’t care, he really doesn’t-actually he takes that back is that a leg?

Yup. That’s a leg.

“I told you so.”

He doesn’t like having that line turned on him, he decides.

“You did.”

The man comes back and they freeze, but he’s only getting another limb out of the woodpile. This is horrible and gruesome and that is a terrible place to stash a corpse, that’s how you draw vermin.

“Stay here.”

“What are you doing?” she hisses. “We need to get the police! Or my mother. An adult.”

“Shh.” An arm this time. How many pieces is Wicker in? “I just want to see where he’s putting them, that’s all.”

“Don’t be an idiot-”

Pot, kettle, in case she’s forgotten why they’re here in the first place. Besides, he’s not going to get close, he’s just going to move and see whereabouts the grave is. Everything is going to be fine.

“Just stay here, I’ll be right back.”

“Jonathan-”

He pretends not to hear her and, sticking close to the trees, inches down until he can see a light.

There’s a hole, real shallow, looks like, up by the front of the house. Huh. Hopefully he’s got a slab or something, because if it’s as shallow as it looks, a thumb’ll be sticking up by next month. Idiot.

The man kneels down and paws around in the hole a bit before going inside. He doesn’t come back out and Jonathan glances at the woodpile. There’s not much better evidence than a body part, and it’s not like he cares about Wicker himself, but…

Dismemberment’s pretty awful. And if he’s going to be honest with himself, walking into the Sheriff’s station and plopping a severed head (or whatever he pulls outta there) on the desk is…he’d probably get some grudging respect, at least. A little.

And he feels bad about the dog. S’just an animal, it didn’t deserve to die.

The man hasn’t come back yet. If he’s quick, he might be able to make it.

“Jonathan.” Kitty hisses. “Get back here.”

He takes a shuddering breath to steady his nerves, takes a last glance at the porch, and darts across the field. He skids to a stop by the woodpile and presses up against the house, waiting for any sign of being caught. Nothing. The man’s still in there-he can hear him walking around. Okay. Okay, he can do this, just like when he was little and used to play with the Nativity set-lift carefully and try to put everything back where it started.

The logs are disturbed as it is, so it’s not too hard to lift a few more off the top. They’ve been stacked up a little haphazardly, forming a hollow shell, and he peers inside.

Nothing. Bugs, that’s all. Everything must be in the hole already, damn…

The man stops walking and Jonathan drops down, his breath catching in his throat. He’s made a huge mistake. He did not think this through, not at all, oh boy-

But he’s not running around the side of the house, either. Okay. He’s just gonna see if it’s safe to run back and get of here, screw Wicker and his dog, they’re not worth this.

Kitty makes an angry gesture. Well, the man’s probably still inside, then, if she can gesture at him.

SHUNK-SHUNK-SHUNK!

He looks up at the sound of the window opening-straight into the barrel of a shotgun.