#another thing from attempting to clean out some of my drafts

[stars-obsession-pit]

Another thing from cleaning out some old drafts…

Danny Phantom, possibly DP x DC, quest fic idea:

(IDK if quest fics are a known quantity outside of forums like SpaceBattles and SufficientVelocity, but in short, a quest fic is a type of fic where the readers can vote for things - usually the character’s actions - between chapters as the story gets written)

Danny-clone Quest

You’re a clone of Daniel Fenton, made by Vlad Masters. And not a fully stable one. You will fall apart if you don’t figure out something pretty soon.

You could stick with Vlad. He did make you, so there’s a pretty good chance he would know how to stabilize you before you fall apart. But you know he doesn’t really care about you. Is the possibility of his help worth dealing with his unscrupulous nature?

Or maybe your template could help. You’re not certain he’d know how, and he has no reason to trust you, but he at least seems more altruistic than Vlad.

Or… it’s a wide world out there. A world you don’t really understand except for a few scant inherited memories. A solution could potentially be out there somewhere. You have powers, how hard could finding things be? But you would be on your own, and you might collapse before you reach them. At least you’d be free first. Is that greater risk of failure worth it?

What do you do?

(This is not an actual Quest yet. It’s just an idea I chose to write down. I may actually try to write it eventually, but there’s a lot of planning/prep I’d want to do first)

(My thought process with the “maybe DPxDC crossover” part is that if the story stayed in Amity Park (or the Ghost Zone), it might not involve the crossover, but if it left to the rest of the world, it would then likely incorporate DC elements)

[vantedaes]

cry, cry, cry

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader tags: porn with little plot, dacryphilia (or an attempt at it at least) soft dom nanami, slight breathplay, fingering, alcohol use, body fluids mentions, unprotected sex, manhandling, slight objectivization, passing out, hair pulling, pussy spanking, slight breeding kink, reader does not talk but because of the context no because she can't. NO PROOFREAD. an: English is not my first language, there might be mistakes that would be addressed,,, someday, for now I just want this to be posted it has been sitting on my drafts like forever. Inspired by this tiktok of my lovely bbh

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT +18 ONLY!!!

!Husband Kento was not a stranger to being enraged when working overtime, however, he didn't make a habit of taking that rage home, where his lovely wife was waiting for him. Unfortunately for him, today was one of those days he couldn´t stop the bubbling wrath when returning home after insufferable overtime hours cleaning everyone´s messes.

Of course, he had sent you a text beforehand letting you know that it was for the best to allow him time to cool down before talking to him, and thankfully you've been supporting and understanding as ever telling him that he shouldn´t worry and that a glass of his favorite bourbon was already served in his study.

You knew exactly that your lovely husband had an especially rough day, you could tell by the sound of the door opening an abrasive almost like the FBI was breaking into your house, you could hear from your shared room the loud slamming of the door, so strong it made you flinch, your cat scaping your blanket running into hiding somewhere in the closet.

Closing your book you put it on your nightstand and heard how the heavy steps of your husband made their way to your home, you could listen to the rustling of his clothing and another slam of what you could guess was his suitcase, oh, he was real upset, Not long after that you hear him opening the door of his study. Standing up you got out of your shared room, you didn't want to bother him at all knowing he had to blow some steam, so you just went to the drawing room to assess the situation, with soft steps you saw how his coat was thrown under the hanger and his suitcase a few steps from the coat, open, revealing what you could only assume was red numbers and some other reports he had to deal with, you did your best to accommodate everything in its place hearing your husband going slamming things in his office.

You knew it was better to just go to sleep and wait for him to come to bed whenever he felt like it, but, you were also curious, you´d never seen him this upset, so after getting his things together you made your way silently to his study, almost on tiptoes, the door was wide open which made your little espionage easier. Only the light of his desk was on, you leaned in the doorframe like a child trying not to get busted when they know were being naughty, your breath caught into your throat when you saw him, his back to you pouring even more of the bourbon and gulping it in just one quick motion, his muscles evidently tense making him look even bigger, menacing even, his big hands gripping the glass and the movement of his throat working that burning alcohol down like it was nothing.

And dear lord, you could feel your pajama shorts getting soaked.

Your skin burned like it had caught on fire, you weren't unfamiliar with how insanely hot and attractive your husband was, but this was different, this was the first time you'd seen him, this, this enraged, his whole demeanor changing in a drastic form that you've never experimented and your eyes were glazing for just the sight, your fingers itching to help you relieve some of that tension desire building in the pit of your stomach. Your husband then sits on his chair, his strong tights expanding, and his crotch more prominent, his hair like a full mess, golden locks falling into his gorgeous face that was contorted into a hostile expression that only made you press your tights even closer to each other, you could feel yourself trembling with a raw need that was taking over every grain of your sanity.

But then in a swift motion, after struggling to take off his tie he simply opted for tearing the damn thing apart, the buttons of his shirt flying to different parts of the room, allowing his massive chest to breathe and with that sinful sight you couldn't help but gasp. Still, in reality, it was more like a pitiful whimper that was capable of getting your very angry husband´s attention to you.

The moment your eyes connected with his dark eyes you didn´t move an inch, something like fear and excitement creeping into you, like a fear of a beast that found the most helpless prey on its own lair, which was accurately what was happening.

Your husband stood up and gulped the whisky quickly, licking his lips as he addressed you.

"C´me here" His voice was raspy, like going through your whole body, it made you quiver even more, made your whole being more intoxicated.

Slowly you approached him, his eyes never leaving you for a second, and you were used to Kento´s eyes on you, his attentive and longing gaze every time he looked at you, but the way he was looking at you now was something else, like drinking the sight of you, like devouring your whole image, resembling a madman that has been starved. When you got close enough you stopped, just a few centimeters separating you, he smirked cockily his lips glazed with the bourbon, and your nostrils were filled with the scent of his cologne mixed with alcohol it roamed through your figure and you find yourself inhaling it, fueling even more the heat that was about to explode inside your body. Your husband looked amused at how you were paralyzed in front of him like you were asking permission to touch him, your own husband, it was ridiculous, and yet it was what his good girl knew had to do.

"Look at you, shamelessly spying on me when I perfectly told you to give me space" His hand gripped your chin with a strength that made you part your lips in surprise "Now that you got what you wanted...you´re all shaky, angel"

You wanted to answer sure, it wasn´t your nature to stay quiet, you were always quick with a comeback but just like in a trance, you were just mute and so fucking needy, he, your husband, was not a man who loses his calm like ever, one year of marriage and you've never seen him this deranged.

He could hardly blame you for how your body reacted, you yourself didn't know you could find him even hotter.

Quivering, you tried to speak "I—"

And without any kind of warning, he grabbed your waist with a strength that made you gasp in surprise, the sound of shattering glass stealing your attention for a quick second —he really threw his glass on the floor—, but as soon as you felt your frame pressed tightly at the body of Kento your mind went to a fucking blank again, contemplating how his normally hazel color eyes were totally pitch black. His arm was like an iron band around your waist and your hands posed on his big chest trying to hold onto something, his closeness making you quiver like a leaf and you could just read in his expression how much he liked all of your wretched reactions.

"Shh...it´s alright angel" he whispered hotly upon your lips "I already know what you want"

Before you could process any of his words he took you and bent you over his desk, your hips pressed against the edge of it and all of the stuff on top of it falling down, the bottle of whiskey spilling over the wood surface where your face was now pressed against wetting your cheek and lips, you were never a fan of whiskey —or any strong alcohol really—, but right now you welcomed it eagerly with your mouth hanging open when you felt the hot and rough hands of your husband stripping you off your pajama shorts, your cunt being met with the breeze of the room, soaked, you felt how your juices were already trailing your tights. You moaned pitifully, your hole clenching into nothing.

Nanami laughed in a vibrato that made your knees buckle, "Look at that, so fucking wet..." his fingers trailed your dampness pressing over your wet swollen lips gathering all the liquid before entering your entrance in a quick movement, you let out a high pitched moan at the sudden intermission "That´s right angel, you will take it"

He kept moving his fingers inside your cunt quickly while his other hand kept your head firmly pressed into his desk, the whisky fusing with your saliva as you kept loudly moaning, your body going into shambles quickly, Nanami was like a feral beast fucking you with his fingers letting out the hottest low grunts that were making your orgasm approach in a tidal wave in just mere seconds of his fingers inside you.

"Yes yes yes" you chanted in ecstasy, your legs fully trembling as your orgasm hit you with an intensity that would almost make you fall if it wasn't for the firm hand of your husband keeping you still on the surface of his desk, a loud moaning of his name leaving your mouth.

"made a mess of my fingers angel, so needy you came so fast" his fingers leaving your leaky entrance and trailing through your cunt greedily. you were panting with the aftermath of your orgasm, the whiskey now soaking the whole table and part of your hair "Filthy, filthy girl, looking like a used whore after just taking my fingers"

He roamed a chuckle, then you heard him sucking his fingers nastily, sounding richly across the room, and in a quick moment he slapped your pussy making you scream your already shaky legs buckling and almost falling to the floor only to be grabbed by your wrists and manhandled to your position on the table.

Another smack on your pussy made you yelp, "Come on now, don't act like this cunt doesn't like it rough" You felt him pressing against your ass, fully clothed, and yet you felt the big bulge twitching against your bare cunt, soaking his pants, it was unbearable to have his cock still on his pants when you wanted it so so so bad.

However, you could only mutter pathetic whimpers, so clouded and drunk on his cock that wasn't even inside you. "Stay put" Your husband demanded and you immediately went still, excitement filling your body as you heard him unfast his belt followed by his zipper and a delicious groan as his cock was fully out

You couldn't quite see but you knew he didn't take off his pants by the way you could feel the fabric on your tights and fuck, you could come just right there again.

"I believe you know I have no intend of going soft with you tonight," He remarked while tracing his cock on your swollen lips, his precum fusing with your juices "Oh, but look at you angel... so fucked up looking like you could die if I don't give you this cock"

"I—" A slap to your asscheek cut you off to a pathetic moan, and soon you felt the hard body of your husband pressing on your back to whisper in your ear.

"I don´t want to hear anything that is not those pathetic little moans you made" His hot breath against your neck had you shivering, with his hard cock nestled between your folds you could do nothing but behave, tears escaping your eyes betraying how much you wanted it, how much you need it, Nanami trailed your neck inhaling your scent like he needed it more than air, getting drunk on it and leaving wet open mouth kisses on your boiling hot skin. Despite the twitching of his cock against your folds he did nothing more than tease your skin with his hot breath on your most sensible zones, driving you into absolute madness, your hole clenching, hungry, and desperate.

His hands gripping your waist tightly, you were sure tomorrow it'll have a mark. "Nothing more than a slut for this cock hm?" he teased leaving your back, standing again he took your jaw turning your face to him, when you looked at his handsome face his eyes looked like a deep endless void of how black and dilated they were, not a trace of his usual hazel like eyes, he looked at you with ravenousness, his eyes darting through your face that was now covered in tears

His cock twitched at the sight of your whipping face, you started sobbing, your lips trembling in a way of begging him to fuck you.

"Oh fuck" He moaned leaving your jaw to tug on your hair and grabbing the base of his cock he finally directed his tip to your needy entrance, you moaned even more between tears feeling how the length of your husband's cock stretched you.

Fuuuuck, your husband was big and, oh, he did not intend to go soft with you, remember? So you should have expected when his full-length slammed into your cunt in a strong thrust, making you cry loud, your hands grabbing the edge of the table, you could feel his cock molding your insides, his veins popping through your walls and if you were already not intoxicated you surely were now.

Nanami moaned feeling your pussy tightening around him like you want to cut him off, he pulled your hair into his fist harder and looking straight at your eyes he hissed, "Put your fucking hands were they where"

Looking at him with big tearful eyes you clasped your hands together behind your back, your whole stability now depending on how your husband had your hair pulled into his fist. "Such an obedient girl... Now keep sobbing like a dumb slut while I feed you this cock"

And with that, you could only hiccup pathetically, Nanami's thrusts were erratic and fast, kissing every bit of your insides, he looked at you with a deranged look, enjoying how you were drooling and crying while taking his cock so harshly, he fucking loved it, having you go all fucking stupid on his big cock and have you reduced to a needy little thing.

"Yes, fuck—that's right, so fucking tight around me" his sloppy thrust was making you dizzy on how deep he was reaching into you, your orgasm already in the making ready to burst with the warning of being even bigger than the last one and your husband knew it completely, that smirk of his adorning his lips, with that your second orgasm erupt shaking your whole body, your husband groaned pulling on your hair harder making you stare at him while you creamed his cock and your eyes rolled, tears trailing down your face to your throat disappearing on your breasts, your husband's depraved eyes look at it and soon you had him turning you around without leaving your sloppy hole to now have you laying down the desk in a more comfortably position

A position that allowed you to look upon your very disheveled husband, through your teary and hazy eyes you could see and drink at the sight of Nanami just fucking into you like a mad man, like a fucking wild animal, his hands now gripping your jaw playing with it like you were a useless doll, his fingers entering your hot mouth pressing on your tongue while he kept pounding that fat cock into you, you whimper so cockdrunk you were about to pass out feeling his hard cock kiss your cervix every time, he was ruthless in the way he was fucking you and you were obsessed with it.

"Fuck, I'm going to fill you up so fucking good" he left your jaw and slapped your tits before rubbing your clit in a maniac rhythm that pull you out of your drowsy state and soon you were filling up another orgasm approaching, "come for me sweetheart, I know you can, fuck—do it"

His thrusts were, even more, sloppier, erratic, and quick you felt like you were about to explode, it was way too much, you were pushing the limits of your oversensitive body, but oh, how you loved it especially when you felt his hard cock stiffen even more inside you and warm cum filling your insides and soon you were cumming a third time, this time even more intense than the previous ones and your whole body shudder at the immense pleasure and the fullness of the cum inside you, your husband moans in the background of your nirvana, it was as you where losing your hold on reality and soon everything went blank.

!Husband Kento was heavily panting rolling off the immense orgasm he had, only to find his lovely wife passed out on his desk, and even though his first response was to get worried that he indeed had been too rough with you, but, the happiness on your —very fucked up— face told him everything he needed to know.

Taking his dick out of you he put himself together and took your limp body in his arms to carry you into the bathroom, somewhere along the way you regained consciousness, your pretty confused eyes looked at him and soon your cheeks turned red "Hello beautiful, I'm going to take care of you now"

Simply he assured you with a smile and a kiss to your damped forehead, you smelled like sweat and whiskey.

"..." You looked like you wanted to speak and Nanami could only chuckle affectionately at your uncertainty.

"You can speak now angel"

[sixflame438]

Chasing Lightning

Synopsis - Your girlfriend’s in a mood and locks herself in your room causing you to sleep apart. It starts thunder storming in the middle of the night but Minjeong is scared of lightning

Pairing - Kim Minjeong X Reader

Tags - Fluff, light angst, mild astraphobia, established relationship, grammatical errors probably, another 3am post

A/N - A short fic i wrote in one go (yay me), will try to get the other drafts out of the basement after my last 2 exams :D

Wordcount - 1726

Minjeong was mad again and you dont have a clue why. All you did know was that you finished your dinner alone and that your apartment was lacking the usual lively energy of your girlfriend. It was like winter had frozen over with how silent and chilling being in the apartment felt, not even the sounds of a drama playing quietly in the background.

You missed your girlfriend despite her simply being a door apart. And of course you tried multiple times to get her out, whether that was sincerely asking her to or attempting to lure her out with snacks they were all to no avail. She just wouldn’t budge.

If it weren’t for the muffled noises coming from behind the door you probably wouldve assumed you were home alone but they were very real and they definitely came from your girlfriend. You deduced the sounds to be crying and sniffling and it hurt you to hear them, even more knowing you had no way to stop them.

You couldnt even begin to figure out why she was in such a mood. It was like this when you came back from work.

No hugs

No kisses

No Minjeong

No nothing

You couldve easily spent the entire night trying to coax her out but you were tired and sweaty from work and all you wanted to do was crash out while snuggling with your favorite person.

If Minjeong wasnt going to let you in, youd just have to give her some time and space. You had no choice anyway.

She had locked you out of your own bedroom and left you to fend for yourself alone. (it was practically both of yours with how often she was in there with you but the audacity of this girl)

And since most of your stuff was in there you had to make do with what was left scattered around the house. It really wasnt that hard though since you were quite the clumsy mess, always forgetting and leaving things in places they shouldnt be.

In your scavenger hunt you had found a spare set of clothes to change into, some makeup wipes to clean your face with and half of the products required in your night routine.

You took a quick shower to freshen up and rearranged the couch so that you would have an easier time trying to sleep. There was a spare blanket bundled in the corner from your movie night 2 days ago which you could use and some cushions and pillows you could stack to provide another layer of comfort.

Laying onto your makeshift bed, you struggled with finding a good position to sleep in. The couch wasnt ideal to sleep on and the cushions kept moving out of place everytime you turned. It wasnt much but it would have to do, youd just have to hope it was enough.

————————————

It wasnt enough. You were certain just lying on that made you feel worse than you did before. The uneven feeling of the cushions didnt help either as different parts of your body were elevated while others were feeling the hard surface of the couch.

The weather didnt help much as a thunderstorm started as soon as you tried sleeping and no matter how hard you wanted to, you couldn’t will yourself into slumber either. The raging downpour of rain mixed with the thunderclaps created a painful symphony of pattering noises, uneven and aching to the ear, perfect to distract someone from falling asleep.

Lightning had also started coloring the dark skies with its striking flashes, loud and unpredictable. Since you couldn’t sleep you decided it would be fine to indulge in the lightning instead, pulling over a chair and opening the blinds so you could see the skies better.

The low dim light glowing from the moon and the dark midnight sky helped illuminate the lightning strikes and bright stars. If you were a photographer you wouldve definitely tried capturing the moment in physical form but keeping the scene in your head was alright too.

Other than the scene being quite stunningly beautiful (like your girlfriend) you found it quite funny as it kind of looked like the sky was trying (and failing) to play connect the dots with the stars. You dont know why but you were just so entertained by the sight.

It was rare but you had always enjoyed seeing the natural phenomenon nonetheless, finding it quite fascinating and inspiring.

Your girlfriend on the other hand?

Strong stoic Minjeong was never a fan of lightning, it was quite an experience the first time you both saw the flashing lights together. The high pitched squeals and screams could never leave your head and you didnt want them to. It was fun seeing that side of her and even more fun teasing her about it.

You remember bringing her close and spending the night in each others embrace, forgetting the world as it faded away. This time though you weren’t there for her, you couldn’t even if you wanted to all because of a stupid locked door.

You were really hoping Minjeong had already fallen into a peaceful slumber and hadnt heard the harsh sounds of the lightning. Considering you hadnt heard any noises from your girlfriend yet you took it as a good sign but the worrying feeling wouldnt leave so you remained unsettled.

That feeling was quickly sidelined though as another bolt of lightning hit. This one had a tint of red to it which you found absolutely amazing. You had learnt in a previous deep dive that lightning strikes could reflect any colour in the spectrum so seeing it in person was mind blowing.

You were so mesmerized by the colours and sounds of the lightning that you didnt hear the slight click of the bedroom lock or the soft padding of feet in your direction. It wasnt until you felt 2 tiny arms around your waist that you snapped out of your haze.

Part of you was still resentful of how quickly Minjeong shut you out (physically and mentally) but as soon as you registered the tears coming from your beloved you crumbled.

Even though Minjeong was stubborn and acting up all you wanted to do was wrap her up and cradle her in your arms. She was always there for you so the least you could do was be there for her as well.

As you turn around to properly to face your girlfriend a perfectly timed lightning strike allowed you to see her entire face in all of its glory. Minjeong mustve been crying for a while by the red eyes and flushed cheeks.

You physically soften at the sight, heart filling with sympathy and concern as you observe your girlfriend for any other signs.

There was nothing you wanted more than to pull her into your arms and spend the rest of the night comforting her. Even your ego tried to resist but you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out and doing just that.

You pull her onto your lap and with one arm rubbing her back in circles and the other running down her hair in a soft delicate motion you coax Minjeong into finally letting out the remaining tears. The weight of your comfort too heavy to bear.

A croaky im sorry is all you hear as your girlfriend starts sobbing into your shoulder. You’re not sure what shes apologizing for. Maybe for crying? For being vulnerable? For locking you out of your room? Her fear of lightning? Probably all of the above.

Humming in acknowledgment you continue to console Minjeong, whispering soft reassurances in between sobs. As the storm eventually faded out, Minjeongs crying evened out too. Soft whimpers and hiccups could be heard amongst the sprinkling of rain.

You have a feeling that Minjeong would’ve succeeded in staying the entire night alone in your room if it weren’t for the lightning scaring her out.

“Hey lets get some rest now that the rains subsided. Im gonna take you back into the room okay?” You dont wait for a reply as you gently lifted Minjeong off your lap and guided her to stand and lean onto you.

Slowly and steadily you lead her back into the bedroom and notice the soaked pillow doused in her tears. Hell no were you going to let her sleep on that. Luckily you were a person who loved sleeping with multiple pillows so you had some spare hidden away.

(Minjeong found it impractical having pillows to hug when you could just cuddle with her instead and your bed was only so big so you moved them to make room)

You pull out the unused pillows from your storage closet and tuck Minjeong back into bed with little resistance, her already tired state fueled by the lack of energy from all the crying.

Ensuring she was comfortable and safe you place an affectionate kiss on her forehead.

You were hesitant on whether you were allowed to join her or not, as you still didnt know why she was upset and if you had played a part in her suffering. But your questions get answered with a simple

“Stay”

Quiet and low but you heard it. Not allowing yourself to linger any longer, you climb into bed and tuck yourself in too. Gently wrapping your arms around Minjeong as you did before, careful not to set her off again.

It takes a while for Minjeong to calm down fully but with your soothing touches she eventually drifts off. As soon as you registered her breathing falling into a stable state, you allowed yourself to relax for the first time that night. Basking in the closeness of her company, you lay another tender kiss on her forehead and temple.

It didnt matter what had happened, as long as you were still able to kiss her goodnight that’s all that mattered. Youre still skeptical about Minjeongs behavior, being kept in the dark about something as important as this was not something you enjoyed but you had a feeling that it would work out. Tomorrow was new day and you had plenty of time to decode her then.

Now that Minjeong was back in your arms you were never letting her go (unless she tried to lock herself in again that is)

[pnghoon]

clay impressions

PARK SUNGHOON [성훈] ── 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓

୨୧ pairing : !nonidol hoon x fem potter!reader ꒰wc : 590꒱

୨୧ genre + content warnings : fluff, slight skinship, not proof read

୨୧ synopsis : in which sunghoon, the new guy in town spots a pottery club and joins because of the pretty girl he saw mentoring in the window.

writer's note ─ what the...juno's first ever work that isn't c.ai bot related??? this must be a dream.. (hehe im joking) anyways enough with the sarcasm--I finally decided to upload this story that's been in my drafts for a while. ik it's not what you're usually used to but lmk what you think of it and if I should continue >< if you enjoyed reading it, please be sure to like & reblog !! ♡

sunghoon hadn’t planned on joining a pottery club. in fact, he hadn’t planned on much beyond unpacking his boxes and finding the nearest coffee shop. but as he mindlessly wandered down the charming main street of his new small town, something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.

the large window in front of the small building cramped between a bookstore and a bakery offered a glimpse of what lay inside: clay-covered hands shaping a delicate piece, laughter echoing softly, and cozy lighting. but what truly captivated sunghoon was the girl behind the wheel. her hair was tied up in a messy bun, a few stray strands framing her face as she concentrated on the clay piece in front of her. she looked like a masterpiece in the making, even with all those smudged beige streaks on her cheeks.

without thinking twice and perhaps blindly urged by his smitten heart, sunghoon pushed open the door, the bell above chiming cheerfully. he approached the counter, trying to appear casual as he signed up for a beginner's class.

the next day, he found himself sitting in a circle of eager faces, dressed casual in a stone grey knit zip up—clay ready at hand. his heart raced when the girl from the window stepped forward, your features even more captivating in person.

"hi, everyone! i'm y/n, and i'll be your mentor for today.”

sunghoon's attempts at crafting anything remotely vase-like were laughable. his first piece looked like it had been crafted by a particularly enthusiastic toddler, another imaging more of a lopsided pancake recipe gone wrong. so—maybe pottery wasn’t his thing. he glanced around, hoping no one noticed, only to lock eyes with none other than you. you smiled, a glint of amusement in your eyes as you made your way over to him.

"need some help?" you asked, your voice warm and gentle.

"very. turns out pottery isn't my hidden talent," sunghoon replied with a soft sigh and bashful smile, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment.

you chuckled, your laugh like music to his ears. "don’t worry, you're here to learn right? let's start from the basics.”

as you slowly guided his hands with your own clay covered ones, sunghoon couldn't help but notice the spark in her eyes, the way your fingers danced with the clay like it was meant to be sculpted and formed with your delicate digits. through your gentle ministration and shared laughter, his lump of clay began to take shape, though it still resembled a vase only in the most generous sense.

by the end of the class, sunghoon had a crooked pot he was oddly proud of and a heart that felt a bit fuller. you handed him a wet cloth to clean his hands.

“not bad for your first try,” you spoke out, nudging him with your elbow as you stared down at your clay-stained apron. “with a bit more practice, you might even make something useful.”

sunghoon grinned, feeling a flutter of hope. “i guess i’ll just have to keep coming back then.”

you couldn’t help but crack a smile at his words, eyes sparkling with amusement. “i guess you will.”

and as he left the studio that day—he swore he saw your gaze on him through the window. suddenly moving to this small town felt like the best decision he’d ever made, and if learning pottery meant more time with you, he was more than ready to become the next great potter.

or, at the very least, the guy who made you laugh.

𝓢igning off... @penghoon

── 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 [OPEN 🗯] @onlyhees @amouriu @greentulip @enhluv1 @samiikeu @hoonwhile @dearrwoni

[magicalqueennightmare]

First Date

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Nicknamed Belle)

You and Bucky have your first date

After the cleanup from Marlowe life got back to normal fairly quickly. As a matter of fact the only new occurrence was a few elderly people you knew had asked a time or two if Bucky was your “fella” as they put it. Every time you’d feel your face warm and would shake your head. He was just your friend. 

“You know he is one hundred and nine” Sarah told you as you and her walked down the docks towards the boat. You nodded “I know that” she cut her eyes at you with a grin “He was drafted into the war in the forties then from there being kidnapped and brainwashed by Hydra the man isn’t really up to date on dating culture” you raised an eyebrow “Sarah, what are you on about?” she grinned “Why don’t and here me out here Belle..why don’t you ask him out?”

You shook your head “Nope, nu uh” she groaned “Why not? I see the way you look at him!” you ducked your head “We’re just friends” she scoffed “I’ve watched that super soldier almost snap his neck because he heard your laugh and wanted to see why you were laughing but yeah keep telling yourself that”  “And if it doesn’t work out with him and Sam pretty much being partners?” you asked and she shrugged “And what happens if it does? What happens if something good comes out of it? Look what happened during the storm. You were scared and sought comfort in him, never realizing that by doing so you were giving him the comfort he needed and didn’t know how to ask for. Do you realize how unbelievably sweet that is?”

“I really like Bucky but..” she cut you off “But what! Belle he isn’t some asshole! He’s a good man, even if Sam gives him hell it’s because he likes him. You know that’s saying something” you grinned “Ma’am lets just go clean the boat like we intended. We’ll tackle my love life or lack there of later” 

You locked up the general store and headed out to your jeep. The boys were out of school today so you hadn’t picked them up for Sarah. You were going to go by her house and see if she needed anything before heading home.

____________________

You turned down her driveway and was surprised to see Sam’s truck parked next to her car. He wasn’t supposed to be back from this most recent mission for another two days. You hoped that was a good thing that it wrapped early and not a bad thing. 

You parked behind his truck and got out of your jeep, slamming the door to make sure it was closed. A couple days before you hadn’t slammed it all the way when you’d gone home and a family of raccoons had attempted to bed down in the backseat by the next morning.

When you walked up onto the porch you could hear Sam’s voice and your heart flipped when you heard Bucky’s too. You figured he would have gone home to D.C. not back here. You tapped on the door as you were opening. “Sarah, honey I’m home!”

“Kitchen!” she called out and you walked around the corner to see her standing at the island while Sam and Bucky both sat at it. You could tell just from their posture they were both hurt. “How bad?” you asked and Sam turned. He had some butterfly stitches and a bruise blossoming on his cheek. “Anything I can’t see?” he flinched “Side is sore but they said my ribs are fine” you shook your head “Cap, you don’t have the serum” he grinned and nodded towards Bucky “He still caught it even with the serum” 

Your eyes flew towards Bucky and they got big. He had a slice across his nose, what looked like a line of staples in his hairline and a large bruise covering half his jaw and was favoring his right side. “What the hell?” you dropped your bag on the counter and went to his side. You gently took his chin in your hand, turning his head to look at it “What did you fight? The fucking hulk?” 

“Red one” Sam clarified and you looked back over at him and slowly nodded “Christ have mercy. Ok” then looked back at Bucky “I thought the serum was supposed to make you hard to hurt” he was staring at you while you lightly traced the bruise on his jaw “It is doll. I’ll be fine in a day or two. Why do you think I look like this and he looks like that? I try to take the harder hits”

You felt your heart jump at that. He took the harder hits because he knew he had the serum and Sam didn’t. He risked his body to keep Sam safe. “Bucky” you whispered and he smiled slightly “I’m ok Belle, promise” Sam laughed “I think he got hurt on purpose just to get you looking at him like that” 

You cut your eyes at Sam and he winked at you. You shook your head “Well your medic did a shit. Your staples still have blood in them. Hold still and I’ll get the first aid kit and clean it up. Super soldier or not infections aren’t fun” Bucky nodded. 

Sarah passed you the first aid kit as she handed Sam his pain meds. Bucky couldn’t be prescribed anything due to his metabolism, he’d just burn off anything short of iv morphine. Sarah and Sam started talking while you moved to stand between Bucky’s legs where he sat on the bar stool. “This may be cold” you cautioned and he nodded “It’ll be fine”

You leaned up, bracing your left hand on his shoulder to keep your balance as you gently cleaned the blood from in between his staples. “Not that I’m complaining but why are you back in Louisiana instead of home in D.C. or New York?” you asked and he cut his eyes up at you “Neither of those places really feel like home” and you felt your face warm. You finished cleaning his head then looked back at him “Bucky?” he smiled “Yeah doll?”

“Do you think you may possibly want to go out with me sometime? Like on a date?” your heart was pounding in your ears by that point and both Sarah and Sam had also chosen that moment to go silent and add to it. “What?” he asked, a small smile slipping onto his face. You shrugged  “I mean if you don’t want to that’s fine but..” “He does!” Sam damn near hollered.

You and Bucky both looked at him and he shrugged “I am so sick of hearing oh Belle so beautiful, Belle so sweet, Belle so this…Yes he wants to go out with you” Sarah smacked him behind the head then pulled him off the barstool “And at that I’m taking him to the living room and give you two a moment to talk” you laughed as Sarah pulled Sam out of the room then turned back around to look at Bucky who was already staring at you “He is right ya know” 

You laughed “Well in that case, are you gonna be in town day after tomorrow?” he nodded “Definitely” “Then just let me handle it Barnes” he raised an eyebrow “Now, it’s been a while but doesn’t the man handle the date?” you leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek “Not anymore Bucky. Us women can do it nowadays. Just trust me” 

He had a light blush gracing his cheeks when you looked back at him and it made your heart flip because this was a man capable of fighting demigods, aliens and everything in between. A man that had gone through over seventy years of hell and had come out the other side and he just blushed from you kissing his cheek.  “I’m gonna go say goodnight to the boys then head home. I’ll see you day after tomorrow if not before, ok?” he nodded “Ok”

You totally were not on the verge of cancelling your date with Bucky because you’d had time to think about it and was second guessing everything from what you’d planned to do, how you’d planned to wear your hair and what you planned to wear. You’d avoided him the following day after asking him, using the fact that it was thursday and you had stuff to do at the general store and since the boys were out of school you’d taken Cass with you to make it a little easier on Sarah.

Now it was Friday and you felt like an idiot. “Don’t do this” Sarah cautioned as you stared at your phone. It was up to Bucky’s number. “Why?” she pushed off the wall where she’d been standing to watch your melt down “Because that man has lived through hell and if half of what Sam has said is true he really likes you Belle. Don’t let insecurities stop you from finding happiness. I’ve seen you with him. You’re smiling and laughing. You fell asleep during a hurricane, during a blackout! You have never done that! You did it because you were up against him! He makes you feel safe and happy. That is a rare combination”

You sighed “I just feel silly. I mean, a picnic at the waterfront?” she grinned “He’ll love it and this damn baby blue sundress you picked out?” she made a motion with her finger for you to do a spin and when you did she laughed lightly “I hope his heart is strong because it would be hell for you to kill that old man on the first date” you felt your face warm “I do really like him” she nodded “Then finish getting ready, go back to my house where he’s waiting and take him on the damn date you spent the last two days planning!”

___________________________

“Calm down man” Sam had told Bucky that maybe four times already. “Maybe she changed her mind?” he’d been stressed since you called Sarah and she left about an hour beforehand and neither of you had made it back, especially considering your place was three minutes by car. 

“She did not change her mind. She looks like roger rabbit with the big heart eyes popping out every time she sees you. Belle has dated, she has exes but she’s never been like that with anyone. For some reason she likes you enough that she feels safe to show her entire personality. She’s been herself with you like she’s only ever been with me and Sarah, so that says a lot. So quit whining. They’ll be back soon. Where the hell is that swag Steve always used to swear you had? All I’m seeing is you acting like a whipped puppy”

About the time Sam got through talking they heard two vehicles pull up followed by the telltale sign that it was you when they heard the slamming of your jeep door. Sam waved a hand “There ya go beast, beauty has arrived” and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Bucky, I’m sorry I’m late” you hollered as you came through the front door and stopped the moment you did. Damn you looked gorgeous. Your hair was down loose, you had a baby blue sundress on that hugged your curves in a way that made parts of his brain turn on that he was fairly certain had been turned off for years and god when you smiled at him? He’d do anything you asked of him for one of those smiles. “You look good” you told him and he laughed “You look amazing”

Sarah shook her head “And you two have got to get going”

_____________________

Those same insecurities flashed through your head. How the hell did he look that good in just jeans, a shirt and a black leather jacket? You wanted to pull the sweater you’d thrown on over your dress tighter around you just looking at him.

Then when he told you that you looked amazing? You were fairly certain you melted on the damn floor. You didn’t know what it was about Mr James Buchanan Barnes but you knew why you’d never been able to make it work with any of your exes if he was making you feel like this just going on a first date. “Let’s get going,” you whispered.

You parked at the docks and cut your eyes at Bucky “Promise not to laugh at me?”  “Why would I laugh at you Belle?”

You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth and nodded to the backseat before saying  “I packed a picnic and thought we could just have it here at the waterfront because we both seem relaxed here and I didn’t think you would be too comfortable in a crowded restaurant or movie theater with other people and now that I’m saying it outloud I’m feeling dumber by the moment and now you’re staring at me like I’ve lost my mind…”

You were cut off by his right hand gently grabbing your chin right before his lips met yours. The kiss was gentle, tentative but damn it took your breath away. When he pulled away you smiled “Wow” he laughed lightly “Guess I haven’t completely lost my touch then”

You shook your head “I’d say not but what was that for?” he motioned to the water “For doing this for me. You thought about me, thought about doing something to spend time with me and took my comfort level into it. Thank you doll” you nodded slowly “Of course” he smiled and pressed another kiss to your lips. When he pulled away he gently traced the side of your face with his fingers “You’re so damn beautiful”

You laughed breathlessly “You’re not so bad yourself there Barnes” a light blush graced his cheeks “I’ll carry the food. Show me where we’re going”

Somehow after the two of you had eaten you’d ended up curled up against Bucky’s side, both of you just watching the water. He had his arm around you and when you shivered lightly he glanced down “Do you want to get doing sweetheart? I don’t want you getting sick” you shook your head “I want to stay a little longer, please”

He nodded “Lean up, just a minute” you leaned up and he pulled his leather jacket off and slipped it over your shoulders. It smelled just like him, the aftershave he used working its way around you like a hug. You nuzzled into the jacket and he smiled “That better?” you nodded “What about you?” he shrugged “Serum doll. I run hot” you raised an eyebrow “Well I know you’re hot no need to announce it”

He started laughing “You really are something doll” you grinned and tucked yourself back into his side “I really like you Bucky” he kissed the top of your head “Good, because I really like you too” 

____________________

You pulled up to Sarah’s and walked up on the porch with Bucky. He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck “This is kind of backwards to what I’m used to, gotta admit” you shrugged “Is that bad?” he shook his head “No, just different” you stepped closer to him, putting your hands on his chest as his hands went to your hips.

His right hand came up to brush your hair back from your face “So um, are you my girl Belle?” you nodded with a small smile “I’d like to be. That make you my guy then?” he nodded “If you want me”  “Of course I do” you replied. 

His eyes went from your eyes to your lips back up so you laughed “Bucky, being your girl means you can pretty much kiss me whenever you want” he grinned “Yes ma’am” and leaned down to brush his lips against yours. The kiss was gentle but claiming, making your head spin. Damn could he kiss. When he pulled away you swallowed hard before saying “Are you sure you want me?” he raised an eyebrow “Are you just trying to get me to kiss you again doll?” you grinned “Well I mean you are one helluva kisser” he laughed “Then just ask” and crashed his lips against yours.

The porch light flashing back you both separate. You looked over to see Sam in the window wagging his finger. You shook your head with a laugh and waved then turned back to Bucky “I’ll see you tomorrow if you’re still here?” he nodded “Can I call you to see you before I leave if we have to?” you smiled “I’d like that” and leaned up to press another quick kiss to his lips before walking down the doorsteps.

Bucky waited on the porch until you were in your jeep and backing up before he went inside. You couldn’t stop smiling. You really freaking liked Bucky.

__________________

Bucky walked inside and Sam was leaning against the wall “Making out on the front porch. Really man?” Bucky glared at him and he grinned “So you and Belle huh? Beauty and the beast right in front of my eyes” 

Bucky shook his head “Look Sam, I know she’s pretty much your sister but know I like her. I really do” Sam smiled “I know man. I got eyes. Just treat her good. All I ask. She’ll be home in about five minutes. Call her and tell her goodnight” Bucky nodded “Ok” 

___________________

You had just made it inside your place and locked the door when your phone rang. You glanced down to see Bucky’s name so you answered it. “Well hello Mr Barnes” “Hey doll, you make it home safe?” you laughed lightly “I’m home and the door is locked” “Good, I had a good time tonight Belle. I’ll see you tomorrow” “Ok Bucky. Sweet dreams” “You too”

You told each other goodbye and hung up. You practically squealed before realizing you were still wearing Bucky’s jacket. You’d give it back to him tomorrow. He hadn’t mentioned it but you knew he’d want it mainly for the cover of his left arm. Bucky was your boyfriend. Yeah maybe you did squeal at that thought, just a little. 

@desimarie12

@julesandgems

[l4vend3r-hcs-x]

Kny Oneshot - “Don’t follow me out”

Hc: Giyū asked Mitsuri to help him befriend Sanemi

Linking to a post I made HERE

This is a rough chapter draft for my Kny oc Au as filler chapters throughout

After Tanjiro's little pep talk the other day, I think Giyū took that on like a silent challenge for himself, to try and make some friends - or at least improve his relationships a little. And Giyū is a man of his word - if he says he'll do something - he'll do it.

So he committed to what he told Tanjiro, and set out to befriend Sanemi. And it got pretty serious pretty fast. I mean he knew how to make Ohagi, but he didn't know how to do it well. Luckily, he knew someone who did...

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

"WHAT?!" Mitsuri's voice rang out, reverberating on the walls of her estate

"Mits, please.." Giyū groaned, raising one hand to his ear and another to his shaking tea.

"Op- sorry." she grinned awkwardly and flushed "It's just that I didn't exactly expect you to be so keen on... making... friends - WAIT NO THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT I JUST- ohhh I'm not too good at this am I?" she hung her head

"Not really, that's a pretty astute observation though." Giyū shrugged, sipping his tea "Hey, this stuff is pretty good."

"The Master recommended it to me actually! It's form some lovely vendors down by the mansion, down past the pharmacy!"

Slightly uncomfortable silence enveloped them them; Giyū continuing to sip his tea, and Mitsuri quietly brewing another pot at her counter.

He's not speaking at all?!??! Oh this is so painfully quiet!! It's nice to have him here but - IS HE UNCOMFORTABLE TOO??!? OH NO!! I DON'T WANT HIM TO THINK I DON'T WANT HIM HERE!! THIS IS SUCH A BIG STEP AND I DON'T WANT IT TO BE FOR NOTHING-

"Do you think this is a good idea? Honestly - do you?" Giyū suddenly uttered, it was so quiet Mitsuri surely would have missed it completely if the room were not this quiet.

A few moments passed before she realised she was still to give him an answer, spluttering it out while pouring the tea

“Well of course I do!! More friends never hurt anyone did they??”

Giyū's eyes glinted with something akin to confusion "More?? You mean I have friends already?"

W-what?! Mitsuri's thoughts screamed

"Are... we not friends, Tomioka?" she smiled nervously

"Well, Kocho told me that you likely did not want to peruse friendship with someone like myself. She told me that you were more than likely going to become violently ill if I attempted to initiate a relationship higher than acquaintances with you." spoke with a monotonous voice but he nodded as thought her point was valid.

"HUH?!" Mitsuri shrieked "And you BELEIVED her?!!"

"I trust Kocho." He peered up at her innocently

"Don't." she smiled wearily, "Not her advice at least..”

She helped him to his feet and pat him on the back with a little more force than necessary as she began to talk with fiery passion

“Anyhoo!~ Let's teach you how to DO THIS!!" her voice grew fierce with determination as she hauled him over to her countertop

~~~~~~

After a few long silences, a surprising fit of laughter, and two hours of prepping - they were finished. A fresh batch of Ohagi lay on the table in front of them, and beside it was a written recipe that Giyū could follow in future if he so desired.

"Thanks, 'Tsu." Giyū muttered, a gentle smile coming to his face "I really do appreciate all this."

"'Course Giyū!" she slung an arm around him "I just hope that Sanemi likes them! I mean I'm sure he will - he's like addicted to these things. If he didn't train to often I really would worry for his health, you know?"

"Hmm..." Giyū hummed, his mind seemingly elsewhere

"Giyū? You okay?"

"Huh? Oh - yes, I was just thinking how Sabito might react to me giving him these..."

"Sorry?" Mitsuri, who had slipped away from Giyú to start cleaning the mess they had made, suddenly spun to face him "How who might react?"

Giyū's brows furrowed, confused by her seemingly redundant question "...Sanemi??"

"Nono you said Sabito…" Mitsuri smiled confusedly at him "Giyū, who's Sabito?"

She didn't get a response. Instead, she was met with the view of Tomioka clasping tightly to his left arm, a bewildered look in his downcast eyes. is breath began to quicken, his palms and brow growing wet, body beginning to tremble as the Love Hashira drew closer.

"Giyū, are... you alright?" she went to place a hand on his shoulder, but he jolted back from her

"I, uh- I think I should be going.." bowing deeply to her, grabbed the paper on the table and swiftly left the mansion with her following in an anxious pursuit.

"Giyū!! I'm- I'm sorry if I said something wrong!! Please, just come back!!" but Giyū had taken off in full sprint and was well out of view by now - there was no catching him.

"Shoot..." she clamped her teeth down on a bent finger

~~~~~

Sabito?? Why did I say his name?? Surely he doesn't remind me of-

Giyū was running through the seemingly endless forest when the notion dawned on him. It was a truly awful thought, not one that he could ever admit out loud - but the two were all too similar for him not to have noticed eventually.

"Shit." he hissed under his breath as he entered his home, eyes beginning to sting as he began to disrobe; practically tearing off the uniform he was not worthy of owning. Tossing his mismatched jacket to his futon, he sank to the floor once he had put on something more comfortable.

Then once again, that all too familiar sinking feeling consumed him. that heavy weight on his chest returned, his eyes prickling with tears, silent forceful sobs parting from his lips.

He drew his knees to his chest instinctively, reaching for his haori again to bury his face in, the familiar textures only worsening his cries. God, he felt pathetic. It was one word, one name, one stupid, little, insignificant mistake - and it had gotten him this worked up??

He was supposed to be a convincing placeholder for the water pillar, loosing his composure in front of a Hashira was not going to ensure his facade's security. He needed to try harder. Why had he always been so damn emotional?? He was always overreacting to the smallest of things - just like his father had always said to him. Even Urokodaki had alluded to it before...

It was before final selection, and he was so worried that the two of them would not make it home. He was told to remain calm, to stay brave, and not show his fear. He was assured that he would come home safe, practically unharmed. If only he had been assured that Sabito would have been the same…

Sabito... surely that man didn't remind him of Sabito... Sabito was kind... Sabito was gentle... Sabito was determined.. Sabito was fierce Sabito was a fighter... Sanemi was-

"Fuck..." Giyú hissed under his breath, head now in his hands.

Maybe he does... but that's insane...

Giyú raised his head slowly, his unchanging expression still leaking with salted water just as the paper slipped from the inner pocket of his haori. He slipped it into his hands, the smell of the bean paste that stained it lingering in his nose.

As he looked at Mitsuri's tidy, curling writing, his mind began to wander again. She had put such effort into this for him, just to help him… make friends, god this is almost humorous

Giyū took a moment to compose himself before climbing to his feet and setting out for his kitchen. If she was so adamant on helping him, then surely this was something worth trying.

He luckily found the ingredients listed in his cupboards, raiding them to find each component of the recipe. If he was going to do this - he was going to do it well…

He was going to make use of what Sabito left to him… one way or another…

~~~~~

“Then I think that is the last of it!” Uzui smiled, adjusting his eyepatch as their makeshift hashira meeting came to an end.

It wasn’t something they needed to do, but it let them keep some kind of normality to their situation, and was a nice excuse to check in on each other.

“Oh and if anyone bumps into Kocho again…” he stretched his annunciation “Tellll her I still have that thing I- Suma borrowed.” He paused for a moment before swatting a hand dismissively “Sh- She’ll know what I mean.”

And as the hashira filed out of the room - the only remaining pair in the room was, as luck would have it, Sanemi and Giyú.

“Igurooooo” Sanemi groaned through a clenched jaw, hurriedly tying his sandals again “bastard - all I asked was for you to wait for me - but nooo” he hurried his voice to a higher, more effeminate tone “I cAn’t KeEp MiTsUri wAiTiNg~”

Giyuu, sat in the back of the soon, simply observed The wind hashira as he struggled to retie the strings on his footwear. It was actually taking quite a long time, wow.

The entire meeting, Giyú and Sanemi had been stealing glances, ones that were received as snide looks due to Giyú's unfortunate resting face, and thus ignored.

Maybe he just didn’t notice me… Giyú thought to himself.

“Shinazugawa..?” Giyū muttered, rising to his feet

“HOLY- Tomioka??” Sanemi jolted, promptly composing himself again

I literally didn’t even realise he was still here.. Ah shit he probably thinks I’m fucking crazy, talking to myself like that-

“Are you alright?” Giyū muttered “You’re staring.”

“No I’m not, jackass.” Sanemi huffed, a slight tinge of embarrassment reddening his face

“Alright then.” Giyū blinked indifferently "I must be seeing things."

“Do you NEED something?!” Sanemi whined, finishing with his straps

"I uh, I wanted to give you this..." Giyú spoke very gently, his tone void of emotion as he extended a hand with a small offering atop it; a little black bag with a few pieces of Ohagi as its contents.

"Is that..." Sanemi looked at Giyú in disbelief

"Ohagi? Yes. After the other day with Tanjiro - I thought it might be something you'd enjo-"

"Oh for fuck's sake, Tomioka." Sanemi scoffed, a hand resting on his hip "You can drop the act. I get you don't like me, but trying to mock me? That's another thing entirely. Seriously fuck off."

He leant down to grab his satchel, turning on his heel to point an angry finger at the other man "DON'T follow me out."

And with a frustrated huff, Sanemi left the room with a slam of the door, leaving Giyú dumbfounded, and a little offended. What on earth did he mean? Mocking him? That's not what he was doing at all? Maybe it was his face. Kocho had told him he had an unpleasant face on more than one occasion - only looking out for him, of course. But maybe it was something he could take into consideration..?

~~~

"'Guro! 'Tsuri!!" Sanemi yelled, catching up to his friends "You will not believe what just happened."

"Tomioka struck up a conversation with you" Obanai snickered, only to get a swat on the back of the head from Mitsuri "Sorry! Sorry..."

"Yeah... actually..." Sanemi sighed, peering over his shoulder apprehensively, raising a hand to the back of his neck and rubbing anxiously "It was really fucking weird, he fucking tried to give me Ohagi.."

Obanai stopped in his tracks, disgust on his face "You're joking, right??"

Mitsuri's cheeks reddened in worry, her hands flittering before her "I-I thought you liked Ohagi, Sanemi?!"

Sanemi turned to her as they walked, dragging a confused Iguro by the elbow behind him "Oh no I do, it was just the way he said it was so - condescending?"

HOW DID HE MANAGE TO BE CONDESCENDING??! IT'S GOSH DARN OHAGI?! Mitsuri's thoughts ran wild, trying to comprehend what she had just heard

"How did he even know you liked that sugary shit?" Obanai hissed while he shook himself from Sanemi's grasp, slotting himself between him and Mitsuri

Sanemi groaned and cast his eyes skyward "That fucking Kamado boy ratted me out. He was so frustratingly kind while he did it too. GOD I hate the little bastard. I just don't trust it! There is just no way-"

"Someone is actually. That. Nice." Mitsuri and Obanai finished his sentence, memorizing it from the countless times Sanemi had rattled on about the alleged prodigy

"I don't get how you two hate him so much!" Tsuri pouted turning her chin up at them and looking away "Nezuko either! The two of them are just so sweet!!"

Sanemi snickered down at Obanai, mouthing "You sure about this one?"

But his only response was a half-assed punch to the gut and the sound of a blood vessel bursting from his little companion

"It's just why would he got that far out of his way just to piss me off?? I get he's an odd one but even for him this is another level of fuckery."

"Then maybe it wasn't - uh..." Mitsuri gestured to Iguro

"FUCKERY."

"Well yeah, that."

"'Tsuri what the fuck are you talkin' about"

"What is he was trying to be uh nice...?" she smiled awkwardly

Sanemi's jaw dropped despite his mouth remaining shut, Iguro slowly meeting his gaze, and after a few seconds of silence the two erupted in sonorous laughter, causing Mitsuri to throw up her hands in defeat with a huff.

"Ohohoh, 'Tsu that's a good one." Sanemi slapped her shoulder playfully as he struggled for air

"Yeah, Mits. I gotta give it to you, never thought you'd make jokes about that asshole too - WHEW I CAN'T BREATHE." Iguro chimed in, and Kaburamaru even hissed in delight

"I am serious!! What if he want's to be frien-" but she was cut off by another chorus of shouts and howling "UGH. Maybe Tengen's right, he shouldn't give you two the time of day." she pouted, speeding off in a huff from the other men

"Oh no - Mits come back!" Iguro cooed, barely stifling his laughter

"Yeah pinkie! Come tell us how he wants to get closer to- PFFT HAHA IGURO I CAN'T TAKE IT IT'S TOO MUCH!!" The man began to sob with violent laughter, his body shaking

But she was already long gone by the time he had forced out the sentence, and even further than that when the real comedy began.

"Dude she is a fucking riot. I take it back - I think I can look past her benevolence with that demon girl, she is hilarious. 'hE's TrYinG tO Be nicE' OH MY GOD HAHA"

Iguro wiped the ghost of a tear from his eye "You impersonate her far too well"

"A-thank you, I've had practice." he beamed

They continued to walk for a few more minutes, light-hearted jeers audible to everyone in the surrounding area, as well as some information that was probably best not to be discussed in public.

"No but I saw him take it from her as well - deadass. Don't look at me like that!! I am telling you that's what 'Suma' borrowed from her"

Iguro cackled in disbeleif "there is now way you are gonna stand tere and lie, saying he took-"

"I AM NOT LYING!!" he beamed in dismay "WHY WOULD I LIE ABOUT THIS??"

"I DON'T KNOW?! SOME SICK REVENGE FOR THE TIME HE CAUGHT YOU-"

"YOU SAID WE WOULDN'T TALK ABOUT IT." He gasped dramatically, slapping a hand on the shorter man's mouth

“…”

“…”

“There is no way you just tried to lick me with that thing in your face-”

"I literally forgot it was there - ew it tastes like Kocho's fuck ass tea she gives us in rehab"

"I'll take your word for it, pal" he giggled, wiping his hand on his front absentmindedly

"You sure? I mean I could be a fucking liar as well??"

"Well then, there's only one way for me to really find out isn't there??" he smirked, jokingly tilting up his friends chin, leaning in before the two of them roared with laughter

"What's so funny?" A third voice then chimed in

"OH MY GOD" Sanemi screamed

"WOAH- T-Tomioka??" Obanai poorly supressed a false gag as he turned to see none other than the water hashira stood behind them, a neutral look on his face, but something akin to determination in his eye

"Yes?" He perked up to look over at him

"What are you doing here?" Sanemi stepped forward, a slight flush to his face "I thought I told you not to follow me out??"

"Dudeee." Obanai sneered seeing the red tinge to his friend's face

"I didn't. I just happened to be passing though here, my estate's just down the way.."

Although this was Tomioka Giyū's natural demeanour, this was a side to him never before seen by his fellow hashira, and thus was met as such.

"Would you quit that??" Iguro hissed, Kaburamaru lashing her tail around his neck

Giyū blinked at Obanai, mildly perplexed by the sudden hostility. "Quit what?" he asked, voice even and unaltering to the tension around them

"You’re... smiling?" Sanemi sneered, stepping up to Obanai’s side, arms crossed defensively. His eyes narrowed, suspicious of the Water Pillar's sudden shift in personality. “What the hell are you playing at?”

Giyū stood before them in silence, both debating what he was going to say, and feeling the pressure of the scrutiny weighing down on him. It wasn't often that he allowed himself to feel anything beyond his solemn duty, and he had to admit, it did feel awfully strange, he was out of proper practice.

“I’m… not playing at anything,” Giyū finally replied, looking back at Sanemi. “I was trying to offer you something I thought you’d enjoy, but clearly I misjudged.”

Sanemi rolled his eyes, his irritation still palpable. “You really expect me to believe that? After all these years of keeping your distance, barely saying a word, and now you want to mock and tease? Give me a break, Tomioka.”

"Yeah," Obanai chimed in, his expression cold. "You're always standing around like you're better than the rest of us. And even if you aren't playing at anything, it's suspicious regardless."

Giyū clenched his fists at his sides, fighting back the sting of their words. He knew his demeanour often came off as distant—aloof, even. But he wasn’t trying to look down on anyone. He was just… bad at expressing himself. And worse at forming connections. Maybe it was too late to change things.

“I am not mocking either of you. I apologise if I have seemed distant, but if you cannot comprehend my efforts, I suppose I'll leave the two of you to... frolic? in peace until I can find a way to help you to. "

Sanemi’s gaze flickered with a confusing blend of emotion. There was no doubt shock in it, a shadow of understanding, and what appeared to be flusterment? But it was gone as quickly as it came. “Whatever.” he muttered, turning away, that red still lingering on his face, possibly even worse than before

Obanai glanced up at Sanemi before fixing Giyū with a hard stare. “Word of advice, Tomioka. You have gotta fix your face. People are going to assume you're being an ass if you say things with that look plastered on."

"You just said you didn't want me smiling."

"Just don't capture the essence of a frost bitten apple, okay?" he groaned sarcastically

“I’ll… keep that in mind,” Giyū muttered with a determined nod.

"Fucking hell he took me seriously" Iguro hissed under his breath

With that, Giyū turned to leave, the tension in the air still thick. But at least he had tried. And that, he thought, was a step in the right direction.

“And, Sanemi? If you change your mind about the Ohagi, you know where to find me.”

Behind him, Obanai leaned toward Sanemi with a low chuckle. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a little admirer. Maybe he’s not as dead inside as we thought, huh?”

Sanemi glowered, swatting Obanai lightly on the shoulder. “Shut up. There’s no way in hell Tomioka’s interested in making good on things. I bet you dinner it was an order from the master."

“Maybe,” Obanai mused. “Or maybe he really does want to befriend you, and you’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

Sanemi’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more—the idea that Giyū might actually want to connect with him, or the nagging thought that maybe he wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea, after all when they had first pet sanemi did try to initiate a connection, clearly to no avail.

As Giyū walked away, the faint memory of Sabito drifted back to his mind. Maybe it wasn't such an awful idea to get closer with the two of them - and maybe this is what Sabito would have wanted! But deeper down, the realisation began to dawn on him that - maybe this is what he wanted too..

OKAY I HAVE NO IDEA IF ANYONE READ THIS TO THE END BUT IF YOU DID PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!! (Please note that this is a rough draft for the chapter that will be posted to my Kny of insert "Have we met before" and the chapter will be called "Don't follow me out." xx) OKAY THANK YOU THAT IS ALL GOODBYE!!

~ Lav xx

[ominouspuff]

Hey op. I really love your art and would love to learn more of your style

Do you perhaps stream or have tutorials? If not that's fine, I just wanna learn more about the breakdown of your pieces and such <3

Hi nom!

Thank you! I don’t do streams or tutorials, but I’m more than happy to share some here if you like. If you’ve got more specific questions, let me know.

In fair warning most of my work is based on intuition more than studies, so my ability to articulate any sort of process is limited.

Attempt to Articulate Process 1.0

1. I start with motion and shapes. My goal with this is to capture the tone and mood of the piece as a whole. (Since I nearly always feature a hyper-emphasized subject rather than multiple subjects or environment pieces, usually this part is shown in a person I am drawing and what they are doing/preoccupied with.)

Sometimes I use lines/line art to capture these, sometimes I just select parts of my canvas to block out in different colors or paint in broad, clean strokes.

Here’s an example of this in an old draft for @ddeck ‘s Jedi OC:

Breakdown: You can see I have used both lines (in the background skeleton you can still see traces of, as well as the face and shoulder of the clothes, defining finer details) and colors in blotted, blocky, or clean shapes (the majority of the subject). The motion lines are complimentary in opposing directions, shown in the blowing hair and growing vines. The gaze of the viewer is drawn by the perspective and focal points of finer details in the piece, complex shapes or lines (hands, face, seams in the clothes, etc.).

2. While finalizing my motions and shapes to build on, I pay attention to voids and contrasts for what’s being viewed/communicated to come through clearly at a glance:

The shape of a subject can be emphasized by rotating it or stylizing the shapes themselves to leave spaces where the background will come through (voids). I think of this a lot like carving clay, using perspective and paint/eraser alternating to get dramatic shapes. The colors used can be contrasted as well to emphasize depth of a subject. Here’s another example:

Breakdown: There are plenty of voids both large and small to carve out the shape of this OC creature from the background. Additionally, the color of the background and accents to the creature contrast strongly while emphasizing the motion in the piece, to carve that silhouette out even further. Fun-ish Fact: Sometimes I give the impression of lines without there being any, by leaving gaps in the base colors of the subject where line art would define the shape of, say, crossed arms or the contouring of a subject. Basically I use void lines instead of line art, sometimes.

Here’s an example of steps 1 & 2 in a piece I’m currently working on:

3. After that it’s just lighting, detailing, and shading all the way. Here’s where it usually gets wild for me, because I rarely approach this the same way. The one thing I always do is add another layer to repaint over what I had before.

I either paint in simple, broad, low-opacity strokes after selecting the parts of the subject I want to be affected by the color and texture I’m using, or in tiny, boldly solid strokes that come together for an impression. Here’s an example of each:

Primarily broad strokes:

Primarily detailed strokes, ad nauseam:

Worth Noting: Backgrounds aren’t my forte. For them, I tend to use broad strokes and focus on setting a mood with the colors, shapes, motion, and textures, and using both to highlight the shape of the subject. Sometimes I will throw in a little spice of details in the background for accents or symbolism, but usually I prefer if they’re geometric thematic mood-setters or flat color shapes. You can see this in all of the above examples.

This isn’t comprehensive, and all this is for my digital art pieces that don’t take as much time to make, but I hope it’s helpful as a starting reference.

Thanks again for asking!

[suddencolds]

a personal milestone 🥳 + author's note

i finally made it 😭 (there is probably another 10k sitting in my drafts, but i have always tracked word count for this project as a sum of already-published installments)

also a (somewhat long) journal entry below:

—

This has been the main project in my life for almost two years, now (I started writing on 1.26.2023). It's my first proper attempt at a novel, and it's one of my first times ever posting original work anywhere 😭

It's hard to say how I feel now, perhaps because I feel too much.

Where to go from here? I considered dropping the series entirely before I hit the milestone because I was very tired. In a way, I felt like I had said everything I wanted to say. But I think I also love this series a lot more than I can properly verbalize.

To be completely honest, writing this series was so lonely. To work for so long on something that I could not show to nearly anyone irl (not family, not close friends, not peers, not strangers I met who I talked to about art); to spend hundreds of hours on something that I could only ever post to a small subset of people... all of that was very lonely. I'm sure other creatives have felt this way too.

And at the same time, hearing what people on snzblr thought became probably the most potent source of happiness in my life (is that pathetic? Maybe so.) I don't think this project was self-sustaining at all; I think to some extent, I wrote it because I wanted to hear people tell me that they liked it. I realize this is a terrible and unsustainable reason to create art, but that's the truth.

On some level, though, I kept writing because I loved Y+V. They've been at the forefront at my life for almost two years now 😭 I spent a long time teaching myself how to write them, and a lot of the themes & choices in the series are quite personal. Embarrassingly, I still want to talk about Y+V all the time.

When I posted to ask if I could send my unfinished/unpolished WIPs, some people reached out to offer to read them... and then I never sent anything over to anyone. I think a part of me could not get it through my head that people would be willing to read something completely unpolished, because... well, frankly, a lot of my drafts are just pretty unreadable; I typically only post things that I have already cleaned up. More importantly, I felt like sending my drafts to people—even people who had given me explicit permission to send them!—was selfish and troublesome.

On some level, I also felt the same about asking others to brainstorm with me: I felt like I was asking them a favor which I did not know how to pay back. Perhaps this is just another way in which I have been cruel/uncharitable to myself, but I never imagined people enjoying receiving my drafts. I could never convince myself that for those people, giving feedback/discussing ideas might not actually be a chore. I was always scared to make writing less of a lonely process because I could only think about how easy it would be for me to ask too much.

This is probably the most honest I've been about this particular subject 😭 I am not good at gauging what constitutes 'too much.' I feel like I can get carried away when someone expresses interest, so I try to preemptively position myself as someone who does not impinge on others... I think that even outside of this series, I have defaulted to this pattern of trying to give and trying not to ask. In that particular sense, I am perhaps to blame for my own loneliness.

Anyways! Recently, I've gone back to (tentatively) writing after months of not writing. I'm not sure if I will post another installment here (maybe if the drafts are 'good enough', I will?), but it's nice to write without worrying so much that what I am writing needs to be publishable/presentable.

If you have ever left tags/comments on my work, and you are reading this, I am grateful beyond words to you for keeping me company + for making me feel like what I was spending so much time on was a little more meaningful :') I always go back to reread them when I'm in need of encouragement. Thank you sincerely for the happiness. ❤️

[thebigoblin]

On The Dance Floor

tags: Not Scott McCall Friendly, Inspired by a Song, Oneshot, Alpha Derek Hale, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Getting Together, The Hale Pack 2.0, Fluff, Minor Sheriff Stilinski/Melissa McCall

a/n: found this in my drafts tagged as "complete." figured i'll post this as a lil weekend treat <3 so cleaned it up a bit. i'll post this on ao3 tomorrow ig. also, real enemy is giving fics a fucking title.

now you can also read this fic on ao3.

White, marble tiles are eaten up by his black, formal shoes, his movements a little hurried as he veers off another corner of this event hall, almost braining himself against the wall. He stops just at the right moment, curses his clumsiness, and continues walking down the empty hallway to the dressing room. Everyone else is already in the main hall, sitting on the chairs, and Stiles Stilinski was there only moments before, so he knows they're waiting for the ceremony to begin.

Except, his dad is getting cold-feet, and despite Scott's attempts at being normal around his soon-to-be stepfather, and being a shoulder to lean on, the cold-feet is getting worse. At least, that's what Derek texted him, a short, concise depiction of whatever the hell must be happening in the dressing room.

And he trusts the Alpha, so he's quick in his steps and quicker with his breaths when he does open up the door and finds his dad pacing around the decently-sized room, his suit on, and complemented by a look of absolute panic on his face.

Scott is standing off to the side, like he always seems to be these days, and he's on the opposite side of Derek, far from him, like he always was and always will be. Some people don't change, and Stiles has learned that through experience he would rather not repeat.

"Dad," Stiles says, and that's all it takes for the dam to break. His dad gives a quick glance to Scott, his once-favorite son, and then pulls both Stiles and Derek towards him, his hands a little sweaty with dread. His dad knows being close and talking low wouldn't make a difference, but it's the principle of the thing, and for one split second he wonders what 16 year old him would have thought of this fact, of Derek being his dad's chosen son, and him himself being this close to his dad. And Scott not even being privy to the beauty of this relationship.

"What if she doesn't want me to? I love Melissa, I do, but Claudia- I don't know. I had a dream yesterday, Stiles, and she was just, she was just there! Just sitting on the beach, where I proposed to Melissa, right where Melissa was sitting. Was that, like, one of your supernatural dreams? Derek, you must know something about these sort of things. I don't think she wants me to—"

Derek cuts him off with a firm, "She wants nothing but happiness for you." He gives Stiles a quick look, asking silently if this is okay, because out of the four people in this room he's the only who didn't actually know her when she was alive. Stiles nods, and Derek continues, and his dad hangs onto every word out of Derek's mouth. "Today is a big day for you, and you're nervous, and it's okay, John. That dream was just a way for your subconscious to show up — this isn't the first time you've had this thought, have you?"

"No."

"That's it. Nothing more, nothing less. Just your nerves."

Stiles smiles softly at his dad. "Mom loves you," he moves forward to bring his dad in for a patented Stilinski hug. His voice is muffled when he insists, "She loved you when she was beside you, and she loves you now that she's watching over you. And she loves Melissa, too. I know she'll be the one smiling the biggest when you say 'I Do,' today."

His dad holds on for a little longer, and Stiles knows he's holding back tears when his dad says, "Okay," with a rough voice. He pulls back, takes a deep breath, pats Stiles on the shoulder twice, the way he always does, and gives a wobbly smile to Derek. He says, "Thanks, son," to both of them before looking at himself in the mirror.

"You look amazing."

"I'm so glad Lydia's mom was able to modify your original suit into this," Stiles adds to Derek's compliment, and Derek nods, repeats the sentiment of his dad looking amazing.

Scott chimes in, too, and his dad gives him a small smile. The relationship with him is strained, and if it was any other day Scott wouldn't even be in Beacon Hills, but it's his mom's wedding day, too. Stiles allows this one day, and if he didn't, he can't really stop Scott from being here. This is his hometown, too. They have their differences, yes, but they also have a past, together and also not, stemming from this same town.

Stiles has no right to where Scott does or does not go.

Derek, on the flip side, with his red eyes and ancestral blood running through his veins, roots sprouting from this town's soil, has no such qualms. Derek and Scott share a past, too, and it defines their present more than anything else could have.

Stiles' dad says he'll be out in just a minute, can they wait outside please, and all three of them step out. Once the door is closed, Derek turns to Scott.

"When are you leaving?"

Scott is instantly angry. He has always hated Derek, no matter the truth. Logic was always Stiles' friend first and Scott's second, and without Stiles, Scott is just a ball of emotions being hit by the bat of daddy and authoritative issues.

Derek has a right to know. It is his prerogative. This is his land, his territory, his packmate's wedding. Scott was banished — run off, really, and now he's back. Derek has a right to know when he'll leave, irrespective of Scott's hesitation to tell him.

But, the years have done Scott good. Instead of yelling, making a scene, he takes a breath in. Stiles wonders what or who his anchor is, and promptly decides it's not something he cares to know. He watches Scott get himself under control, enough that when he speaks his voice is almost emotionless.

All or nothing. That was what Scott was, and still is. He's changed, but not really.

"Mom leaves for her honeymoon tomorrow, and I need to take stuff from home."

Derek raises his right eyebrow. "That's not an answer."

Scott gives a tight smile. "It is if you just learn to stop when you should."

Before Derek can say anything, Stiles is taking the two steps to stand right beside his Alpha, disbelief coloring his face and words as he lets out, "Are you seriously threatening him?"

Scott just looks at him. The look is unreadable. It hurts, this distance between them, when Stiles remembers fantasizing about being not two feet apart on a porch in their late, late years, drinking to the years and cheers they must have had in their shared lives. Derek shakes him out of that thought with a gentle touch to his hand, their arms trapped between their bodies, and he relaxes.

Derek looks at Scott. His eyes turn red, brilliant red, and he orders, "Leave by Wednesday afternoon."

Today is Sunday.

And his dad's wedding day. His dad, who chooses this moment to come out, looking much better, and happier, and assured. He looks at the scene in front of him, the three of them, Scott on one side, alone. Him and Derek, side by side, on the opposite side of Scott.

He claps his hands.

"Who is ready to cry today?"

*

They all cry.

The ceremony is simple, but beautiful. The whole town is here, the wedding off their Sheriff, and the nurse who is so lovely, so kind. They are an inspiration, they all murmur, Derek tells him; second chances at love are rare, and this is beautiful, and who knew there exists beauty in the depths of tragedy?

His dad cries when he watches Melissa come down the aisle, Ms. Martin on one side and Scott on the other. Her best friend and her son, and for once, Stiles doesn't mind Scott's presence.

Melissa is smiling, eye to eye, her wedding gown fitting her perfectly.

She stands in front of his dad and says, "Oh, John," with such reverence, it's hard to not cry. Stiles has to put his hand in front of his mouth, but it's futile. Derek, the jerk, repeats those words, the ones he is hearing from every corner of the hall, and by the time Stiles has a dad and a stepmom officially, he's crying happy tears.

Lydia hugs him and tells him now it's his turn to find her mom somebody, too, and he agrees, only half-listening to her. He's staring at the big, gigantic grin on his dad's face, a matching one on Melissa.

Everyone congratulates him and the newlyweds, and then it's food and chatter and toasts, and everyone is surprised when Derek gives the first toast instead of Stiles, and Scott is supposedly not giving one at all.

Derek's toast is short, but no less lovely. He calls John a great man, one with utmost patience, and of course Derek would find a way to make a dig at Stiles; he says he has no clue how John and Claudia had strength enough to be patient with Stiles around, and that perhaps it is that tenacity, that will, that has brought about the proceedings of today. Of not giving up, even when the world is stacked against you. Of staying strong, in the face of everything falling apart. Of falling apart but coming back stronger, steadier. Of finding love after all of that. And coming from Derek, of all people, it means a whole lot, and Stiles' dad hugs Derek post-speech tightly.

When they pull apart, Derek says into the mic, but with eyes on Stiles' dad, "She's just as proud of you as Stiles is. As I am."

And then it's his turn to give a toast, and he's not sure how he can outdo Derek; as he stands up in front of the mic, he realizes he doesn't want to.

He gives a few funny anecdotes of his childhood, of how his dad taught him to always have hope, because good people get good things, even if it takes long. And how Melissa was always there, a second mom to him right from the start, and how much he loves her and is glad she's still in his life, despite the years, despite the circumstances. The crowd gets intrigued at that, aware of the distance between Scott and his mom, and Stiles too; all of Beacon Hills knows about the rift, but only a hand few know the cause of it as well. So, for him to mention the distance, to publicly acknowledge it, is a big thing.

He moves right the fuck on, makes jokes and smiles and cries, admits he'll always miss his mom, but that he'd always hoped, deep in his heart, that when the grief becomes tolerable he'd be the one to make the two of them marry each other.

"You got there first," he jokes, "Had the ring all picked out even before I could start trying to convince you to ask her out. Honestly, that might have been the second best decision you've ever made." None of them have to ask what the first was. It's obvious; Stiles knows his mom's wedding ring sits inside his dad's shirt, on a necklace, his own beside it.

Melissa gives a toast, too. She reminisces the first time she met Claudia, how they became friends, and how, at the time, it was impossible to imagine a life without her.

Before her little speech, to everyone this was her and John's day, but it's clear to them now that it's not just that. To the newlyweds it's a promise to Claudia; Melissa's once best friend and his dad's first love. To be happy. To live.

There's more hugs, more cheers, the champagne popping, and a quick, impromptu speech by Scott, who was fuming at being outdone like this by not just Stiles, but also Derek.

His speech is not bad, per se. Angry jerks of his chin, wild eyes and noticeable pauses. It's not bad. It just looks bad in comparison.

Stiles will definitely rot in hell for finding this funny, but at least he won't be the only one. The whole pack is trying not to laugh, and Stiles has to hide his own in the lapels of Derek's suit, who in turn hides his laughter in Stiles' hair.

Stiles feels bad, once or twice. But Scott made his bed and he's lying on it.

And then, after that, there's the first dance. There's the open dance floor and little kids asking Derek sweetly if he'll dance with them. He's their favorite, and it's adorable, and Stiles takes a thousand pictures.

Derek is in a sharp suit, and the juxtaposition of him dancing with young children, in princess dresses and printed suits — one kid had a yellow, minion-print suit, and honestly, that kid, Darren, pulled it off well — all colorful to his black shirt, black blazer, and black pants, is just so...

Good.

Derek's whole face is lit up, the golden glow of the lights all around them putting him in an ethereal spotlight, his eyes soft, mouth curved up, and nose adorably scrunched as he tries to decipher the babbling of a two-year-old.

The mom of the kid comes to get the boy, profusely apologizing, but Derek just smiles and says it's okay. It was no issue, it's okay, no need to apologize at all.

"Right," she says, eyes flicking between Derek and Stiles. "I'll let you get back to your partner then." And it's clear she means him.

Derek doesn't correct her, and neither does he. She leaves, and in this corner of the room, it's just them now. Most kids are tired, now, and most guests have left. It's mostly just the closest friends of Melissa and his dad, and the pack, of course, who are here.

Derek turns to him, his eyes still soft, which somehow get more soft when he looks at Stiles. It takes his breath away, and he lets out a squeaky, "Let's dance?" He's almost 25, the "adult" age according to the internet, and he still acts like a high school kid with a fucking crush.

Derek just makes him feel that way.

Derek, who is going to be 30 in less than a week, the big decade, the big, bad wolf. Derek, who blushes, his cheeks pinkish red behind his stubbled face, and puts out a hand.

Stiles takes the offered hand, his heart dancing inside his ribcage. And onto the stage they go, to the applause of the pack, and his dad's, "Finally!"

Stiles blushes, too. It's just their luck to get on the floor when it's a slow dance song.

Derek wastes no time, like he can't think or he'll explode, and puts his left hand on Stiles' waist, his right on Stiles' shoulder. Stiles puts both his hands around Derek's neck, and the alpha leans into the touch. This, the blatant trust, the welcomeness of it, is what bolsters Stiles.

They move to the slow beat, their eyes on each other's like white on rice, and everything else just doesn't exist. It's just them, and only them. No one else exists, not when they do, this close.

They move closer still, their hips touching, their foreheads against each other's. Noses touching close.

"Hey," he says, and grins when Derek does.

"Hey," Derek says back, so close that Stiles feels in his bones the word shape itself in Derek's mouth.

The music changes, then, and Stiles recognizes this one from the very first beat of it. Of course he does. It's Derek's favorite song ever.

"Did you bribe the DJ to play Apocalypse?"

Derek laughs, a quick, short one, and Stiles watches the movement of it, the beauty of Derek Hale laughing. "What if I did?"

Before Stiles can say anything, the line, "kisses on the forehead of lovers," comes on, and Derek takes a step back, only to kiss Stiles on the forehead.

Stiles' breath stops in his throat. Derek closes the gap between them again, and sways them to the beat. Stiles just follows his lead, his face having stuck itself on an astonished smile, and by the time the song is over he's just hugging Derek, tight, close, forever and ever and ever close.

Derek hums the song right in his ear, and it's perfect, Derek's breath on him, his grip, his eyes on him.

Stiles takes a step back and just looks into Derek's eyes.

"Hey," Derek says softly. They don't need words. Just this, a moment to themselves, where nothing but them exists.

Stiles doesn't even have a clue what song is playing. All he hears is Derek. His unspoken trust and devotion, his soul half of Stiles', Stiles' own soul half of Derek's. Their mingling breaths, because they're still close, just a hair apart from being one.

"Hey," he repeats, and they're both moving forward, Derek's hands on Stiles' waist, his own around Derek's neck, and they kiss.

It's gentle and slow, like time doesn't exist, could never take from them, this moment infinite, their love defying the laws of the universe and stopping time.

Because this is it. This is love, theirs and theirs only, part of its definition somewhere in the noises Stiles is making, part of it in the way Derek is touching him, moving his hands around Stiles' body, up and down, up and down, caressing him close and closer still.

Because isn't that what love is? Finding meaning in another?

After what feels like a lifetime, Derek pulls back. "Your lips, my lips, apocalypse," Derek hums against his lips, and they're so close, one breath two beings close, Stiles feels the movement of Derek's lips against his.

He lets out a small laugh. Derek swallows it down with another kiss, this one urgent, and time stills, again. Nothing exists, but this, and this moment only. Them. Arms around one another, devouring lips, tight grip, closed eyes, and peace.

They pull apart, foreheads resting against each other's, and Stiles opens his eyes to Derek's soft gaze. On him, through him, for him. He smiles, takes Derek's hand in his, dislodging it from its previous position on Stiles' waist, and brings it up to kiss the open palm of this man, who is radiant in this moment, glowing, almost, with happiness.

"Best day ever," Derek says, and he hums only the tune this time, and this time, Stiles sings the lyrics.

"Your lips, my lips, apocalypse."

"We did think it would take, like, a severe life or death situation for you two to get your shit together."

The sudden reality of a third person existing, and slowly, the reality of them being in the middle of a public dance floor in front of people has them flinching and moving apart.

"Kind of glad that didn't actually occur," Lydia continues, unperturbed.

"Definitely glad," his dad agrees.

"I do prefer you two getting together on my wedding day instead of my ER room, actually." Melissa adds.

Derek and Stiles both stare at their pack — Lydia, grinning eye to eye, a wine glass in her hand. John and Melissa beside her, their hands clasped, laughing at Derek and Stiles' wide-eyed gaze. Isaac clicking a hundred pictures of them, Erica with her full-red lips and a plate filled with food. Boyd beside his wife, hand on her shoulder, and Jackson leaning against Danny, smirking at the two of them. Cora is looking at them, that Hale look of absolute mischief. Kira and Malia have probably gone home — and nope, here they come, with a...

"Is that a banner?" Derek asks, aghast, and Stiles is right there with him. Because that fucking banner reads STEREK WINS.

"What the fuck?"

Peter comes out from the shadows, and Stiles tries to be happy about the fact that his appearance surprised everyone else present too, not just him and Derek.

"Thanks for making me win the bet. Really appreciate the $5."

"Bet?!"

His dad answers his unasked question. "We all figured you two would get together sometime during our wedding. Maybe during or after. It was just a matter of when." He points to where Malia and Kira are putting the banner up, right beside the one that says, JUST MARRIED!!! "Most of us figured the week following today, but Peter, Lydia, and Kira are the only ones who doubled down on the day being today itself."

"We're going to share our anniversary!" Melissa exclaims, happy.

Derek and Stiles just stare.

Derek turns towards him. He cocks an eyebrow up. Stiles nods with quick movements of his head.

"We, uh, are gonna go," Stiles says to the hall at large. "Have fun with your... bet, I guess. Dad, Melissa, love you guys, the rest of you, fuck off." Everyone laughs.

"We'll talk about anniversary plans later, Melissa," Derek says, and Stiles finger guns at her before realizing how stupid it looks.

Luckily, Derek picks him up, fireman carry style, and swoops him away.

Stiles groans against Derek's back. "Doofuses. Serious doofuses."

"Us or them?"

Stiles thinks. "All of us," he decides. "All of us, Derek. How the fuck were we so stupid to wait so long to get together?" They don't need to really discuss it — the kiss was just a precursor. "And why the fuck do they have to be so... ugh."

"They're still laughing," Derek says, as if that would help. "Doofuses," he agrees.

And then they're in the Jeep, Derek's camaro probably to be taken home by Isaac, and they're alone and when Derek drops him gently on the seat, Stiles lunges up to kiss.

"You make me fucking feral," Derek admits against his lips, and hey, Stiles loves where this is going. "I love you."

The words are nothing, really, but an arbitrary combination of English lexicon. But there is a meaning it — so many touches, so many moments shared between the two of them. Time spent in presence or in thoughts. All of it, leading up to this. These three words that make Stiles giddy.

"I love you too, and we really were doofuses."

"Wanna be doofuses on my bed?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

Stiles speeds it out of the parking lot of the event hall, and they do, in fact, act like doofuses on Derek's bed.

They make-out, they throw down their clothes, and they pour out their hearts with every touch, every caress, every moan; they kiss and laugh and confess, touch and worship and love.

They map out each other's bodies and lean in, snuggle, and sleep.

If all apocalypses could be so lovely, it would be great, really.

[sixofcrowdaydreams]

Ooooh I’d love to hear about Dark for the wip game if you’re still playing!

Hi friend, of course! 💖

Dark is a placeholder title, accurately describing the tone of a fic -- mostly outline -- accompanying @sparrowmoth's serial killer AU all this (but heaven too). This fic haunts me in the best way. Secretly, I love darkfic and this one in particular satisfyingly scratches that itch. Sparrow gave me permission to write about their AU so that I could explore some of the moments between the scenes.

Not much is written in for yet. It's mostly an outline of ideas, random yet awful snippets of Wylan's experiences living on the road with serial killers/his captors. I had started writing one scene, but then something Sparrow wrote in their author commentary about the fic made me pause and re-evaluate the scene with the conclusion to tread carefully when I start writing it again.

I'm still undecided about writing it in my voice or trying to mimic Sparrow's style. Both ideas interest me (because I'm a nerd), so I'll probably play around to find which snippets work better in my voice and which are best echoing the original voice/tone.

More details below the cut. SERIOUS WARNING for dark content. The original fic involved serial killing/murder and sexual assault/rape/noncon. And while nothing below the cut is graphic, it still references those same topics.

The scene I started writing was (a rough draft) about Wylan attempting to disassociate while being raped.

Miggson groans, pleased with himself. He loves getting a reaction out of Wylan. Anything. Vocal. Physical. Sometimes Wylan thinks it’s to prove that he isn’t another one of their corpses. Maybe if he was they would stop fucking him. Why the fuck is he still here? Fade. Float. Wylan tries again to disappear, to let his mind wander out of the bed, past the hotel room to somewhere far away. He thinks, of all things, about the ice cream parlor he used to visit as a boy. The clerk used to let him taste the flavors on tiny wooden spoons. He hides in the memory of those little spoons.  His body adjusts to the unpleasant rhythm and Wylan goes limp again. Miggson must notice. Suddenly, he digs his thick fingers into Wylan’s unwashed hair and yanks, snapping his head back at a sharp angle.  Wylan’s gasps, returns. The spoons disappear. His eyes water. His scalp stings.

Other bullet points in the fic include:

Wylan waking up screaming from a night terror, disoriented that Prior/Miggson's hand is clamped over his mouth, only to realize the sound ringing in his ear is his own screams

Sleeping arrangements

Wylan attempting to sneak into the bathroom in the middle of the night in order to clean himself up with a wet washcloth, scrub his teeth and mouth with a washcloth

So. Much. Fast. Food.

the tender torture scene Sparrow referred to in the author commentary -- which I'm sure would be 100% better if they wrote it, but this is my stab at it: forced snuggling, head petting, being hand fed popcorn, and Wylan bizarrely realizing how few movies he's ever seen

other punishments and "obedience training"

Wylan enjoying sleeping in a bed because he gets to wrap the sheet around himself, cover himself and pretend to have a privacy despite being naked

[promenadewithme]

Chapter 1 (The Kiss Of Eros)

a/n: i rewrote this because I hated the first draft Paring: Spencer Reid x Original Character (Rebecca Sanders) Warnings: swearing, reader thinking Spencer hates her, arson, yeah... enjoy!

Prologue Masterlist

My mother once told me that doing the right thing is harder than doing the wrong thing. She was absolutely correct. It’s extremely hard to hold myself back from punching Spencer Reid square on that pretty little face of his right now as he corrects me in front of the whole team, but I am set on doing the right thing. I am the bigger person. I will rise above this. I will not let him get to me.

Inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm myself, I look up at his face again. That stupid face and those stupid round glasses - that are somehow always clean - and that stupid perfectly brushed hair. Mr perfect all the fucking time.

“Excuse me?” I try to utter in my calmest possible voice. It still sounds like I want to rip his head off.

He doesn’t even have the dignity to look at me as he answers.

“You’re excused. I know you don’t have an eidetic memory like me. It’s easy to get these things messed up in a normal brain. However, fact is, serial arsonists are statistically under the age of 35. Not 30.” 

Did he just call me dumb? What the fuck is a ‘normal brain’? I want to tell him that I won all of my spelling bees, that I was reading books by the time I was 4, that I was always top of my class, and that being able to memorize something with ease doesn’t make you the smartest person to walk the earth. But I don’t, mostly because JJ gives me a warning look from behind Reid. 

We’ve had this talk before, countless times. I hate it that he never directs a word at me except when it’s to belittle and correct me, but apparently it's “bad for the team” and “not professional” when I lose my patience. 

I take another deep breath and think happy thoughts. Reading a good book under a fluffy blanket on a rainy day, the sound of that rain against my window, watching videos of owls running with their little naked legs, having wine with the girls on our night off. Another deep breath.

“You’re right.” I acknowledge, though it burns my throat and hurts my very essence to say it.

Reid’s head snaps in my direction and he tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” I taunt. “Let’s get back to work, we have a serial arsonist to catch.”

Before he can say another word, I walk out of the room where we set up a few hours ago. This killer is smart, but we are smarter. I grab my phone to call Pen, but am interrupted by a familiar voice that makes my heart skip a beat in annoyance. 

I stop in my tracks, but don’t look back at him. I don’t want to say anything I’ll regret later.

Let’s face it, Spencer is one of the team’s best assets and I’m… I’m good at what I do, I really am. But if they had to let one of us go, I know for sure it wouldn’t be him. So I force myself to breathe once again, because I am in my dream job and I will not let my feelings for this man ruin that for me.

When he notices I won’t be turning to face him, Reid steps in front of me and searches my face. I look away.

“Is there something you need, Doctor?” I inquire, pushing up my glasses. I want to add that if he wanted to stare at my face, he could just take a picture, but that would be too ‘middle school’ of me.

“‘You’re right’? I don’t think I have ever heard you say those words before, definitely not to me. Is everything alright?” I peek at him and his eyebrows are furrowed, eyes still trying to meet mine.

I scoff “Don’t act like you care about my feelings now, just take the win.”

My phone blasts with Taylor Swift’s ‘Me!’ and I don’t have to check the caller ID to know that Pen is calling. 

“Excuse me.” I mutter to Reid before taking the call.

“What’s up?” I greet as I walk out of the police station for some air.

The cool end-of-autumn air caresses my skin and calms my nerves. I’ve always liked the cold, even though I’m not sure LA weather counts as cold, it’s better than heat. Cold weather means snow, hot drinks, fuzzy socks, no sweating, pretty outfits and that christmas is near.

“Tell me I’m the best.” Pen sings and a smile makes its way to my face.

“You, Penelope Garcia, are the absolute best in the whole wide world.” I praise.

“Thank you, baby! But you don’t even know what I found yet.”

I chuckle before asking “What have you got for me?”

“Prepare yourself…” I roll my eyes playfully at her suspenseful pause.

I hear the clattering of her fingers against the computer through the phone and, a second later, a notification comes through.

“I did some digging and found out that our victims were partners at a big law firm and, get this, due to an economical issue, they fired a bunch of people at the same time like 2 years ago. I just sent you the list of all the people who were let go and the address of the two other partners. You’re welcome.”

I run back into the station while I ask her to cross reference our profile with the list of fired employees. 

“Just give me one…” she works her magic for a few more seconds before she calls out his name and address.

I walk into the room we set up in “We got him, Anthony Lewis. He’s living at his mother’s house on 54th Street Apartments.”

Gideon stands up from his chair and Reid looks surprised. Not so smug now, are you Mr smarty pants?

“That’s just a few minutes from here.” an officer says.

“Great,” I nod “I can go check it out if-”

“Guys…” Reid interrupts me and points at the television hung at the corner of the room.

The screen shows live footage of a news reporter in front of a huge house fire. 

No.

No, damn it! 

The flames take up the entirety of the house, windows already shattered, walls turning black with the blaze. There is no way anyone survived, not with how hot and fast the benzene flames burn. 

“Does anyone know where that house is?” I ask, but my voice feels weak. I already know the answer.

“Looks like Vineyard Avenue.” another officer says.

I look down at my phone and check Pen’s message.

2955, Vineyard Avenue CA - Theodore Phillips.

Fuck.

“That is Theodore Phillips’ house. He was one of the partners at the law firm that fired Anthony Lewis 2 years ago. Our last two victims were also partners.” I slump down on the chair “There is only one left.”

I feel like a failure. I’ve been at this for a year already, but every death still takes a toll. Shouldn’t I be used to this by now?

“How long does it take from the fire site to his mother’s house?” Hotchner asks, standing up from his seat and buttoning his blazer.

“20 minutes.” Penelope answers over the phone.

“Morgan, Prentiss.” Hotchner charged “You two go to his mother’s house. Question both her and the suspect. He’ll be caught off guard when he gets home and you’re already there.” 

With a nod, they were off.

“Gideon and I will go take a look at the crime scene. Reid, Sanders, you two will go to the remaining partner’s house. Make them aware of the situation, ask questions and keep their family safe.”

I want to protest, but they are out the door before I can say anything. My shoulders slump and my mouth snaps closed.

Shit.

I glance over at Dr know-it-all and he’s already crossing his worn brown leather messenger bag over his chest.

It’s okay, I can do this. I’m a professional. I’m not a kid anymore, I don’t need everyone to like me. 

Yes, you do. A little voice whispers in my mind.

I sigh. Of course I do. I’ve never felt like I truly fit in anywhere, but here at the BAU… It really felt like a fresh start, like maybe I had finally found my tribe. Mostly, I did. Pen and I immediately clicked, JJ and Emily warmed up to me quite quickly, Hotch and Gideon were always warm and receptive in a father-figure way, Derek gets along with everyone, and then there’s Reid. Reid who shut down when he first saw me. I remember it clear as day, even now.

“And this is Doctor Spencer Reid.” Hotchner introduces.

I know who he is. I have watched every grainy video of his lectures, read every article, this man is one of the reasons I was so set on joining the BAU. 

“Hi.” I offer my hand “I’m Rebecca Sanders.”

He just stares at me, grip tightening around the files he has pressed to his chest.

I sneak a confused look at Hotcher and he clears his throat. Spencer looks away, at anything but me.

“Sanders is the newest addition to our team.” my new boss says.

Nothing. I let my hand fall to my side. 

I look at Hotchner and he presses his lips together before adding “She worked at CASMIRC for a while, but asked to be transferred here. She will make a fine addition, don’t you think?”

“Why?” he finally speaks, looking at the floor even now.

“E-excuse me?” I stutter.

“Why did you transfer here?” he specifies, still not catching my eye.

Because I still have nightmares with the children’s faces, because my last case destroyed me, because working with adults is easier, because of you.

“I’ve always wanted to be a part of the BAU, it’s my dream job.” I settle with the answer I gave in my interviews.

“I think you’ll find it’s hardly a dream.” he says before leaving the room.

“Did I do or say something wrong?” I ask, wide-eyed.

Hotchner shakes his head, looking over at the door Doctor Reid left open “I don’t know.”

Reid clearing his throat brings me back to the present. 

“Looks like it’s just you and me.” I force a smile.

He looks at his shoes and nods. Dear Lord, this is going to be harder than I thought. 

“I’m going to need you to speak to me if we’re going to be pairing up.” I try. 

“There is nothing to say.” he states, pushing up his glasses. Still not looking at me.

I give JJ an exasperated look and she just shrugs. 

“Look, I get that you hate me or something, even though I don’t know what I ever did to you, but can we just act like two civilized human beings for once?”

His brows furrow “I don’t hate you.”

I scoff “Well, it sure seems like it. You know what? It doesn’t matter. Let’s just go.”

“Behave.” JJ calls out.

“Yes, ma’am.” I walk out the door and don’t wait for Reid. 

I gaze down at my phone and see that Pen is still on the line. Shit. I bring it to my ear again and wince. “Sorry, Pen.”

“Yikes, that was tense.” I can hear her grimace from here.

“Yeah, he hates me.”

“Now, don’t say that.” she chides lovingly “You just have to have a little more patience with Spencer. He’s a really nice guy if you get to know him.”

I scoff “Yeah, right.”

I push the door to the station open and let it fall closed behind me. 

“Sweetie, is this still about how he didn’t shake your hand when he met you? Because you should know by now that it’s not personal.”

Speaking of the devil, he finally catches up to me and stands looking at my face expectantly.

“Amongst other things.” I reply sheepishly. 

I know it wasn’t personal, but I was so let down when it happened. Reid was the person on the team I was most looking forward to meeting. I read all his articles and learned all about his previous cases. He was a genius and… some could say that he was a sort of professional crush of mine. 

That is, if blushing and kicking your feet while watching a video of one of his lectures is considered professional. Ok, I’ll admit, I really liked the sexy round glasses and the sweater vests and the hair. And, oh God, the veiny hands. Ok, maybe it was a bit more than a professional crush. But I just thought he was so smart and so pretty, he looked so kind too.

Never meet your heroes, right?

“Listen, I have to go, but thank you for your help.” I look at Reid from the corner of my eye and he’s still staring at me.

He’s always staring when I’m not looking, but never looks at me when I speak to him. Why won’t he knock it off?

“At your service, my liege.”

We say our goodbyes and I put my phone in the pocket of my gray plaid skirt. Straightening out my maroon sweater and trading my normal glasses for my oversized sunnies, I don’t spare Reid a second glance before following the street signs to where I want to go.

“Where are we going?” he calls out behind me, running awkwardly to reach me.

I bite my lip to hold in a laugh. Okay, maybe this won’t be so bad. I can get him to talk, maybe he’ll even not hate me by the end of the day. 

“I’m taking the metro, you can follow if you like.” I call back before looking over my shoulder at him with a smirk “Have you ever taken the metro, kid?”

“Don’t call me kid,” he grumbles, catching up to me “I’m two years older than you.”

“One year and 11 months.” I counter.

“Technically, 673 days.”

“But who’s counting?” I say, turning the corner “What matters is that I’m more experienced than you.”

He blushes profusely, before defending himself “I’m experienced.”

“In the tube?” I ask “I don’t really see you as a public transportation kind of guy.”

He doesn’t answer. Of course he doesn’t. 

He just looks at his shoes and keeps on walking. 

So much for communication. 

Tag list: @dreamsarebig (tell me if you want to be added)

Likes, reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

[canidkid]

Summer Harvest Season

Been a while since I've posted writing! Classic little domestic peace agere oneshots,, my passion :3

Regressor!Johnny Abbot & CG!Meadow (oc)

🐴🍒🐕🍃🌾☀️

Read the full thing under the cut!

! Contains some very very minor cussing !

It was finally cherry season. The time of year both Johnny and Meadow looked most forward to. They prepared as well as they possibly could. Cleaning jam jars and pie pans, giving the kitchen an all new shine. Meadow had been writing down the progress of fruiting trees in the area for years, so she was dead set on the perfect time and place.

Johnny had asked early on if it were alright if he regressed at any point. He knew cherry picking was a lot more work than people liked to crack it up to be. And he didn't want to make it any more bothersome with his childish tendencies. Meadow seemed to take this as a personal challenge.

"Alright, Johnny- boy! Sun's almost up to the Horizon, so we gotta hurry!" She pats her wicker basket, stuffed with countless other fabric bags. He peeks up at her from the ground, where he's currently struggling to tie his shoes. Meadow smiles softly. It makes Johnny shrink into himself slightly. "I'm sorry. I won't be much help like this all-all- ugh.." Johnny keeps his Gaze intently focused on the tips of his shoes.

Meadow kneels down next to him, wordlessly finishing his clumsy attempt at putting on his outdoor shoes. "You'll be a great help. I know someone who picks the best ever cherries for pies. And I believe I remember, he also taught me the jam recipe we're still using!" She turns her face toward him with a genuine smile, hesitantly returned by the other.

It was a rather hot day, summer seemed to have come in hard and fast. Everybody was grateful for the shade the forestry provided. Sterling plodded dutifully behind Meadow as she led the way through the twisty-turny foot paths. Johnny was still quite spooked by the whole horse thing - but Meadow had insisted the bonding would do them some good! Even if Meadow would be the one holding a lead rope the whole time. This horse-human triad was, as always, flanked by two of the woman's dogs. Stella trotted upfront, beside her master. Her fluffy, dual toned coat bouncing along with every happy step. Her brother Monty darted between his duties like a tricolor lightning flash. Check on Meadow, check on Sterling, check on Meadow's other weird pet, repeat.

Their trip to the fruiting trees wasn't a long one. It hardly took them far from the cottage. Past a lake and through a dense path of ferns, finally to the large clearing.

The field in which they stood was divided by a flowing stream of water. A very welcome sight to everyone involved. Meadow had expected Johnny to go down younger - but not at this speed! She caught a glimpse of the boy practically vibrating up on the draft horse's back. He captured her gaze, his smile brightening as he stuck one arm out to her. "Down Doe, down!" Meadow laughed, hauling her little boy back to solid ground. She barely got a second to look at him, before he immediately turned his attention to Sterling. He leaned in to him, whispering in the animal's ear as he patted his neck.

"You're a good horsie. Good horsie, Sterling! If Doe says you can't have cherries I'll get you some…but you can't tell her! But you have to be eeeeeeextra nice on the way back also!"

Meadow almost couldn't hold her laughter. They'd just gotten here, and he was already conspiring with her animals!! At least Stella and Monty were immune. They knew damn well they could get their own cherries. Both dogs had shot off to the stream almost immediately on arrival. Chasing each other through the grass and using the water as an out, or splashing one another with it - their high-pitched yips and barks disturbing the surrounding serenity as they played.

Meadow set her big basket on the ground. Clapping her hands to call everybody to attention. "Alright, kids, time to get some work done!" She picked a cloth bag from the selection she'd brought. "Anything you can reach, put it in the bag! But - and this is important - check any fruit for worm holes or signs of rot! We don't want that yucky stuff in our food." Johnny eagerly reached for his own bag, trundling behind Meadow like an excited puppy.

The heat was easy to forget when you were having fun. Not long after they'd begun to pluck their share of cherries, Johnny and Meadow had decided it would be much more fun to climb the trees instead of simply trying to reach lower branches. The dogs would not have let this slide, were it not for the fact they were unable to do anything but watch disapprovingly from the ground. Sterling had elected himself to be an active part of this endeavor, always positioning himself so his big head was between the branches. Johnny kept his earlier promise, slipping the old horse a sweet summer treat every once in a while.

I never continued with this fic thingie - maybe I will in the future! But I hope you enjoy how far I did get for now ! ! <3

[tired-and-unjellied]

Kinda interested in the Jelly x human polycule one,,,,

Unfortunately, i didn't get to the polycule part yet 😔

It's more of a quick one-shot than a long thing like the MILGRAM or SCP fanfics; just some fluff and comfort, with a slimefolk.

I posted the unfinished first draft here previously, but honestly it's pretty bad ^^' (like, what does "I caught a quick glance of myself at the mirror the coat tail" mean??)

I still haven't touched it, but given I don't think I could a snippet that feels satisfactory without editing it a bit or having 2k words, so I edited it into a snippet and will probably port the edit into the story later™️

Anyway, here's a snippet of "A jelly game night with my BFs". (973 words)

“Ah… I’m finally home.” I thought, as I climbed the doorsteps. It was a tough day. The Friday rush is always so exhausting. Luckily, my boyfriend was waiting for me at home. I passed the door, and with a sigh, quickly dropped my bag to the floor. I will take care of that later, or maybe Sam will. I don’t know. I don’t really care. The music wandering in the house tipped me to Sam’s presence. He didn’t sneak to the grocery store without telling me, this time. Or maybe he did, and came back before I arrived. Well, whatever. I caught a quick glance of myself in the mirror in the entry and I looked… exhausted to say the least. My brown hair was a mess, my blue eyes were burdened with the outline of dark circles, and my tie was creasing, probably from the bus and from currently hunching. It took that effort to stand, so I decided against bending over or crouching to remove my dress shoes. I quickly wiped them on the mat, to at least alleviate whoever will have the courage to clean the floor tomorrow.

I entered the living room and sure enough, Samuel was playing a video game—the latest Zelda—on the TV. I got around the sofa and passed between him and the television. I didn’t feel like talking, honestly. He quickly looked my way, acknowledging my presence, but didn’t utter a word either. He’s pretty similar to me in that regard, he dislikes talking just after coming back from work, so he is pretty understanding when I don’t feel like it. I sat on the other end of the sofa and lied down, my head resting on the armrest and my shoes facing him, but not quite reaching his lap.

I looked at the TV, and… yeah, he wouldn’t be a popular streamer even if he tried. The game is interesting and nice to play, but watching people play is a different matter. I yawned and Sam took a quick glance away from the game, seeing my stretched out legs, before turning away, back to his game. He tapped on his lap with the back of his hand, still holding the joy-con. I figured that he was offering his lap for my feet, but seeing as he was fighting a boss, I had another idea. My face contorted into a smirk as I got up, despite attempting to hide my nefarious intent. I approached him and sat on his lap, facing away from the TV, and hugging him for stability. I twisted my legs around his waist to be more stable and avoid doing the split. I could feel his squishy torso deform under my hug and his legs under my weight. He groaned at the surprise embrace, trying to figure a way to see the game, while not condemning me to fall. After a bit of struggle, he finally put his head on my shoulder, incidentally filling my nose with his natural body scent akin to bleach and soap in spite of the smell of his unwashed hoodie (technically mine).

I focused back onto Sam, and I noticed he twisted his arms around my torso and pointed the joy-cons toward the TV. Hm… So he needs to aim? I waited a couple of seconds, hearing him press over several buttons, and make several movements, and started gently lifting my legs and lowering my arms, which perturbed his movements enough for him to gently groan, and to grow accommodated to those jitters to the point he suspect that’s all there is to it. And then… he pressed a button and moved slightly as if aiming. I made a big movement to break his aim. With the sound of an explosion came the game over jiggle. Sam’s face turned sour. “Dude…” His voice was high-pitched, almost like a teenager whose voice didn’t quite break. Make no mistake, he’s 23, and has a full-time job; remote allows him not to be seen. I doubt anyone would recruit a green guy, ha ha. I unrolled my legs and stood up before he could hug me back, which left him agape, and slightly embarrassed, his cheeks turning into a shade of yellowish-green for a moment. So easy to tease… I went back to my end of the sofa, and lied back down. He got up and went to fetch the Switch from its support, he switched the monitor back to the TV channels, which landed on the nature documentary channel. He pursed his lips and turned away, his cheeks once again changing taints. I love him. But it is a good choice. I wouldn’t mind watching that while I do a quick nap. Sam sat back down, Switch in hand, joy-cons connected to the screen, and looked at me, tapping his lap with a free hand. I raised an eyebrow. “Do you want my head on your lap?” I asked. He shrugged. He wasn’t very talkative since the transformation; he felt insecure about his voice. It was surprising, honestly, given he is fine with being green and all squishy, but having a high-pitched voice is bad? Regardless, I flipped around, and lied my head on his lap. The cushioning is perfect.

I could sometimes see his eyes twitch to the TV, as if he was both watching the documentary and playing the game. After a few minutes, probably the time to kill that boss and save, he turned the console down and put it on the table. He sighed. Then looked toward me. He slowly reached out to grab one of my hands, and started massaging it. That was unexpected, but so nice… I will be honest, I used to love pressing cat paw “beans”, but after experiencing his squishy gelatinous hands, I just can’t go back!

[a-lonely-dunedain]

PoV instance: The Hideout but you're a would-be Blackwold deserter

I was having trouble writing a proper character bio post for Ealwar to introduce you all to her, so instead I got struck with a sudden bolt of motivation to write that scene that's been rattling around in my head for years and was technically the initial inspiration for her whole character! enjoy! or not, this is rather sad.

It's quiet now.

Your ears have finally stopped ringing from that horrible scream let out by the... well, what was once a Ranger. You're not sure exactly what the Northerner's made of him, but you hesitate to call him human anymore.

The muscles in you legs ache terribly from crouching in that dark corner, but you haven't dared to move an inch. It's been hours, maybe, since that elf came through and released the mad Ranger and- and... Edd and Walt tried to protect you from her.

You tried to tell them to hide with you, but they were too scared or too stupid or too brave to risk letting you be found, so they tried to fight off the elf.

But you remained hidden, even after you heard them both cut down by the elf like it was nothing. Even after you heard the elf fight her way back through the front entrance and silence once again fell over the hideout.

You didn't help them of course, useless girl that you are, and they're dead like all the others. You think your father was right about you.

Edd and Walt didn't want to die for this cause. They joined the Blackwolds for freedom, to live as their own masters, not to be drafted into the Northerner's war. They were planning to desert either tomorrow or the next day, and to take you with them. You were going to find some new path for yourselves, maybe even give honest work another shot seeing as this whole brigandry thing wasn't working out, but those hopes are all gone now.

It's just you now. Lone, cowardly, survivor.

More hours pass. You're too terrified to move. You think nothing of danger lingers here, but that's not what you're afraid of.

You know that just beyond this stack of crates you've wedged yourself behind, the corpses of your only two friends in the world lay waiting for you, skin greyed and eyes clouded and faces frozen in terror. You cannot bring yourself to look, you cannot bring yourself to move. You cry a little. Alright, you cry a lot. You quietly sob until your eyes burn and your head is pounding.

You don’t think they wanted you to die down here, even though you suppose you deserve it. You’re going to have to leave eventually, and face the grisly sight of your failure. You take a sharp breath, a vain attempt to steel yourself, before crawling out from your hiding place an struggling to shaky feet.

There they are, just as you expected to find them. Edd is face down in the pool of their mingled blood, his rusty blade still gripped tightly in his hand. You think it’s some small mercy that you cannot see his face too, for just the sight of Walt’s is almost enough to break you. As his clouded eyes stare vacancy past you, you try to remember how they looked earlier today, filled with light as he sung tales of near-forgotten heroes and grand adventurers to you and Edd by the fire, taking your minds off the darkness of the last few weeks. But you can’t remember it so well now. You think this sight will never leave your mind.

Their wounds are clean but deep. It looks like the elf killed them with ruthless efficiency, and they did not suffer long at least. You try to take some comfort in that, but you just feel sick instead.

You don’t want to leave them down here, to let their bodies be food for rats and whatever other manner of creatures find their way down from the marsh, but you are not strong enough to carry their bodies anywhere else.

Somehow you manage to find more tears to cry. Your eyes still burn. They don’t deserve this. They at least deserve a proper burial but you can’t even give them that. You take some blankets from the nearby cots and cover their lifeless bodies, the most dignity you have the means to give them in death.

Your eyes fall to Walt’s lute and Edd's drum laying there near them. The lute was damaged beyond repair in the fighting, but the drum seems to be in tact. Part of you thinks it should be left with Edd, but another part of you doesn’t want to leave it for whatever scavengers come down here to loot the bodies, so with trembling hands you pick it up and stow it in your pack.

You tell them both you are sorry. They cannot hear you, and they cannot forgive you.

You silently make your way up to the main cavernous room you used as a common area, stepping over more bodies. At least these did not belong to your friends. You think every single person in the hideout besides you is dead. It's what you thought, but seeing it first hand is... You want to get out of here. Now.

You heard the 'Ranger' screech again from the front entrance shortly after the elf left that way. You're not going back out that way. Instead you turn to your left, making for the secret exit in the back of Skunkwood's makeshift throne-room.

Speaking of Skunkwood, you find his body in the threshold, killed in the same clean way everyone else was. You can't say you feel sorry for him, you never liked the way he looked at you, but you do feel sorry for his two hounds lying dead next to him. He raised them to be vicious killers, and they were very mean dogs, but none of them deserved the treatment he put those poor beasts through.

You pick through Skunkwood's pockets and find a small bag of coins. If he had more riches from Angmar, he didn't carry it with him and you're not sticking around to look for it. This should at least be enough to put you up in a tavern for a few nights, and maybe buy some supplies.

You slip out past Skunkwood's 'throne', as usual trying to ignore the alarmingly large piles of skulls surrounding it, and climb your way up above ground. It's still technically night, but the sky is beginning to get a little lighter.

Near the entrance you find Skunkwood's mare tethered to a stump. She seems a little spooked, you guess she heard all the screeching even up here, but she's had a few hours to calm down now so she lets you approach.

She's a well-tempered horse, and lets you mount her without much convincing. You don't think she belonged to Skunkwood for very long, all his animals ended up mean or skiddish.

You cannot go back to Bree, not in what's clearly a Blackwold recruit's uniform. The guards already know you as a troublemaker, and you doubt they'll be inclined to show any lenience to any Blackwold after what happened in Archet, so you make your way south to meet up with the east road and go... somewhere else, you guess. You're glad the horse won't judge you for crying so much.

[vmures]

I'd love to see the directors commentary for A Merry War <3

I'm so glad you asked about this one! It was such a fun fic to write.

This was originally written for the July 2021 Rough Trade Challenge (Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy). If you aren't familiar with that challenge site, it is a rough draft challenge, where you do your best to complete a rough draft of a work in a month. Challenge lengths can vary a good bit, but this one was for a novella length fic. I'd been following the challenge for ages, but this was the first time I decided to try my hand at it myself. And I had a blast once I settled on an idea for the challenge.

One of my all-time favorite Shakespeare plays is Much Ado About Nothing, and I was was pondering paranormal romance ideas I realized that Stiles and Peter could definitely have a solid Beatrice/Benedict vibe.

One of my personal headcanons about Peter is that many canon events fucked him up tremendously and shaped him into the person he became in the series. And I wanted to explore what he might have been like in a different world, and what Stiles might have been like had he not discovered the supernatural when he did. So I had to figure out how to create that world, what might cause those changes?

And I realized that if the Argents had been dealt with long before they ever became an issue for the Hales and even before the attempted peace talks Gerard had with Deucalion and other alphas, a whole slew of things likely would never have happened. Including that ill-fated meeting that resulted in the disaster with Paige, and including Talia fucking with Peter's memories (though we don't know what caused her to do that, we know that at least one memory was taken that involved Hunters chasing him and Derek and them hiding in the Nematon's roots). With their territory safe and stable, Peter would be able to be himself, and that meant I could play around with what he might have chosen to become professionally. In canon, he's a bit of a fashionista, so I decided on fashion designer Peter with a focus on men's wear.

Then I got to thinking about Stiles and I wanted to do something different with his character. So often we see him going into law enforcement or some sort of analyst job. But we know that he has the potential to be fairly physical from the series and Dylan O'Brien has definitely put in a lot of work on the action star front. So I pondered him becoming a fighter of some sort. I'd been watching 9-1-1 a good bit and there is a subplot involving illegal street fights, but one of the actors did do MMA and that got me thinking in that direction. So then I had to address how he got into that, and then how he and Peter would meet up.

All of this led to the idea that Chris could be the pivotal character in a lot of ways. What if he was the one who cleaned up his family's mess and put a stop to it, but that got him ostracized from the hunting community and blacklisted from the arms business as well? What might he do to make ends meet? We know he's a seasoned fighter, and we can assume he has training abilities given his work with Allison in the series. So I landed on the idea of him becoming an MMA fighter and then opening his own gym when he was ready to retire from the ring.

At some point, I may go back and write the full story of how he and the Sheriff end up falling in love. But the short version is that Noah was not used to anyone else loving and supporting his son without hesitation and qualifications (i.e. He's a good kid, but...), and seeing Chris with his son as they trained was quite an eye-opening experience. Plus Chris is dead sexy and Noah is only human.

I eventually got all the backstory sorted in my head, including the gradual dissolution of Stiles and Scott's relationship, which is a common thing that happens as people who were friends because they were both the odd kids out in school grow up and apart as they find less and less in common with one another. And where I could see Scott and Stiles growing apart as they got older, I could see college-age Jackson and Stiles becoming friends. Because I always got the sense that Jackson was jealous of Stiles and his relationship with his dad. With a bit of time for both of them to grow up, they'd have a better understanding of one another and a greater appreciation for the snark and attitude the other has. In high school they're just a bit too similar (prickly and unsure of their actual welcome and covering it with sarcasm, bravado and ego), even if they would never, ever want to admit that.

I realized that if I wrote all of that, it would be a massive story and I'd never finish it in a month. And it wouldn't be the fun, light-hearted story that I wanted to tell in this instance. So I kept that backstory in my head and focused on what happened when Stiles decided he was ready to retire and head back to Beacon Hills. Then it was fun to let go of my inner snark and write all the banter between them. Plus I got to include a nod to a favorite film and another slash pairing I love (Casablanca and Rick/Louie, cause there is definitely a "more than friends" vibes between the two). I always enjoy winding some of my other favorite pop culture bits into a story.

Plus writing healthy, happy, and incredibly snarky Hales is always a blast. The Stilinskis and Hales all have a great deal of mischief and snark at their heart, which makes them great fun to write. While I'm sure some of it came from Claudia in Stiles' case, Noah shows he's pretty similar to his son in a lot of ways and it's always fun exploring that. And when it comes to Chris...I admit to being charmed by J.R. Bourne's own attitude and some of his Instagram videos, all of which made me want a softer version of Chris. We see hints of that in his interactions with Allison, so I just amped it up a bit.

Let me know if I missed something you desperately wanted to know about! <3 <3 <3

[stennnn06]

hey sten. i’ve been an admirer of your writing for years now. and i would like some advice from you. i’ve been in a writing slump for awhile. at first it started as not having any ideas. but now that i have some sense of what i want to get at, it’s all scattered and everything overlaps each other. that’s where i’m at right now. i keep my writing in a journal because i feel like I get everything out quicker, hahaha. i know i have my plot down and my main love interests (wlw btw hehe) but I can’t seem to get the in between narratives flowing. and i hate forcing myself to come up with things. any advice for me on how to stay motivated? because i’ve been fighting so hard to continue writing and now that i finally have an idea i’m all over the place, hahaha. ty kristen ❤️

aw thanks for sending!

haha i feel like i definitely relate to this, especially with my original stuff. fanfic too, sometimes, especially when the ideas are churning faster than i can process. im no expert, because i think my writing process is truly chaotic HA but a few things that have helped me:

-writing the outline, so i have the framework of the plot and adjusting it as necessary. i like having at least the framework down as my base and this is where i just write anything down that might be relevant: bits of dialogue that MIGHT go in a scene, bullet points, notes about what i'm trying to say, a scene starter, a cute idea, whatever. i refer to it often (even if i deviate). its a living outline and i adjust it consistently throughout the process but its where everything 'lives'. this takes weeks sometimes but it helps get all my ideas on a page

-eventually i move on to actually writing the story. i used to HATE the first draft but now its my favorite because its a free-for-all. i write the scenes i want to write without worrying about starting them in a pretty way or what order they'll appear in. i go in ATTEMPTING to put them in the order i think they'll be in, but i know realistically it may shift. i also let myself dive in to what i want to write and watch the scenes take shape without worrying about transitions or sentence structure. it helps get the story out, even if its painfully bad.

- i try to force myself to stick with a direction i want to go with the story (especially in the early stages) unless i get a significant way into the draft and realize i DO want to change the back story or an event or go in a different direction because its going to impact the rest of it. i'll then archive what i've written and save it on another page so i don't lose it, and fill in the gaps OR start the draft over on a clean page. i think most people say you need to finish the entire first draft before making that change, but for me - its how i stay motivated. i can't finish something that i know is broken so fundamentally haha.

-dialogue! i happen to be a big dialogue person. i like writing snippets of dialogue, text conversations, emails, whatever between characters in order to get their voices down. and more often than not, my outline has dialogue all over it that i can see fitting into the scenes. i think this makes the narrative piece easier (for me) and helps me figure out how we get from A to B to C. once the dialogue snippets are written, i can start to see the scene take shape -- i can see if a character should be pacing, or holding a glass, or doing x,y,z. then suddenly, a setting! action! a scene!

i hope some of this helped! i'm sure your story is going to be great!!!