#i do 2 pieces at 8 am and then i sleep the literal entire day bc im sick and illnessed soon i will be fucking free from this

[ironmanstan]

Bro is sick and sleeping way too much and cramming in portfolio pieces and yet accepting extra volunteer work

[emyluwinter]

You know, it seemed strange to me? that in both events with tsums Yuu and Grimm did not appear anywhere.

Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaybe….

While all the students are sleeping peacefully in their cozy soft beds. And only ghosts tirelessly perform their endless and never-ending work. One student can't sleep because of brain fever.

The Onboro dorm. 2 o'clock in the morning. Yuu after 6 cups of coffee and a crazy plan to draw a circle to teleport to their world on pieces from newspapers that they found in the attic. They hadn't slept for three days. They spent so much time in the forbidden sections of the library and read so many confusing lost texts with black and not so much magic that their brains literally boiled with information. Their hands are stained with ink up to the elbows, as if they themselves got out of their overblot. Their hair is so disheveled that a couple of crows definitely already want to rent this "mobile nest" Their bags under their eyes could easily hold the entire stock of apples from the village of Felmer for storage in the winter season.

Finally the formula is complete. Weighed down by insane fatigue and exhaustion, their half-empty eyes follow every line. Praying that their efforts and torments will finally be fulfilled in full.

Portal and the formula works. Grimm watches in horror from his hiding place with the ghosts.

But why does that glow suddenly begin to shine on them from above in the window?Not in the room as they expected and hoped?

Yuu looks out of the window when over the building of their dormitory just at the moment when a hole appears in the sky.

Is this the entrance to their world?!Did they really manage to do it?

-HOLY ICE CREAM. DID IT WORK?! How am I going to jump there now???

Having tasted all the adrenaline from joy, confusion, fear and delight, Yuu see how something penetrates through the hole. Hell no, that's not what they wanted.

Wait a minute.

That wasn't part of the plan.

After looking closely, what kind of creatures are so slowly floating down from the hole. Curiously, the creatures are very similar to NRC students. At least they look charming, but Yuu is not going to go through all the overblots again and have deal not with one harmful ass but with technically two??



Well



This is not a portal to their home. It's not even their dimension or anything like that.



Yuu feel a nervous tic in the eye and eyebrows. All the sleepless nights went to hell, as did their remaining nerves. Now it will definitely be necessary to deal with this as well. Instead of helping themselves, Yuu spread out more rakes on the road and added more small slippery balls on top to make the whole situation EVEN worse.

With a bang and rage, the Prefect closes the window and goes to sleep cursing loudly. Intending to clean up the mess tomorrow morning, rather than dig his grave even deeper.





Attempt number two.

This time Yuu did not sleep for 4 days. 8 cups of coffee drunk. The ghosts introduce a mandatory rule not to give the prefect Coffee and Energy drinks. Never. Under no circumstances. No, it is not allowed during the exams.

"It will definitely work this time." - they purr encouragingly to themselves. A huge canvas of paper glued together with scotch tape and tears filled their entire living room without leaving even a piece for a step. Even Grimm had to be careful not to get his paws and fur dirty in ink or pieces of tape or glue.

Grimm definitely doesn't like the heading - "Fierce crazy experiments with magic and portals from Prefect 2.0"

The portal is triggered again. But again not as planned. Yuu see the light again and look out the window. Another hole in the sky above the building.

-What the hell?!Why is it so high and the same hole???

and

Tsums are falling from the sky again. Now other students. Another headache and worries.

The ghosts had to resort to magic on Yuu to stop them from trying to climb the ladder and get into the hole in the sky above the dormitory. The prefect was wrapped in a soft and fluffy blanket and given hot milk and honey to somehow calm their rage from resentment and disappointment.

…To be continued?

[donman2112]

"We have the standard 6 ft. Fence in the backyard, and a few months Ago, I heard about burglaries increasing drmatically in the entire City. To make sure this never happened to me, I got an electric Fence and ran a single wire along the top of the fence.

Actually, I got the bggest cattle charger Tractor Supply had, made For 26 miles of fence. I then used an 8 ft. Long ground rod, and Drove it 7.5 feet into the grund. The ground rod is the key, with The more you have in the ground, the better the fence works.

One day I'm mowing the back yard with my cheapo Wal-Mart 6 hp big Wheel push mower. The hot wire is broken and laying out in the Yard. I knew for a fact that I unplugged the charger. I pushed the Mower around the wire and reached down to grab it, to throw it out of The way.

It seems as though I hadn't remembered to unplug it after all.

Now I'm standing there, I've got the running lawnmower in my right Hand and the 1.7 giga-volt fence wire in the other hand. Keep in Mind the charger is about the size of a marine battery and has a Picture of an upside down cow on fire on the cover.

Time stood still.

The first thing I notice is my pecker trying to climb up the front Side of my body. My ears curled downwards and I could feel the Lawnmower ignition firing in the backside of my brain. Every time That Briggs & Stratton rolled over, I could feel the spark in my Head. I was literally one with the engine.

It seems as though the fence charger and the piece of shit lawnmower Were fighting over who would control my electrical impulses.

Science says you cannot crap, pee, and vomit at the same time. I beg To differ. Not only did I do all three at once, but my bowels Emptied 3 different times in less than half of a second. It was a Matrix kind of bowel movement, where time is creeping along and You're all leaned back and BAM BAM BAM you just crap your pants 3 Times. It seemed like there were minutes in between but in reality It was so close together it was like exhaust pulses from a big block Chevy turning 8 grand.

At this point I'm about 30 minutes (maybe 2 seconds) into holding Onto the fence wire. My hand is wrapped around the wire palm down so I can't let go. I grew up on a farm so I know all about electric Fences ... But Dad always had those piece of shit chargers made by Intrnational or whoever that were like 9 volts and just kinda tickled.

This one I could not let go of. The 8 foot long ground rod is now Accepting signals from me through the permadamp Ark-La-Tex river Bottom soil. At this point I'm thinking I'm going to have to just Man up and take it, until the lawnmower runs out of gas.

'Damn!,' I think, as I remember I just filled the tank!

Now the lawnmower is starting to run rough. It has settled into a Loping run pattrn as if it had some kind of big lawnmower race cam In it. Covered in poop, pee, and with my vomit on my chest I think 'Oh God please die ... Pleeeeaze die'. But nooooo, it settles into The rough lumpy cam idle nicely and remains there, like a big bore Roller cam EFI motor waiting for the go command from its owner's Right foot.

So here I am in the middle of July, 104 degrees, 80% humidity, Standing in my own backyard, begging God to kill me. God did not Take me that day ... He left me there covered in my own fluids to Writhe in the misery my own stupidity had created.

I honestly don't know how I got loose from the wire ...

I woke up laying on the ground hours later. The lawnmower was beside Me, out of gas. It was later on in the day and I was sunburned.

There were two large dead grass spots where I had been standing, and Then another long skinny dead spot where the wire had laid while I Was on the ground still holdng on to it. I assume I finally had a Seizure and in the resulting thrashing had somehow let go of the wire.

Upon waking from my electrically induced sleep I realized a few things:

1 - Three of my teeth seem to have melted.

2 - I now have cramps in the bottoms of my feet and my right butt cheek (not the left, just the right).

3 - Poop, pee, and vomit when all mixed together, do not smell as bad as you might think.

4 - My left eye will not open.

5 - My right eye will not close.

6 - The lawnmower runs like a sumbitch now. Seriously! I think our little sesion cleared out some carbon fouling or somthing, because it was better than new after that.

7 - My nuts are still smaller than average yet they are almost a foot long.

8 - I can turn on the TV in the game room by farting while thinking of the number 4 (still don't understand this???).

That day changed my life. I now have a newfound respect for things.

I don't care what type of humor you like this is funny

I appreciate the little things more, and now I always triple check to make sure the fence is unplugged before I mow.

The good news, is that if a burglar does try to come over the fence, I can clearly visualize what my security system will do to him, and THAT gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling all over, which also reminds me to triple check before I mow.

Credit Goes To The Respective Owner"

[sentimental-apathy]

Man, if I just had the physical healthiness it takes to physically get things done, my life would be so much better.

Like the economic circumstances would still be shitty but goddammit if I wasn't chronically uncomfortable and in pain so much and doing one simple physical task didn't diminish my entire stamina... my room would be clean, my laundry would be done, my bedroom would actually be the sanctuary space I've got designed in my mind and I could work extra shifts if my body could physically handle it. So much of what's wrong with my life is physical discomfort ALL the time and not having the stamina to deal with the discomfort and physical pain that comes with exertion. Not to mention not having access to genuinely good Healthcare that isn't designed to do bare minimum for high profits...

I just wanna have more energy. But so much of my energy is spent on simply dealing with pain and discomfort due to chronic arthritis, fibromyalgia, and nerve pain.

About 5 months ago I bought an elliptical machine real cheap on sale. It's sitting in a box in my parents garage because I am not capable of moving it upstairs. Nor am I physically capable of rearranging the furniture in my bedroom to make space for it. I need another family member's help moving big things. I am barely able to lift a 40lb bag of cat litter because of how much my body physically sucks. It sucks when you're slightly disabled and you get a piece of equipment that could potentially help better your condition (losing a bit of weight and getting some cardio exercise would lessen my chronic pain) but you need so much help from others to even get the equipment set up in the first place. I've deep cleaned my room a few times since I've gotten that elliptical but I often work weekends and my brother, the one who can help me rearrange furniture, works the days I'm off. And on the days off we have had allign, we've both been too physically exhausted from work that we procrastinate and put off what needs done (my brother works a very physically demanding factory job and I hate to ask for his physical help on his only 2 days off per week).

I've been applying to other jobs here and there but so far haven't had anything worthwhile. I'm certainly not going to leave 1 part time job for another when the one I have not only pays more but pays for my lunch and I love and get along well with all my colleagues and managers.

The thing is, I could work full time, IF I could PHYSICALLY get through a 8-10 hour shift 4 or 5 days at a time. I've made the unfortunate discovery, time and time again, that when I force my body to work past its breaking point, I end up hospitalized because I have lyme disease which flares up when I stress my body out too much. I inevitably stop sleeping, the chronic pain gets unbearable, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up in a psych ward because I stopped sleeping again due to too much physical and mental stress. It's extremely debilitating to deal with both physical AND mental illness that go hand in hand.

I honestly don't know what the answers or solutions to my problems are. I know losing some weight will help lessen the arthritic pain and so I've convinced myself this elliptical machine will change my life for the better. And I'm sure it will. But on the other hand, I also live in a society that, if I was ACTUALLY completely disabled, would not give me disability benefits without me literally hiring a lawyer to prove I'm "disabled enough" to qualify for help. One of my closest friends is on disability and gets less than $800/month. How does one survive on that?? How does anybody working 50+ hours/week just to pay for BASIC necessities like housing, food, and basic Healthcare NOT SEE HOW FUCKED THIS ALL IS? WHY ARE WE LIVING LIKE THIS????

I'm extremely privileged in that, for now, with my parents still alive and well off enough, I have housing. The truth is, I'd be homeless if it weren't for my family. I see so many people struggling constantly just to make ends meet. And I wish I could help. I wish we all had more. Just more in this life. I'm barely scraping by paying my bills monthly and I don't even have kids. If you're reading this and you're working yourself to the bone just to afford basics like housing and food... I'm so sorry that this society has failed us. I implore you though. Please vote in November. I know Biden is not our first choice by a looooong mile. But the alternative to him is literally a nightmare beyond comprehension for disabled people. Let alone disabled lgbtq people. Project 25 would mean no more almost free Healthcare for someone like me who's barely hanging on economically by a thread. Another 4 years of Biden gives us all time to continue recuperating from Trumps administration and hopefully pushes the left into more progressive stances. And 4 more years give us more time to find an even BETTER left candidate to take his place. Please vote. And vote blue.

[leavesdriftinginthewind]

AO3 Fic Tag Game

tagged by @persephoneed. I'm soooo late to the party but thank you for tagging!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 6.

2. Whats your AO3 word count? 23,442

3. What fandoms do you write for? Currently, I only write for Wednesday (2022), but I have written a single fic for Supernatural (2005) before.

4. What are your Top 5 Fics by Kudos?

wake up screaming from dreaming

paper rings

Quads and Countermoves

sleep well, my love

let your tears fall

5. Do you repond to comments? Yes! After I post something new, I tend to get overwhelmed and take a day (or two or three..) to respond, but I DO respond to comments! I always think it's very sweet that folks take time out of their days to read and then COMMENT on my things, so I try to comment back most of the time to express my gratitude.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Definitely you can't be gone. I had an idea to get in the mind of Tyler Galpin while he was in the woods after he'd been told that Wednesday was dead, and the whole thing is rather sad and angsty. However, I did have fun writing it as it was how I thought his mind had been working since I watched the show in December 2022, and even though it's the least read fic of mine so far, I'm quite proud of it and happy with how it turned out.

7. Whats the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Hmmmm, I'm a genuine sucker for fluffy fics so all the rest of mine have happy endings haha. But I suppose "paper rings" would have the happiest ending out of the lot.

8. Do you get hate on fics? No, thankfully. I've never gotten a nasty comment on a fic yet and I hope that streak continues.

9. Do you write smut? I had never written smut, HOWEVER I have my first (and perhaps only, who knows LOL) smut fic half-written in my drafts right now... 😳

10. Do you write cross-overs? No, and I probably won't? But who knows.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated? I have not, but it would be an HONOR if ever someone would ask to translate one of them.

12. Have you ever cowritten a fic before? I haven't, but I'd be open to it!

13. What is a WIP you would like to finish but doubt you ever will? I am hopeful that both of the WIPs I have right now will get done, and I do have every intent to get the both of them done and published. HOWEVER, just because I am shy and nervous about it, I do doubt that I'll ever actually finish + publish the smut fic.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship? W(e)yler, no ship has ever given me brainrot like they have and I'm not sure any ship ever will.

15. What are you writing strengths? DIALOGUE, God I love writing dialogue so much. Part of me thinks I should just write scripts.

16. What are your writing weaknesses? Having to DESCRIBE things drives me batty, I'll sit and parse over how to describe a room or a facial expression for entirely too long.

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I have never done it, and I'd be SOOOO nervous about doing it in anything other than German, which is the language outside of English I'm most comfortable with writing/reading/comprehending. I'm not opposed to it if the need arose?? But outside of the stray pet names in different languages that may arise in Wednesday and Tyler dialogue, I'd probably want to consult with someone who's fluent if ever I was trying to write something substantial in a different language.

18. First fandom you wrote for? Supernatural. I still need to collect my fic from fanfiction.net and post it on my AO3 account.

19. Favourite fic you’ve ever written? Oh, this is hard. Ummmm, if I had to pick, I think my most favorite (as of now!! I've got so many ideas that this could change) is "wake up screaming from dreaming." It was the first Wednesday fic I wrote, and it was also the first time I'd attempted to write any fanfic since like 2015, and I genuinely adore the story. Not to sound self-absorbed, but I'll literally reread pieces of it if I'm feeling down because I think it's just so sweet and comforting and I'm very proud of it.

20. What fic would you want to rewrite one day? Mmmm, I don't know that I really want to rewrite any of the ones I've published so far. If I ever got comfortable with writing and publishing smut, I'd maybeeeee rewrite "Quads and Countermoves" to be spicier? Because it definitely COULD have gone spicier if I hadn't had a panic about taking it that way.

I do think this game ran its course on here ~10 days ago, so I'm not directly tagging anyone, but if you see this and haven't done this yet, pleaseeee consider yourself tagged!!

[wheezykat]

I posted 1,983 times in 2022

7 posts created (0%)

1,976 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@peachpety

@vukovich

@museiums

@ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm

I tagged 530 of my posts in 2022

#drarry - 41 posts

#lmfao - 13 posts

#pansy mf parkinson - 11 posts

#drarry fanart - 9 posts

#i wanna live in a house filled with joy's art - 9 posts

#my baby is a real peach 🍑 - 9 posts

#stranger things - 8 posts

#harry potter - 8 posts

#ginsy - 8 posts

#draco malfoy - 8 posts

Longest Tag: 69 characters

#🤣❤💕👀🥺😊👍😂😘😍😏😭😀😅😩🥵🦝🔥🍵😐🌵😤😌📚🦊🥴👁😔😳🧋🏔🕯🍊😠🤔

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Chapters: 1/6 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Others (Offscreen) Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Original Muggle Character(s) Additional Tags: Angst, It gets better I promise, Down and Out Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Post-War, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Sex Worker Draco Malfoy, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Panic Attacks, Touch Averse Draco Malfoy, References to Depression, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, (not between drarry and offscreen), these warnings sound dark but i promise it's not all that, Eventual Happy Ending, Coffee Shops, Coffee Shop Owner Draco Malfoy, Explicit Sexual Content, Eventual Smut, there are SOME feelings in here, as per usual, Illustration by Babooshkart, (feat in ch 2), Angst and Hurt/Comfort Summary:

After the war, Draco tries to make a life in the Muggle world.

Potter keeps showing up.

14 notes - Posted September 24, 2022

#4

❤ last lines! ❤

Thanks @phd-mama for tagging me!!

I've been working like crazy instead of writing (s i g h) BUT. I do have something for this :) from my self indulgent Panama ginsy fic!

“Mmm, el mundo es un pañuelo,” Parkinson murmers, reaching up to twist her long black hair to one side, “Only so many places to go, Ginevra.” 

Tagging my best bbs and beans @amorsindolor @vukovich @peachpety @calypsotempete @wynnyfryd @secretartlair @academicdisaster24 @nv-md @fw00shy @the-sinking-ship

24 notes - Posted February 4, 2022

#3

drarry tag game

Thank you @calypsotempete and @vukovich for tagging me! How fun. Lol.

When did you get into Drarry and why? I was actually a Jily/Wolfstar shipper back in OG fandom days, and sometimes I would read Viktor/Hermione fic and drarry would be the side pairing. Anyhoo, got back into fandom in 2019 and went down the rabbit hole looking for some of my favorite older fics, somehow ended up in dramione-land and read practically every fic on AO3 for the pairing (I know this sounds crazy, and I wouldn’t believe it if it hadn’t happened to me 😂💀) and then was sad that I had read mostly everything. Dabbled a bit in Drarry fics, reading them at random while waiting for new WIP chapters, for a few months. Then I made a Tumblr. I saw art for Running on Air by @tinyhistory. I am a simple raccoon, I see pretty things, I click. I ended up reading the entire fic in one sitting. 

Which Drarry fic hooked you?  The Fallout by everythursday (Dramione) is the fic that dragged me back to fandom kicking and screaming. Running on Air is what brought me over to Drarry (and by god, is it beautiful!!), but the fic that truly hooked me was Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop.  I think that same week after I finished it, after the requisite amount of time spent staring at a wall and feeling as if my entire life had changed, I sat down and read through all of bix/firethesound/loveglows/lqt fics. There was not a lot of sleep happening. Lol.

Top three favorite Drarry fics: this was so difficult 😂 my 400 bookmarks are yelling at me! 

1. Coming Home by @nerdherderette

M, 9.8k - TWs: MCD, Grief/Mourning, Mild Sexual Content

Three years after his world was shattered, Harry tries to pick up the pieces at the place he once called home. 

I literally can’t even count the amount of times I’ve read this fic - I know that in 2021 I read it 18 times. 💀💀 And I’ve begged countless people to read it. It’s so gorgeous; the prose is exactly what you expect, entirely captivating and encompassing, and Harry’s grief feels so real. Though we don’t get a happy ending here, there’s something about this fic that holds my entire heart. This story taught me a lot as a writer about how a story doesn’t need to be fairy tales  and rainbows at the end to have a striking and meaningful conclusion that feels right. 

2. genesis (you don’t know what it means to win) by crossourbridges

T, 73.5k - No TWs

Harry Potter didn’t help the Malfoy’s because he owed them; he did it because it was the right thing to do. He’s not sure why he keeps going back to visit, except that it seems to annoy Draco Malfoy and he loves annoying Draco Malfoy.

Ya’ll. This Harry. He is the ultimate characterization for me. Honestly, this type of fic is largely not my style - it’s kind of light-hearted and humorous, and there is no smut (😭). BUT. and this is a huge but. The writing is so dynamic, and the drarry banter is SPOT ON, and there’s even some lovely interaction with Narcissa, who I absolutely adore in this story. It’s SO GOOD. I find myself coming back to this fic as a comfort read (because who doesn’t read 74k words for comfort). I absolutely fall in love with the boys all over again every time. I tend to keep this fic open in my tabs, that’s how often I read it!

3. the space between (what you want and what you need) by  disapparater  

M, 13.6k - TWs: major character injury, disability, sexual dysfunction

As a specialist Healer in dark magic, Draco has had his fair share of difficult cases and awkward patients. Still, nothing has prepared him for a curse-paralysed Harry Potter.

Okay. I’m not going to lie. This isn’t an easy read. (In fact, you’ll find that most of the fics I enjoy aren’t). But this is a heartfelt look at acquired physical disabilities, and also features an ace! Draco. Be still, my beating heart! Literary weaknesses abound! As someone who grew up with a disabled parent, who saw the journey in real time and up close, this fic speaks to me on a different level. I love the depth of Harry’s character, and I love the fact that this author chose to write from Draco’s POV as a healer. Being that we’re in Draco’s POV, it’s also incredible to read this fic and get to experience what is, in my opinion, a more accurate portrayal of asexuality/ace spectrum characterisation. As someone who is demi, I’m constantly on the lookout for ace rep in fiction, and this is one of my absolute favorites for that reason. (You can see some of my other ace/demi faves here in my bookmark collection).

HONORABLE MENTIONS

💕 Crown Witness by @slytherco - E, 70k. TWs - violence

After the war, wizarding society is oppressed by a new kind of plague—an organised crime group calling itself the Family.

When Harry Potter goes to interrogate a potential witness, he doesn’t expect to end up on the run again, trying to keep Draco Malfoy alive, while a manhunt follows in their footsteps, adamant on eliminating the one witness that could ruin everything.

In which Harry and Draco learn that the way to each other might just have to go through the dingiest hotels in Britain.

💕 The Body Keeps Score by @amorsindolor - E, 13.5k. TWs - mentions of past trauma (not between drarry)

Draco cries during sex.

A story about touch, intimacy, and the healing we find through mutual trust and love.

💕 holemate by @vukovich - E, 18.9k. TWs - description of wasting disease

Most people never get a soulmate. Harry has buried three. When the mark appears again, this time alongside an American Auror, perhaps a diversion can keep everyone alive. A diversion that looks a whole lot like a chaotic, fuckable Malfoy.

💕 Have Your Cake and Eat It, Too by @peachpety - E, 3.9k. No TWs. 

Harry Potter loves his birthday… until he doesn’t.

All it takes is a miserable slice of jealousy, sprinkled with an unfortunate slip of the tongue, and doused with a heavy dollop of pining to turn Harry sour. Fortunately for him, Draco Malfoy is there to sweeten the day.

See the full post

28 notes - Posted March 10, 2022

#2

six-ish sentences

whew. it’s been awhile since i’ve had anything to share (life is cray for me rn, iykyk) but some lovelies tagged me and whelp. i have this unedited lil nugget that isn’t for anything in particular (except my love of pansy and stuffing too many adjectives in my scenes). ty @vukovich @drarrymybeloved @the-sinking-ship  @mintamintathings for the tags <3

They’re in Panama, this time; the rattling of street carts and faint chatter mix with the sound of twilight waking, its insects chirping as the moon slowly rises against a bruised blue-red sky. A curl of smoke drifts, hazy and swirling in the balmy air, thick and lethargic. It’s heavy, hanging stilted and slow-rising, making the grey smoke lazy in its escape. 

Ginny sighs, watching for a beat, before her feet are moving her across the room. Inch by inch, slender legs reveal themselves, and her eyes can’t help but follow that bare skin up, up, up, their path only impeded by the thin, white cotton robe wrapping itself around Parkinson’s body. She’s languid, in the way she only gets when she’s away, when she knows Ginny has come at her beck and call once again, lounging loose-limbed, a fag hanging delicately between her fingers over the edge of the chair. 

“Thought you’d quit.”

Parkinson’s face turns, eyes flashing open as she lifts the cigarette to her lips, taking a slow drag and exhaling it out the side of her mouth. 

“Thought you said you wouldn’t come.”

tagging my darlings @peachpety @corvuscrowned @calypsotempete @amorsindolor @wynnyfryd @nv-md @drarryruinedme @avenueofesc @mystickitten42 @thusspoketrish @softlystarstruck 

32 notes - Posted January 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

throwing rope

@nv-md, my darling. i present to you some shameless Ginny thirst art, and as a bonus, a wee pining Pansy POV. happy valentine’s day, and happy early bday, Ali! <3 i cherish you. all my love to @amorsindolor​ for the beta, hype, and endless wisdom. 💕 you can also read it on AO3! (you can see a better quality image too!) 

Pansy’s heels are rubbing, even encased in familiar worn leather as they are, her shirt sticky and starched from the sweat of the day. A little piece of her aches, small and sharp, watching as a faint smile crosses Ginevra’s lips, even in the thick of it all. The heat bears down on their backs as the sun burns across the skyline.

Wisps of hair escape Ginevra's braid —tickling her nose and sticking to the perspiration dotting her skin —a loop of rope held in her loose fist. It’s dusty today, much like it is everyday, a thin film of ochre infiltrating anything not locked down or closed up tight. The constant stomping of boots and hooves kicking up the earth is a regrettable exasperation, spinning tiny whirlwinds of grit to tuck into every crevice.

Pansy thinks that maybe she wasn’t quite built for this world, feeling shaky in her own skin, smothering it all up in sharp barbs and snarky quips, edging out anyone who might get close enough to find her out. But Ginevra, well. It’s like she’d been carved out of the mighty red rocks themselves, standing in strong relief against the backdrop. Taking her own place in the landscape, belonging to the earth and the sky and the stars. 

Ginevra laughs, looking at Pansy a split-second before she throws her rope through the air. 

It’s that feeling, those hidden looks and sly smiles, that tells her this much for certain: that she may be able to count her name among the rest of those great, big things that tether Ginevra to this world. 

And that Pansy wants to feel her own lasso pull taut. 

60 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[gaslybottoms]

tagged by my one and only @leclercenjoyer

passing it onto @celientjeee @landoom @espithewarlock and anyone else who wants to

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

in total, 53

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

360,128 and most of it was written this year

3. What fandoms do you write for?

currently only f1

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The New Normal - got possessed by the spirit of landoscar

Ride Me Like an Elevator - probably my most profitable MCYT fic that was based on a shitpost

Party for Two - meme fic that turned into something that i wasn't expecting

Sleep Comes to Those Who Wait - huge fluff piece for the Hades video game when I had severe brainrot

The Pounding of a Drum(mer) - I dont have an explanation for this

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do, but usually after 5-10 business days because I look at them and then I forget they're there.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I dont think any of my fics have angsty endings. feel free to prove me wrong, but i just... im a sucker for resolution and happy endings

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

literally every single one. the one i'm most proud of? Live, Laugh, Lando because I made myself cry several times writing the last few chapters because I was just so proud of myself

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i havent seen any but sometimes people need to remember public bookmarks are visible to the author

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do (regretfuly). what do you MEAN what kind. sometimes tender, sometimes a bit harder, im not good at smut so like.. you tell me

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know about

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

i have not to my knowledge

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope, and i think i would be a nightmare to work with but i would be open to it!

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

hahahahahahahahahahaha.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

maxiel married in vegas. i wrote 23k words and abandoned it earlier this year.

16. What are your writing strengths?

fluff. 100%. also apparantly my characterisation? this is probably because i am terminally onine and i consume SO MUCH content that like... i could talk about certain drivers in my sleep

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

smut. i find it so difficult to focus, to get into, to remember the positioning. apparently sometimes its good but god at what cost.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i have included it a couple of times, but always with a direct translation within reach. i will not write entire conversations in french, or whatever, and have actively stopped reading fics where there has been no translation supplied. and i only use it for emphasis, or if it calls for a joke.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

sigh. theres two answers to this. the first fandom i wrote for was WWE self insert. the first fandom i POSTED for was jonas brothers

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

LLL, hands down. its not my best performing fic, and its very niche but like. i did that. 53k words thereabouts, and i got through it.

[fiftytwotwentythree]

Wellness Wednesday:

Gotta Get Some Sleep

Nothing doing this week other than that elusive hunt for a nice session of sleep.

Beyond sleep/exhuastion - I am starting to feel heavily unmotivated. I checked out a book from the library - I've had for almost an entire month and I haven't even broke 100 pages - last year I was reading on average 350+ pages on a weekly basis.

I feel a bit bamboozled because one of the main benefits of working out which I constantly hear is that routine exercise leads to increased energy. After work I just want to curl up into a ball under my blankets.

.

.

11th CHECK-IN:

Current Goals:

Lose 52 lbs

Avoid "Junk Food"

Minimize Take-Out / Fast Food Consumption

Short Term:

Vegetarian-ish Diet:

- No Meat, Poultry, Fish

End Date: 4/09/2023 - 46 Days Total

.

.

Meal Tracker:

THURSDAY

Lunch:

Bowl of Everything Chopped Salad

Supper:

Can of Progresso Creamy Tomato with Penne Soup

- 8 crackers

Soft Pretzel with Cheese

Large Bag of Movie Theatre Popcorn (No Butter)

FRIDAY

Lunch:

Can of Progresso Tomato Basil Soup

- 7 Crackers

Snack:

Bag of Orville Redenbacher Ultimate Butter Popcorn

Handful of Wonderful's Salt & Vinegar Pistachios

Supper:

No Meal / Nothing - Fell Asleep

SATURDAY

Lunch:

Birds Eye Riced Cauliflower: Fried Rice Style

- Pineapple Chunks

Soft Pretzel with Cheese

Supper:

Bowl of Cesaer Salad with Croutons

Bag of Orville Redenbacher Ultimate Butter Popcorn

SUNDAY

Lunch:

Can of Progresso Creamy Tomato with Penne Soup

- 8 Crackers

Soft Pretzel with Cheese

Handful of Wonderful's Salt &

Vinegar Pistachios

Supper:

Lightly Breaded Green Beans

- Ranch

(1) Glass of Chocolate Milk

MONDAY

Lunch:

Bowl of Asian Style Salad

- Slices of Mandarin Oranges

Handful of Wonderful's Salt & Vinegar Pistachios

Supper:

Bowl of Leftover Asian Style Salad

- Slices of Mandarin Oranges

Bag of Orville Redenbacher Ultimate Butter Popcorn

TUESDAY

Lunch:

Spinach Dijon Salad

Handful of Wonderful's Salt & Vinegar Pistachios

Supper:

Bowl of Cesaer Salad with Croutons

(2) Scoops of Peas

Bag of Orville Redenbacher Ultimate Butter Popcorn

(1) Glass of Chocolate Milk

WEDNESDAY

Lunch:

Bowl of Leftover Cesaer Salad with Croutons

Handful of Wonderful's Salt & Vinegar Pistachios

Supper:

(12) Pieces of Rana Spinach & Ricotta Ravioli

- Covered in Basil Pesto Sauce

Peas

(2) Pillsbury Croissants

(1) Glass of Chocolate Milk

.

.

Workouts:

THURSDAY

(200) Jumping Jacks [4 sets of 50]

(100) Glute Bridges [4 sets of 25]

(100) Push-Ups [10 sets of 10]

(100) Assisted Push-Ups [2 Sets of 50]

(50) Reverse Leg Lifts [5 sets of 10]

(50) Leg Kickbacks [5 sets of 10]

FRIDAY

*Rest Day*

Literally rested/slept through my workout

SATURDAY

Morning Workout:

(200) Jumping Jacks [4 sets of 50]

(100) Glute Bridges [4 sets of 25]

(100) Push-Ups [10 sets of 10]

(100) Assisted Push-Ups [2 sets of 50]

(50) Reverse Leg Lifts [5 sets of 10]

(50) Leg Kickbacks [5 sets of 10]

Evening Workout:

(200) Jumping Jacks [4 sets of 50]

(100) Glute Bridges [4 sets of 25]

(100) Push-Ups [10 sets of 10]

(50) Reverse Leg Lifts [5 sets of 10]

(50) Leg Kickbacks [5 sets of 10]

SUNDAY

(200) Jumping Jacks [4 sets of 50]

(100) Glute Bridges [4 sets of 25]

(100) Push-Ups [10 sets of 10]

(100) Assisted Push-Ups [2 sets of 50]

(50) Reverse Leg Lifts [5 sets of 10]

(50) Leg Kickbacks [5 sets of 10]

MONDAY

(200) Jumping Jacks [4 sets of 50]

(100) Glute Bridges [4 sets of 25]

(100) Push-Ups [10 sets of 10]

(100) Assisted Push-Ups [2 Sets of 50]

(50) Reverse Leg Lifts [5 sets of 10]

(50) Leg Kickbacks [5 sets of 10]

TUESDAY

(200) Jumping Jacks [4 sets of 50]

(100) Glute Bridges [4 sets of 25]

(100) Push-Ups [5 sets of 10]

(100) Assisted Push-Ups [1 Set]

(50) Reverse Leg Lifts [5 sets of 10]

(50) Leg Kickbacks [5 sets of 10]

WEDNESDAY

(200) Jumping Jacks [4 sets of 50]

(100) Glute Bridges[4 sets of 25]

(100) Push-Ups [10 sets of 10]

(100) Assisted Push-Ups [2 Sets of 50]

(50) Reverse Leg Lifts [5 sets of 10]

(50) Leg Kickbacks [5 sets of 10]

.

.

WEIGHT TRACKER:

Starting Weight (Noon, 1/01/2023): XXX.X lbs

Weight at Last Check-In, 3/08/2023: -2.4 lbs

Weight As of Noon, 3/15/2023: -2.4 lbs

Total Weight Loss: -41.6 lbs

.

.

Closing Thoughts:

The Good:

The only thing worth note - Breaking 40 lbs. 12 lbs to go.

The Bad:

I need sleep - I would pay for sleep.

The Ugly:

My brain is on fire that's how bad I need sleep.

[whumptober]

Whumptober 2020 - Updated

Welcome to Whumptober 2020! We’re doing things a little differently this year so please make sure to read the Event Info carefully. We are also excited to announce the addition of an AO3 Collection, which can be found here.

We hope you’re as excited as us to watch the Whump Community come together once again for a month of bone-crunching creativity and collaboration!

(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information, and FAQs are posted below the cut!)

No 1. LET'S HANG OUT SOMETIME Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging

No 2. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY  "Pick Who Dies" | Collars | Kidnapped

No 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint

No 4. RUNNING OUT OF TIME Caged | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building

No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING? On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue

No 6. PLEASE.... "Get it Out" | No More | "Stop, please"

No 7. I'VE GOT YOU Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caretaker

No 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO? "Don't Say Goodbye" | Abandoned | Isolation

No 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD "Take Me Instead" | "Run!” | Ritual Sacrifice

No 10. THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED Blood Loss | Internal Bleeding | Trail of Blood

No 11. PSYCH 101 Defiance | Struggling | Crying

No 12. I THINK I'VE BROKEN SOMETHING Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust

No 13. BREATHE IN BREATHE OUT Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask

No 14. IS SOMETHING BURNING? Branding | Heat Exhaustion | Fire

No 15. INTO THE UNKNOWN Possession | Magical Healing | Science Gone Wrong

No 16. A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY Forced to Beg | Hallucinations | Shoot the Hostage

No 17. I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING Blackmail | Dirty Secret | Wrongfully Accused

No 18. PANIC! AT THE DISCO Panic Attacks | Phobias | Paranoia

No 19. BROKEN HEARTS Grief | Mourning Loved One | Survivor's Guilt

No 20. TOTO, I HAVE A FEELING WE'RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE Lost | Field Medicine | Medieval

No 21. I DON'T FEEL SO WELL Chronic Pain | Hypothermia | Infection

No 22. DO THESE TACOS TASTE FUNNY TO YOU? Poisoned | Drugged | Withdrawal

No 23. WHAT’S A WHUMPEE GOTTA DO TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE? Exhaustion | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation

No 24. YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE Forced Mutism | Blindfolded | Sensory Deprivation

No 25. I THINK I’LL JUST COLLAPSE RIGHT HERE, THANKS Disorientation | Blurred Vision | Ringing Ears

No 26. IF YOU THOUGHT THE HEAD TRAUMA WAS BAD... Migraine | Concussion | Blindness

No 27. OK, WHO HAD NATURAL DISASTERS ON THEIR 2020 BINGO CARD? Earthquake | Extreme Weather | Power Outage

No 28. SUCH WOW. MANY NORMAL. VERY OOPS. Accidents | Hunting Season | Mugged

No 29. I THINK I NEED A DOCTOR Intubation | Emergency Room | Reluctant Bedrest

No 30. NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? Wound Reveal | Ignoring an Injury | Internal Organ Injury

No 31. TODAY’S SPECIAL: TORTURE Experiment | Whipped | Left for Dead

Alternate Prompt List

Alt 1. Punctured

Alt 2. Falling

Alt 3. Comfort

Alt 4. Stitches

Alt 5. Stoic Whumpees

Alt 6. Altered States

Alt 7. Found Family

Alt 8. Adverse Reactions

Alt 9. Memory Loss

Alt 10. Nightmares

Alt 11. Presumed Dead

Alt. 12. Water

Alt. 13 Accidents

Alt. 14 Shot

Alt. 15 Carry/Support

Event Info

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 Official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don't have to include the exact wording into your work). Additionally, there are 3 prompts for each theme.  These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, and photo/video/audio edits. Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag the with:

#whumptober2020 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)

#bruised, #stabbed,  …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#fandom or #OC

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself, because tumblr sucks)

#nsfw, #nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober2020​ blog. They must be tagged in the order above.

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month.

Questions not addressed below can be directed to this blog as well.

Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!

Frequently Asked Questions

Q. What kind of content can I make? Can it be NSFW?

This is a MIXED MEDIA event! You can write fic, post meta, doodle or paint, create a gif set or photo edit, link a song, or get crafty with video - anything goes. As for NSFW, make what you like, we just hope that you’ll tag your work accordingly so that others participating in the event can stay safe :)

Q. Do I have to do all 31 Days? Can I post early/late?

Participate as much or little as you like, and post whenever! Just be sure to tag your posts properly (ex. #no.11, #psych101). Combining prompts into one piece of work is okay, and posting late is as well so as long as it’s in October.

Q. What if I don’t understand a theme?

Send us an ask! We’re happy to help clarify. That said, the themes are entirely up for interpretation :)

Q. Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?

Absolutely! That’s like shooting two whumpees with one bullet :)

Q. Can I upload/repost my whumptober content to other social media platforms?

Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there. The archive can be accessed here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the boundaries of any closeted whumpers in your social circle :)

Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?

Yes

Q. An existing fic I am currently writing contains many of the Whumptober prompts, can I use it?

If you are actively writing this fic at the moment with the whumptober prompts in mind, yes. If it just conveniently checks the boxes, then please don’t. You can, however, add new chapters answering one or more of the prompts.

Q. What kind of characters can I write for?

Fandom characters, OC characters, human, furry, alien, cyborg, whoever you like.

Q. Can I use a prompt multiple times?

Yes,  but it only counts once

Q. If I’m not comfortable with one day's prompts can I use a prompt of a different day as a substitute and still be a completionist?

Yes, but please do not use a specific prompt twice. We have also created an alternate prompts list that you can draw from [here].

Q. Where can I post my work?

Post where and how you want. You don’t even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive.

Q. Can I start posting early?

You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? That being said, you can post early, but we won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st.

Q. Do I have to finish a fic I started/can I post WIP’s.?

Yes you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish it in October for it to count towards being a completionist.  

Q. Is co-writing allowed?

Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you :)

Q. Do I have to create 31 standalone pieces to be considered a completionist or can I write one continuous story?

One continuous story is fine.  The challenge is to write something for 31 prompts. If that’s spread over 31 fics or just one, you are still considered a completionist. (The same goes for every other media you choose.)

Q. Is there a min/max limit on word count?

There is no limit

Q. Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many?

No limit and combine as many as you’d like.

Q. Is a hc/angst focus ok?

Of course!

Q. What’s considered nsfw?

See this post

Q. What's whump?

See this post

Q. My interpretation of the prompt isn't whumpy at all, does that count?

No, sorry, but keep in mind that whump [see definition] is something very nuanced and different for everyone and emotional whump/angst is just as much part of it, as is physical whump and torture. So before you dismiss your idea, think about this.

Q. Can I start working on the prompts before October?

Absolutely! That’s why we posted the prompts a month in advance. We recognise how difficult it can be creating for 31 days in “real time”.

Q. How do I tag triggers?

tw at the end of the word, ex. emeto tw

Q. Do I have to use your tags?

Yes, if you want your work archived on the blog. If not, feel free to use whatever tags you want.  

Q. Does combining prompts count towards completion?

Yes

Q. Can we @ you?

Yes but we mostly rely on the whumptober2020 tag

Q. Is there anything we are absolutely not allowed to write?

There are no rules, just be sure to properly tag your trigger warnings. And keep in mind Tumblr’s policies if you are posting it here (or the policies of whatever site you use).

Q. Where can I go for brainstorming help?

Here on Discord

Q. My characters are minors, is that ok?

Yes, but as with everything else, tags are your best friend.

Q. Can I cross post on other blogs?

Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable. You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once.

Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden ----Anonymity Ch.10

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9

The day shift gives you ample time and opportunities to walk around the castle. Within a week, you come to know every chamber and pathway you hadn’t previously crossed, intimately.

At first, you pictured making your escape through a weak point in its fortification. The walls are ancient; You would have bet money on one of its parts having given out in the passing of centuries and gone unnoticed. Now, you know such a thing doesn’t exist. It doesn’t really surprise you that Alcina has made sure the exterior is in the same excellent condition as the interior.

But it is a problem.

The walls are too big for you to scale. If there are any stepping points, you can’t see them from within. You tried over and over to at least peak out into the back yard, but the shrieks and growls of monsters had you immediately changing course.

You don’t know what those things are and you’re not eager to find out. According to the older maids, there are more of them deep in the dungeons. It is only a rumor, of course, since nobody has ventured down there and returned to tell the tale.

Which, taking the window bars into account… leaves only one way out.

The front door.

You are aware that Lady Dimitrescu and the daughters all have a key on them. You know from Cassandra those are the only copies. Nothing enters or leaves unless one of them allows it.

There is not a snowflake’s chance in hell you’re getting Alcina’s key. She will murder you on sight. Bela won’t do anything to disappoint her mother, so that rules her out, as well. Daniela is the one most likely to misplace it or be persuaded to give it to you, but the girl is as unpredictable as she is sly and you won’t risk your wellbeing for a distant chance.

That means…

Cassandra is the only way out, isn’t she…

-

-

You lay low and await an afternoon where the cold is downright bone-piercing. As warm as the castle is, with fireplaces burning everywhere, you can still feel the stinging kiss of the outside frost every time you so much as go near a window.

And it all comes full circle right back to the start; You in front of Cassandra’s bedroom door, trembling with anxiety like the very first time. It is oddly fitting, in a way, that the story of the two of you ends where it began.

For a moment, you almost marvel at how long ago it feels, now. But there is no time nor space in your heart for sentimentality anymore. You stand at the point of no return.

And you cross it as soon as you turn the handle.

Cassandra’s bedroom is softly illuminated by the dying embers of the fireplace. You walk forward cautiously, slowly, almost as if you’re expecting a landmine to go off at a single misstep. Except –well. A mine would be far more merciful. Just an explosion and then nothing. If Cassandra wakes…

You try not to think about it, lest your muscles lock in place.

Underneath the heavy covers of the bed, you see her, cocooned, pale fingers clutching tight at the blankets. It is too early for her to wake. She is deeply asleep, you tell yourself, simultaneously praying she doesn’t open her eyes.

You make it to her vanity, soundless. Her amber-jeweled choker and the necklace she and her sisters wear are neatly arranged, yet the key you’re looking for isn’t with them.

Shit. You inwardly curse, your hand shaking from the nerves. It means she’s put it in the drawer of her bedside table. It means you have to go next to her, to literally put your fingers in the sleeping wolf’s parted jaws and hope they don’t clamp down.

Easy, right?

An unsteady exhale later, you move further in and carefully kneel by the small furniture. Keep your eyes on the prize. Keep—

But you make the mistake of looking to the side.

Cassandra’s expression is not relaxed in sleep like how you remember it from the time when you would wake her up. Instead, her brow is furrowed, the line of her mouth pressed thin. She’s shivering, you realize, either from the cold or a nightmare or both. Shadows dance across her beautiful face.

Your first instinct is still to reach over and soothe her. You hate it, but you’ve accepted you won’t be over whatever it is you feel for her in quite some time.

It is not your place anymore to touch her, you remind yourself. You cannot ease her through her fears now that she has become your own.

With a clenched jaw, you force your body through the motions of opening the drawer and taking the key within.

At last. Your freedom is in your grasp.

And yet.

Shouldn’t you be happier about it?

Cassandra’s voice nearly knocks the air out of your lungs when it reaches your ears, faint. “No… please…”

You forget how to breathe for a couple of seconds. When your wide eyes shift to her, though, you realize she’s merely talking in her sleep.

Leave. Leave while you can.

But your chest constricts when you hear her sob. “…don’t leave me here… please…”

And out of all the possible things she could say, she utters those words and smashes your glass heart with a sledgehammer into a trillion pieces. The shards cut into you and it hurts—

You pause at the door. The corners of your vision have started to blur.

And then the world snaps, sharply, back into focus when her tone changes;

“…Alexia…?”

Your eyes lock, hazel to amber-grey, for a split second.

You run.

-

-

You don’t think you have ever ran this fast in your entire life. But it’s different now that it is about your life.

Adrenaline rushes throughout your bloodstream. You’re not thinking, just acting. Just fleeing.

Death, in the form of a black swarm, closes in on you with every rapid heartbeat. Cassandra is faster –she can fly and you’re only human—and at this rate you won’t even escape the corridor, much less the castle.

Flies break ahead of the rest and attach themselves to you. The sting of their bite at your nape and arms nearly has you howling in agony. She meant it when she said she would kill you herself. Not that you doubted it. Not for a second.

Because if Cassandra can’t have you, she will make sure nobody will.

You didn’t want to hurt her back the first time, but the stakes are too high now. You grab the nearest solid antiquity in your panic and throw it with all your might against the nearest window.

Glass shatters and the temperature plummets with it. Over your shoulder, you hear her scream. More out of rage than pain.

The flies biting at you drop to the floor, grey and paralyzed. You hear her shout pierce through your eardrums like a gunshot as you dash towards the turn—

“You won’t ever get to that door, Alexia!”

From the corner of your eye, you notice a blur coming towards you and instinctively drop down. A heavy thump later, your frantic eyes fly to the wall to see her sickle embedded halfway through a painting. If you hadn’t reacted in time, that would have been you.

Still, she can’t cross the hallway now, so you scramble to your feet and run while she takes the long way around. Question is, will you make it to the front door before she does?

It becomes a race where the winner takes all.

You practically jump down entire sets of stairs in your struggle for survival and you have no clue how you do it. You just know you can’t slow down for even a second.

The castle feels ten times as large as it actually is. By the time you descend the last staircase and the sound of buzzing insects grows in volume, the entrance is within sight.

You reach for another decoration and smash another window. Cassandra slows down, forced to materialize out of the swarm before she can’t will her body back together at all.

You shove the key into the lock and turn it.

Cassandra fights through the rush of frozen air, taking step after weighted step towards you—

“I won’t…let you leave here…alive.” she hisses, her teeth bared at you, skin growing too pale yet eyes blazing.

“I’m done being your prisoner.” you say back, voice hoarse and raw…

And you open the door. Steps taken backwards carry you away from her faster than she can make it to you. You can see her pain and her frustration, but they cannot compare to your own.

Your wounds ache from the frost.

Cassandra seems just about ready to leap at you even if it will certainly mean something very bad for her—

Until a black blur shoves her a dozen meters back. Bela’s back stands between you and Cassandra’s cracking form. Daniela soon lands off to the side, looking between the two of them.

“Get out of the way, Bela!” Cassandra snaps.

“It’s over.” Bela replies, a grave finality to her voice.

Your breaths are coming out in harsh puffs of smoke. You still have trouble believing that you did it. That they can’t follow anymore. You did it.

“Nothing’s over!” Cassandra snarls and lunges for her elder sister.

The blonde, deadly calm, grabs her by the neck in a choke-hold and drags her closer to the nearly-extinguished warmth of the fireplace. The way Cassandra thrashes in her arms is downright heartbreaking.

Daniela looks at you, almost saddened, then back at her sisters.

“Shh. Calm down, Cassandra. Let go. Mother will be here soon. Don’t let her see you like this.” Bela says. “If you’ve any parting words to say to Alexia, say them now.”

You’re shivering. The cold nips through every layer of clothes you’re wearing to bite straight at your flushed skin. But you don’t move further away. You wait. Why am I even waiting, though?

Realization slowly sinks in, you can tell from Cassandra’s expression. Beyond the wounded pride of the apex predator losing a fight to a rabbit… she understands that she will never see you again.

Bela releases her and steps away, adjacent to Daniela.

“You’ve earned your freedom, Alexia.” Bela speaks under her hood. “Nobody’s ever managed to escape, before. Respect.” In another life, maybe her and you could have been friends. Maybe.

“So you’re really… leaving?” Daniela’s lower lip is slightly jutted into a little pout. “I… who will I use to get on Cassandra’s nerves, now?”

“I’d say it’s been nice, but.” you speak up between pants, birthing forth puffs of smoke. “I was taken from my home and sent here as a slave, so.” You can’t help the bitter grimace.

Cassandra’s chest is heaving, yet she isn’t looking at you. It doesn’t look like she has anything to say to you, either. But you have words for her, because you need to get this out at last, you need to be free of this weight or you will never really have escaped this nightmare.

“Even as your captive, you know what I fucking thought? You three can be so beautiful when you toy with the idea of basic human empathy. I don’t know what you saw our time as, Cassandra, but I was genuinely attracted to you. I wanted to be together with you. At some point, I was even happy!”

You’ve inhaled so much icy air your lungs probably won’t be doing great for very much longer but God, this is so cathartic. And so enraging that she’s not meeting your eyes now, at the very end of it all.

“Look at me! I care for you, deeply, but I can’t do this anymore! I don’t want to live in a cage as a pretty sacrifice, with you as my jailer. I can’t. You don’t know how psychologically destructive it is. You don’t know what it feels like!” you end with a hitched shout.

You hear the ominous sound of heavy heels hurriedly descending the staircase. “By Miranda! What is going on— Cassandra?!”

All three daughters freeze up for a moment.

Then Daniela touches her head as though she’s having a migraine and Bela shuts her eyes tightly, shoulders tensed. And Cassandra… drops on her knees to the floor, gasping for oxygen, clutching at her temples.

Bela shakes her head to snap out of it. Daniela still looks dazed and afraid… but Cassandra is nearly crying—

And then, in her panic attack, she whispers; “Don’t abandon me like they did, Alexia.”

You don’t know who she means or what you’re doing, until you’ve dashed back inside and gathered her chilled form into your arms, tight. You keep her there like you wish someone had held you during your storms. It doesn’t matter that you’re so much weaker than Cassandra, when what haunts her is too powerful even for her to face.

Alcina extends her claws as she advances on you.

You could probably still get away if you make a run for it, but where will you even go, when your heart is right here with the woman in your arms? The world beyond the village died for you a long time ago. The village died in a literal sense.

You wanted to be free. But freedom and being with her aren’t mutually exclusive. Why did it take me this long to figure it out…?

Alcina is too close now. You turn to kiss Cassandra’s hair for what may be the last time. You do not let go.

Bela and Daniela step in front of you.

Alcina gives them a warning, narrowed look.

“Uh— you know what, I just stepped forward because I saw Bela move. Haha, nevermind.” The redhead retreats once more. Maybe you’d roll your eyes at her if you weren’t bracing for your execution.

“Bela… step aside.” Lady Dimitrescu’s tone leaves no room for disobedience.

The eldest daughter lowers her head and hesitantly opens the path, as well.

Alcina casts a deep shadow over you in her massive height and giant claws. You lock eyes with her briefly, with the last, flickering cinders of your courage. Then you shift your face down into Cassandra’s shoulder and prepare to be skewered through. Her fingers clutch you almost painfully close to her.

“As for you…” there’s a growl in Alcina’s voice that makes you cower in terror.

Except...

The horrible pain you expected takes a little too long to come.

“…you have backbone, little human, I will admit.” Is that… is that a smirk you hear in her tone? “And my daughters do seem to want you around…”

…What?

Cassandra slowly pulls away from you to look up at her in disbelief and you dare to open your eyes. The claws are still uncomfortably close to your face.

“I will take responsibility for the damage, mother. Just, please, let her stay with me.” Cassandra says.

“…Hm. Very well. I expect the windows repaired by dinner.” Alcina gracefully pivots and just like that, takes her leave.

You and the sisters are left there, unbreathing, unmoving, wondering what just happened.

“Too cold. See you at dinner.” Daniela is the first to speak up. She rapidly waves and disappears like she’s being hunted by an army.

Bela glances at you, then at her middle sister. “We need to talk. But later. For now, defrost.” She, too, disperses in a swarm of flies.

Cassandra, uncharacteristically vulnerable, looks into your eyes and brings a crystalline hand to your cheek. The soft way she does it, it may as well be the apology she is too proud to voice. You both lean towards each other, resting your foreheads together.

You have a lot to talk about. But there is time.

[forsakenoathkeeper]

I Am Alive (chapter 30/?)

Chapter 30: Where the Skies End

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • 14 • 15 • 16 • 17 • 18 • 19 • 20 • 21 • 22 • 23 • 24 • 25 • 26 • 27 • 28 • 29 • 30 • more coming soon

[ You can also read on AO3 ]

Unsurprisingly, and much to your frustration, Connor had finished the move without you. There might not have been much left to move at that point; but, it was your stuff at a house that you rented, and not Connor's responsibility in the slightest.

But, there was no telling the android that, and you knew that he would have been well equipped with plenty of reasons as to why he could handle the rest of the move alone: you needed rest, he didn't require sleep, etc, etc.

When you stepped off the elevator into the android's - and now your - apartment, Connor had a look on his face, as if you had come home for the first time in years. You had only spent a week at Hank's place, and only a day and some odd hours at the hospital prior to that, and Connor had been nearly inseparable from you the entire time; yet, it felt like ages since you had been here.

It was only then that the weight of your near death experience became apparent. Before, your life, or the loss of it, wouldn't have impacted anyone else. It was just you in that little house, trying to make a living, picking up the pieces of a war and watching humanity change astronomically.

Now, there was a life that would be changed if you were gone. You let yourself imagine how Connor would cope, what would become of him, and struggled to keep the sorrow to yourself.

Perhaps, for the first time in your life, you knew what it was like to be needed.

Your wound healed remarkably in the weeks that followed. The scar left behind was star shaped and your skin was darkened around the sunken surface. But, you didn't find yourself hating it as much as you thought you would.

It wasn't something you looked at with pain or regret, but rather something prideful. Maybe there was something masochistic about it, not that you found yourself bothered by that realization.

Your coworkers thought it looked 'pretty cool' and declared that it made you 'quite the badass'. Now, you could wear the badge of 'I've been shot', with a bizarre story to tell. You didn't care if people thought it was strange, letting yourself get shot for an android.

Connor was much more than 'just' an android. He was the man you loved, who carried an astronomical burden you could barely understand. Sure, you could judge the weight, the pressure; but, you, an ordinary human, couldn't possibly understand what he felt as the target of a revolution that would change humanity forever.

The thoughts became clearer as you and Connor stepped into Haven for the last time, and you took in the emptiness, the quiet, and the cold.

"One moment," Connor advised you, stepping away and into the open space in the center of the room.

RK800, like all androids, had no true sense of temperature. Connor couldn't feel cold the way humans did. His artificial skin wasn't going to prickle with goosebumps and his muscles wouldn't shiver from the discomfort.

His HUD could report the weather if he enabled it and he had various feedback modules to inform him of how the temperature would affect a human, with the rightful assumption one would be in his presence.

Yet, despite this very well known limitation of his being, Connor couldn't explain how he managed to feel so cold as he stood there in the very abandoned Haven.

He was aware that warmth could be metaphorical, symbolic of belonging and comfort. His sense of cold was both literal and figurative in this sense. Without any machines running, all the lights turned off, Haven had become very cold. The halls, once busy with androids, were now empty, and the building was silent if not for the creaking walls.

-until someone walked through the distant corridor, their quiet footsteps rattling in Connor's acute hearing module.

There was an apology on the tip of Connor's tongue when he caught the sight of Markus. However, the RK200's stare wasn't cold or untrusting. There was something undeniably regretful on his face, conveying sympathy to the fellow android.

Markus' mismatched eyes caught the sight of you over Connor's shoulder, and spared a sad expression.

The two androids had agreed to meet here, for the last time in circumstances like this, hopefully. Once the final bill was passed, and androids would be proper citizens, there would be no need for this.

However, Connor had yet to obtain a definitive lead on Reaves' accomplices. This, at the very least, could provide some security for the androids that came before him.

"I know you didn't want me to," Markus began. "But, I will tell them it's from you. They should know."

"It's... your choice," Connor replied quietly, hoping to mask the uncertainty in his tone.

The two androids took each other's wrists, pushing the fabric of their jackets out of the way to touch skin to skin. Connor knew that Markus trusted him. He took the file without even bothering to scan it first. Only once it was already saved on his local system did he bother to analyze it.

The detective android had worked on that during your recovery week, while he laid beside you in low power mode. He reviewed the log files on his internal firewall over a thousand times, and crafted additional security protocols, specifically designed around write protection. Factory defaults, if he could help it, would be near impossible.

Markus could share this new code with other androids. If Connor failed to stop it in time, at the very least, their memory modules would be protected from brute force attacks, cyberlife certified or otherwise.

As their hands parted, Connor seemed to understand why he felt so cold. He had grown accustomed to how your skin felt - how human skin felt. Even when you weren't acutely aware of it, you were always warm.

"You're one of us," Markus declared, his hand dropping to his side. "We couldn't have done this without you. Your sacrifices need to be known."

"Sacrifices," Connor parroted quietly, doubtful.

He thought about Reaves' disbelief, at how he prioritized saving your life over securing the future of his kind. He could have killed you, carried on the mission, secured all of the chips and brought the android protestors to absolute surrender.

But, he didn't.

Before you, what had he gambled, if not his own life? A life that, by the very words of his creators, didn't exist, was meaningless, just programs executed in succession. He had questioned the very existence of his own life, but so had every android before him.

Still, the determined look on Markus' face didn't falter.

"Until we meet again," he offered, nodding at his fellow android. His eyes landed on yours before he turned away, and you offered him a sad, small wave.

As Connor passed, he took his hand in yours and guided you out of the building with careful steps. It was unnecessary to bring you here, but he understood the importance of goodbyes, and didn't want you to believe your efforts here had been in vain.

You expected to be driven home after that; however, as you climbed into the car, Connor asked, "would it be alright if we went to the park for some fresh air?"

"-'course," you replied softly, shifting your gaze from the android's face to look out the window.

Connor was uncharacteristically quiet during the drive, his hands gripping the steering wheel in a death lock. You didn't pay much mind to it, figuring he was stressed after everything that had happened. You had been the one on death's door; yet, Connor was the one seemingly always on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

It was worrying; but, you knew he needed to work through it in his own way.

At the park, Connor had hoped you would head straight for the bridge, to a place you had cherished so much. If his research was accurate, this needed to be done at a special place. As he followed you slowly up the curve, feet tapping against the boards, a wave of doubt washed over him.

You looked stunning, standing upright for the first time in weeks, with pep in your step, the sun soaking up your hair. Could he really have this? Could he even think himself allowed for such a thing? Could an android truly understand the needs of a human?

"You alright?" you called out to him, pausing before you reached the apex of the bridge.

It snapped him out of his stupor, and Connor replied softly, "I'm fine."

You continued and he followed, counting the steps despite how unnecessary it was. The android knew he had never been this scared in his life. This type of sensation was really, really unpleasant. His processors were giving him ridiculous warnings that didn't pertain at all to the situation.

He shut off the alerts and met you at the top of the bridge. His hand slid over the railing, analyzed the material as a strong timber, coated with a lacquer color called 'cedar brown', manufactured by-

Connor quickly closed the analyzed results, realizing how pointless that was. He was distracting himself, busying his processor with his manufactured purpose to avoid something he was definitely not made for.

At the top of the bridge, you turned to the man standing beside you, just in time to see him deactivate his human skin. His gaze met yours, and you smiled at the sight of RK800, as he was made, without the imitation of human-likeness.

For a moment, he stood there and let the heat of the sunlight catch on his sensor processors. The human tone of his factory issued skin flickered back on briefly before shutting back off, as Connor mentally questioned if he should do it like this.

The sudden nervous expression on his face, and his flickering pallet, had you concerned. In the sunlight, you could catch the subtle flaws in the design of his optics: the faint glimmer of a camera lens hidden beneath the almost perfect human appearance.

"Are you sure you're okay?" you asked, suddenly reaching for him. Your hand fell into the curve of his elbow.

"There's-" Connor began, stopping himself when a jogger passed the bridge. He was silent until they were gone.

"There's something important I need to ask you," Connor explained, his voice quiet and hoarse. "I'm sorry for not being more forthcoming. I was afraid."

Despite the obvious implications of what that question was, your head swarmed with the worst possibilities. The detective android, who had stormed a building of armed men to rescue you, who never hesitated to take a bullet for anyone, was afraid of something?

"Connor," you murmured, his name falling from your lips without purpose. The concern, however, was heavy in your tone.

"Before I ask, you need to know that you can refuse. There is no obligation, despite what we have been through. I won't hold any negative feelings towards you. From my research, this is premature, and I apologize for that," Connor babbled.

"What?" you blurted. "Connor, what are you - what's wrong?" you insisted, pitch rising as you started to panic.

"Nothing is wrong," he replied sharply.

He stepped back, just enough to create a few inches between you. You watched him reach into his coat pocket and pull out a small box. Mind hazy with the aftermath of Reaves' attack, you feared Connor was going to present you with evidence, that the case had taken a dangerous turn, or even inform you with the worst possible news.

But, then, Connor, cupping the small box in his palm, knelt down onto one knee. He looked up at you, brown eyes bright in the sunlight, android skin white as freshly fallen slow, failing to conceal the crease in his brow as worry sank in. The box opened, but you were too focused on his face to bother looking inside.

"Will you marry me?"

You could have laughed, at yourself, really, for thinking he was going to talk to you about Reaves, about factory-resetting computer chips, and the potential downfall of androids.

Instead, you let out a choked gasp. It was pathetically wet and embarrassingly loud. It all came pouring out before you could even think to stop it. Connor's nervous expression melted into panic when you started crying hysterically.

He was shifting to stand up, an apology hot on his tongue. He could feel his processors heating up, threatening to lock up at the sight of your tear-soaked face. It had his internal processes soaring, questioning if he had misinterpreted your relationship, your feelings for him.

You flung yourself into him before he could stand up, knocking the jewelry box right out of his hand. It clattered noisily on the bridge. If Connor was human, he would have followed; but, he was sturdy and, even unprepared, managed to stay upright as you crashed into him. His knees hit the bridge and his hands cautiously cupped your back.

"Yes!" you cried out, pressing your cheek into his coat, some odd centimeters from his thirium pump.

Your arms squeezed at his back, hands clawing into the thick fabric of his coat. Connor was unmoving, stiff where you clung to him. The artificial movements he made to appear more human had ceased, and you briefly feared he had powered down.

"Yes," you declared again, softer this time, squeezing him even tighter.

Finally, his systems relented and he properly relayed to his processor what you had just said. His arms wound around your back and, for the first time in weeks, Connor hugged you tightly, as if he wasn't afraid that he might hurt you. You could feel the tightening of his fingers tugging at your blouse, the thirium pump in perfect beats inside his chassis.

"Yes," you said again.

His cheek fell against your hairline and he closed his eyes. He wanted to dig his fingers past the fabric of your clothes, to feel your skin in a hopeless attempt to interface. Even if he could only reach your body, even if your mind was out of reach, that was good enough.

"Yes," again.

For now, the ring laid forgotten in its case, the jewelry box sitting some odd feet away, flipped on its side.

[wordsinwinters]

Then Again, Chapter 30: Flaw in the Plan

Summary: After an intense fight and a forced-to-share-the-bed situation during their junior year decathlon trip, Peter and the Reader examine their faults and failings. As they attempt to fix their mistakes and improve their friendship, that friendship quickly begins to evolve into something else.

Masterlist (with AO3 links)

Betas: @fanboyswhereare-you @girl-tips-from-satan @lilbeatlebear

Then Again, Chapter 30: Flaw in the Plan

(Word count: 3,608)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30,

I am an idiot. A happy idiot.

This whole conditioning plan was meant to be mostly an apology and partly a joke. More of a thoughtful punchline than any real, tactical scheme. But even when I first proposed it, I knew a piece of me hoped it would work like I said in our texts that night, that I would bring her gifts and she would begin to see me in a more positive light and associate me with happiness instead of irritation or anxiety. And as a result, she might forgive me sooner. Then, maybe — if I didn’t mess up too badly and I kept my fingers crossed — our relationship might heal enough to support something new. Something more.

Being so early, I have no idea if I’m even close to being forgiven all the way or if it’s possible that the fantasy version in my head could ever play out in real life.

Instead, all I know is that I accidentally conditioned myself, which was never part of the plan. And as dumb as I feel for making such a glaringly obvious, inevitable miscalculation, I couldn’t care less. I love it.

It’s been a perfect week, apart from being too short. It’s already Thursday and everything is blowing by so fast. It’s like I’m swinging through the days faster than I can web my way through entire neighborhoods. And it’s just as exhilarating. In fact, I can barely sleep at night because things are going so well. My brain is constantly either replaying the most recent good moments from the day or imagining what could happen tomorrow. Then, once I am asleep, it’s not for long. I wake up way before my alarm with a jittery, excited energy that should only be possible with the help of a dozen cups of coffee.

The last four mornings have been like that: I wake up with a jolt as if I’ve been slapped in the face, and I immediately roll out of bed. My feet touch the floor before the sun even begins to sneak up out of the skyline, and each time I feel like it makes sense that there’s so little light outside, because I might as well have absorbed all the energy from the sun. Honestly, I’m as restless as I was when I first got bit, back when I had no idea what was happening. This time, though, there’s no mystery: I’m in love with my best friend and, naturally, there are side effects to that. Including rushes of noradrenaline, serotonin, dopamine, and other stuff. It’s a drastic energy boost, especially during those hours between when I wake up and when I can finally text — or, even better — see her.

As soon as I realized it was impossible to get back to sleep when I’m like this (I think it was Tuesday?), I tried using the extra time to get ahead on homework, which helped distract me a little and make me feel a tiny bit productive, but somehow, I still only used 15% of that spare time to accomplish much of anything. The other 85% I spend staring out the window or at a random pencil or the wall, my brain simmering in its own excitement, replaying more memories on loop and weaving my daydreams further and further out. Even when I pack her present-of-the-day in with my homework, I can literally feel my heart rate jump because I’m already looking forward to her reaction. It’s wild. But in a good way. The best way.

The last two days I’ve been sneaking my gifts for her into her locker before first hour. It’s pretty easy to do since we usually all hang out at MJ’s locker in the math hall before the second bell rings.

The reward of seeing her face after she’s found that day’s gift is just…. It feels like an unequal exchange— like her joy and her gratitude are too generous. Meanwhile, she’s been acting like she’s taking advantage of me all week by accepting the couple of small things I’ve given her so far. It’s so ridiculous it makes me want to laugh thinking about it.

Today, though, she might be changing her mind.

I’m only a few minutes behind schedule (subway delay, not my fault), and as I round the corner of the hallway, I see she’s scrolling her phone in front of her open locker: a universal signal for I’m waiting for someone and I want to look busy. I cup my hands around my mouth and call her name, hoping it’s loud enough to climb over the noise of everyone else as they chat on the edges of the hallway before class, search their backpacks for missing papers or books, a (for a few people) slam their lockers harder than seems necessary. As someone with sensitive hearing, that last one is especially obnoxious.

Evidently my voice was loud enough. She hears me and looks up with a smile— it’s subtle, but still the kind that’s able to knock my feet out from under me. I’ve been working on keeping myself calm and level-headed around her, yet I still feel like I’m in desperate need of oxygen. I guess I need to work on it more.

Once I’m a couple feet away she answers me.

“Hey, Peter,” she says, setting her phone on the top shelf by her pencil case.

“Hey, traitor,” I reply, trying my best (and failing) to suppress my smile in order to look annoyed instead. “Minus fifteen points, by the way.”

She scoffs, head jerking back slightly.

“What could I have possibly done before 7:30 in the morning to deserve that?”

Reflexively, I cross my arms and lean my right shoulder against the locker next to hers.

“Hmmm,” I draw out the sound like a long question. “I’d have to say going to my apartment and hanging out with Aunt May after you said you didn’t have time to hang out with me.”

“Oh, that?” she asks, unbothered, with a small wave of her hand. “I brought dessert for both of you as an apology.”

One of the reasons I like her so much: her apologies are always very thoughtful and sincere. And delicious at times. But I can’t say that until I dig further into her sneaky strategy.

“So it was a premeditated crime?” I ask.

Her neutral expression slips, but rather than look nervous, she rolls her eyes with a small grin.

“Just give me ten points for the brownies and we’ll call a truce.”

At the word “brownies,” a freshman (maybe sophomore? I can’t keep track of the underclassmen) whips his head away from the conversation he’s having in one of those annoyingly large groups of athletes that jam up the hallway. Then when he sees me, he makes a face and turns back to his friends as if he’s disappointed by the sources of the word, not even embarrassed that I noticed his reaction.

I’m not sure what to make of that, so I ignore it and turn my attention back to her.

“You can have all fifteen back,” I tell her, “they were really good.” Especially for breakfast, much to May’s annoyance, given that the two I ate then were all that was left after our late night snacking. “But, honestly, I’m really tempted to take back the thing I got you today.”

I adjust my backpack, where it’s stored, yanking the straps forward so it pulls tighter against my back. Again I try to contain my smile; teasing feels less effective when I can’t keep my emotions off my face. It’s just so hard to keep myself together around her.

“Actually,” she says slowly, tilting her head toward her open locker, “I wanted to talk to you about all that.”

Perfect. I know exactly what she means. It’s time to reveal the big surprise. It’s been hard keeping my Friday gift a secret, but it might be the smartest move I’ve ever made. I’m glad she couldn’t guess it yesterday at school or over text. I can’t wait to see her face when I tell her.

“I know, I know,” I say, raising a hand to reassure her, “I have to tell you about the tickets for tomorrow, as per our compromise.”

She purses her lips and makes an Mmm not quite sound.

That’s unexpected.

And disappointing.

“We’ll come back to that,” she says, “but I was thinking we should just….” She looks around, glancing over her shoulder. “Maybe, um, maybe we should stop the whole ‘conditioning’ thing.”

Her voice is careful and very hush-hush on the word “conditioning.”

I start speaking before I can even process it.

“No, no, no, no!” I’m hearing my voice rather than using it, and I flinch because it sounds like it’s tripping down a staircase. “Come on, no way, please,” I plead, taking a quick breath to get my control back. “It’s not really supposed to be conditioning. That was just a joke. It’s very casual gift-giving, that’s all. You know? I mean, are you against getting presents every day or something?”

Her eyes widen and she laughs.

“Yes, I am!” Any combination of words could’ve come out of her mouth and her tone would have made it clear that she meant Obviously! “I know you mean well, I really do, I just think it’s not working. If anything, it’s starting to have the opposite effect of what you wanted.”

Shit.

“What? What do you mean?”

Does she know the universe played the reverse Uno card on me, that I conditioned my own dumbass self? That would be humiliating, but as long as she doesn’t know the extent of it, I can salvage things.

“I told you before,” she says, her head shaking as she looks around the hallway, “it makes me feel like I’m in debt and I—”

Oh, that’s all. Thank goodness. I can handle that.

“A couple dollars for snacks and pens?” I shrug. “It’s nothing, I promise.”

I put my thumbs in the ends of my backpack straps, relaxing again. She looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Those pens are like $20 on sale, they’re not cheap. And how much were these ‘tickets’ for tomorrow?”

A heavy shoulder bumps into my back, followed by an “Oops, shit, my bad!” My face twitches as I turn to see a stocky senior give me the peace sign as an apology before spinning around to sprint down the rest of the hallway, carefully dodging the athletes’ circle.

But the twitch isn’t from the accidental shove. It’s because I might find myself in trouble now. The tickets didn’t bankrupt me or anything, but I never would’ve spent that much for anyone else, myself included, and she knows enough about me and May’s situation to realize that if she heard the price.

“I feel like you’re getting a little hung up on the money part of this,” I say, turning back to face her and moving an inch closer, hoping to distract her enough to get around the question.

“Seriously,” she counters, her voice steady as she folds her arms. “How much were they? Can you return them?”

There is zero chance in hell I’m doing that.

“Are you sure you’d want that? And do we really have to argue about it right now?”

“I… I guess it depends,” she admits, arms loosening, shoulders half-rolling. “What are they for?”

Finally. I smile, my pride rising and excitement growing. She’s going to love it. I lift my head a little higher and smirk.

“Give me just a second to remember,” I tease. “I think they were something… something like tickets for, um, for The Daily Show? You know, the one with Trevor Noah?”

Her mouth opens and she struggles to find the words. Momentarily speechless, she closes her mouth with a snap. Her eyes shut briefly so I can’t make out her expression.

She sighs.

“That’s honestly really— but I can’t— and you should return them. It’s really nice.” Her eyes open. “And really thoughtful, but it’s too much. Like way too much.”

Her expression is clearer now. Guilt.

Ugh. Now I want to sigh.

“Even if I wanted to,” I say, “there’s a no-return policy.” That’s mostly true. I could very easily sell them if I wanted to. But I won’t. “And they weren’t as bad as you think, I promise. It’s nothing crazy.” The price was fair, even if more than I’m used to spending at once. “Plus, I really want to go. So if you say no, you’re actually punishing me, which would be super rude since, like you said, it was a really thoughtful gift.”

She looks pained. Or stubborn.

Possibly both.

“Take Ned or MJ then.”

I smack my left hand to my forehead. For being so smart, she can be so incredibly obstinate. (Typically, I admire her iron will. It’s an admirable quality when it’s not used against me.)

“That would defeat the purpose,” I say, somewhere between patience and desperation. “I got them because I thought you would enjoy going.”

She takes a deep breath. Her I’m-about-to-argue deep breath.

Without thinking, as if in self-defense, I quickly add, “I thought you’d enjoy going with me.”

Well, I hoped. It’s hard to expect someone to be excited at the idea of hanging out with you after a fiasco like last weekend.

Luckily, she doesn’t seem to read much into it because she steamrolls on.

“And I would,” she rushes. “It was a good idea, really, but Peter, how many times can I say it feels weird and, and manipulative to let you try to buy me stuff like this? I’m serious when I say you absolutely do not need to do any of this.” She pauses, looking up at the ceiling with a brief shake of her head. “There’s no way I’m going to be able to figure out some dessert that balances out these tickets and whatever else you have in mind.”

Oh, so that’s what the brownies were for.

“Wait. Your random dessert delivery wasn’t an apology for avoiding me, it was to settle an imaginary debt?”

“Desserts are very versatile, they can be both,” she admits. “But ‘avoid’ is a strong word. I just wanted to talk to May and get her advice.”

“Advice on what?”

Her eyes widen again. I try to focus and not get lost in their color. Luckily, her hands roll over each other as she starts answering, distracting me.

“This.” She gestures between us. “And she agrees with me. She basically gave me permission to fight you on it. Encouraged, actually.” I open my mouth to reject that statement since I know Aunt May is happy with my overall plan, but she clears her throat and keeps going. “She said you’ve been stressing yourself out with too many big plans and that if I wanted, I should dig my heels in and refuse until you let it go.”

Damn it. That makes what Aunt May hinted at last night a lot clearer. The whole, “Honey, why not wait and see how Friday goes and then just listen to what she wants from there? You might be surprised how much easier her version of your plan is.”

And it’s true. I have been killing myself over my awful list of potential not-dates, with very little help from either Ned or MJ. It’s been fun to find new ideas, but since almost all of them flop in the end, it’s also tear-my-hair-out excruciating to fail over and over again. The plan I showed the three of them on Tuesday was nowhere near as complete as I thought it was at first, and I can only blame sleep deprivation on how confident I was that morning that I’d made anything worthwhile. None of it was enough. Or the decent parts were too much— too pricey or too far away. 80% of it has already been erased.

“It’d be easier to verify that if I’d actually been there, but it does sound like something she’d say.” But I can’t give up everything because some (or a lot) of the plan sucks. I still have time to fix it. But even I don’t really believe that. How much more time can I spend making new lists and shredding them up ten minutes later? I search for something to hold onto. “What if we compromise?”

“I’m listening.”

I smile, but I feel it waver from nerves.

“Give me a second, I have to come up with something.”

She breathes out an almost laugh.

What can I save in this situation?

I’ve probably got thirty seconds, tops.

I mean, Aunt May was right about being overwhelmed by the big stuff. Museums, tours, comedy shows, plays, musicals. Way too many options, and most of them are nowhere near affordable. The tickets were a small chunk of regular change — all things considered — for most people. But I’m not most people, and I don’t exactly have a job— not one that pays anyway. It would be a huge relief to stop debating whether or not I should ask Aunt May for a loan, or, somehow worse, Mr. Stark. Plus I could quit playing the guessing game of trying to calculate how much homework we’ll have each day for school and when we would have time to go anywhere in the first place.

It wouldn’t be so bad to let that stuff go, as long as I didn’t forfeit my other reasons for being around her as much as possible the next week and a half.

“What if….” I start slowly. I know what I have to say, and I can already feel the weight lifting off my shoulders, but it still sucks to say it. To admit defeat after a surprisingly brutal, minute-long ambush debate. Especially since some of the places I found were really cool... even if they weren’t practical. “What if I stick to the small stuff? After tomorrow, no ‘events,’ nothing pricey. Just the small stuff like I’ve already gotten you.” I pause, realizing she might reject this too, so I say something half true for leverage. “And before you say anything, I already have the little things. And I can’t return them either.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

Her eyes narrow a tiny bit, but the lines in her forehead have smoothed out.

We’re both relieved, and we both know it.

“Mixed bag. Now, can we compromise?”

She stares, silently weighing her options. Then she turns to her locker and grabs her text book, copy of Frankenstein (which I don’t think we even need this week), pencil case, and water bottle.

“Nothing on weekends,” she says as she starts collecting her things, “it ends next Friday as planned, and the pens are still pushing it, so I swear to god,” she turns and looks at me pointedly, “if you have anything that costs more than they did, you’re either returning or keeping it.”

That shouldn’t be too much of a problem. I can stick to a budget.

Then I think of something else, a condition of my own, as she double checks her locker for anything she might be forgetting.

“And you’ll come over to help me and May cook a couple times a week so we can call it all even.”

Her eyes squint in a lighter way than before, and then she smiles.

“Deal.”

I laugh, enjoying the calm that’s settling into my muscles.

“Deal,” I agree.

I reach out my hand and she extends her water bottle to shake, which I’ll pretend I’m not a little disappointed at.

“Honestly,” she says as we drop hands (well, hand and water bottle), “I thought you’d be more stubborn about this. The ‘big plans,’ whatever they were.”

I let out a big sigh and lean my head backward. She unscrews her water bottle, about to take a drink. The one-minute bell rings.

“I am kinda bummed,” I say honestly, “but May was right. I could not figure it out. I mean, why is everything so expensive? Why are cool things at the dumbest times? It felt pointless to keep going after so many hours. And anyway, how am I gonna top Trevor Noah at this point?”

I’m about to say I should’ve saved the tickets for my last present and built up to them, but she lurches forward, head suddenly low, and for a split second, I have no idea why. Then I hear a coughing sound above the rumble of the hallways. She’s choking.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” I ask, bending down to try to see her face.

Before I can even try to remember the CPR lesson from Coach Wilson’s first aid lesson, she flips her head back up, and rather than panicked or in pain, her expression is perfectly amused. Throat cleared from the water that must’ve gone down wrong, she’s laughing. And then I realize my grammatical mistake.

Unfortunately for me, Ned appears and claps me on the back just in time to ask her what’s so funny, and she, unmistakably glad to have an audience to retell it to, closes her locker and starts the story as we walk together to English.

“Ned, you just missed it! So I got Peter to agree to give up whatever ‘events’ you guys were coming up with and….”

Hopefully she won’t recount the story to Trevor Noah himself during those audience-question-time break things he does. But either way, I’m happy we’re still going.

It’s almost enough to make me forget about having to ask her to the dance today.

Shit.

Almost.

Next chapter: Will be posted Friday, January 28 OR the following, February 4.

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[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 2/?

Word Count: 2k

Author’s Note: Y/N - your name, A/N - any name (your best friend’s name)

Warnings: Swearing, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

Welcome Back! I have, once again, written more of Jason Todd because he’s a fucking teddy bear and I love him.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Y/N and Jason both returned from that date feeling all giddy about each other, but trying their dammed-est to not let their hopes get too high about the other. However, that was extremely, extremely hard for Jason to do with family like Dick in his life. It’s like coming home to a hopeless romantic of a shipper as a nosey bitch. Lovingly, of course. No one’s like Dick.

“So, Y/N?” Dick asked Jason immediately as he entered the Manor.

“Yeah, what about her?”

“So, many questions: Was that a date? If no, will there be a date? Is there going to be a second date? Do you like her? Do you think we’ll like her? Does she know you’re Bruce Wayne’s son?” Dick rambled at his little brother.

“Okay hold on god damn, yes it was a date, yes there will be a second, yeah I think she’s cool and I like her, slow your roll Circus Boy, I don’t know when she’ll meet you lot, I don’t think she knows who I am, she’s from Metropolis, so I don’t think she knows the Waynes well.” Jason answered Dick with confidence.

“So you like her!” Steph mocked as she entered the hallway, probably heard her brothers talking about Y/N, so she wanted in on it. Somehow she had evaded Jason’s gaze though, so she startled him immensely.

“Jeez, how many of you will scare me today? And yeah, dumbass, I like her. But I’m doing this magical thing called ‘Not getting my god damn hopes up about her since it’s only the first date’ you hopeless romantic fucks.” Jason barked at them.

“Yeah, but you love us.” Dick said.

“That might be true, but your meddling is only going to cause chaos, Dick and Steph.”

“What about my meddling, Jay?” Bruce asked. Once again, he had heard the talking about Jason’s new crush and decided he’d parent the boy on his girl. Jason jumped out of his skin, because, he had once again, not seen Bruce enter the hallway despite his best efforts to not get startled again.

“You, are going to give me a heart attack.”

“Looks like this girl let your guard down.”

“Can we just go on patrol and stop badgering me?” Jason muttered under his breath.

“Nope!” Barbara exclaimed. Clearly, there’s a pattern with Waynes escaping Jason’s attempts to not get startled today, “We’re still going to badger you, Jay,” Barbara finished.

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

When Y/N made her way back to A/N, she couldn’t help but turn her radio as loud as she could and try to take the longer journey back home. Pieces of quiet and tranquility always surprised and drew her in. Like a good book on a Sunday morning before the rest of the bustling city of Gotham or Metropolis awoke itself. If New York never sleeps, she thought, then what the hell do Gotham and Metropolis call themselves. She laughed.

There were a few good things about Gotham, like the people you’d meet on the street at 4am were some of the weirdest but kindest people you’d ever know. It’s like the city radiated off of the energy of the people in it, and in spite of the villains constantly hitting the city with their worst, somehow everyone never let it get to them. It was admirable. Metropolis was the same in that avenue, but it didn’t feel like the cold Gotham streets.

Y/N thought Jason was one of the kinder people she had met in her travels and classes. And she never thought that she’d meet someone she liked this much in her criminal psychology class of all places, but hey, the universe had different pen strokes for her.

She went and parked her car in the driveway of the rental house she and A/N shared. Only the two of them shared it, but if either of them lost their jobs, they’d be looking for another roommate immediately. Pulling out her bag which was full of notes written by Jason, the original notes written by her, and binders upon binders of criminal cases she was looking into at the time, she would get out of her car and begin walking to her door.

Of course, like most people, she would kick off her heels the minute she walked through the doors of the house, to which, A/N paused her music and went to go question Y/N about Jason.

“So, you know how this works, babes, lay it on me, how’s hottie? Is he kind?” A/N pondered.

“He’s so kind, he paid the printing fees for my notes and rewrote all of them, I guess it’s a system for us now. I write the notes in class while he tries to take it all in, we meet up, and he rewrites them all and pays the printing fee.”

“He paid the fee?! At that college?” A/N said, completely shocked.

“Is that shocking?”

“Well, the printing fees are so fucking expensive, hun. Mans must have daddy’s money to do that.”

“Really? Well regardless money doesn’t matter, he’s kind and I can make a name for myself if I graduate at the top of my class.” She said, fully believing this. Smart woman. She knew she could do it.

“I believe in you, do you have homework tonight? I can make dinner for you so you can study.” A/N offered.

“Nah, I’m just going to go file my notes and shower, I’ll come join you and help after.”

“Well, don’t drown.” A/N joked.

“Do you know how much effort that would take?” She laughed as she walked towards her room, once she got there she pulled out her papers and began the slow filing process of them into her desk.

About 2 minutes into this, she got a text:

Hey stranger.

If someone had a heart monitor hooked up to her, they could have bet their last penny on her heart skipping a beat. 

Hey Jason. She sent back.

I had a fun time today with you, do you want to do the same thing tomorrow, I could use your fast writing skills to get by in classes. And I just like talking to you. What do you say?

She thought. Maybe something legit is here, hopefully I’m not just used for notes. She worried about that, since she was just a tad insecure about him. He was pretty. She knew she was a looker, sure. But he was something more.

I would love to go on another budget date with you.

Budget? Actually yeah, I guess it is budget lol. Maybe next time I’ll actually take you out to lunch like I said I would.

I, honestly, completely forgot you said you’d take me to lunch, I was just having fun as we were talking.

Me too. You’re a hoot.

A hoot? That’s a book nerd statement if I’ve ever heard one. She joked. She didn’t actually know if he was a book nerd at this time, but they had been joking the entire time when she was filing her notes. She was no where near done filing her notes, Jason was a distraction from that, it wasn’t that important, she would end up finishing it later. She just liked some semblance of organization so she didn’t have to put it off.

I’ll have you know I’ve probably read more books than you.

Well book nerds are cute.

Eventually the messages from Jason and Y/N started slowing, Y/N assumed he was tired or working so she took her chance to file her notes and start running her shower.

Sorry Y/N, this has been fun but I’m going to get really sparse with replies, I got work to do.

That’s fine! Where do you work, by the way?

And she got into the shower. Halfway through her shower her phone pinged, she assumed Jason was texting back, so when she finished her shower, before she even got her towel on, she decided to answer him:

I work at Wayne Enterprises with my dad. It’s quite fun.  He had said.

Oh! I’ve heard the owner of Wayne Enterprises is a lovely man, have you met him? She asked him back.

And within an instant, he answered.

He’s my dad, so yeah.

You’re the Jason Todd? Heir to the Wayne Manor and Wayne Enterprises? She started thinking back on what A/N had said. Yep, she thought, Daddy’s money indeed. She started to slip into her pajamas, which were literally a mess and not put together, because this is the real world, not every girl has matching sets, when he answered:

I hope that doesn’t change much, Y/N.

Explains the camera I saw but didn’t mention, and that’s about it.

You saw the cameras? Damn it. I tried to shield you, they may have pictured us together, sorry.

Worth it for a lovely date. I’ve seen worse, my mum works with Clark Kent, who I guess you probably know since he’s Bruce’s best friend, and the paparazzi loves to take Clark’s picture.

Oh yeah, Uncle Clark. Yeah, the pap love him. You get used to it. I guess you somewhat know my family lol.

Nah, that’s about all I know. Wasn’t really interested in drama about you lot because it’s just not my business. Probably not a shared ideal with the general public.

She finished getting dressed and went to go cook with A/N, and share the news.

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

“Girl! You were right about daddy’s money oh my god,” Y/N said when she entered the kitchen.

“Go on,” A/N urged.

“You know Jason Todd? Guess what. That’s hottie from Crim Psych 101.”

“Are you serious? That’s insane. You’re probably plastered across the internet right now for that date,” A/N laughed, “are you scared to date a famous man?” She asked.

“No, he’s really sweet and if this gets serious, I can just block out the flashes.”

The two of them laughed and started cooking. A/N was Latina, so, of course, she was in charge to cook most nights. But Y/N made killer desserts and pizza. Tonight was fajitas, so Y/N kind of sat bat and let A/N do her thing. Trying to know more so one day A/N wouldn’t have to do all the work, Y/N went onto the internet and the first thing she saw?

Globally Revered Son of a Millionaire, Jason Todd, out on a DATE with a Mystery Girl?

Like clockwork, Jason answered:

I guess I have a lot to teach you, and I hope you haven’t been on the internet recently.

I have. Globally Revered Son of a Millionaire. She texted back.

Fuck those damn tabloids. He said, she couldn’t help but agree, the paparazzi seem like they’re very invested in stories that aren’t theirs to tell.

Can’t agree with you more. We should put on a show for them tomorrow, actually give them something to write about.

I like your thinking.

You’ve opened up a lot today.

Is it your turn now?

What do you want to know? You asked him before turning to A/N.

“Tabloids talk too much,” you sneered at her.

“Cat should get their tongue and choke on it,” she finished, “did you at least look cute in their pics?” she asked.

“Somehow. Wasn’t even posing,” Y/N finished.

“Well, food’s done, are you still hungry?”

“Always.”

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

Jason turned to his brother, Dick, Nightwing, and said, 

“She knows now.”

“That you’re rich?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess I have to be more wary of her now,” he sighed, “I hope she’s not in it for the Wayne fortune.”

“Doubt she is if she agreed the tabloids can suck it, Red Hood.”

“I pray you’re right.”

He then drew his guns and fired at the ground underneath their laest venture into crime-fighting. This was gonna be one hell of a ride Y/N embarked on, not even knowing what she was getting into.

[accio-victuuri]

Can you suggest some of your fav fanfic recommendations of untamed, from lwj's pov?

Thanks 💕

ANON!!!!!!!! Sure! So, what I have are AUs. I tried to limit this list to 13 and to my most recent read/bookmarked. Please mind the tags on each fic in case some themes make you uncomfortable.

1. Of all the hands - typefortydeductions - I love this! 5 years after the defeat of the Wens! And one of my favorite tropes of arranged Marriage. What would happen if WWX did not die and just continued to gain more power. This has some other people’s POV on it but mostly LWJ.

Five years after the end of the Sunshot Campaign, the Yiling Patriarch has only grown in strength. Desperate to avoid another war, the Emperor proposes that he marry his younger brother, Lan Wangji, hoping to consolidate his power and take the Stygian Tiger Seal for the throne. He doesn't realise that Lan Wangji has never stopped being in love with Wei Wuxian, or what this marriage will mean to them both.

2. This love is all for you - mdzsed - this is a very short and sweet one featuring bookshop owner LWJ! being as usual, with a huge crush on WWX.

Lan Zhan thinks of romance novels, of longing and finding love, and wonders if this is how he meets the love of his life: in a small town, in a bookstore, between bookshelves and hundreds of love stories.

3. A sorta fairytale with you - YilingJessa - I am weak for fairytale AUs and this is one of those. Also LWJ + bunnies is always a win for me. WWX as the mysterious witch and their pact w/each other was cool too.

A modern-day fairy tale, where Lan Wangji's new bunny might be more than he appears, and the witch in the woods has a happily ever after in mind

4. Crystalized - gusuvibes - Oh how I love this entire universe. This entire premise. I always like stories where LWJ is just quietly living his own life and thinking that everything is fine. He is okay on his own but then here comes the hurricane that is WWX and everything changes. Their interactions here are very sweet! How whipped WWX is for him is also a treat. Baker LWJ please!

nurse wwx runs into lwj's bakery one evening and then...just keeps coming back

5. Soil soaks our skin - YunmengLotus - rich LWJ going to meet WWX and his life takes a different turn. <3

Lan Wangji is the CEO of the Lan development corp, Lan Qiren sends him out to acquire the last bit of land on the outskirts of town so they can develop a mall. Wei Ying owns said land, a meager farm that he takes pride in and absolutely refuses to sell. Will Lan Wangji be able to seal the deal?

6. Cut through the clouds - phnelt - It’s the pilot LWJ x flight attendant WWX fic I never though I needed. A very caring LWJ always gets me!

Lan Zhan knows Wei Ying is trying to live off of plane food and the continental breakfast at the bland airport hotel and anything cheap he can scrounge -- vending machine chips, dollar pizza, street food if they're in a place where the water is safe to drink.

7. Found family - fyredancer - A younger WWX and LWJ against the world. LWJ literally taking WWX out of an abusive household because he loves and cares for him so much. Bonus badass LXC!

The Lan family routine is a series of ordered routines. One morning, Lan Xichen realizes their routine has been broken because Lan Wangji hasn’t risen after 5 a.m. When he checks on him, he discovers his brother’s school friend Wei Wuxian sleeping atop him. A Wei Wuxian who wasn’t there the night before.

8. Smother - PaPaYa_Bites - SMUT! That is all your honor.

Lan Zhan has a close encounter with his favorite wrestler and has a request.

9. An imperfect memory - xantissa - One of my all time favorites. This reads like a dark fairytale, one with the romance, blood, tears and a really good core story. I like stories that build up on a lore of it’s own. You are taken into LWJ’s POV and what he sees, only to find out later that everything is not as it seems. It’s a very rewarding read.

When a creature of darkness comes with a shocking offer, there’s really no question. Second Jade of Lan, in exchange for water for his people. Body and soul, in exchange for his clan's survival. He is prepared to die for them. He is not exactly prepared for what being a sacrifice means.

10. Crazy in love series - w_wxsparkles - wangxian D/s. this is my absolute guilty pleasure you have no idea! 🥲 LWJ here is an absolute dream!

A BDSM universe in which Lan Wangji seeks stress relief with his dominant, Wei Wuxian, and they fall in love because it's what they do best.

11. Read between the lines - wangjiluv - I like this trope! I would think LWJ can be a really good fanfic writer. The type that completes fic bingo challenges and always does the best smut. lol.

What do you do when the idol you wrote self-insert fanfiction about reads the aforementioned self-insert fanfiction during a live interview? Lan Zhan finds out.

12. Window shopping - thunderwear - OMG THEY WERE QUARANTINED! And bunnies as a plot device are very popular to me. I see it, I click.

Lan Wangji didn't look out across the other apartment building often, but now, as he scooped up his escaped rabbit, he looked over only to see a piece of paper taped to the window of the apartment across from him. It was written on purple construction paper in big block letters, like a child had written it. WHAT'S YOUR BUNNY'S NAME???

13. Pop and prejudice - flowerofgusu - This one has an interesting premise but still plays on the familiar theme of LWJ and WWX being old friends/rivals and then meeting again. seeing each other in a completely different light.

Popstar Wei Wuxian "Xianxian" and music critic podcaster Lan Wangji have a long-standing rivalry. Why, then, would Wei Wuxian suddenly agree to an interview with Lan Wangji, who so vehemently wrote that bad review of his debut album?

I hope you find something here that appeals to you Anon! Enjoy! 😊

[shesawriter39049]

|Breakdown’s & Bugatti’s| M|

PAIRING: Namjoon x Reader (Ft a hint of Tae & Jin)

About- Namjoon just does what he has to do to keep you ....calm while at a charity gala!  

OR:

CHAPTER 1 : MEET THE KIMS OF NEW YORK 

**WARNINGS: **Semi public sex, Fingering (F receiving), Minimal prep, Light dirty talk, Light spit play, Choking, Spanking, Gags (Makeshift), Non protective sex (Creampie), light overstimulation

WC: 7K (This is a sneak peak so it’s 1.2k)

NON SEXUAL WARNINGS: (Fictional political background)  Hints at recreational drug use (Molly) Brief mentions of death, father issues, and panic attacks/anxiety (All of these topics are super minor but again, out of respect I’m mentioning them) 

The remaining “characters” will be introduced at a later date

This chapter hints at various future plots 

This is almost 2 years old, I reworked it recently 

If you’ve been following me for a while this is the original draft for “Club First Royale” 

FINAL NOTE: I haven’t been active in damn hear a year ( 8 months) So I am posting sneak peeks intentionally! No, not to torture you guys lol but to get my blog flowing again because I’m sure people aren’t really checking in anymore

OT7 ALTERNATING STORYLINES

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FINALLY, fuck 36737 years later you spot your Kim!

Standing there in all his glory, in a Valentino slim fit navy blue suit, the jacket appearing to have some sort of paisley print, opting against a tie. Leaving his crisp white dress shirt slightly unbuttoned, teasing at his broad carnalized chest as he makes his way from the bar. Heading over to the table, which has an empty seat waiting right beside him with your name written all over it...literally!

Purposely dodging the old lady to your left in a coat that would have PETA ready to throw hands! Gaudy diamonds, terrible Botox, and smelled as if she showered in an entire bottle Chanel No. 5! 

Yeah, no, sorry, not in the mood for another meet and greet right now!

“Joonie” Squeals from your lips once you’re in close enough proximity, his dark piercing eyes cut over to meet yours. A playful smirk tugging on those sinfully thick lips of his, accompanied by those disrespectful ass dimples!

“There she is!” Eyes dripping with warmth, as he ushered you in with open arms ,and in these types of situations, Namjoon felt like home, he was your safe space. “You look fuckin good” The words hushed into your hair in a tenor meant for your ears and your ears only! A hint of something a little more than just friendly playing on his tongue. 

A small little “Thank you” leaves your lips, and if I didn't know any better I’d think the compliment made you a little flustered.

Namjoon was the definition of Ocean arm’s and goddamn if you didn't just love how big this man was! It literally felt like he was hiding you from the entire universe when he has you nuzzled into his frame! The whole interaction couldn't have lasted longer than 20 seconds in all actuality but god you needed it! 

Face flush to his chest, wrapping your arms firm around his waist, letting your eyes flutter shut briefly, a deep slow exhale flooded through your body. Inhaling the musky yet sweet scent of his cologne mixed with his natural aroma, which has grown to become a calming mechanism over the years. 

“You had me worried for a minute…” Placing a quick kiss in your hair, that you would have missed if you blinked but again, your in public soo...

Palms soothing up and down your back gently, as he breathed into your hair , pulling back a little so there was some form of personal space between the two of you.  

“Your late, even for you princess...I know you started early, I got your live(Instagram) notification, so what happened?” Head clocked to the side as he appraises you and fuck, the bass in his voice still has you all types of fucked up! Glancing over your shoulder briefly before leaning up to place a kiss on the hinge of his jaw, that tittered the line of passing as an “innocent” greeting. 

“I’m fine Jonnie it’s nothing, we just got held up in glam.., Ariel was flying in from Miami...we got a late start” Gaze intentionally diverted as you welcomed yourself to his glass of Scotch instead. Damn near inhaling the entire drink as we speak and you hated dark liquor so that alone let him know something was up!  

Merely resisting the urge to smooth out the crease he felt forming between his brows, a dry snort left his lips, rolling his eyes in response to your blatant stubbornness. Nevertheless, always the gentleman, reaching down to pull out your chair so you could take a seat next to him. Mirroring your actions just moments prior, quickly scoping out his surroundings before he brought those plush pillows he calls lips a centimeter away from your ear.

Fuck. 

  “Right, so I'm just going to assume you don’t wanna talk about it right now! Or wait I’m sorry, have you just upgraded to insulting my intelligence straight to my damn face?” 

Brow quirked inquisitively, and you could literally feel every word, tone taking on a hint of seriousness the more he talked. Namjoon licked his lips and the tip skimmed the edge of your ear and I - . 

“For one you smell like an entire bottle of Heidsieck, I can almost taste the nicotine on your tongue and you've been crying I know you. ”  

Pulling back just enough to glare down at you above the brim of his glasses, which he always wore low along his bridge. Eyes daring you to look him in the face a lie again, teasing his fingers through his chocolate locks. Styled in the perfect semi grown out undercut, the top a little on the long side, while the sides tapered into a crisp fade. Sideburns outlining that extremely understated jawline of his! Though you had to admit the yellow gold diamonds dawning his ears were kinda stealing the show right now! 

“So again, do you just not wanna talk about it right now? Or have you forgotten that I have an IQ of 137, and can smell bullshit from here all the way to Gangnam!?” 

You're having very vivid day daydreams of your hand wrapped around this man's windpipe and for once it’s not even remotely sexual! 

Blatantly ignoring the strong twitch within Namjoon’s jaw and simply saying “I’m here, aren’t I!?” Face stoic, tone flat as all hell, in case it wasn’t clear that this conversation was more than over, you opted to eye his bourbon glazed salmon until he got the hint.

 “Oh, for fucks sake! ” Hissed from his lips without a lick of heat behind them, because as quiet as it’s kept ,your lowkey Joon’s baby, which is why he cares to begin with! Picking up a piece on his fork before essentially shoving it into your hand ”Your lucky I can’t have your ass getting sick on me tonight, we still have like, 3 hours left of this bullshit.”

More like he just can’t tell you no, but hey, whatever helps him sleep at night! Sliding his plate in your direction, completely giving up on eating at this point, he knew you needed it more anyway! Finally, starting to feel your mix of poisons hit your system so you knew you needed  to even it out with a little substance. I mean yeah, you could have just ordered your own plate but meh, this was easier! 

Namjoon started busying himself on his phone while you ate, scrolling through a couple contacts until he landed on a contact labeled under “Kookie”.

“Even though you were only late because “Your glam team ran late” There were air bunnies involved, and again you just really wanna choke his ass!  “What are you thinking tonight? He’s actually on his way here right now, but he already has a couple options on him...” 

The question was vague and for damn good reason...considering…

However you knew exactly what he was referring too.., and thank god!

Speaking over a mouth full of salmon, sounding utterly exasperated!  “Honestly, any fucking thing at this point…” 

Namjoon hums thoughtfully, sucking on a Bourbon soaked Ice cube “He’ll be here in 20, I just went with Smartees…always a safe bet...” 

Smartees, candy, Vitamin -E, Molly... Estcasy...it’s all one and the same, just depends on who you ask!

He leans back in, apparently keen on whispering tonight. “Maybe, if your a good girl and eat enough we can split one before we leave...chill you out a little bit. '' Voice thick and heady, lips curling into a grin with a hint of something wicked playing on the ends, as his fingers idly ghost over your forearm. Giving it a light squeeze and regardless of how innocent the skin-ship may seem to the naked eye, you’re well aware of all the underlying innuendos behind it! 

You make a noise of agreement, trying your damnedest to ignore the slight chill coursing up your spine at the pet name. Though before you could even dwell, Namjoon was sliding back in with another update, this one however wasn't as...arousing…to say the least!

“Fox 2’s been waiting for you to get here by the way...since the event was put together by council and all. They've been wanting to talk to us together about the fundraiser, just the same shit as last year.” 

Waving his hand dismissively idly twirling the various pieces of Bvlgari around his fingers, seemingly un-phased while you on the other hand...release the most exasperated huff! Reclining against your seat, eyes rolling to the back of your head in 30 different directions! Yeah, It comes with the territory, you know this, hints Namjoons reaction, or lack thereof!  But fuck you just really weren’t in the mood to do press tonight, It’s literally physically exhausting to pretend that you weren’t just PISSED! 

“Of -fuckin- course they do!” Stabbing your mashed potatoes in a way that's... somewhat concerning… 

“Baby.” It was a warning, though his voice sat barley above a whisper, his tone was crystal! Eyes cutting in your direction briefly before dropping back down to his phone….

You didn't have it in you to argue, there’s no way around this anyway, fuck it!  “What -the-fuck-ever!” Sliding the half empty plate aside “Well, you wanna just get it out of the way now? Because I’m really not in the mood for-”

“Y/n..oh my god! Hi, honey how are you!? You look beautiful as always…” Suddenly there was a human, a human wearing the wrong shade of foundation kissing your cheek. A human by the name of Caroline, one of the local news anchors...clearly her damn ears were ringing.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi guys, that’s all she wrote, well kinda, actually she finished it like 16 months ago lol but that’s all she wrote for now I guess....

**_

_****Love you...see ya soon!!**

***SIDE NOTE, MY FRIEND MADE THE TWITTER EDIT SO DON’T ASK LOL IDK ****

UPDATE: HEADCANONS FOR THE KIM BOYS/OC

  HEADCANONS

[nihiltism]

okay heres my vaguely compiled list of reasons why I am almost positive kazuaki nanaki from hatoful boyfriend is autistic, made by an autistic who did have to close holiday star and take a nap after reading his backstory because that was how much psychic damage getting called out by a dating simulator about birds caused me.

obligatory hatoful boyfriend holiday star spoilers below

1: the torture

okay but actually. not in any particular order.

1: its pretty innocuous but canon does make clear that he has food aversions and it doesnt do that as much for other birds so I'm choosing to take that for more than just "haha grown man doesnt eat his vegetables"

2: theres a kickstarter description for his plush I think which says smth along the lines of "hes a delicate crybaby but he has the power of concentration when it comes to his interests" which sounds like the tism to me how about you

3: do I need to cite sources to make a point abt him getting RSD or can I just say it and we all just nod because we all know its true. I cant just gesture at literally all of his dialogue can i. moving on

4: on the same line did you know that recognition responsive euphoria is also a thing apparently because I didnt. u ever get empathized with once and fall head over heels instantly

5: general behavior often seen as childish + tendency to regress after trauma. the king could very well be him regressing after trauma. yeah.

6: a lot of kazuaki-kun's book from what I gather as well as his flashback in holistar is just the fun fun woes of executive dysfunction. probably other woes too but that is the one I relate to the most and the one I can remember the name for. anyway

7: again another (just gestures vaguely at the character) one but depression and anxiety often come along with the tism so theres another corroboration right there

8 and the one that really resonated with me the most which is also his whole point:

🎉 the existential dread of being unable to function "correctly" if at all in a societal structure where you either function or you die and every facet was designed against you specifically and there is no escape 🎉

wooooooo

anyway theres also some other bits and pieces that arent Totally autistic coding in and of themselves but did hit too close to me as an autistic person so I'm gonna list those here too because "I'm autistic and this happened to me" should be some sort of coding as well right

- tendency to get over-attached to people

- cries as a default emotional response even when it is not specifically appropriate

- being fucked over hilariously by gifted kid complex as soon as college rolls around

- not having the energy/literally just never learning how to take care of himself

- not being able to actually do anything so either sleeping thru the entire day or staying up until 5 am with no inbetween

- and my favorite one! a love for life that is obscured so hard by a hatred for capitalism that he literally didnt even know he had it until he was dying

well that got depressing

also on the "im autistic and this happened to me" is that I really like fuzzy clothes if I had eldritch dream powers I would absolutely make myself a fluffy king cape to hide in :)

in conclusion I hope that theres a bit in mirror where kazuaki has a nice nap in the grass in the sun because that's what I do when the existentialism gets heavy and it wards it off a bit for at least like half a week. that's not an autism thing that's just a me thing but he should get a little a grass. thank u for reading