#i only started using it because i had so many stories stolen and put on there

[slashyrogue]

I updated my wattpad for the few people who read fanfic there.

Slashyrogue

It's only about six stories so far and only one is put up in full but I'm hoping to update a bit more soon.

[vanteguccir]

Lovestruck boy | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Nick and Chris are trying to record wednesday's video, but Matt's lovestruck gaze keeps going to Y/N, distracting himself.

Warning: None.

Requested?: Yes, from anon.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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"Matt! Hellooo, is anyone there?" Nick spoke from behind the camera while moving his arms around exasperatedly, looking at his brother, who had his eyes focused on the couch in the back of the room.

Matt is the kind of guy that when he loves, he loves hard.

So to say that Matt was crazy about Y/N was an understatement, all that was on his mind day and night was his girlfriend; His days were happier with her by his side, he felt like he had more energy and strength to do anything, only because of her.

His favorite thing in the world was seeing her happy, so his heart warmed every time he heard her talking about the books she was reading with so much passion and affection - so much so that he lost count of how many times he took her to the bookstore and bought more than 100 dollars in books, just to be able to hear her talk about the characters that Matt never memorized the names of and the story that always made she speak too quickly and with so much devotion.

Whenever Matt was with his brothers or friends, he would mention his girl. It was automatic, everything reminded him of her. He was obsessed. With all that said, it was inevitable that, being in the same room, the boy wouldn't be able to take his eyes off her.

The theme of that Wednesday's video was something suggested by Y/N herself, as just a few minutes ago the four of them were lying on the sofa in the living room, the girl with her feet on Matt's lap while starting a new book, while the brothers watched old videos of themselves on television.

His hands caressed the tops of her feet covered in fluffy Iron Man socks, which she had probably stolen from his side of the drawer. Every now and then Matt's right hand would go up her legs to Y/N's left hand, taking it away from the book and to his mouth, sealing the warm, soft skin with love, keeping his eyes on the TV screen.

A smile grew on Matt's face every time his brothers made vomiting sounds, calling them disgusting. While Y/N felt like her cheeks could explode from how red they became.

Matt's teenage voice coming from the videos made Y/N's heart warm, and seeing the silly smiles on the triplets' faces as they traveled through the land of nostalgia made an idea pop into the girl's head, who instantly put down the book and paused the video, catching the attention of them.

And this takes us to the current moment, after Y/N has separated some pictures from when they were children, teenagers or nowadays on Nick's phone, having created an album to be used in that specific video.

Matt and Chris were sitting at the kitchen table, facing the camera, Nick - who was standing behind it with the album open on his phone -, and consequently also facing the sofa, where Y/N was sitting comfortably as she flipped through her book, a smile appearing every now and then on her face as her expressions changed according to the events in the story.

A cup of cappuccino that Matt made for her rested on her legs, keeping her warm, while her right hand came out of the book every now and then and picked up the drink, taking a sip.

It was the third time that Nick caught Matt's attention, who seemed to get lost in his girlfriend's figure, and all external sounds, including his brothers' voices, became muffled.

To disguise it, the boy would randomly guess the name of one of his brothers or himself when Nick showed a small part of a picture, getting it wrong almost every time. This led to him having the lowest score.

"What? Yes, that's Chris." Matt blinked his eyes quickly, looking away from Y/N and to the phone in Nick's hands.

"Matt, it's you!" Nick exclaimed, rolling his eyes and sighing, he knew the video would continue like this if he didn't get Y/N out of the room, but his best friend looked too comfortable on the couch.

"Pay attention, dumbass." Chris slammed the palm of his left hand against Matt's forehead, earning a slap back on the arm.

Y/N lifted her head from the book momentarily, holding back a laugh as she saw the brothers fighting, rolling her eyes playfully before returning her attention to the story, adjusting her position on the couch.

"I'm sorry, I'll pay attention. I promise." Matt raised his hands in surrender, swallowing hard as he glanced briefly at Y/N and saw her laughing softly, returning his eyes to his older brother and forcing himself to keep them there.

"For those of you who aren't understanding, Y/N is sitting on the couch reading, and Matt can't stop looking at her. He's obsessed, I swear." Nick muttered behind the camera, shaking his head even though they couldn't see him.

When the first round ended, Chris got up and took Nick's place behind the camera, agreeing to be the next to show the pictures and be the jury.

Nick handed him the phone and sat down next to Matt, looking briefly at the couch and closing his lips in a thin line at Y/N's wide eyes at the book, probably surprised by some absurd scene.

The oldest looked at Matt, seeing that his brother was already looking at Y/N, too. Their eyes quickly met when Matt felt Nick looking at him, a laugh escaping both of their mouths.

"Are you ready?" Chris asked after choosing the first picture he would use, receiving a nod from the two brothers, who had both arms on the table so they could reach the "button" faster.

The youngest zoomed in on the pic and turned the screen towards the two, waiting for one of them to get it right.

Matt had never moved so fast, his left hand slamming against the post-it too hard as his eyes were wide in euphoria.

"It's me! Look at Y/N's hand there." Matt shouted in excitement, raising his right hand and pointing at the phone behind the camera.

"Yeah, that's Matt." Nick sighed, knowing that even though he got it right too, Matt spoke first. "You only got it right because Y/N is in the picture!"

"Obviously, he knows Y/N's traits more than he knows his own." Chris scoffed from behind the camera, zooming out of the image and looking for the next one.

The picture in question was from a day when the four of them went out to dinner at an Italian restaurant about a year ago, Nick and Chris were sitting on one side of the table and Y/N and Matt on the other. Matt had his elbows resting on the wooden table and his hands crossed, laughter escaping his lips when he heard something Chris said, while Y/N joined him in laughing, her hands crossed around his right bicep and her head resting on his covered shoulder.

The pic was taken by Nick, being the passionate photographer that he was, and Chris felt a smile stretch across his face as he remembered the moment.

Even though they made fun of their brother so much for being a crazy in love for Y/N, they felt their chest fill with joy for their brother every time they saw them together. They knew that their brother had found his other half, and seeing him as happy as ever made them just as happy.

"I know, he's obsessed with her." Nick commented again, receiving a slap on the back of his head, letting out a laugh when he saw Matt roll his eyes, but don't deny anything.

The girl looked up again when she heard her name being said by one of the boys and her person being mentioned more than once. Her eyes met Matt's blue ones, who looked at her with love and affection, an easy smile appearing on his face almost automatically.

Y/N smiled back, blowing a kiss, which the boy pretended to catch with his left hand and keep in the pocket of his hoodie.

When the round changed again, it was Matt's turn to stand behind the camera and choose the pictures.

The boy got up from his seat, fixing his pants and walking over to where Chris was, taking the phone from his hand and closing the last picture chosen by the youngest.

His thumb scrolled across the screen, looking for the first one he would use as he let his brothers settle down.

A smile stretched across Matt's face as he passed by a picture of Nick and Y/N, where they were both wearing sunglasses, with feathers around their necks and making faces at the camera. Nick had his left hand raised showing a peace sign, and it was there that Matt decided to zoom in, but not before lingering his eyes for a few seconds on the full image, admiring his girlfriend there.

Matt took advantage of the fact that his brothers were in a silly argument and turned around momentarily, looking at his girl, who was now in a position that in his head was probably very uncomfortable, but he already knew that for Y/N, the most different positions were the best.

The girl felt eyes on her and looked up, seeing Matt standing there admiring her. A reddish color took over her cheeks, and her fingers played with the pages of the book, trying to hide her shyness.

Matt nodded briefly at the book as if asking her how the story was going. Y/N smiled at the action, making a chief kiss gesture with her right hand while her left held the book open, afraid of losing the page she stopped at.

"I want to hear all abo-" Matt began in a low voice, just for Y/N to hear, but his sentence was cut by a hand hitting the table.

"I'm going to get Y/N out of the room if you don't turn around now and do your job." Nick said, crossing his arms. Chris held back his laughter beside him, his face turning red from the force he exerted in the action.

"You're so unnecessary." Matt rolled his eyes, throwing a wink at Y/N, who had a goofy smile, before turning to face his brothers again.

"No, you are." Nick responded, opening his mouth to argue against Matt again, only to be stopped by Chris, who smacked his left arm while laughing.

"Go ahead, Matt." The youngest asked, straightening up and clearing his throat, looking at his brother as he waited for the first picture.

Nick sent a bored look to Y/N, who was still watching them intently. The girl laughed softly, turning her attention back to the book as she felt her heart warm.

Y/N felt so grateful for her boyfriend and his brothers, who she saw as family. She would never forget the day Nick thanked her for how happy she made his brother, but little did he know, it was Matt who made her the happiest.

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Extra - comments:

"Matt looking behind the camera every 2 minutes with a lovestruck look on his face was the cutest thing I've ever seen 😔"

"Matt being able to guess the picture that had Y/N in it just because of her 😭"

"I love how Nick and Chris make fun of Matt for his love for Y/N all the time"

~ "deep down, they love them together more than the couple itself lol"

"I want to have a boyfriend who is as obsessed with me as Matt is with Y/N ​​🧎‍♀️"

"Y/N is a total bookworm, and I'm here for it!"

~ "petition for her to make tiktoks about the books she reads ✏️📄"

"it's incredible to see the difference between Matt before Y/N and Matt during Y/N. She's so good for him 🥺"

"Matt smiles so much when Y/N is near 😫"

"Matt and Y/N >>>>>>> any other famous couple"

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My asks are always open. Feel free to send requests or anything at all 🩷💋

[serendipityandbenevolence]

Baizhu x Reader (Arranged Marriage)

I know this is a bit (lot) different to what I normally post on this account, but I am a SUCKER for arranged marriages in fanfic, so I am choosing to disregard my sagau roots (not permanently dw) It’s a bit out of my comfort zone, but I really hope it comes out well :)

Contains - You getting injured, you and baizhu having beef (enemies to lovers fr), you and baizhu not realising that you are engaged to each other, arranged marriage (duh) your dad kinda sucks tbh

It took you rolling your ankle to realise how bad an idea climbing a mountain unprepared was. Granted, when you had started climbing the mountain, you had thought you were prepared. Your clothing was (somewhat) practical, you had stolen a pair of your father’s shoes that he used when hiking and you had found a nice leather satchel to hold your snacks and hand shovel. 

It had been fine at first, nothing more than a pleasant hike, with bird chirping and a soft breeze whistling through the trees. But with every step you took, the path became steeper, the sun became hotter and the god-damned shoes you bothered from your father hurt more. They had seemed a bit large when you first put them on, but now it felt like you were going to trip over them with every step. 

Your clothes weren’t faring much better. Your good, practical clothing had caught on nearly every single branch and shrub you passed. You would have to hide them when you got home, because you did not want to have to explain to your parents exactly how your clothing got so tattered and torn. The only things that hadn’t let you down was the satchel and your snacks, although the snacks were long gone now, despite not even reaching the top of the mountain.

Looking back on the moment, it seemed almost like one of those comedy performances, that wandering artisans performed in the town square. It was ironic, truly, how quickly everything fell apart. A single stone in your path, that you hadn’t even noticed until you were stepping on it. Your father’s shoes skidded off it, causing your ankle to twist painfully and send you careening into a nearby bush, your shirt tearing even more as the branches scraped your skin. 

And there you lay, facedown in a bush in the middle of nowhere, close to the peak of a nearly abandoned mountain trail, with nothing but a satchel and a sprained ankle. 

All of this for a fucking flower.

It was silly, you were aware of that. Your mother had told you stories about a kind of flower that only grew on this particular mountain, whose petals formed a distinctive heart shape, and which was said to bless whoever received one with true love. It was cheesy, yes, but that didn’t stop many young men and women from climbing the mountain in order to pick them for their fiances. But as the years passed, the flowers became more and more sparse, thanks to the droves of hopeless romantics picking them all. And now, they are said to only be found at the very top of the mountain, where the lovers were too scared to climb.

You didn’t even know if Baizhu liked flowers. 

You’d never met him, which was surprising considering how long he’d been a client of your father. Your father, a renowned supplier of medicinal herbs, was thrilled when Baizhu first began working with him. Prior to that, all his business had been to local doctors and healers, but having a client in far-away Liyue Harbor excited him, especially a doctor of such a stellar reputation. 

You almost felt like you did know him, with how much your father talked about Baizhu. Every shipment of goods that was requested meant another long monologue over the dining table about how fortunate he was to have such a consistent and well-paying client. You almost asked your father if HE wanted to marry Dr Baizhu, but you thankfully refrained. 

You knew your father had been dropping hints to Baizhu for a while now, about how he hoped his child would be married soon, about how Baizhu surely must be so lonely without a spouse, about how Baizhu really just felt like he was part of the family already. What you hadn’t expected was for Baizhu to accept.

And now, here you were, a week out from your wedding and nearly passed out on the side of a road, trying to get that god-damned flower. 

There was no way that the situation could get any worse.

“Oh dear! Are you alright?”

Or maybe it could. 

You truly had the worst luck. How was it that during the most embarrassing moment of your life, a person had to appear? This was an abandoned trail! 

“Please … just leave me here. I’m already contemplating my life choices and regretting the actions I’ve taken to get here, my pride can’t take another hit.”

“I really… can’t just leave you here, you know that, right?” The voice, which you could now identify as male, sounded like it was trying to hold back laughter, while also truly sounding concerned.

“I assure you, you can. Please do. Keep continuing on your way.”

There was silence for a moment, and you almost allowed yourself to hope that whoever this man was had left, until you felt a pair of hands grab your shoulders and pull you out of the bush, depositing you in a rather undignified heap on the ground.  

“My sincerest apologies about your pride. Are you injured?”

You sighed and made your best effort to fix your hair, attempting to look less like you just fell into a bush. Your saviour had the audacity to look perfectly put together, with barely a hair out of place, despite having just hiked the same distance as you. Though he also looked far more prepared, with shoes that actually fit and an entire bag filled with supplies.

“Only the aforementioned pride and my ankle,” You sighed, looking down at the already bruised and swollen skin, then up at the nearly vertical path ahead of you.

“I truly hope you don’t plan on continuing to climb with that ankle of yours?” He questioned, squatting down to get a better view at your injury, laying a gentle hand upon it.

You chose to ignore the question, still hoping to find a way to get to the top of the mountain, instead taking the opportunity to stare at the man. He had the most intriguing golden eyes, with slitted pupils like a snake, which were sharply fixed on your ankle.

“Your lack of a response speaks wonders, so let me rephrase. You will not be continuing to climb with that ankle of yours.” His eyes met yours, looking for any argument.

“And how do you plan to stop me?”

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

For a man who initially seemed so polite, he sure had a way of getting on your nerves. You’d spent the first 10 minutes of him carrying you back down the mountain (over his shoulder!) trying to convince him to put you down and when that hadn’t worked, you’d settled on silent treatment. But even that was testing your patience, you’d become tired of watching the sun creep towards the horizon, of listening to the birds singing up above, of resisting the urge to ask him what hair products he used to make his hair so silky.

“So…”

“Oh, you want to make conversation now? Finally given up on ignoring me?” He laughed at you, making you grit your teeth.

“Alright, I get it! You’re acting in my best interests by not letting me continue climbing the mountain, you don’t have to act all high and mighty about it!” You cut your angry tirade off with an annoyed huff, turning your face away from him.

“Why were you even climbing up there to begin with? It’s certainly not a beginners trail.”

“Oh, uhm, you know…”

“I certainly don’t know, which is why I’m asking you, but I appreciate the faith you have in thinking I can read your mind.”

You smacked his shoulder once, then a second time when you noticed he was laughing.

“But seriously… why?” He turned to face you, eyes searching your face for some sort of answer, before sighing and turning back towards the path.

You were silent for a long moment before remembering that this man had seen you half-knocked out in a bush on the side of a road. Your dignity was long gone.

“Don’t mock me for it, but I was going to try and find one of those flowers…”

“The True Love’s Bloom?”

“Yes and don’t you dare make fun of me for this, I get married in a week and I’m emotionally sensitive.”

“I wouldn’t dream of hurting your feelings and anyway, that’s what I was looking for as well.“ 

It took you a moment for it to sink it, before you turned to look at him.

“Really? I didn’t take you for the romantic type. Which poor soul got roped into marrying you?”

“I could say the same to you. Here I was, being nice to you and you repay it by insulting me? I’ll have you know, I was the one who got roped in. I think I would’ve had assassins sent after me if I refused one more time.”

You laughed and turned back around, but as you did, a small alcove in the nearby rock caught your eye. It was becoming darker by the second, but even with the fading light you could make out the shape of…

“Over there!”

The man paused and gave a sigh.

“This better not be a ploy to get me to put you down, so that you can do something potentially life endangering again.”

“The flowers! Over there!”

He turned his head and gave a small laugh of surprise as he spotted them too.

“Well, what do you know? Maybe being forced to carry you back down this hill was a blessing in disguise?” He wandered over to the sheltered patch of dirt, where, hidden from most prying eyes, were two perfect flowers.

He placed you down next to them and began rummaging through his bag, pulling out two shovels.

“I’ll have you know that I actually brought a shovel, I don’t need your equipment!”

“Really, how surprising. Did you bring a pot as well?”

“...”

“...”

“... can I borrow one of yours?”

“Well, I’ll have YOU know…”

And as your bickering echoed across the mountaintop, bringing life to the abandoned trails of a once vibrant mountain, the flowers almost seemed to grow just a little bit more.

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

“Baizhu, what’s that flower sitting over by the window? I’ve never seen anything like it before?”

“Ah Traveler, you have a good eye! It’s called True Love’s Bloom. However, those are actually two flowers. My spouse and I planted them in the same pot when we got married all those years ago and they have grown together over time, becoming so intertwined we can’t separate them. I like to keep them close to me at work, to remind me of my dearest.”

“Your spouse? I didn’t know you were married!”

“You didn’t? I could’ve sworn I had mentioned it? Well then, I shall have to tell you the story of how we met. It all started with them stupidly trying to climb a mountain…”

Guys, this was so much longer than I intended wtf. This was supposed to be a SHORT STORY to go with two other arranged marriage stories. I seriously need to throw my plans out the window at this point. Anyway, I love writing sassy characters, even though im shit at banter, so hopefully this is good/funny?

[factual-fantasy]

Good day Factual! Hope you're starting to feel a bit better- colds that just refuse to go away are the worst! Glad you've been having some fun playing and drawing Pokemon in the meantime though- and thanks a million for giving us all that great art of Grimace! Him and Sylvester definitely have a wholesome, brotherly bond, and it would be sweet to see some more of them someday, though as always, draw whatever you wish! In the meantime, as a little side Ask- could you tell us how you met them perhaps? Both in game and in "story"? Did you catch them like usual Pokemon, or did they join willingly?

And as for my main Ask- I thought I'd inquire about two of my favorite lesser known Mario enemies, and their places in your AU- starting with the fire spitting, three horned menaces, the Reznors!

Despite them essentially just being chibified triceratops, I've always liked their designs, their pack mentality, and the goofy noises they make! Sadly, Nintendo hasn't used them for much other than a couple gimmicky mini bosses, but I figure if the Bowser of your AU had a few, he'd put them to much better use! Just spitballing here, but you've come up with some cool ideas of how the Koopas use various other creatures- what if they used tamed Reznors as battle mounts, like how humans have used elephants! Imagine the Koopas armoring them up, loading troops on to their backs, and then charging into battle, bullet bills a-blazing! ( Just my idea- what do you think? )

And then the other enemy I wanted to mention, is the rarely remembered, deadly dino from w 1-1 of Super Mario World- the Rex!

They were powerful, speedy critters with a nasty bite- and while Nintendo rarely makes use of them nowadays, many fans still hold them and their lore implications close to their hearts- due to their uncanny resemblance to Yoshis... Because of this, many have theorized they share a common Ancestor- though others fear that perhaps a form of evil magic was involved- which, I think would be a perfect fit for your AU! Since your Kamek has showcased powerful, corruptive magics in the past- what if he created the Rexs, either by mutating captured Yoshis, or enchanting stolen Yoshi eggs before they hatched!? Either way, id imagine they would be just as large and aggressive as your yoshis- and serve the Koopas well as guard dogs, or perhaps as alternative mounts- being weaker, but more nimble and agile than a Reznor. But what's your take? Would either of these guys make the cut? Or not be included at all- ( which would be fine too, I just wanted to ask, and pitch some ideas! )

(Grimace and Sylvester art in question)

Hey there! Unfortunately I'm going downhill a bit, I think my cold is really startin to take me down. Which is just wonderful 🥲 at least I have Pokemon Scarlet to keep my mind busy!

Speaking of Pokemon, Grimace and Sylvester actually do have a story to them..

Starting with Grimace, I actually kinda got him on accident due to a 3 day long brain fart. Let me explain- <XD

So picture this. It's early in the game and I spot a Duskull. I think "Oh cool! Dusknoir is my favorite pokemon! I gotta catch one so he'll eventually evolve into a Dusknoir! :D" So I catch one and name him Dusty.

I ran around with Dusty, training him, loving him, feeding him sandwiches, the works, for 3 days or so. 3. Real life. Days.

It's only when I'm a about to go to bed and I'm thinking about him that I realized..

Dusty is a Gastly. Not a Duskull. He will eventually turn into a Gengar. Not a Dusknoir.

I still can't figure out how I looked at a Gastly and had my brain go "catch one! It'll turn into a Dusknoir! :DD"

So anyways, I didn't really want a Gengar.. but by the time I had noticed my mistake, I had already gotten attached to the big guy. So I accepted defeat, renamed him Grimace and gave up on my dreams of having a Dusknoir. I'll get a Dusknoir in legends Arceus anyways it's fine- <XD

Now Sylvester...

I knew right when I started the game that I wanted a female Sylveon. That was a big goal of mine. And I knew of a place early on in the game where there was a chance for Eevee to spawn. So I ate a sandwich that increased my normal type spawn rate and hunted for a while.

It was quite the drag since Eevees we're still a rare spawn.. but I was able to find some and catch them all. Though there was one peoblem. Every single Eevee I encountered was male! I wanted a female eevee!

It was a few hours into Eevee hunting that I went and Googled the female to male ratio on Eevees. Females have like a 12% spawn rate... Whoops. Looks like I'm not gonna find a female eevee this early on in the game....

But I still wanted a Sylveon.. 🥺

So I did some thinking. I imagined my trainer as a character. I picture them catching a male Eevee and loving him just the way he is. Saying that he doesn't have to evolve for them. Classic Eevee/trailer relationship. And I imagined the Eevee being so happy with this trainer and loving his team so much, that he evolved into a Sylveon. And he's not ashamed at all! His form is the ultimate expression of his love for his friends and his trainer!

I also pictured tweaking Sylvester's body type to make him apear more masculine. Changing the shape of his bows and ears to look sharper. Making his eyes a bit smaller and making his paws pointier.

Point is, the story I built in my head and all the drawing ideas this gave me... Plus my inability to catch a female eevee.. resulted in me adopting one of the male Eevees and evolving him into a Sylveon XD

Anyways XD as for your Mario questions...

I'm actually unfamiliar with those enemies <:0 though having a little more diversity in the Koopa kingdom would be good.. perhaps I could look into the Reznors a bit more and incorporate them somehow.. like you said, making them battle mounts or something similar..

Now the Rex, what an odd critter.. definitely haven't seen that guy before- :00 he really does look a lot like a Yoshi.. I'd have to look into those guys a bit too before I decided what to do with them.. but I'm liking your ideas! Kamek corrupting Yoshi eggs or something similar to make more mindless drones.. that's something he would do! 😅 But I'd probably takes away the Rex wings.. Yoshis can't fly! ☝️

Aaaanywho, thank you as always for the ask and interest! :}} This distraction came at a very good time 🥹💔

[i-guess-im-into-this-now]

The Apothecary Diaries

S1E19 First Watch

Here's where I watch The Apothecary Diaries for the first time and give my thoughts, analysis, predictions, and occasionally I stumble into a joke.

To start at the beginning:

Episode 1

My character/locations cheat sheet

Suiren - Jinshi's attendant

Lakan - strategist. Maomao's biological father.

Lihaku - the military officer who took Maomao out of the Rear Palace

Jinshi is thinking about the conversation he had with Maomao about meeting Lakan. He looks so concerned; he can't stop thinking about that look in her eyes. Things are in such an uncertain place between the two of them. The gulf has widened, and threatens to widen further.

Jinshi is hiding so many things from Maomao, he likely thinks he's protecting her, but what he must do to keep those secrets threatens to drive the two further apart. Sharing his secrets would also drive them apart. And the current situation is not tenable. Disaster looms for Jinshi and he knows it.

Gaoshun tries to redirect Jinshi's focus to a ceremony that he's required to perform later that afternoon. Maomao figured out Jinshi has been doing something ceremonial during her time here, a purification ceremony, I think she said.

Lihaku has learned to turn to Maomao to solve mysteries.

Lihaku: We've got a problem on our hands.

Do we? It's funny that he thinks she has any responsibility in this. I mean she will certainly step up to solve this, but she in no way is obligated to.

Something about the Maomao-Lihaku dynamic is really entertaining to me. Maybe it's because their interactions are so transactional. They are each a little disgusted by the other, even if they sort of respect one another. But they can really only connect on their desire to solve a mystery, which Lihaku presents now.

Various seemingly unrelated misfortunes have befallen the palace in the last year. Everything could have been leading up to the theft of some ceremonial items, and the only clue is the presence of a tall court lady (or man).

Maomao: When many coincidences manifest one on top of the other intent emerges in the overlap.

I happen to remember the presence of a suspicious man who was around at the death of Sir Kounen and the poisoning of the court official who oversaw the warehouses. So perhaps we will get some answers about who this man is soon.

I also can't forget that Lakan investigated the warehouse fire and found that ivory pipe that started the explosion. He also was the one who got Gaoshun to look into the poisoning case of the palace official who ate toxic seaweed. Given how astute he is, Lakan is either involved, or has this mystery figured out and is letting things play out for some motive that I can't determine. Also, it seems that Lakan would like Maomao to solve this case. But why? What does he gain from that? Having her involved puts her in danger. Is that what he wants?

Because Maomao is stepping into a real conspiracy now. It's about as dangerous position as she has ever been in this show.

Jinshi shows up. LOL. He's scary when he's jealous, and Lihaku has no trouble reading the situation, so he books it out of there. Maomao on the other hand doesn't bother to try to read into Jinshi's behavior and proceeds as normal.

And it occurs to me now that the storytellers are being a bit meta.

Maomao: When many coincidences manifest one on top of the other intent emerges in the overlap.

Because they gave us this quote from Maomao right after they just got done telling us Jinshi is about to perform a ceremony, and that someone has stolen some ceremonial items. A coincidence? Not likely. The larger conspiracy that Maomao is trying to solve right now, was all for the purpose of getting to those ceremonial items. That's a whole lot of work to do if you aren't setting up something big. Something like trying to murder a prince maybe? And I may be back on my bullshit again, but I don't think so. I don't know who or why or how, but I can feel it in my story-loving soul, someone's aiming for our beloved male lead!

Actually there are any number of people who could be after Jinshi. He's in a terribly vulnerable position. By birth he is in the line of succession to the throne, but due to some deception he was removed. Anyone who discovered his identity and wants him out of the way could be behind this. He's got all of the vulnerabilities of being a prince, but not all of the protections. Or this could have to do with his duties as the palace manager. He presides over cases and hands out judgements, perhaps someone feels he did so unjustly and wants revenge? Or it could be anything, this is a fricking palace intrigue story, after all!

Lakan is an obvious suspect, but I don't think it's him. He maneuvered Maomao to get involved in this. Why would he do that if he were behind it all? It's more likely that he wants her to unravel it. Why not just expose this conspiracy himself? Is he actually trying to help Jinshi? This is such a twisted up tale.

Jinshi: What was the nature of your rendezvous with that office?

That Jinshi sees Lihaku as a romantic rival will never not be funny to me. There is just nothing at all between the two.

Maomao offers to tell Jinshi about what she discussed with Lihaku. I'm so glad she offered! Last time she solved a mystery she didn't share it with Jinshi, and they've been in such a weird place, I really wasn't sure she would want to do this. Is she taking pity on Jinshi because he's acting jealous, or does she want his thoughts on this mystery?

Actually, I think Maomao does her best mystery solving when she works with Jinshi. He is encouraging and supportive, and she thrives with that. Perhaps, this mystery has her really stumped or worried, and so she's relieved to bring it up with Jinshi. And it feels so good to watch these two working through this together! It's like watching a simpler time from and earlier episode.

After presenting the facts to Jinshi, Maomao quiets. Jinshi thinks it's odd that she isn't eager to solve this case. I do too.

Jinshi: You're not excited by this?

Maomao lets out a frustrated sigh, like he's not picking up on something, and gives the following explanation, though it sounds like a begrudging recitation, rather than honest:

Maomao: I am but a humble servant, I fear. I exist only to do as I'm told.

Jinshi gives an almost exasperated response.

And then Jinshi seems to have an "a-ha" moment right after that, and offers her an incentive for taking the case... I'm thinking Maomao is angling to get something she wants out of this. Perhaps Maomao took Suiren's words to heart last episode.

Suiren: You may appear apathetic, but you're keen. You know where you stand, and how to play the game. Suiren: If you view everything in terms of status, then you'll miss opportunities.

It seems Maomao is eager to solve this case, but she's not going to do it for nothing this time. It's an opportunity for her to gain something she wants.

And Jinshi is almost giddy to make an offer to Maomao. He knows she's going to love what he has in mind. Maomao is comically over the top when it comes to her enthusiasm for medicinal ingredients, and she freaks Jinshi out when she climbs up on his desk and laughs maniacally in his face. Gaoshun has to pull her off. Jinshi and Maomao are so delighted with themselves and each other, it's a beautiful moment of harmony, which Gaoshun isn't sure is better than having them at odds.

Serendipity (coincidence or something more?) has landed Maomao in the records archive with exactly the person who can help her solve her mystery. Because this particular court official knows all about the Board of Rites that oversees ceremonies, he used to work on that board. Yet another one of the "coincidences" that Maomao is looking into has a connection to ceremonies. Seriously, that's a lot of foreshadowing, something bad is about to go down at this ceremony, huh?

It seems that someone went to an awful lot of trouble to take out two officials who oversee the ceremonies and stole some of the ceremonial equipment. Plus this official in the archives was demoted when he raised questions about the safety of these ceremonies. "An accident waiting to happen," is how the official described it. What a convenient way to take out an important person and make it seem like a coincidence. Maomao remembers yet another coincidence that involves the three brothers who work at the metalsmith that creates ceremonial items. This has to do with that ceremonial tool that had me worried from a couple episodes back no doubt. The one Lakan made sure to bring up to Jinshi. I don't have the details figured out, but Maomao does, and she's starting to worry now.

No, she's not worried, she's terrified. Someone has had a plan in the works for over a year, to assassinate a high ranking noble Jinshi (she, like me, already knows it's him, even if she won't admit it). And Maomao only just figured it out. She's not sure if she will be able to get there in time to stop it, but damn it she's trying! Girl is about to bust open a huge conspiracy!

Run Maomao! Run! Go save your prince!

Ah shit. Her status means she can't enter. But! Jinshi is in danger, right now! She can't back down.

Maomao: I'm just a servant with no authority to speak of. But if something happens it'll be too late for anything but regret!

Oh brave Maomao! This guard is threating her with his giant cudgel but she's not giving up. And what an image! Little Maomao on the steps standing up to the big armed guard who looms threatening above!

She accuses him of being in league with the saboteur. And that does it. He bashes her in the face! Oh shit! That guard comes down the stairs and I'm pretty sure he's trying to kill her. The other guards think so too, because someone is able to stop him. Maomao meant to provoke him, as a means of creating a commotion, but it's not enough to disrupt the ceremony. And Maomao is pretty messed up from that blow to the head.

Maomao is pushing through by sheer force of will, unconsciousness threatening to take over. She ignores the pain, and the danger, and stands back up because she needs to save someone's life.

Maomao is a goddamn hero, y'all. This persistence in the face of overwhelming odds, in pursuit of a noble purpose; it makes for great characters. And in a love story it's romantic as fuck.

But no matter what she says or does, it's not enough. She doesn't have the status to disrupt this ceremony.

But Lakan does.

Friends. I can't breath. This is peak drama.

Lakan is pretty intense for a moment with the guard, when he says:

Lakan: You have hurt her.

Maomao doesn't turn around, claims she doesn't want to see who it is. But she knows it's Lakan. And she knows his presence here is not a coincidence, as nothing in this episode has been. But there isn't time for that, she needs to move quickly. She is permitted past the guards, but how to stop the ceremony without being executed for it later?

There isn't time to think it through, she sees the disaster is moments from happening and she simply runs and tackles the officiant of the ceremony out of the way, as the giant apparatus comes crashing down.

I am so here for this moment.

Maomao realizes that she made it in time. Realizes her leg is injured. But she is addled from the blow to the head, because as soon as she sees Jinshi she asks for the ox bezoar that he offered. Girl, this guy is going to give you his whole life.

And of course it's Jinshi. It had to be! Maomao looks a wreck, with her face swollen, her nose bleeding, and her leg broken. But she's alive, and because of her brilliant mind, and bravery, so is Jinshi.

Jinshi is in shock. Trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened. Perhaps only moments from losing his shit, once he knows which direction to lose it in. He sees the state Maomao is in and he's on the verge of tears. So am I.

Maomao: I don't understand. Why is Master Jinshi here?

I'll allow her this confusion right now because she just got smashed upside the head, but later when she's recovered, she's not allowed to deny who and what Jinshi is any more. It's too fucking much at this point.

Maomao is disoriented, but she's done what she came here to do, and now she can let herself fall unconscious. After all Jinshi is here, he looks awfully sad, but he's capable and kind, he'll take care of her.

Jinshi is so distraught to have her fall unconscious in his arms. He does call her "Maomao," this time, as he begs her to stay with him. That lost little "please" at the end is going to stick with me for a long while.

Every person in this room, is useless in a crisis. There are at least a dozen people standing around doing nothing.

Jinshi leaves with Maomao in his arms. He doesn't acknowledge anyone, including Lakan, who looks rather shocked. Shocked because Maomao got hurt, when he didn't intend it, or shocked because Jinshi responded differently than Lakan expected? Or did he think she died? In any case, one of Lakan's well planned strategies didn't work out how he intended. I don't know if Jinshi is even able to spare a thought as to why Lakan might be here, or what his role in this whole event might have been. To me it seems, Lakan knew what was going on, but that he wasn't behind it. Perhaps his interest in bothering Jinshi was to try to help him? I don't know. I'm sure we will find out more about Lakan's role soon enough.

There are a lot of people that saw Maomao force her way into the building and save Jinshi's life. And a lot of those same people saw Jinshi walk out with her in his arms. And everyone of them showed Jinshi deference as he left. Too bad that Maomao missed it. Will it matter that people saw this, does it mean anything in this setting?

Is there symbolism happening right now? Probably! I also wish I knew what the lyrics to this song were.

Maomao is bleeding and broken, unconscious, but without her actions, it would be Jinshi who is hurt, or more probably dead. A trail of Maomao's blood trails behind as Jinshi leaves with her in his arms.

Jinshi has to be thinking about how Maomao ended up being there just in time to save him. If it truly were just an accident, then there would have been no way for her to know about it, which means the crashing apparatus was planned. That someone tried to kill him. Jinshi has to know that there are people who would like him dead, perhaps people have even tried to come at him before. And for much of this show we have seen Jinshi try to keep Maomao away from the more dangerous parts of his life. Today, what he feared has happened. Maomao was injured, because she got tangled up in the danger that is Jinshi's life. But if she hadn't he would have died.

So what will Jinshi do? Will he push Maomao away to keep her safe, so she doesn't get hurt again like she did today? Or will he let her in now? Tell her his secrets and keep her close? How can he best protect Maomao, by pushing her away or pulling her close?

And what will Maomao do when she wakes? She can't deny who Jinshi is any longer.

Also, will whomever is behind this be discovered? Will they try again?

To start at the beginning: Episode 1

Next episode: Episode 20

[gentrychild]

5 headcanons game: DFO AU where Izuku is a Yakuza boss and anonymously makes deals with AFO

Aaaaaaaaaaand we get another AU where Inko is Pops' adopted daughter.

1.A - So, before Pop's bio daughter left, Chisaki was itching to get more power in the organization. He had plans. He had ideas. But Pops, who has been around long enough, laughs in his face when he starts saying he has plans to destroy the top 5 villains in order to ressurect the yakuza. So the plan was to put Pops in a coma, proves that Chisaki was right, then wakes Pops up so he could see it.

1.B - Chisaki gets his quirk stolen exactly two days later.

1.C - This is pandemonium for the yakuza. Their leader is in a coma. Their leader-in-second is quirkless and having a mental breakdown. Every two-bits villain us hunting them down for sport now that they are weakened. Even the boss' daughter just left! And left her daughter behind, claiming that little Eri had killed her dad even though everyone in the neighborhood knows that Eri's dad has been trying to leave the mafia princess for years but was too scared of what the yakuza would do to him if he did.

2.A - Desperate, they go towards the one who left the nest and never look back. Inko is NOT happy to see twenty yakuza invading her tiny apartment. Her husband knows nothing about her past life! (She conveniently forgets the massive tattoos hidden under her cardigans every time she claims that.) She is just a normal housewife! (Please, pay no mind to the metal needles hidden all over the house.) They must leave now before her son comes back from school! (Izuku has been here for the past ten minutes but can't get home because a bunch of yakuza are blocking the way.)

2.B - "HELP US!" the yakuza cry. "NO!" Inko screams back. "Why don't you do [many illegal stuff a middle student should not know]? Hypothetically speaking.

2.C - Long story short, Izuku started helping the yakuza because he is good at it. "I am leading them away from a criminal life!" he claims. "And yes, sometimes, they break people's legs but only when the others started it!"

3 - You have to understand that Izuku's school life is not great, his mom is worried about him because of the whole quirkless thing and he runs away from his problems by 100% investing himself in the yakuza thing. They have an important job in the ecosystem! They might be assholes but they give stability to areas where heroes don't patrol! It has two, in my opinion, consequences: A. Chisaki is working for Izuku and hating every second of it. B. Izuku keeps getting money by blocking some of AFO's activities.

4 - AFO is losing his mind. He knows that the yakuza have a new boss who is devilishly good at their job but he can't find who? He fought this was Pops but the guy is in a coma?(He checked.) Then, he thought becoming quirkless had made Chisaki smarter? (It didn't.) Every time he is close from finding the thorn in his side, they disappear! It's even worse than tracking an OFA holder!

5 - This is an AU where Chisaki slightly gets his head out of his ass. When he sees Eri and realizes the other morons are the only thing between the toddler and a certain death, he more or less adopts her. He doesn't even like the idea of being a dad but someone made a comment about him not being good at it (Izuku, it was Izuku), so now, he must prove them wrong.

+ 1 - AFO almost manage to grab the secret yakuza boss but not only does the little shot bites him before he escapes but he somehow manages to steal a quirk from him.

+ 2 - Izuku now has Overhaul. Chisaki is furious.

+ 3 - Izuku is terrible at using Overhaul. (Great at destroying stuff, not even passably good at putting them back together.) Chisaki must teach him how to use the quirk. He is even more furious.

+ 4 - A blond skeleton passes out in the neighborhood and wakes up in a house full of yakuza. He is promptly adopted, even by the little one? Which he then learns is their boss? He kinda wants to explain this is a misunderstanding but he is invited to the Sunday cook-outs and he can hang out with them and it's kinda nice?

[inklessletter]

All I can say is it was enchanting (to meet you)

Read it on AO3

Eddie was exhausted from spending years touring, stage after stage, studio after studio. He wasn’t planning on abandoning his career just yet, but after eight years on the road, he needed to rest for a while. So, a couple of months ago, he moved into that tiny, residential neighborhood, with white picket fence houses, wide green lawns, families, and golden retrievers. That’s why he bought this three storey house that needed some hours and dollars to fix it up, and a backyard that used to be a beautiful garden at some point.

He wanted to fix it himself. He wanted to plant flowers, paint the walls, and turn off the goddamn phone for weeks.

Eddie was thinking about maybe getting a dog or something. Or a turtle.

Or his neighbor from the house across the street.

Eddie would be a dirty liar if he said that the first time he saw him playing with his twins in his front yard, he didn’t forget about his own name for a moment.

Two four year old girls, one of them with hair and soul made of fire, and the other one quieter, with a big, gentle smile and a head full of auburn curls. 

Two lovely tiny munchkins having a tea party with his father, sitting at the cutest teeny-tiniest Frozen themed plastic set of table and chairs Eddie had ever seen. The dad was pouring imaginary tea into their plastic cups, the curly haired one graciously gesturing with her hands while she sing-sang how much fun she was having and how delicious the tea was. 

He saw the red-haired girl pulling an annoyed face, rolling her eyes, and telling them she wanted to go skating already, that this was dumb (and Eddie loved her instantly), also gesturing. 

It was only when the dad gestured back to the red haired girl, and she huffed when Eddie realized that they were talking in sign language.

When the dad spotted Eddie, standing in his front yard, fully staring, Eddie’s face became so red so fast, that even from many feet away, he was sure that the whole family could notice. 

The dad smiled and waved. 

The kids turned to look at him. The curly haired one stood and made a deep bow, that Eddie returned.

The red haired one flipped him the bird, with a wicked smile.

Eddie faked being hurt by that and threw himself back in his garden, behind a bush.

Even from there he could hear the honest, high pitched, uncontrollable laughter of the kid.

They didn’t really interact much directly after that.

They spotted each other and waved every time, sharing smiles. Eddie didn’t want to get his hopes high because there was an ash blonde girl that was constantly coming in and out of the house, but he soon relaxed when he heard the kids (El and Max, short from Elena and Maxine, he got to learn eventually) referring to her as aunt Robin.

Robin also saluted him every time they crossed paths, and then turned quickly to the neighbor (Steve was the name) to gesture something. Always the same signs. Steve always granted her with an eyeroll and a blush.

And Eddie always hid a smile.

The smiles, the furtive looks, the rush of blood to the head anytime they run into each other became the greatest part of Eddie’s days. And even though Eddie had his fair share of action back on the road, and he was anything but timid, there was a shyness, borderline cowardice when it came to be bold enough to engage with Steve.

And then one day, it was clear that Steve was the boldest of the pair. He approached him, notepad in hand when he was fixing the garden.

“need any help?” Steve scribbled.

Eddie gifted him his brightest smile, and made space for Steve, who kneeled next to him, and started fixing the daisies. 

After an hour of stolen smiles and a thousand untold stories after every mole of Steve’s skin that Eddie needed to put in his next song, Eddie saw El and Max standing in the pavement, looking curiously at them. He patted Steve, who turned and gestured to them to get closer. The kids approached to say hi and kiss his dad, and it was Steve’s cue to leave to make dinner.

Eddie gave them both a daisy. El’s eyes were brighter than the sun. Max’ cheeks were brighter than her hair.

And Steve’s look was the fondest, earnest, sweetest Eddie had ever seen.

And after the daisies, the kids invited him to their birthday party the following Saturday.

Eddie got Max a tiny skateboard, and a plushie snowman for El.

He finally met Robin, who was the funniest woman he’d ever met, mainly because she wasn’t trying to be funny at all. Her witty comebacks, and the way he had teasing the kids, who absolutely adored her, was quite a show to see.

And Eddie didn’t know them enough to be engaging too much. Without being asked, Eddie helped Steve as much as he could, entertaining kids when needed, taking away wrapping paper scraps, or even keeping the kitchen free of sugar rushed mini humans. 

So much to do, yet both of them spent all afternoon stealing glances and smiles from each other. At some point, he saw Robin signing fast to Steve, hidden in the kitchen, and poor guy, his cheeks were flushing red.

After the cake, kids started to go, until only Robin and him were at Steve’s. Eddie wanted to help with the cleaning, but Max and El took him to a thousand family pictures infested living room to play with him. El was gentle and quiet, Max was more demanding. They were trying to teach Eddie some words in sign language, and he gave them his full attention, until eventually El fell asleep on the couch, and Max on Eddie’s lap.

Steve entered the room, and gestured Eddie to take Max upstairs, while he held El, who instantly wrapped her arms around his dad’s neck.

They left the kids on their beds (that bedroom needed some tidying up, Eddie had never seen so many toys).

When they went down to the kitchen, Robin had already left. Steve scribbled on the notepad on the counter.

“stay for dinner? leftovers it is”

Eddie huffed a laugh and nodded. They ended up eating sandwiches (and chocolate cake with a picture on top of a half eaten Elsa face) in the kitchen.

Eddie took the pen.

“ELSA’S LEFT EYE IS DELICIOUS”

Steve almost spat what was eating.

“shit i just got her braid”

“MAX IS GONNA BE SO MAD AT YOU”

“max is always mad at me”

“MAD MAX” he scribbled, and proceeded to draw a poorly braided kid skateboarding with spikes in her helmet.

At first it was accidental, but then their hands started touching, lingering, when they were passing the pen. Steve dared to give a soft, brief caress with the back of his finger.

When they intertwined their hands, pen and notepad forgotten, Eddie lifted his gaze and locked it with Steve, and all the air was sucked out of the room.

Steve cupped Eddie’s cheek, softly, a question in his pupils and his half open mouth, that Eddie wordlessly replied with a soft nod and a hand on his waist. Steve kissed him and it was the sweetest thing Eddie had ever experienced.

After that first kiss came another. And another. And another one. It was only when Eddie was between Steve’s lips and the kitchen door that Steve seemed to think twice about what was happening there. He broke the kiss with a troubled expression. He closed his eyes, sighing, and pointed at the draw of Max. 

Eddie needed no notepad, no signs, no words to understand that it was time to leave. He smiled at Steve, cupping his cheek with both hands, and resting his forehead against Steve’s.

“We can figure this out,” Eddie whispered. Steve, who was looking at Eddie’s lips while he spoke, looked at Eddie’s eyes, and smiled. Nodding.

Steve walked Eddie to the door.

He was about to leave, when he turned to Steve, and slowly, he signed “thank you, daddy.”

Steve opened his eyes, holding back a smile. Grabbed quickly the notepad, and wrote really fast.

“you must’ve picked up the ‘daddy’ sign because that’s how my kids call me. I’ll show you Steve.”

Steve left the notepad aside and started gesturing, but froze when he saw Eddie gesturing fluently at him.

“I know how to say Steve. Look, I am a musician. Heavy metal and rock. I’ve been on the road for years. I took a break because I’m losing my hearing, too. I learnt sign language a couple of years ago.”

Steve gestured back almost furiously.

“Why didn’t you say anything before? Wait, so you know what Robin and I were talking about all the time?”

Eddie laughed. “I’m glad you think I’m cute.”

They were both blushing, and biting shy smiles.

“I’m gonna go.”

“Bye, rock star.”

“Bye, daddy.”

[castielific]

20 questions for fic writers

How many works do you have on A03? 25

What's your total word count? 454 434 words

What fandoms do you write for? Supernatural. My first english fics were about Teen Wolf. Before that, I wrote in french about House MD and Stargate Sg1.

Top 5 fics by kudos:

Baby One More Time (sterek): 4 142 kudos

Carry You Home (sterek): 2 157 kudos

Fancy and the Tramp (destiel): 1 147 kudos

But she's the Devil in Disguise (sterek): 1 030 kudos

Grace my Soul (destiel): 891 kudos

Do you respond to comments?

Not all of them. Mostly because sometimes I'm not sure how to respond and feel ridiculous saying the same thing again and again. I appreciate them all though. They all make me so happy and I'm grateful to those who takes the time to leave one. They always make my day.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Like Clipped Petunias (destiel). This is my darkest fic. I've had people telling me they had PTSD from it. The end is really angsty and horrifying. It was not supposed to end this way, but this is where the story took me. In the end, I think it fits.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Grace my Soul (destiel) comes to mind. Baby Jimmy is such a delight and the last chapter of that fic is my favorite one.

Do you get hate on fics?

I don't remember ever getting any. I did have a few problems with people stealing my stories or posting them elsewhere. In the past, I also had a few stalkers/stans sending messages that creeped me out (especially for my french fics).

Do you write smut?

Yes! I didn't used to for Teen Wolf, but I've realized that fic with a higher rating tends to get more views (which I get because I rarely read pg13 or under myself), so I started writing it. I both love and hate writing those parts. It always feels kind of awkward to share those imageries, I'm never sure what words to use or how far I should go.

Craziest crossover?

I have a WIP that was a Psych/Teen Wolf crossover.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes. More than once. I've had a few cases of people putting their own name on my stories, but mostly people repost it without my consent on other websites such as wattpad. Ao3 is the only place I post, so if you see one of my story elsewhere, it's been stolen. Please warn me if you do.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! It's such an amazing thing to think about! I have had translations in spanish, russian and chinese.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Once or twice. To be honest, I think I'm too OCD for it to work, I want it exactly as I want it lol. Help from betareaders is precious though, sometimes they write a couple paragraphs for me, or help me reformulate some things better, or just brainstorm the stoyline with me and give me brillant ideas. Fics are always better with some help.

All-time favorite ship? Destiel forever bb

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Frozen Inside (sterek) is the only WIP I've ever posted. I feel terribly guilty about it because it's been more than half a decade now and people are still asking me for a sequel. Sometimes I read it over and try, but it's just...done. Thankfully, the last chapter could be taken as a end. Kind of. God, I feel awful and I'm so sorry.

I also have tons of unpublished wip that are nearly over. I wish I'll be able to end them, because there are some stories I really really like.

What are your writing strengths?

Hyperfocus. My best stories come out that way. I'll write fifty thousand words in two days or not at all. Sadly, I can't control it. Inspiration also tend to come at the exact moment I can't possibly write, which is sooo frustrating.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Description and world building. I tend to focus too much on the action and dialogues, but forget to tell about where they are and when. I let readers fill the blank way too often, which is something I really need to work on. I've been trying to rewrite some of my fics into original stories and that made it very obvious to me.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

It depends. Sometimes the translation is in the end note and it can put me out of the story, especially if it's an important part of the dialogue. If it's just a few words or if it's done in a way you understand it anyway, it can be beautiful!

First fandom you ever wrote in? Stargate SG1.

Favorite fic you've written?

The Guy Next Door (destiel), I think. I laughed, I cried, I squealed, I facepalmed. I must have looked like a maniac writing that story. Castiel was very fun to write for that one. Dean...I wanted to slap Dean so many times while I wrote. I had no control over him, I swear, he kept on being an idiot and made me scream at my screen.

I was surprised earlier, that this fic is not in the top five stories because it's one of my personal favorite.

This exercise was very fun to do. I won't tag anyone, if you feel like doing it, just do it, I'm curious to read about all of you!

[avrilsky]

Robin and Steve getting an apartment together (cause those motherfuckers are codependent and are also platonic soulmates). It's one of the few places they can be themselves. A tiny two bedroom apartment with clashing decorations and mismatched furniture, a little kitchen with one too many coffee mugs and too few spoons, a fridge filled with more bottles of beer than actual food but they love it all the save because it's Theirs.

The kids are there more often than not, filling the small space with laughter and the sound of dice rolling along a wooden table. Their couch is a bed most nights for one kid or another trying to escape their parents or the thoughts in their head. 

Max stays over the most, usually on nights her mom is so drunk she barely remembers her own name, let alone Max's. Some nights it's just because Max had fallen asleep during movie night and neither Robin nor Steve had the heart to wake her, they'd just tuck her in with a blanket from the back of the couch and leave the light on in the kitchen for her. Robin cooks her breakfast in the morning and Steve makes sure she makes it to school on time. They barely see themselves as functioning adults, they have no idea how to take care of a teenager, but they try their best, try to give the care they wished their parents had shown them to Max, to all the kids really. And they aren't really sure they're doing a good job but it's more than enough for Max.

Nancy claims the lone armchair and the coffee mug stolen from the diner in town as her own. She keeps a yellow legal pad and her favorite pen under the coffee table for when she's over and working on a story for the newspaper (Robin doesn't allow any of the kids to use it for d&d). Nancy makes sure Robin and Steve eat more than pizza and frozen TV dinners. She buys them fresh fruit and veggies, and teaches Steve how to put together a simple salad. Even before she and Robin officially start dating whenever Nancy stays over, she and Robin share Robin's bed, always starting off on opposite sides of the bed only to be wrapped up together by morning, blushing bright red as they separate themselves. They share their first kiss in the tiny kitchen, the taste of beer and popcorn on their lips, Nancy gripping the collar of Robin's denim jacket and pulling her in. 

Will finds them like that, smiling into a kiss that's more teeth than anything else. In her shock, Robin shoves away from the counter, away from Nancy, slamming her back into the fridge with a mumbled fuck. They expect to find him staring at them with disgust, with barely concealed hatred but instead he looks relieved, like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He steps forward looking taller than Nancy ever remembered him being, looks at both of them and smiles. "I thought I was the only one who was different." Nancy pulls him into a hug and Robin grins at her over his shoulder.

Eddie usually lounges on the floor in front of the tv with Dustin during movie nights. He leaves one of his old guitars there and plays everyone a song or two when they are just sitting around drinking beers. When he spends the night, he sleeps in Steve's bed while Steve camps out on his bedroom floor, silently cursing himself for not working up the courage to slide into bed next to Eddie, for not taking his hand when their fingers brushed as Steve handed over a pair of sleep shorts. 

Steve and Robin take care of one another when one of them is having a bad day. A warm blanket straight from the dryer draped over slouched shoulders, whatever movie is their comfort flick at the time popped into the vcr. Robin makes Steve a pot of homemade chicken noodle soup, the only thing her mom taught her to make and it somehow becomes Steve's comfort meal. Steve makes Robin a slightly burnt grilled cheese, poking Robin in the ribs when she teases him about it being burnt even though she secretly liked those little burnt bits. They spend the day like that, watching movies or talking their feelings out.

More than once Nancy let herself into the apartment with the key Steve had given her to find her girlfriend and her ex cuddled together on the couch, sleeping peacefully, Steve tucked under Robin's arm. And it used to make her jealous back when she still thought Robin and Steve were together, back when she wanted nothing more than to be the one Robin held like that. Now though the sight made her heart soar as she smiled softly down at them, happy they had each other. 

Just the potential of Steve and Robin sharing an apartment together.

[matt0044]

Disney's Wish: A Simple Meal Well Made.

As somebody who enjoys all sorts of animation that hits that sweet spot for me, I agree with the general consensus of fellow cartoon fans that animation is NOT just for kids nor should it only enjoyable to kids.

I also agree that while some are made with kids in mind, that doesn't mean that they are bereft of thought put into them. Avatar might be overdone as the go-to example but that it is does speak to its quality and all those it had inspired.

Even so, even wacky comedies like Billy & Mandy have a lot of thought put into them in terms of what the creators think will bust a gut. They don't just settle for wacky comedies because it's what the kids want but more what they wanna show. Even if some are strongarmed into being more comical, most will at least roll up their sleeves and have bit of fun.

However, I feel like this need to highlight animation's appeal across generations can often have a lot of fans put pressure on certain projects from certain studios of significant recognition. That is to say, there's little room to be just "mid" as the kids call it.

Like... we all know the Oscars are bull, right? Like many even admit as much. However, this dismissal of animation each year gets to use largely because there are those who by their hype. We feel our medium has a lot to prove so each movie has to be go big or go home.

Especially after big name companies put out projects that go GIANT between Spider-Verse and The Last Wish.

Of course, as it pertains to Wish, many would consider Disney not going big was unbefitting of their centenary film. I'm not here to advocate for expecting less or that one can't feel more meat could've been added to what they feel is a bit bare bones. I mean, 100 years of movie making is nothing to sneeze at.

But baring that and all else I've discussed above, it can be REALLY easy to fall into the pit trap of seeing Wish far less for what it is and a lot more for what it isn't.

For me?

I found the pacing fairly brisk from start to finish with the songs rarely ever feeling like non sequiturs. Rarely did any moment truly drag out with or was there just because of marketing or comic relief.

I love how we had less of a mystery around King Magnifico being a very selfish behind the scene from Act 1 and only getting worse when he perceives a threat to his power. It very much reads like a fantastical take on Walt Disney's rise in power and shadiness behind the charming facade.

While the heroine was archetypical, I found Asha's story and her friends getting swept up in facing the king more true to life than you think. Especially when viewed through the lens of being analogous to Disney:

King Magnifico as this benevolent ruler who harbors many wishes he promised he might grant. Many of which either come down to how they may not serve him or even threaten him like Saba's. That is, anything new or off-beat that could undermine what he's accomplished or feels entitled to.

Asha being this castle worker who tries to get the position of working with the big man himself and does... only to learn his shady side. Much like how Disney fans find any position in the company to not be the dream job they thought it'd be before learning how deep the rabbit hole goes.

Asha finds another source of magic that grants wishes and unintentionally threatens Magnifico. Given the indie animation boom, it's hard to not see this as creators taking IPs into their own hands without the backing of big megacorps.

Magnifico delves into dark magic that depreive him more and more of whatever scruples he had left in order to quash this rebellion. I think we've seen too many examples of bigger companies trying to outdo the little guys via unethical means of increasing production for money.

The King utilizes the wishes to get more power. Gee, where have I heard the creation of others being stolen/locked away for personal greed? Know anything, Davey-boy?

Asha rounds up her friend to expose the truth. Many of them organize a way to stop this injustice while the King buy out one of their own to try and undermine them. Hmmmm. Anybody hear of any strikes that went on recently?

The climax involves the king's people collectively embracing their inner stars to stand up to the tyrant he's become. Again, strikes?

Hell, I can't help but feel like the Easter Eggs were as lowkey as they could if only so these elements could be highlighted. Surprising considering how nostalgia baiting has been en vogue lately.

But that's a grand chunk of my disorganized thoughts on a movie that I feel many will get worked up now but look back on with a touch more of appreciation. It's hardly the best movie ever and maybe a "Go Giant" ambitious film would have been a crowd pleaser.

But the movie is what it is. And I like it for what it is.

[jeonbunnie]

the entertainer ✧ 2

✧ reader x seokjin, ft. yoongi

✧ summary: In need of some real cash, you take a job as a dancer in your city's most notorious strip club. You’re making your own hours, raking in a good amount of money, and feeling sexy while you do it. Everything was fine as long as you kept your work life and your personal life separated.But when a handsome stranger shows up one night you find it difficult to maintain the balance.Jin is a gorgeous, rich, and–taken man. But one look from you on that stage has him spellbound. He knows he’s got no business coming back to the club, but there’s something about you that makes him want more than just a private dance. . .

✧ genre: strangers to lovers; angst; smut; fluff; 18+

✧ content/warnings: 18+, rich/ceo!jin, fuckboy!yoongi, stripper!reader, college!au, songfic, pov shifts, based on summer walker’s last days of summer album, loosely inspired by pretty woman, slow burn, smut, pining, mutual pining, love triangle, romantic suspense, cursing, dirty talk, explicit sex, oral sex, fingering, aftercare

✧ a/n: this is an old fic I wrote under my prev pseudo @jeonsweetheart that I put on hiatus as noted in this lovely banner by @kookdiaries. however recently I’ve found some love for my old pieces so I decided to try writing it again. If by some miracle your someone who’s read this story in the past lol I’ve edited some details to fit the narrative better but other than that, I’m continuing with the story as is! this isn’t beta’d and since I haven’t done a series in a while I’m actually pretty nervous reposting this so if u like it pls stop by my inbox or drop a comment I’d really appreciate it :)

✧ soundtrack: girls need love—summer walker

✧ word count: 9k

♪ So what’s a girl to do when she needs loving too... ♪

| <- prev | next -> | masterlist♡ | ao3

[2:06am] Yoongi: You up?

You squinted at your phone, reading the message in the dark as the blue light shined on your face. You liked Yoongi; you really did. But more and more, you noticed he’d formed a habit of messaging you late at night. Only at night.

He’d brush you off when you attempted to hang out with him outside of work in the daytime, then later hit you up when it was convenient for him. You were starting to hate him for that and yourself because you let him get away with it.

Well, not tonight, you told yourself. I’m not gonna play that game. You put your phone on DO NOT DISTURB, returned it to your nightstand, and buried yourself in your sheets. You lay in bed feeling empty inside; you liked Yoongi, but you didn’t like this. Feeling so desperate for him all the time it was stupid and embarrassing.

Is that what love is?

You didn’t know. You’d never been in love before. Not really. Sure, you had crushes, mild infatuations, and situationships galore, but nothing like this—not this dull ache in your chest. If what you felt for Yoongi was love, then as much as you hated to admit it, maybe it was unrequited, and Hyuna was right.

Love had to be better than going to bed alone, feeling so cold and numb even though you were covered by a blanket.

You hoped she was wrong.

You wanted to be more to him than a few stolen kisses in the night and a body to hold. But as much as you wanted him to take your relationship seriously—to take you seriously—you could never risk asking him for more. To ask would be to give him all the power, and Yoongi already had enough control over you.

It wasn’t always like this. There used to be a time when you had all Yoongi’s attention.

You were so nervous coming into the club the first time. Back then, you still weren’t fully comfortable with stripping. But you had just started school, and though you already had a job bussing tables, you were still so very broke, and those bills wouldn’t pay themselves.

So you sucked up all your inhibitions and made yourself audition. You don’t know how Yoongi saw you in that crowded room. There were so many girls, certainly some more eye-catching than you, but he managed to catch you in the corner having a minor panic attack.

“You need to breathe.”

“Huh? Sorry, did you say something?” You blinked, taking in the appearance of the handsome stranger before you. On any other day, his intense eyes would have made you swoon. But that day, you were too caught up in your thoughts, worried about the worst possible outcomes of your getting up on stage. It’d been a long time since you danced for anyone besides yourself, and somehow, you were convinced you would mess up. Trip over your heels or forget a part of your routine.

“I said, you need to breathe. You look like you’re holding your breath. Are you that nervous?”

Yes, yes, you were.

You smiled weakly at him, clutching the water bottle in your hands. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I don’t think I can do this.” Your eyes flitted towards the exit.

“You’re here now, so you might as well go through with the audition. Don’t stop halfway.”

God, you thought, were you that obvious?

“What if I fuck it up?”

“Then you fuck it up. But that’d still be better than not trying at all.”

You remember being shocked at his response. But the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. Yeah, so what if you fucked it up? You didn’t know these people. Worse scenario, you wouldn’t get in and leave a little embarrassed, but no one would know about your private failure except for this handsome stranger.

You must have taken too long to respond because shortly after his blunt advice, Yoongi apologized.

“Sorry. . . I’m not that good at pep talks.”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t know why, but that actually helped.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened. Just a bit. Just enough for you to know your response surprised him. “Uh, good. You’ll be fine.”

“Thanks,” you said. Then thoughtfully, you wondered out loud, “Why are you being so nice to me??”

You couldn’t believe some guy was talking you down from your anxiety attack in a strip club. What was his agenda? Did he expect something from you?

“Why not?”

You opened your mouth to question that logic when you heard your name called. Your stage name. It was your turn to audition next. You glanced up at the stage before you, the black velvet curtain in the background, soft pink and white lights setting the mood, guiding your eyes to the catwalk in the middle. And on that center stage, those same lights highlight the silver pole in the middle.

Just looking at it made you gulp. Even though you were no stranger to the spotlight, having been a dancer, this new venture was awfully intimidating.

Strange enough, you found yourself looking towards the kind stranger—for what? Words of encouragement?—but he offered you none. Just a lazy smile as he nodded towards the stage for you to dance.

Truly, you don’t remember how the audition went. You were too nervous, too full of adrenaline to recall if you did well and if your movements were graceful and sexy rather than stiff and awkward. What you remembered was the conversation that followed, what you could make out of the hushed voices huddled together to decide your fate.

You strained to hear them over the thump of your racing heartbeat.

The first man to speak still seemed to be in thought as he stated his opinion. “I’m undecided. She doesn’t really seem like the type. . . I can’t imagine her sticking around for long.” He turned to the other judges in the room, “What do you think?”

“I agree with Namjoon,” said a man so pretty you could have mistaken him for a girl. “Technically, she’s a great dancer, but she’s lacking major confidence.”

Finally, the woman spoke. “Well, I like her. I think she’s got a lot of potential. Everyone grows into it anyway; give her a chance.”

Even with that vote of confidence, the group leader still seemed unsure. He turned to look over his shoulder to the man in the audience you spoke to earlier, the one you gave your whole performance to as you swayed on stage under sultry lights. “What do you think, Yoongi?”

At last, you had a name to put to the face of the handsome stranger. His dark eyes held no hint or indication that he favored you, and if his body language was anything to go off of, you were sure it wouldn’t be a good thing based on the way he slouched in his seat, arms crossed over his chest.

But then he spoke, a slow grin pulling over his face that put all your nerves at ease.

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off her.”

That was how it started. At the time, Namjoon, Jimin, and Hyuna were strangers to you. You had no idea the club owner and their two most favored dancers were in the room with you deciding your fate. Yoongi gave them his vote of confidence and sealed your fate. You started work later that week.

After you were hired, you were always aware of his presence at the club. You could feel his gaze follow you on stage, at the bar, always that cool, calm smolder. And the attraction was mutual. You constantly watched him in the booth, amused by his natural gift for music. There are so many shows you put on just for him. It was a crush, simple as that. You wanted him, but you were much too shy to say it. Thankfully, Yoongi was brave enough for both of you, asking you out after your first week.

The date was a pleasant surprise. Despite Yoongi’s introverted nature, he actually took you to dinner and made conversation at first, none of that Netflix and chill bullshit. His calm, quiet demeanor was infinitely attractive to you, and you found yourself mooning over him the whole night.

You hadn’t planned on fucking him, honestly.

But it’d been a while since anyone had touched you like that. So when Yoongi’s gravelly voice whispered in your ear, asking you to tell him how you wanted it, how you needed it, as his fingers rubbed sweet circles on your clit, all you could do was whine and tell him how badly your body wanted him with a desperation that couldn’t wait. You needed him right then and there.

The next morning, you woke up and swore it wouldn’t happen again.

But, of course, it did.

Again, and again, and again.

So here you were, stuck inside a situationship you didn’t want but one you always succumbed to. And tonight seemed no different.

Closing your eyes, you will yourself to go back to sleep, and you do for a little while. Until a pounding sound woke you up. You barely registered it as a knock the first time, but after two or three times, you dragged yourself out of bed and to your front door.

You had half a mind to reach for the bat you keep in the hall closet, just in case. It was an ungodly hour, and you lived alone (times like these made you regret not getting a roommate). You checked the peephole first, then sighed. Irritation rose in your blood.

You unlocked the door and snatched it open. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t act so surprised. You were giving me puppy dog eyes all night. You really think I wouldn’t show up?”

You can’t tell if the anger surfacing is from your lack of sleep, the scare, or the fact that Yoongi is standing on your doorstep. It’s probably a combination of all three. “It’s two in the morning,” you said pointedly.

Yoongi isn’t phased by your grumbly voice or sharp tone. He shrugs and moves to step inside, but you block his path.

“Absolutely not. I’m going back to bed.”

“You’re mad.”

He didn’t say it like a question, but you could tell by the lilt in his voice he seemed surprised.

You scowled into the dark. “You can’t do this, Yoongi. Pick and choose when to show up.” Pick and choose when he could be in your life, when you mattered to him.

You motioned to close the door, but Yoongi stopped you, sticking his hand in the frame. And then he did something that made you pause. He reached for you, placed his hands on your waist, and pulled you close.

Shit.

Yoongi pulled you in like the tide. It was always eb and flow with him. When he did things like that. . . You couldn’t help but give in. You were weak for this, for his touch, for the moments when he wanted you. So when Yoongi swept in close, body heat coming off him in waves as his hand reached up to cup the back of your neck, you leaned into the embrace.

“I know I’m late,” he said, kissing the corner of your mouth. He nuzzled into your neck, sneaking kisses on your collarbones.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“Yoongi. . .” You started, coming to your senses for just a minute. But before you could protest, he interrupted you with a kiss. Any resolve you might have had left your body once his lips found yours. It was so easy to lose yourself in Yoongi. His kisses were fire, all-consuming, wild. You could never get enough. Yoongi licked into your mouth, and you moaned, stumbling back into your apartment.

And just like that, you crumbled.

You let him lead you to the bedroom, shrugging off his clothes, his mouth never leaving yours. You felt your knees hit the back of something soft and sat down on your bed while Yoongi kissed you stupid. You let him touch and, tease and pull you apart. Till the pleasure overtakes the pain in your chest. And it’s good, so good. Good enough to make you forget why you were even upset in the first place.

He inches you forward with kisses and bites—marks you know will leave a hickey—till your back hits the headboard, momentarily breaking you from his spell.

“Wait,” you said, eyelids fluttering open.

But Yoongi’s hands are already sliding up your nightgown, leaving wet kisses down your thighs.

And then there was the solid feel of his hands spreading your legs apart, lips dangerously close to where you needed him most.

He hooked a finger under the waistband of your lace underwear, pulling the material off.

“You were saying?” said Yoongi, and you shivered as his breath fanned over you.

Honestly, you couldn’t remember. You lost every coherent thought your brain was trying to form. All you could think about was his touch, his thumb on your clit, the feel of him stroking you gently. You were so, so wet.

And he knew it. You could feel Yoongi smile against you as he rested his cheek on your thigh, long slender fingers working over you until all you could do was tilt your head back and sigh.

“I love playing with your pussy.” He whispered, voice just above a purr.

His words made you throb. “Yoongi,” you moaned, his name a desperate plea on your tongue.

“What?” He answered, voice smug, “What do you need?”

Too embarrassed to say the words out loud, to admit just how badly you need him, you reached down, sliding a hand into his hair, tugging at his locks to pull him right where you wanted him.

Yoongi chuckled. “So impatient.” But he didn’t move his head from between your thighs. Instead, he leaned forward, licking a stripe up your center before rolling his tongue around your clit.

You couldn’t help but lean into the action, hips tilting up to catch the sensation. But Yoongi was having none of that. He brought up a hand, pushing one palm against your belly to press you down into the mattress, while the other caressed your thigh.

“Behave,” he said, the dominance radiating through his voice. It’s the only warning you get before he nips at your clit, drawing out a sharp cry from you, the pain mixing with pleasure. Before you could even respond, Yoongi lapped at your folds, tongue making a mess out of you.

You let yourself get lost in the sensation as Yoongi buried his head between your thighs, devouring your whole. You’re too far gone to stop the whimper that spilled from your mouth. All you felt were stars as his tongue curled around your clit, languid licks driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Yoongi knew your body like it was his. He memorized every shiver and shudder, every move that turned you on. He could hear your heavy breath, feel the tremble in your thigh, and know exactly how to push you over the edge.

So he does it, sliding two fingers deep inside you to press against the spot that made your body taunt with pleasure. The pressure of his palm against your belly, his hot tongue flicking against you, his fingers curling deep—it’s overwhelming.

Chest heaving, you called out his name, a plea and a warning all at once. You were so, so close.

Cum for me,” Yoongi rasped, voice vibrating against you, and that’s all it takes for you to fall.

You climax, pleasure rushing all through your body, blanking your mind, curling your toes. Your hands fist in Yoongi’s hair, once again tugging at his locks. Only this time, Yoongi didn’t stop your pleasure but doubled it, replacing his fingers with his tongue to delve inside and taste every drop of your release, stopping only when your thighs shake, the sensation becomes too much.

When you finally came back down and caught your breath, Yoongi lifted his head and met your gaze with a smirk. “Did I make it up to you yet? Or should I apologize again?”

Though you’d been satisfied, Yoongi ‘apologized’ twice more for good measure before laying you on your side and pulling you against his chest. Cold as he appeared, Yoongi defied all fuckboy logic and was quite fond of aftercare and cuddles. Thirty minutes later, he still laid beside you in bed, naked body flush against your skin.

These were the moments you treasured the most. Pos-coital bliss, where you could pretend, if only for one second, that you were something more than strangers who sometimes shared beds.

But they also made you the most confused. Because, here in his arms, it felt like more than friends, more than sex. But did he think that, too?

So many nights you spent just like this, trying to convince yourself that this was good enough, that you were comfortable living in this in-between state. But that was then, and this is now, and it’s not enough.

And now you know it never was.

“Yoongi?” you said, turning in his arms so you’re face to face.

“What,” he grumbled back, voice thick with sleep. It’s a sound you’re all too familiar with, one you’ve let lull you into a stupor time and time again. He leaned down to kiss you, but you placed a hand on his chest, keeping him away.

“What are we doing?”

It’s a question you’d always been too afraid to ask, but now that it was the only thing on your mind, you couldn’t stop yourself from blurting it out.

Yoongi scoffed. “Sleeping?” He nipped at the sweet spot on your neck, “Unless you’re up for another round.”

“Yoongi, I need—”

He licked a stripe up your neck, scrambling your thoughts. “What? What do you need?” He said, voice husky. It’s enough to make you moan but not enough to distract you from your racing thoughts.

I need to know what this is. I need to know where I stand with you. I need—

“More than this.”

“I’m serious. What are we doing? What. . . what are we?”

You said it. The thing you’re not supposed to say, and it made you feel sick to your stomach.

You shouldn’t—it’s not as if it’s some forbidden phrase, but the words weighed heavy in the air. You’re going places you’ve never gone with Yoongi, putting all your cards on the table. It’s risky. No one wants to be the one who cares most, but you do. And you know you’re not supposed to. You know you can’t say that you want more. That you want love. That somehow, this unspoken arrangement isn’t what you needed any more. You needed to know if he felt anything for you in return, and you needed to know now.

It was quiet for a minute before you finally said, unable to stop yourself from masking the vulnerability in your voice: “I like you.”

“I like you too,” said Yoongi. There was no weight to his words. He said it so quickly, so easily, that it stunned you.

Maybe a little too easy.

“So what does that mean for us?” you said, sitting up in bed, more awake now than ever.

Yoongi froze. “Us?”

“Yeah, is there an us?” You can’t seem to say what you really mean; the words hover around the truth of your real desires, that you want a relationship. It’s obvious, isn’t it? “Because if it’s not, if you can’t see this being real, then I don’t think I can do this anymore. I might take a break.”

He has to know what you mean. . .Do you really have to spell it out?

But apparently, you do because Yoongi glosses over the true meaning of your words entirely. “Can we talk about this in the morning? I’m tired. I don’t want to fight right now.”

He reached for you, his hand slipping up your thigh and rubbing small circles with his thumb. The touch is soothing, but your mind is still whirling. Still trying to connect the dots from what he said, what it meant, and what you heard.

“I don’t want to fight right now.”

Why does the question of choosing me have to be a fight?

It’s this thought that makes it all clear. It’s not a fight. Yoongi knows the question you’re asking. He just doesn’t want to answer.

You opened your mouth to say as much, but you’re tired, too. Tired of this bullshit. The ease with which Yoongi dismissed your needs time and time again. You don’t have the strength to plead your case, and you shouldn’t have to, really.

You laid back down with you back towards him, nodding your head in agreement even as you shoved your disappointment down deep.

As if sensing your frustration, Yoongi wordlessly consoled you. He trailed kisses down your body. Each kiss, a tiny apology. At the top of your head. Sorry. By your jaw, sorry. The dip between your neck and shoulder. Sorry.

Sorry, sorry, sorry.

Despite yourself, you lean into the embrace. Yoongi didn’t always have the right words to say, but he always had the right touch. Still, a part of you starved for a deeper affection, a part that even Yoongi’s touch couldn’t reach.

. . .

In the morning, you woke up to the shining sun, aching limbs, and an empty bed.

Yoongi wasn’t beside you, and the loss of his touch stirred you from your sleep as the loneliness crept back in. You know there’s no note for you to or an explanation to where he’s gone, so you don’t bother checking. Instead, you roll over to your side, clumsily fumbling around for your phone on the nightstand.

You open your eyes with a sigh, blurred vision trying to make sense of the digits on the screen reading 9:02am when everything clicks into space with startling clarity. Your entrepreneurship class started at nine.

Shit.

“Late! I’m late!” You shouted, hopping out of bed and throwing on a T-shirt and jeans. No doubt, you look a mess, but you didn’t have time to worry about appearance. You could not be late; this course was one of the hardest in your major. You couldn’t afford to miss any class and pass, and if you flunked out, you’d have to wait another two semesters before it’d be offered again. That was time you simply didn’t have. It’d put you way behind your schedule to graduate on time with your degree, and you couldn’t afford to waste more time in school.

It’s the desperation that has you rushing down the hall to your classroom, tired and out of breath after sprinting from the parking garage into the building. You’re flustered, sweaty, and way too embarrassed to make eye contact with your professor as you enter the room, only bowing your head in apologies as your eyes scan the room for a seat.

Mia flagged you down in the corner of the room, and you slid into the desk next toher. “I saved you a spot,” she whispered, careful not to raise her voice above the steady drone of your professor’s lecture about starting a new business.

“Thanks,” you said, eternally grateful to have made a friend in this class. Mia was a school friend who, through late-night study sessions and lunch breaks, was slowly becoming a real friend, too. If only you didn’t have more time on campus, you’d probably be best friends by now, but between working for two jobs and school, your schedule was always full.

“We’ll dive deeper into identifying your target customer base next week.”

When the lecture ended thirty minutes later, you pulled Mia outside the classroom. “Hey, thanks again for saving me a seat. Can I borrow your notes from earlier?”

“Of course.” You thanked her as she pulled out her notebook and handed it over.

“No problem. Where were you this morning? I thought we were supposed to catch up before class.”

You forgot about that. “Uh, sorry. I overslept. Rain check?”

“Sure. I have a class until 3, but after that I’m free. You wanna grab dinner tonight?”

You wince, knowing you’ll have to turn her down once again. “I’d love that. I really would, but I’ve gotta—“

“Work, right. Of course.”

“Sorry, Mia.”

“Look. I get it you’re busy. But I feel like I never see you these days.”

You can’t help but feel guilty knowing she’s right. You have been all over the place this semester. Your social life was definitely suffering for it.

“And when I do, you see, you’re basically running around campus looking like a total mess.”

Ouch. When she puts it like that. . .

Mia must have read the hurt look on your face cuz she quickly backtracked. “I don’t mean to sound harsh. I’m just worried about you, ya know?”

You know she’s right, but it still made you feel like crap to hear your friend chide you like this. You know you’ve been distant, but were you really that bad?

“And I miss my friend,” she added, squeezing your hand.

At this admission, you relax, understanding where she’s coming from. “I know. Today’s not great, but I promise I’ll make it up to you, okay?” You looked down at your phone, checking the time. Now you were going to be late for your next class, too. “I gotta run, but we’ll talk later?”

Mia nodded. You hugged her before hauling ass across campus to your next class.

. . .

“Do you know what an embarrassment you are to this family?”

Seokjin sighed, slumping in his seat. His father slapped the newspaper onto his desk so hard it’s a wonder the glass didn’t crack under his palm. It took all of his strength not to wince at the title:

Billionaire Playboy Caught At An Infamous Strip Club.

“I didn’t choose to go there. Taehyung and Namjoon took me out—“

“I don’t care what Taehyung and Namjoon do. They can destroy their families’ reputations if they want to. But you are my son. I won’t have you tarnishing my reputation. You think you deserve to run this company after a stunt like that?”

At this, Seokjin rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I deserve anything. I’ve never wanted this company,” he said.

“You ungrateful piece of shit.”

Seokjin meant what he said, but he wasn’t ungrateful. Inheriting his father’s million-dollar diamond corporation was never part of his interest. “You should hand over your company to the child who wants to run it. Sohee would—“

“Sohee doesn’t have what it takes to run my company.”

Translation: Sohee wasn’t a man. And Seokjin’s sexist father would never give her the chance she deserved to take over the family business. Even though she was the progeny most naturally suited for the job.

His father waved away the idea. “Enough of this talk of Sohee. You will inherit the family business. It’s time you stopped acting like a child. Have you forgotten your responsibilities? After your wedding to Mei, our company will expand. You’ll have no time for these foolish endeavors.

How could he possibly forget? Between the tabloids and the endless, frivolous meetings crammed into his schedule to decide what color goes best with the tablecloths or what dish should be served for the twelfth-course meal, he hasn’t been able to escape any thoughts of the wedding as much as he’d wanted to.

Seokjin met Mei under duress six months ago with the intention of their union expanding the company into the Chinese market. And though their families held a long-standing relationship with each other—they were practically strangers. He had no feelings for her, and their relationship was strictly business, to his chagrin.

Seokjin didn’t want to get married—let alone to someone he barely knew. But the decision wasn’t up to him. As with everything else in his life, his father made all the decisions. Every school, every job, and every opportunity was already picked out for him before Seokjin could even utter the word ‘no. Nothing was ever a choice.

He hated his father. For his cruelty and selfish ways, his blatant disregard for others, his children’s wishes, and the control he had over Seokjin’s life.

“As a matter of fact, I have an important business dinner with her father this evening—you will attend.”

“Of course, not like I had any plans.” Said Seokjin, smiling sweetly, but his eyes held malice.

His father cut him a look and opened his mouth for what Seokjin was sure would be a good cussing out, only for his father to explode into a coughing fit. The bastard was sick, but unfortunately for Seokjin, not ill enough to die. Just enough for his father to retire early and order him to take over, crushing any dream he had of escaping his legacy.

His father cleared his throat. “I expect you to be on your best behavior and impress him, boy. But don’t be a fucking kiss ass. Remember, you represent the Kim name. Show me you are not a complete disappointment as my heir. You can do at least that, can’t you?”

Seokjin grit his teeth, swallowing down his anger. He hated his father for his relentless demands, but he also hated himself.

Because despite resenting it all, Seokjin always did as he was told.

. . .

[4:34pm] Sunshine Boss: I have something for you :)

[4:34pm] Sunshine Boss: I know you’re off tonight, but you should stop by and pick it up. I think you’ll be satisfied with the gift.

You look up from your phone, stopping midway in your tracks. It’d be risky, but you could squeeze in some time to stop by the club before heading to your other job.

Jeongguk winked at you as you walked up to Paradise. You smile at him as he holds the door open for you, shaking your head at his endless flirting. It always amused you that he was the club bouncer when the kid was a little younger than you. But you always felt safer having Jeongguk at the door. You’ve seen firsthand how that sweet bunny smile could fade into a deadly expression. Jeongguk could be very intimidating when he wanted to be, and his muscles weren’t just for show. You felt sorry for anyone who crossed a line at the club and ended up facing off with him.

It doesn’t take you long to find your boss. He’s tucked away in his sleek gray office as usual, typing away on his laptop. He looked polished as ever in a new suit and a crisp white button-down. When you knocked on the door, Hoseok looked up and waved you inside. “Come in.”

“You said you had something for me?” You asked. You were still curious as to why he requested you stop by. Work was work, but Hoseok took your personal lives seriously. He never crossed the line between the two, so you found it odd he reached out.

“I do,” said Hoseok, reaching inside his desk drawer. “Your private session left you a big tip last night. I thought it’d be best if you received it directly.” You watched as he pulled out a fat white envelope and slid it across the desk.

Just looking at it made you raise an eyebrow. Hoseok’s bright eyes gave nothing away as he waved a hand towards the envelope, beckoning you towards it.

Without thinking, you opened the envelope and let out a little gasp of shock at the thick wad of bills inside. Hundred-dollar bills.

“All this is for me?”

“All of it.”

You shifted out a few bills, ready to hand over your expected dues, but Hoseok stopped you with a hand. “You misunderstand. I already have my cut. Everything within that envelope is yours.”

“Are you serious?” You said, unable to hide the shock in your voice. You had enough money in your hands to pay your whole rent for the month and then some. All from one dance.

The sharp angles of Hoseok’s face softened, and he smiled at your disbelief, a dimple showing out. “Clearly, you left a good impression, but I expect nothing less—you’re one of the best.”

You wave away his words, too embarrassed to accept the compliment, thinking about exactly how you won Seokjin’s favor. Just the thought made your heart race. As much as you hated to admit it, your patron wasn’t the only one affected by that last dance.

“I um—I’ve got to go. But thank you for making sure I got this personally.”

“Of course. Before you leave, your gift came with a letter,” said Hoseok, pointing back to his desk.

You don’t know how you missed it at first, but sure enough, another smaller envelope was on the glass with your name handwritten on the front.

“Oh.”

“I think you might have a new regular. Seokjin seems to be very fond of you.”

. . .

Later that afternoon, you pulled up to work, grateful you remembered to stash a bag with clothes in your car. You quickly run to the back, hoping to change into your uniform. But your boss caught you before you could sneak off to the back.

“You’re late,” she hissed.

Yes, that was becoming quite a habit of yours. You ducked your head apologetically, hoping the woman would scold you quickly. “I’m sorry, I was—”

“—I don’t have time for excuses. A high-ranking guest is coming in tonight, so just do your job.”

You don’t miss the pointedness in her tone—no fuck ups tonight.

“Got it,” you said, holding back your grimace as she berated some more before sending you off to change. All you could do was grin and bear it. Even if you didn’t feel like you had it in you to pull on a fake smile and tend to your special guests.

But that was your job as a hostess. It paid well, though sometimes it almost didn’t feel worth it with the snooty customer base you had to face, but between rent and your school tuition, you literally couldn’t afford to be picky.

Even if you didn’t have the energy to put up with these rich assholes, at least you didn’t have to pull a shift at Paradise after this. You just had to pull yourself together for a few hours, and then you could go home.

You change into a little black dress and switch out your sneakers for a pair of tall heels. It wasn’t exactly a ‘uniform’ uniform, but your second job still has a certain look and aesthetic to maintain. The dress hugged your curves in all the right places, and you can’t help but feel eyes on you as you make your way back to the hostess table up front, heels clicking.

Dionysus was in full swing, each white-clothed table crowded and buzzing, and you watched as people clinked glasses under the chandeliers. But at your post, you kept your eye on the empty room in the back.

Whoever your guests were tonight, if they were truly a big deal, you’d escort them to have their meal in that private room.

Once the opening crowd thins out, the evening goes by slowly for you, and before you know it, you’re sneaking a peek at your phone, trying not to keep your boredom at bay.

There were a couple texts from Hyuna and a picture she sent of herself and the girls at Paradise.

[6:15pm] Babygirl: I’m so BORED when you’re not here🥺

[ 6:16pm]You: Sameeee. Don’t have fun without me!

[6:18pm] Babygirl: You know it’s boring when you’re not here! Miss you tonight 💕

You heart the message, missing her too.

Still no messages from Yoongi.

All his silence does is confirm the feeling in your gut and fuel the quiet resolve to make a decision.

You’re so busy ruminating that you don’t even realize you have guests in front of you until someone clears their throat in front of you.

“Act like you have some sense. The reservation for the Kim Corporation is here.”

You shove down your disdain for your boss and put on your best smile, ready to greet your new guests. Only when you look up do you realize it’s not a new guest after all.

Kim Seokjin stood in front of you, handsome as ever. His fringe frames his face, drawing your attention to his dark eyes and immaculate suit. You could tell from the quality of his clothes that it was expensive, but the white button-down left open on his chest said that looking flawless was effortless on his part. His brows furrowed at the sight of you, but then the confusion cleared, and in its place, Seokjin fixed you with a dazzling white smile and said: “It’s you.”

You barely have time to recover from the blow before you fix your smile in place (the one you use strictly for work; polite and friendly) and greet his party.

“Welcome to Dionysus, Mr.Kim. It’s a pleasure to have you dine with us tonight.”

Seokjin blinked at your formal demeanor, not expecting your casual dismissal of his recognition. But you don’t react—you can’t. No one here knew of your other life, and you planned on keeping things this way.

“Please follow me; I’ll direct you towards our private dining experience.” You quickly turned on your heel, walking forward without sparing so much as a second glance towards him. But you can sense his eyes on you, that hot, molten feeling rising in your body as you lead the party toward the back.

When you stopped before the table, Seokjin pulled out the chair closest to your position, trying to address you once more. “It’s nice to see you again.”

You maintain your plastic smile. “You must be mistaken, Sir; we haven’t met. I’ve heard this is your first time visiting Dionysus.”

“You mean to tell me we haven’t met before?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

Seokjin raised an eyebrow, but your facade didn’t waver. If anything, your eyes seemed to embolden, daring him to question your professionalism. You’re so calm and cool that if it were anybody else, Seokjin might have believed himself to be mistaken. But he knows he’s not. As if he could forget your face after last night.

So that’s how you wanted to play this? Fine. Two could play that game. He’d get your attention one way or another.

“Excuse me, I have a special request,” asked Seokjin, successfully grabbing your supervisor’s attention. “Your hostess is so lovely. Is there any way that she could tend to our table tonight?.”

Your eyes widen in shock for a split second, not anticipating this outcome. “I’m sorry, I’m not a part of the waitstaff—”

“—Absolutely,” Your boss cut in. “I’m sure (Y/n) would like nothing more than to take care of your party personally.”

At the mention of your name, Jin’s eyes widened. He simply wanted you near, but his request seemed to come with a little gift now that he knew your name.

The realization must have dawned on you simultaneously since the look on your face is a mix of shock and rage. Jin finds the combination amusing, and he can’t keep the satisfied smirk on his lips, knowing he sneakily earned another night with you.

Serves you right for trying to ignore him. Seokjin gave you a look, cocky and full of ego, relaying this very thought.

You wanted to wipe his smug smirk off. Asshole. You haven’t waited tables since your first year in college, and now, because this guy batted his pretty eyes, you’re right back where you started?

Who does this guy think he is?

You’re beyond annoyed, but all you can do is plaster on another fake smile and join the servers at the table. Thankfully, you’d served with everyone working the table before, so getting back into the flow of things was easy.

You fell into step from memory; everything returned to you from years of practice waitressing. You reached past Seokjin to fill his wine glass, and the asshole had the nerve to look up and smile at you.

You smile back, of course, even though you’re silently fuming, but your eyes tell a different story. You let Seokjin see it, all the anger buried underneath the polite mask as you pour.

But Seokjin’s smile didn’t flinch, didn’t falter. You swear his smile only brightened, the grin spreading across his handsome face.

You didn’t realize you had overfilled his glass until you heard the scrap of his chair across the floor when he jumped back from the table.

You were so distracted you poured the wine right into his lap. But he didn’t have to know that. Even though it wasn’t your intention, you’re more than happy to claim the credit for his displeasure.

“My apologies, Sir,” you said with a smirk.

Seokjin glared at you in response. Now that the shock was gone, you had to stifle a laugh behind your hand seeing his pouty face.

Your boss hissed your name, eyeing you with a tilted head at the mess you were in no rush to clean up.

“Let me help you with that,” you sighed. You bent down, picking up a spare napkin off the table. You dipped it in water and mindlessly dabbed at the spill on his suit.

You were already so close before you realized your mistake. You could smell the heated spice of Seokjin’s cologne, and you were just a breath away from that dazzling face. Just as close as you were the first night you met. The memory of it flashes through your mind—the warmth of his palm cupping your cheek like you were his lover. It’s enough to make your breath hitch.

You met his eyes, and the depth of his dark pools told you you weren’t the only one thinking of your first night together. Seokjin’s gaze dipped, looking at your lips as he wet his own.

It’s that small action that brings you back. What were you doing? Surely you weren’t about to kiss the stranger in the middle of a job? Quickly, you removed your hand from his lap, clearing your throat as you backed away.

Your mind felt hazy, and you knew who was to blame. But what you wouldn’t understand was the fact that Seokjin had any effect on you at all.

You knew it wasn’t his status; you often came across rich men in your work. His looks were unparalleled, but you rarely found attraction towards a pretty face last if you hadn’t liked their personality.

And you didn’t like him, right? No. He wasn’t your type at all. Still, you couldn’t deny the pull felt whenever he was in your presence.

For the rest of the night, you completed service for the party away from Kim Seokjin. Dinner went on in a daze. And before you knew it was closing time. The Kim Party stayed the whole night, which was tiring, but the generous tip they left did lighten your spirits as you exited the building.

You’re halfway out the door, eagerly awaiting a night alone in your apartment, when you hear someone call out your name.

“(Y/n).”

It’s Seokjin. You looked up to find him leaning back against a luxury SUV. “Or should I call you Angel? Both names suit you quite well.”

Dammit. In the heat of the moment, you forgot all about your boss giving away your name. If your two lives weren’t crossed over before, they certainly were now.

You’ve half a mind to ignore him and pretend you didn’t hear him in the first place, but ultimately, you decided to deal with it before things get more out of hand.

You walked up towards him. “Look, I’d appreciate it if you kept that name to yourself.”

“Which name?” He teased, eyes glinting at you in the dark. “They’re both very pretty.”

“I mean it. People don’t know about my other job here.”

“So you live a double life? That’s sexy.”

“It’s not as sexy as you think,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s actually really hard, so don’t make it any harder for me.”

Seokjin tilted his head to the side, studying you. You put up a good front, coming up to him acting all demanding. But he could see the vulnerability underneath it all; a part of you was worried.

“I wouldn’t dream of making anything more difficult for you,” he said, earnestly hoping to put your mind at ease. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Oh…” You weren’t expecting him to acquiesce so quickly. You honestly thought he’d be the type of jerk to tease you and hold it over your head like earlier. But Seokjin immediately respected your boundary; you didn’t even have to put your foot down.

“Thank you,” you said awkwardly.

“Of course.”

His behavior took you off guard, but you couldn’t lose focus. Your name wasn’t the only reason you approached him.

“Um, also, while you’re here, I’d like to give you this back,” you said, reaching into your bag for the envelope. You help it out for him to take. “Thank you for the tip, but I can’t accept this.”

Seokjin stared at your hand. “That was a gift.”

“It’s too much,” you added as if that held any weight.

“I haven’t to politely disagree. I enjoyed myself, and I value your time. I think the amount reflects that.”

“I can’t accept it.”

“Can’t? Or won’t.”

“Okay, I won’t accept it. Take it back.”

“No.”

“Seokjin.”

“(Y/n).”

“Why are you making this so difficult?”

“Love, you’re the one making this difficult.”

“Look,” you said, frustrated at the conversation. “I’m not in the mood for games. I don’t know what your expectations are. But I’m not that kind of girl.”

Seokjin shook his head. “I’m not following…”

“Well then, let me make it clear to you. I said. I’m not that kind of girl.”

You were all up in his face, eyes full of fire, and Seokjin couldn’t help but like it. For a man in his position, very few people had the confidence to speak to him like that. He at once found it incredibly attractive and entertaining, watching you sass him with your neck craned as he looked down at you.

Clearly, you meant to be intimidating, but all Seokjin could think about was how sexy you looked when you were assertive.

“You didn’t read my letter, did you?”

“The letter is irrelevant; I don’t care how rich you are—you can’t buy me.”

“I think you are mistaken. I’m not trying to buy you, (y/n).”

You didn’t buy it. If there was anything you learned in life, it was that nothing ever came free. There was always a price. And this man came from a world where money ruled supreme.

“Then what do you want?”

You. It was the first thing that entered Seokjin’s mind. The thought took him by surprise. It’d been a while since he felt this attracted to anyone. And he certainly didn’t know what he was doing waiting after dinner to talk to you. Something was there, but he knew better than to voice this new feeling aloud.

Instead, he told a partial truth. “I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “That night…. I’ve never seen someone move like that. The way you dance...You captivated me. You were like a goddess.”

You wanted to be mad at him. You really did. But you couldn’t help but feel yourself flush at the compliment and the sincerity in his voice. Men flirted with you often. It was a hazard of the job, but not like this. You’ve heard men highlight your body before, but no one ever mentioned the way you dance with awe in their voice, not just lust.

“It’s only natural to give an offering as your patron,” said Seokjin, winking at you.

Your body betrayed you then, a flush that heated you up. Get a grip! You thought. You weren’t some lovesick teen. You were grown. You would not be swayed by some rich asshole’s stupid flirting.

“Well, I don’t need your money. Here,” you said, thrusting it out in front of you. “You can have it back. I don’t want to owe you anything.”

“You don’t owe me. I wanted to give it to you,” said Seokjin, stepping closer to you. “I think you deserve a lot more, to be honest.”

Seokjin placed his hand over yours, firmly keeping the envelope in your grip. “It was a gift. Nothing more, nothing less. Keep it.”

You’re so close Jin could smell you; your skin is warm and sweet, and your perfume was sultry and floral. Seokjin could drown in it. The scent clouded his senses and, clearly, his judgment because he closed what little distance sat between him and you. Here, he had a front row to your beautiful eyes, and those plush lips, and the only thing running through his head was what it would be like to kiss you.

Seokjin looked at you, really looked at you, and this time, he noticed you were not startled. Your pupils are blown, your chest rising quickly—he’d bet anything that whatever it is going on with him, you felt it too.

But again, you pulled away.

You took a step back to give yourself space and clear your head. Any longer, and you might have kissed him for real. And even though you and Yoongi were barely a thing and planned on ending things, you hadn’t ended them yet. Even though Seokjin had you wanting to cross all kinds of boundaries—you weren’t about to cross that line.

“I um,” You stuttered, “I really can’t convince you to take it back?”

Jin considered your question. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’ll take the money back in exchange for a date.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Was he really asking you on a date? “How is that appealing to me? That’s just swapping one problem for another.”

“It would be the best day of your life.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“I’m not hearing a no.”

You sighed. “I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. I’m seeing someone. And even if I wasn’t—”

“Are you exclusive?”

“Well, no—”

“—Then I have a chance?” Said Seokjin, taking a step closer to you. He smiled again, and this time, his eyes crinkled at the corners, and you felt the warmth of his gaze flush all over you.

“I, um—”

Seeing you stutter, Seokjin’s smile brightened. “I do have a chance.”

Stupid, damn feelings.

“You have no chances,” you said, barely recovering from the brilliant attack on your heart. “Because I don’t date clients, remember?” You let words settle between you, their weight grounding you back to reality.

“And now you’ve also popped up at my day job?”

“A charming coincidence, I promise,” said Seokjin, placing a hand over his heart.

“Hmm. Well, I guess I’ll keep your money after all.” Even if he was the most handsome man you’d ever met, you were an adult. Your better judgment kept you from crossing that line.

Seokjin smirked. “Good.”

Good? You narrowed your eyes at him. He looked a little too pleased with your decision. “Did you only propose that because you knew, I’d say no and keep the money?”

“No,” he said, leaning toward entrancing you again with a close-up view of his superior good looks. “I hoped you’d say yes. But I’ll take the consolation prize.”

“Besides, I’m rich,” laughed Seokjin. “It’s not like I need more money.”

And just like that, the moment of infatuation passed. Seokjin was back to being a rich asshole. Perfect. You could work with that.

You backed away from him, heading for your car. “Goodnight, Seokjin.”

“Goodnight, (Y/n)”

It’s not until you’re sitting in your car, catching your reflection in the rearview mirror, that you realize you’ve got a stupid grin on your face.

Immediately, you stopped, catching yourself. It felt nice to be admired and flirted with, but what was your problem? Why were you smiling about some random stranger when you had a—

The bright ping of your phone went, and you reached inside your purse to check your texts.

[9:06pm] Yoongi: Missed you at Paradise tonight? Can I stop by later?

Speak of the devil…Of course, Yoongi would contact you now.

You didn’t owe him any loyalty, but that didn’t mean you felt comfortable talking to other guys. But still, why?

Yoongi wasn’t your boyfriend. So why were you giving him the boyfriend treatment?

“Are you exclusive?”

“Well, no—”

“—Then I have a chance?”

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts. Why were you thinking about Seokjin’s words earlier? He wasn’t even a dating option, but he did have a point.

For all intents and purposes, you were practically single, so why were you acting coupled up again?

You look at the three little dots bubbling up from your lack of response. How long were you going to keep doing this? Repeating the same cycle over again?

No. No more.

You fired off a text back: I can’t, busy, then threw your phone on the seat and started up your engine before you could change your mind

The cycle ends right now. You wouldn’t spend the rest of your twenties going back and forth with some guy who only ever wanted to sleep with you.

You’re young. You’re hot. You didn’t have to sit around and wait for some guy to want you. You could get a date with anyone you wanted, hell, even a millionaire!

For a minute, even though tonight was an inconvenience, you’re grateful you ran into Seokjin just for that reminder.

The next time you see Yoongi, you know what you need to do.

You’re ending things up with him. For good.

[starspray]

Power & Desire: The Silmarils vs The One Ring

Can also be read on the Silmarillion Writers’ Guild

Every so often I see discussions in fandom about the Silmarils and the One Ring that end up equating them—treating them as though they are direct parallels to one another. This always happens by way of bringing the Silmarils down to the level of the Ring, often treating characters’ refusal to surrender the one Beren and Lúthien retrieved as the result of the same kind of corrosive possessiveness that the Ring induces, which renders its bearer literally unable to give it up willingly or destroy it.* This reading is not just wrong, it undermines the agency of the characters involved and undercuts the tragedy of The Silmarillion. The Silmarils and the One Ring are made by very different characters for very different purposes. They also act in the narratives of their respective stories very differently.

What do the Silmarils and the Ring have in common? They are both the titular objects of their respective books around which the major plot turns, it is true. They are both made by powerful individuals, and are desired by many different people, and when they are lost and/or stolen their makers are desperate to retrieve them. Characters die for them, and kill for them. At this extremely surface level reading they do, indeed, seem very similar. But the deeper you look at each object the more glaring differences show themselves, until you realize that they do not parallel, but rather oppose each other.

Due to the nature of each narrative it’s much easier to see the full nature of the Ring and the effect it has on people around it. It is an object created explicitly for evil and malicious purposes: One Ring to rule them all, and in the darkness bind them. Sauron makes it so that he can ensnare all others who hold rings of power, “for he made that Ring himself, it is his, and he let a great part of his own former power pass into it, so that he could rule all the others. If he recovers it, then he will command them all again, wherever they be, even the Three…”

The way the Ring works is that it sneaks into the bearer’s mind and starts to twist their thoughts to its own purposes. It wants to be used, and it wants to isolate its bearer. It makes itself desirable so that its bearer will do all kinds of mental gymnastics to justify the means by which to take and keep it. See Gollum’s insistence on his “birthday present.” See Bilbo’s tale of winning it in the riddle game. At the Council of Elrond he says: “But I will now tell the true story, and if some here have heard me tell it otherwise”—he looked slidelong at Glóin—“I ask them to forget it and forgive me. I only wished to claim the treasure as my very own in those days, and to be rid of the name of thief that was put on me. But perhaps I understand things a little better now” (emphasis mine).

You can see it in Isildur, too. The films misrepresent this scene: Elrond says nothing of dragging Isildur up Mount Doom to try to get him to destroy the Ring; he says that “whether we would or no, he took it to treasure it” but at that time there is no way anyone present could know what kind of effect the Ring would have on someone other than Sauron, because Isildur is the first person after Sauron to hold it. But Elrond telling the story has the benefit of Gandalf’s recent decades of research, and the reader also can see the red flags popping up almost as soon as Isildur touches it. He “will have [the Ring] as weregild for my father, and my brother” he claims, which is a similar kind of justification to Bilbo’s story of winning the Ring instead of finding it. Weregild is, per dictionary.com: a term used in Anglo-Saxon and other Germanic countries for “money paid to the relatives of a murder victim in compensation for loss and to prevent a blood feud.” It’s something paid to prevent further bloodshed. It would have been weregild if Sauron had handed it over after Anárion had died, as part of some kind of peace brokerage. But it can’t be weregild if you’re taking it off the dead body of your enemy; it’s too late by then. Isildur does have every right to it as a spoil of war, and no one disputes that right. But the fact that Isildur has to change it and further justify it even in his own mind is a sign that the Ring is already working on him. And if that is not enough (which it might not be—weregild is a very archaic term), Tolkien further illustrates the effects of the Ring taking hold on Isildur in the document that Gandalf discovers in Minas Tirith’s archives: “But for my part I will risk no hurt to this thing: of all the words of Sauron the only fair. It is precious to me, though I buy it with great pain.”

This effect of the Ring is not something that can be defeated easily. Only twice is it given up willingly: once by Bilbo, who needs all of the help Gandalf can give him, and once by Sam, who has born it for a very short time—and even then “Sam felt reluctant to give up the Ring and burden his master with it again.” There you see another justification—perfectly in character for Sam to want to spare Frodo, but also a thought that the Ring can latch onto and use, to twist for its own purposes.

And though Sam is able to return it to Frodo with relative ease, he tries to compromise: “If it’s too hard a job, I could share it with you, maybe?”

Frodo’s reaction illustrates just how far gone he is—made more tragic by his awareness of it:

“‘No, no!’ cried Frodo, snatching the Ring and chain from Sam’s hands. ‘No you won’t, you thief!’ He panted, staring at Sam with eyes wide with fear and enmity. Then suddenly, clasping the Ring in one clenched fist, he stood aghast. A mist seem to clear form his eyes, and he passed a hand over his aching brow. The hideous vision had seemed so real to him, half bemused as he was still with wound and fear. Sam had changed before his very eyes into an orc gain, leering and pawing at his treasure, a foul little creature with greedy eyes and slobbering mouth. But now the vision had passed. There was Sam kneeling before him, his face wrung with pain, as if he had been stabbed in the heart; tears welled from his eyes.

“‘O Sam!’ cried Frodo. ‘What have I said? What have I done? Forgive me! After all you have done. It is the horrible power of the Ring. I wish it had never, never, been found. But don’t mind me, Sam. I must carry the burden to the end. It can’t be altered. You can’t com between me and this doom.’”

And that is only looking at what it does to people who possess it. Saruman never comes near it, but the mere desire twists him from someone noble and wise and good into a miniature Sauron. Boromir also falls—he is a good man, an honorable and brave and ambitious man desperate to protect his home, and the Ring takes that and twists it until Boromir breaks and attacks Frodo. The Ring is a thing made with evil and malicious intentions, for explicitly evil purposes, and it cannot be taken and used for good—in fact it will take even the best of intentions and twist them to evil. Gandalf knows this, and that is why when Frodo asks if he will take the Ring his response is immediate and vehement:

‘No!’ cried Gandalf, springing to his feet. ‘With that power I should have power too great and terrible. And over me the Ring would gain a power still greater and more deadly.’ His eyes flashed and his face was lit as by a fire within. ‘Do not tempt me! For I do not wish to become like the Dark Lord himself. Yet the way of the Ring to my heart is by pity, pity for weakness and the desire of strength to do good. Do not tempt me! I dare not take it, not even to keep it safe, unused. The wish to wield it would be too great for my strength. I shall have such need of it.’

And Galadriel has a similar response when Frodo offers it to her. There is of course her famous description of what she would become were she to take it, but then Sam says to her:

‘But if you’ll pardon my speaking out, I think my master was right. I wish you’d take his Ring. You’d put things to rights. You’d stop them digging up the gaffer and turning him adrift. You’d make some folk pay for their dirty work.’

‘I would,’ she said. ‘That is how it would begin. But it would not stop with that, alas! We will not speak more of it.’

That is why the plot of The Lord of the Rings centers around the Ring’s destruction. Everything else—the battles, the politics, the power struggles, Aragorn’s rise to kingship—all of it is secondary. And the Ring itself is an active player. I will not go so far as to claim it has sentience, or any kind of active thought, but there is a significant part of Sauron’s will and his power held within it, and there is a drive to be found and kept and used—and ultimately to return to its maker.

The Silmarils, on the other hand, are the greatest creation of Fëanor at the height of his powers in Valinor:

For Fëanor, being come to his full might, was filled with a new thought, or it may be that some shadow of foreknowledge came to him of the doom that drew near; and he pondered how the light of the Trees, the glory of the Blessed Realm, might be preserved imperishable. Then he began a long and secret labor, and he summoned all his lore, and his power, and his subtle skill; and at the end of all he made the Silmarils.

As three great jewels they were in form. But not until the End, when Fëanor shall return who perished ere the Sun was made … shall it be known of what substance they were made. Like the crystal of diamonds it appeared, and yet was more strong than adamant, so that no violence could mar it or break it within the Kingdom of Arda. Yet that crystal was to the Silmarils but as is the body to the Children of Ilúvatar: the house of its inner fire, that is within it and yet in all parts of it, and is its life. And the inner fire of the Silmarils Fëanor made of the blended light of the Trees of Valinor, which lives in them yet, though the Trees have long withered and shine no more.

Fëanor’s motives in making the Silmarils are not wholly clear—whether he had some foresight of the death of the Trees, or whether he just wanted to see if he could do it, or to show off his skills, or what. But whatever his motive is, it is not to enthrall or ensnare anyone. On the contrary—while the Ring seeks to isolate its bearer, the Silmarils, though “even in the darkness of the deepest treasury [they] of their own radiance shone like the stars of Varda; and yet, as were they indeed living things, they rejoiced in light and received it and gave it back in hues more marvelous than before.” They are at their most beautiful when out in the light, where they are most likely to be seen and enjoyed by everyone.

They are then hallowed by Varda. To hallow a thing is to to make it holy, and in the case of the Silmarils it also means that “thereafter no moral flesh, nor hands unclean, nor anything of evil will might touch them, but it was scorched and withered”. The mortal flesh bit is contradicted later when Beren handles one with seemingly no issue, but Beren is an exception to many rules, and what remains consistent is that nothing “of evil will” can touch the Silmarils and come away unharmed.

Like the One Ring, the entire plot of The Silmarillion is the great desire of various characters for the Silmarils. This begins with Melkor, whose lust for them inflames his desire to destroy Fëanor, and the friendship between the Valar and the Elves. But this should come as no surprise to the reader; Melkor has historically lusted after sources of power and Light, going often into the Void in search of the Flame Imperishable. The Silmarils themselves are not doing anything to Melkor; they are the objects of his desires, but not the source.

This pattern continues throughout the The Silmarillion. Fëanor and his sons swear their famous Oath, but the Silmarils don’t make them do it. Then Thingol tells Beren that he must retrieve a Silmaril before he can marry Lúthien, he is setting what seems to everyone present to be an impossible goal, especially after the Dagor Bragollach and the breaking of the Siege of Angband. I’m not saying that Thingol does not actually want a Silmaril; he is very happy to have it once he gets it, but it’s a very different desire from the kind inspired by the Ring much later. Then someone is the bearer of the One Ring, the last thing they want to do is give it up, as discussed above. But the Silmaril that Beren and Lúthien retrieve from Morgoth is passed around without any issue through many different hands. Nowhere is it even implied that Elwing, for example, has trouble giving it to Eärendil to take to the Valar, or to take with him when he sets sail in Vingilot.

Thingol’s desire for the Silmaril I mentioned above; it comes closest to mirroring the kind of obsession triggered by the Ring, but it is not the same. Although “as the years passed Thingol’s thought turned unceasingly to the jewel of Fëanor, and became bound to it,” which sounds a lot like Ring-esque obsession, it does not drive him to isolate himself, or to keep the Silmaril hidden away where only he can see or find it, the way Bilbo keeps the Ring in his pocket and never takes it out when others can see it. Thingol does become “minded now to bear it with him always, waking and sleeping,” but by its very nature that can’t be done secretly. There is also no use to the Silmaril the way there is to the Ring—it cannot turn one invisible, and it does not give one power over others. The Silmarils have a power—more on that later—but it’s of a very different kind.

An explanation can be found for Thingol’s obsession through a study of his character arc and his relationship with Valinor and the Trees (which is another essay unto itself). Thingol, along with Ingwë and Finwë, goes to Valinor as an ambassador, and when they return to Cuiviénen there is nothing in the text to indicate that he is more or less enthusiastic than his companions to convince the Eldar to go to dwell with the Valar, and he in fact leads the largest faction of the Eldar over Middle-earth on the Great Journey. It is only by chance (if chance you call it) that he stumbles upon Melian in Nan Elmoth, where “a spell was laid on him, so that they stood thus while long years were measured by the wheeling stars above them; and the trees of Nan Elmoth grew tall and dark before they spoke any word.” Famously, they remain lost in Nan Elmoth so long that Ulmo comes back to get the Teleri that have lingered to search for him, and under Olwë many of them depart, and those that remain give up the chance to get to Valinor—and that includes Thingol when he finally returns to them. Thingol does not choose to remain behind; he gets left behind. And when The Silmarillion speaks of Thingol’s desire to go to Valinor, it specifically says that it is the light of the Trees that he desires: “Greatly though he had desired to see again the light of the Trees, in the face of Melian he beheld the light of Aman as in an unclouded mirror, and in that light he was content.”

Fast forward to the Flight of the Noldor, and Thingol learns that Morgoth has destroyed the Trees (and murdered his friend Finwë), so that even if he were to reach Valinor, their light is gone forever. Fast forward to the Dagor Bragollach, and the Siege of Angband has broken and Beleriand is swiftly growing ever more dark and dangerous as the power of Morgoth grows. Then Beren comes, and the Quest happens, and now Thingol has a Silmaril. He no longer has to be content with the reflected light of Aman in Melian’s face, however unclouded a mirror it may be. Now he has the real thing, a real piece of Laurelin and Telperion at Mingling. Of course it might become an obsession.

Less readily explainable is the Dwarves’ decision to insist upon the Silmaril and the Nauglamír as payment, when Thingol commissions them to combine the two. They have been coming and going between their mountain halls and Menegroth for many generations by now, and there is no mention of any kind of prior dispute over payment—certainly not one that results in bloodshed. Yet when Thingol goes to take up the finished Nauglamír they “in that moment withheld it from him, and demanded that he yield it up to them, saying: ‘By what right does the Elvenking lay claim to the Nauglamír, that was made by our fathers for Finrod Felagund who is dead? It has come to him but by the hand of Húrin the Man of Dor-lómin, who took it as a thief out of the darkness of Nargothrond.’”

This does sound rather like the Ring-induced desires we see in The Lord of the Rings, although the Dwarves do not mention the Silmaril. It is Thingol who decides that that is what they want—whether he is correct in this assessment is, in my opinion, debatable. There is another form of treasure that warps people’s minds and desires—dragon gold. And the Nauglamír has just come from Nargothrond, that was for several years under the control of Glaurung. I have thus far only cited the published Silmarillion but at this point I do want to point out that in a previous draft of Thingol’s demise, the gold that Húrin brings to Thingol is, explicitly, cursed.

In the draft of the Quenta Noldorinwa found in The Shaping of Middle-earth Húrin and a few outlaws arrive at Nargothrond “which as yet none, Orc, Elf, or Man, had dared to plunder, for dread of the spirit of Glómund [Glaurung] and his very memory.” There they find the dwarf Mîm, who has come to Nargothrond and “bound [the treasure] to himself with many spells.” Húrin’s companions kill Mîm, “and at his death Mîm cursed the gold.”

This is the gold that, in this version of the story, Húrin takes to throw at Thingol’s feet, and it is this gold that Thingol then summons the Dwarves to make into the Nauglamír in which to hang the Silmaril. The text in this version is extremely explicit about the hold that the cursed gold takes over Thingol and also over the Dwarves who come to work with it. “Yet also they [the Dwarves] lusted for the Silmaril,” is added almost as an afterthought.

In the published Silmarillion there is no explicit curse, though the description of Nargothrond when Húrin comes to it is almost exactly the same as the earlier Quenta, and if one is familiar with The Hobbit, one might remember what else Tolkien has written about dragon hoards. When Bilbo witnesses Thorin’s dealing with Bard after Smaug is slain, the narrator says that “also he did not reckon with the power that gold has upon which a dragon has long brooded … Long hours in the past days Thorin had spent in the treasury, and the lust of it was heavy on him.” This is commonly called the dragon-sickness; its effects are varied in The Hobbit, affecting some more strongly than others—such as Thorin, and also the Master of Lake-town, who “being of the kind that easily catches such disease he fell under the dragon-sickness and took most of the gold and fled with it, and died of starvation in the Waste.”

One can thus infer that both Thingol and the Dwarves of Nogrod are also susceptible to the dragon-sickness, and also to fatal amounts of pride. This puts some of the blame on the Nauglamír, but still none at all on the Silmaril.

None of this is to say that the Silmarils are not desirable. The entire plot of The Silmarillion hinges on their desirability. But in this they are passive objects, unlike the Ring that actively seeks to ensnare new bearers whenever it can. What power lies in the Silmarils lies in the light of the Trees that lives inside them, and that light was made by Yavanna, and is holy and life-giving. The people of Sirion believe that “in the Silmaril lay the healing and the blessing that had come upon their houses and their ships,” and that seems to play a much larger part in their refusal to surrender the Silmaril to Maedhros than the fact that it is an heirloom of Lúthien and Dior. Considering the state of the rest of Beleriand at this time, there seems to be some truth to that belief. It is with the Silmaril also that Eärendil and Elwing are able at last to pass through the barriers around Valinor and come to the shores of Eldamar.

And, much later, it is the light of that Silmaril that Galadriel captures in the phial she gifts to Frodo, and though that phial might be considered as much a reflection of the light of Aman as lives in Melian’s face, there is real tangible power in it—power that works against that of the Ring (and the Witch-king) in the Morgul Vale as the Witch-king and his armies pass by:

There was no longer any answer to that command in his own will, dismayed by terror though it was, and he felt only the beating upon him of a great power from outside. It took his hand, and as Frodo watched with his mind, not willing it but in suspense (as if he looked on some old story far away), it moved the hand inch by inch towards the chain upon his neck. Then his own will stirred; slowly it forced the hand back and set it to find another thing, a thing lying hidden near his breast. Cold and hard it seemed as his grip closed on it: the phial of Galadriel, so long treasured, and almost forgotten till that hour. As he touched it, for a while all thought of the Ring was banished from his mind. He sighed and bent his head.

Later in Shelob’s lair Frodo brings the phial out, and

for a moment it glimmered, faint s a rising star struggling in heavy earthward mists, and then as its power waxed, and hope grew in Frodo’s mind, it began to burn, and kindled to a silver flame, a minute heart of dazzling light, as though Eärendil had himself come down from the high sunset paths with the last Silmaril upon his brow. The darkness receded from it, until ti seemed to shine in the center of a globe of airy crystal, and the hand that held it sparkled with white fire.

Frodo gazed in wonder at this marvelous gift that he had so long carried, not guessing its full worth and potency. Seldom had he remembered it on the road, until they came to Morgul Vale, and never had he used it for fear of its revealing light. Aiya Eärendil Elenion Ancalima! he cried, and knew not what he had spoken; for it seemed that another voice spoke through his, clear, untroubled by the foul air of the pit.

And this is only the light of the Silmaril that Galadriel has caught in the water of her mirror, not the Silmaril itself—a fragment of a fragment of the light of the Trees. It stands and acts in opposition of the Shadow, whether of Morgoth or of Sauron.

All of this has been to say: one can compare the roles that the Silmarils and the One Ring play in their respective stories, as each lies at the center, but there the similarities end. The Silmarils are desirable for their goodness; the Ring is desirable for the malicious power that it promises any prospective bearer. As objects of power they are the antithesis of one another, and for a reader to treat or regard the Silmarils as they would the Ring is, quite frankly, wrong. The motives of a maker matter in Middle-earth, and whatever his deeds later, one cannot equate Fëanor at the height of his power in Valinor to Sauron at the height of his in Mordor.

Bibliography:

1. The Fellowship of the Ring, “The Council of Elrond”, “The Shadow of the Past”, “The Mirror of Galadriel” 2. dictionary.com, entry: weregild 3. The Return of the King, “The Tower of Cirith Ungol" 4. The Silmarillion, “Of the Silmarils and the Unrest of the Noldor” 5. The Silmarillion, “Of the Ruin of Doriath” 6. The Silmarillion, “Of Thingol and Melian” 7. The Silmarillion, “Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië” 8. The Shaping of Middle-earth, “The Quenta” 9. The Hobbit, “The Gathering of the Clouds” 10. The Hobbit, “The Last Stage” 11. The Two Towers, “The Stairs of Cirith Ungol" 12. The Two Towers, “Shelob’s Lair”

[fuckyeahfightlock]

20 questions for fic writers 2023

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

207

2. What’s your total A03 word count?

1.2 million (!!!)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

BBC Sherlock (Sherlock TV, ACD), Doctor Who/Torchwood, Black Sails/Treasure Island, Maurice (film/novel), Raffles/Raffles TV, Don't Trust the B---- in Apartment 23, Dexter, The Sandman (comics), Versailles, The Untamed, MST3K

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

The Imposter Art and Nature Boyfriend Material Eight and Fifty Nights Wind and Winter

No surprise three of those are from the same series (my most popular one). I kind of feel like The Imposter is my fandom legacy, which is fine by me; I'm proud of it.

(they're all beauties, in my eyes)

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

I started out responding to every one. I barely do anymore, only because when I was writing long, chaptered fics, it became overwhelming. Lately I get many fewer, so I do respond to some. I tend to reply to comments on non-Sherlock fics more now, because the fandoms are smaller and I like to gas us up a little!

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Am and Was, the final story in my fight!lock series Bleed So Pretty, ends with a double suicide.

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

Probably All Said and Done, the happy ending for the 1920s stately home series, Dawn Before the Rest of the World. But a lot of my fics have happy endings, even most of the angsty ones.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I have! Very early on someone got very angry that AUs even exist, and took it out on one of my stories (maybe it was the first AU she ever read???); she mostly complained that I was writing Them out of character, which is probably true to some extent, but everyone has their own tolerance levels for that kind of stuff, so, whatever. Someone got very angry that one of my missing-scene fics based on a novel included verbatim text at the beginning and end (context being necessary to the bit I wrote in the middle), even though I made that VERY CLEAR in the beginning notes; she was not satisfied and felt I was a plagiarist, which to me is not a concept that even applies to transformative works, so again, whatever.

I don't mind any comment except ones that boil down to "I don't like this," because there's nothing I can do about that. I can fix spellings and punctuation, sew up plot holes, and make other minor adjustments to the technical stuff. But if someone just comments that they don't like the story, I'm helpless.

9. Do you write smut?

Very much so! I have written entire long novels just as set dressing for smut.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Several! I decided as soon as Sherlock came out on BBC that it takes place in the very same universe (London, present day) as Doctor Who/Torchwood (so, aliens exist). So I crossed those over a bunch. Doctor Who/Torchwood also got crossed over with Dexter, and with The Sandman comics. ACD!Holmes crossed over with Raffles, based on a screenplay of a film featured on MST3K. Black Sails is already Treasure Island pastiche, so that counts though I'm not responsible for it.

(this legendary bitch was only a bitch from a legend in Treasure Island)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I was a victim of netscraping of the AO3 by various pay-to-read schemes, twice. But to my knowledge, no one person has like, copy/pasted my fic and put their name on it as the author.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

A couple in Russian, a couple in Chinese.

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

Twice. It's not really my jam.

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

Johnlock.

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

A final story in my Road to Home series, a fix-it fic where Donna gets her memory back (which I began writing in 2013 or 2014). Now that she's got it back in canon, it seems even less likely I'll ever finish it.

(Russell T Davies accepted it maybe a little TOO hard)

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Right now, discipline (mine, not in my BDSM AU characters')

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

I've done it, probably not 100% correctly or well, but I try really hard (not just google translate! I consult native speakers!) to get it right. Generally I recommend keeping it to a minimum unless you learn the trick where AO3 lets you hover a cursor over text and you can put the translation in the pop-up. Too few people are multilingual.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I wrote self-insert Duran Duran bandom fic starting when I was 12, in 1984. My first fic on the AO3 was a Sherlock fic.

(my first husband, John Taylor)

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Don't make me choose! I can't choose a favourite child. Today I was writing on One-Man Advantage, so that's a fave because of recency bias, but I was also thinking about Stages, so that's a fave because when I think of it my heart aches. The Re/Formation of Billy Bones is a fave because I love the backstory I created for him and I think I wrote it well. At Depth is a tiny hidden gem. I love all the Christmas ones and all the snowed-in ones. I love the kinky ones and the fluffy ones and the ones with OCs. I love some I've forgotten about. I love'm all.

Thanks for tagging me, @onesmallfamily !

[definitely-not-iorveth]

a couple days ago, a stream featuring andrzej sapkowski came out, supposedly announcing a new book in the witcher series (see link below).

i've watched it, and personally, considering the context, i would reign in my enthusiasm until some kind of official announcement.

i'm including the notes of what he speaks about, for anyone interested.

the first short story started with the title: a male form of the polish word wiedźma (witch) doesn't exist, so sapkowski came up with one. the idea for the story came afterwards.

the first short story was supposed to be a one-time thing. he never expected to write a continuation.

he didn't do any research for the witcher books beforehand because 1/ it's a fantasy book, so he's allowed some leeway & 2/ he already accumulated a lot of knowledge throughout his life by the time he started writing. some research on things was needed during the process, but not a lot of it.

he did do beforehand research for a different, more historical series he wrote afterwards (trylogia husycka).

he once again stresses that the book series is not based specifically on slavic mythology - that was something made up by journalists. he took inspiration from various mythologies indiscriminately, and the plot was more important to him than using any specific sources.

he doesn't remember how many short stories he wrote for the witcher.

back when he started, there was no point in sending manuscripts to publishing houses, because the publishers were not interested in polish fantasy books, preferring the foreign ones. instead, an aspiring writer's best bet would be to send a short story to fantastyka (means fantasy, but only as a literary genre), a magazine that published fantasy & sci fi short stories. at some point he got tired of publishing short stories though, and he sent his manuscript in (he says he doesn't remember what book that was). it was successful, and it encouraged more authors to do the same.

he regrets writing under his real name and not under a literary pseudonym.

nilfgaard's similarities to ancient rome are accidental, and nilfgaard should not be interpreted as based on it. sapko came up with it as an aggressive fantasy nation that wants to take over the world, with no deeper meaning behind it.

first map created for the witcher was the work of the czech translator, and most subsequent maps were based on it (or, as sapko puts it, stolen.) "why i never created a map? pettiness." all fantasy books of the time had a map, so he decided his wouldn't have. and so it doesn't.

the witcher comics were parowski's idea (a witcher fan & comic book author). sapkowski didn't participate in its creation. he tried to give his input about the drawings at first, but the artist basically told him to go fuck himself.

he has a cat

he used to be a senior sales representative, and it gave him some knowledge about sales, banking, currencies and economy which he was able to work into the plot of his stories

he reads at least 50 books per year. of recent works, he recommends madeline miller's circe, steven king's two new books, v.e. schwab's the invisible life of addie larue, peng shepherd's the cartographers, herve le telier's the anomaly, r.f. kuang's babel, holly black's book of night. he considers the above the literary events and fantasy milestones of the past few years.

his commentary on people who study and analyze the witcher and its themes: "they come up with things i never could have come up with." he claims he never assigned any specific philosophy or meaning to his works, but he's happy to read the works of people who do.

he says he didn't base any of his characters on himself in any way. at the same time, his opinion is that it's difficult to write a character that doesn't retain some of the author's qualities. however, the characters are in their own setting and their own story. in his words, "you don't write books about yourself. you write books about characters that you come up with, and you give them their own qualities. […] who cares who i am? the reader is interested in who the witcher is, or who the other characters are."

when asked why geralt is different than the other witchers (more sensitive, kinder), he responds that it's because he's a made up character that's supposed to be interesting for the reader, so he needs to be distinguishable from others. a book is supposed to be interesting, and creating an interesting character is one of the ways to achieve it.

when asked why the smell of yennefer's perfume is so specific, he just says that he made it up and perfume like that doesn't exist.

witchers, although they use magic, are a completely separate group from the sorcerers in the book. there are no common points between them. witchers are also not a reference to any specific mythological archetypes or characters.

he doesn't like announcing what he's doing, because he changes his mind a lot, and doesn't always finish what he starts.

he does say that he is working on a new witcher book and that it should come out within the next year or a couple. considering the context of his words, however, i would consider it as more of a 'maybe' than an actual announcement.

[glubby-guppiez]

*I MADE A TMNT AU [WIP]

*cw: typing quirk

*Oroku family info

*Basic synopsis

*Turtles are from a zoo in Guatemala

*The turtles are Central American Snapping Turtles

*They were stolen and mutated by Baxter Stockman

*Baxter Stockman is the main villain and the turtles work to stop him because he is too far gone and has hurt so many people and creatures in his quest for vast knowledge and is completely apathetic

*)(amato + Foot clan does not affect the story

*The turtles + Splinter lived in Guatemala until they met April and then they moved to New York to go after Stockman

*The turtles start off as regular mutant turtles, but early on during the events of the AU, get mutated further into dragons (friends idea)

*Character Info

*Shared info about the turtles

*Central American Snapping Turtles *All were originally named by the zoo *When they are mutated into dragons, their heights increased *The mutation process was very painful *Wings grew out of their backs and broke their shells at the top where the wings grew *Knows/speaks/writes in Spanish and English *Keeps their original weapons *Learned ninjitsu and self defense similarly to Mutant Mayhem and Bayverse via books and videos but also by watching humans at the dojo that is right above where they live

*Michelangelo

*)(e/)(im Cis male *5'11" (Pre-Dragon) *7'2" (Post-Dragon) *Very muscular build *Lost one of his right toes *Wears cheap gym shorts and an orange sweater around his shoulders that soon turns into his mask after he mutates into a dragon (tears off a sleeve) *Nunchaku on belt *Stickers on shell, including an anime sticker Raphael put on as a joke that won't come off *Old mask had the iconic Mikey short tails *Gay *The Leader *Optimist *Actually good at strategizing *Tries to stay energetic and joyful even when it's inappropriate *A little bit insensitive tbh *Not entirely on purpose he just doesn't understand why everyone isn't happy-go-lucky and constantly optimistic like he is *#1 Cheerleader *Tries to keep good relationships with his family *Very loving and supportive of them *Learning empathy is part of his character development *Mondo Gecko becomes a love interest for him later on

*Madonna (Donatello)

*She/)(er Transfem changed name *6'4" (Pre-Dragon) *7'6" (Post-Dragon) *Largest and most muscular turtle because of her Bo training and mechanical handling *Wears skirts and an apron with lots of storage, including a large tool belt *Steal's Raph's clothes even though they are small on her *Paint splats on shell *Braided mask tails *When everyone's masks broke because of the second mutation, she made everyone but Mikey new ones (Mikey immediately tore up his sweater and made a new mask) *Straight *Group inventor *Not very good at organizing her thoughts and explaining her inventions, and tech is always very messy and hard to follow *Personality is like Rise!Donnie but toned down *Doesn't really get mad but sulky *Very bad grammar *Often butts heads with 'Nardo *)(as a large bo collection and only uses her least favorites and never the ones she really likes unless she has to *Small crush on CJ in the beginning (purely one-sided and goes away after a while)

Leonardo

*)(e/)(im Cis male *5'8" (Pre-Dragon) *6'7" (Post-Dragon) *More scrawny and lanky than the rest of the group *Was effected the most by the second mutation out of the group appearance wise *Wears comfortable loose clothes like hoodies and sweatpants *Plain, long tail mask *Wore glasses before second mutation *)(as a dragon carved onto his lower shell (he begged asked Madonna to do it) *AroAce *Main intel of the group *Very observant *Non verbal and writes everything that comes to mind in these journals called: "Big Book of 'Nardo Thoughts" and hopes to publish them one day. *Thinks he should've been the leader *Geography nerd *Otaku

Raphael

*She/)(er Cis female *5'4" (Pre-Dragon) *7'4" (Post-Dragon) *Muscular but chubby build *Wears feminine clothing mainly jeans and crop tops but also skirts and dresses *Mask tied into a nice bow *Madonna put nail polish drawings on her shell *Paints hers and Mikey's nails *Lesbian *Sassy like 1987 Raphael *Very girly and feminine *Very protective of her family *Does have rage strength *A voice of wisdom/reason *Still kind of childish *)(angs out with Splinter a lot *Gets a girlfriend named Marilyn

Splinter

*)(e/)(im Cis male *5'6" *47 *Bushy-tailed Woodrat *Wears a dirty ass expensive silk bathrobe that he stole from a human that he WILL NOT take off *Raph likes to style his fur *Straight ally *Only knows Spanish *Reads a lot and taught the turtles how to read *Great cook *Mediocre dad *Was taken from his own parents at an early age so he has no clue how to parent outside of instinct and books *He's trying he goes to the PTA meetings he goes to them/ref *Brought home a whole bunch of girl books for Madonna when she came out to him *Praises Mikey for his optimism *Adores 'Nardo's writing *Wants a wife so bad

Baxter Stockman

*TW FOR MENTIONS OF ABUSE *)(e/)(im Cis Male *5'5" (Pre mutation) *6'4" (Post mutation) *56 *Black and Brazilian *Buzz cut (Pre mutation) *Skinny build (Pre mutation) *Becomes a fly mutant *Much more muscular post mutation *)(air grows out *Kind of looks like Super Fly *Wears stereotypical lab gear *Questioning AroAce *Very devoted to his work *Abused and neglected his wife (April's mom) and daughter (April O'Neil) *Made the turtles, Shredder, Splinter, and other mutants *Everyone )(ATES him *Rightfully so *)(e uses mech suits to fight like 2012 him in season 1 *CJ is his pupil early on *Kind of a bitch to CJ *Sadistic *This man gets very uncomfortable to be around after he's mutated *Like bro wanting disect and study every living thing he comes across after the mutation *Throws a fit when he's wrong about something *Has a deep desire to be all knowing

April O'Neil

*She/They/It Demigirl *5'8" *19 *Afro Latina *She has dark brown hair styled in afro puffs *Skinny but athletic build *Sports a black and yellow track suit with a white undershirt *Bisexual *Daughter of Baxter Stockman *Tech whiz *Madonna's best friend *Big sister figure to the turtles *Grew up in Guatemala and moved to New York with the turtles and Splinter shortly after meeting them *)(er dad's #1 hater *Fluent in Spanish *Knows English, but it's rough *Uses a gun *Dating Karai

Casey Jones (CJ)

*They/)(e/It Nonbinary (fine with gender neutral or masculine terms) *5'2" *17 *White *)(as that 2000's mid length emo boy haircut *Wears Jeans + Band tee and a lab coat *Main inspo from 2012 Casey design wise *Omniromantic (pref for men) Asexual *Kind of wimpy and doesn't fight *Mainly uses mousers and other robots *Stockman's pupil until he joins up with the turtles *Works alongside 'Nardo and Madonna *Genuinely scared of Mikey *Grew up in New York *Failed Art Class and will have to repeat highschool they are so salty about this it is not even *Geek loser *Main personality inspo from '87 and 2012 Stockman

*I will write about more characters later and more lore but rn this is all you get. If you wanna see specific characters or if you have any questions, feel free to ask me my ask box is open!

[mrsbsmooth]

20 questions for fic writers

Thanks for the tag @rebelrayne! @longbobmckenzie tagged me in the body of hers too so I’ll take it.

How many works do you have on ao3?

82 right now, but I’ve orphaned a few recently

What’s your total ao3 word count?

1,220,982. I’ve got about another 30-40k words in WIP documents right now, so almost one-amd-a-quarter million words 😨

What fandoms do you write for?

Love Island the Game, Too Hot to Handle game, Harry Potter (Dramione exclusive), Romance Club (Heaven’s Secret)

Top five fics by Kudos

Tell Me What You Want (HP)

This Time, I’m Serious

Jaded

Unhealthy

Kinktober 2022

TIL that my Harry Potter fic has overtaken TTIS even though TTIS has more hits.

Do you respond to comments?

Yes! There were a few on TTIS I missed that it would be awkward to reply to because it was so long ago, but I make a point of trying to reply to every comment.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

The only sad ending I’ve ever written was the first chapter of Jaded which was originally done as a oneshot.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably Welcome To Racers. They got the whole shebang. Love me a happily ever after.

Do you get hate on fics?

Not recently. I’ve had hate for my portrayals of Alex, Lucas, and Suresh. But I haven’t had any nasty anon comments in ages which is lovely.

Do you write smut?

Yeah it's kinda my thing.

Craziest crossover:

I don’t know if I’ve done many crossovers… maybe Bruno and Miri Make a Porno or All I Want for Christmas is You which is a hetero take on Red White and Royal blue?

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No but I think I would probably die of happiness.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I HAVE! All’s Fair in Casa Amor was written with my beautiful friends @i-boop-you and @crimswnred !!!!!!

All time favourite ship?

Dramione (new fave) but for LITG? Hard question because our fandom is so built around an MC. But with two canon characters? I secretly love a Bruno/Valentina. Also love Hope/Lucas. They just WORK.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

It’s gotta be Recovery. I have the whole thing planned in my head but I just have no motivation to write it at all. Other than that, I don’t see myself finishing Famous Last Words any time soon. If I was going to finish it I’d take it down and rewrite it to make it fully OF.

What are your writing strengths?

Smut probably, I’m not bad at it. I feel like my narrative pacing is alright, and my prose is decent despite it being really inconsistent.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I rely too much on dialogue. I miss all the little body language bits leading up to an important line that could take it from an ‘aww that’s sad’ to a ‘holy fuck I’m sobbing’. Luckily I have wonderful beta’s who help me with this.

But more than anything, characterisation. Forming a fully fleshed out character before I start the story. I struggle with it. I’ve always felt like I’m more of a storyteller, (a plot person) more than a deep dive into a character’s psyche kind of person. I love reading character driven stories though, but I think it’s something that comes with writing experience. I haven’t actually been writing for that long and I think I’m getting better at it, but it’s still a weak point.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I sometimes forget that people don’t like this. I LOVE it. I do try and use it sparingly though. It’s so nice to see a character conversing with someone in their native language. I try and put the English dialogue in brackets or italics unless it's rather clear what they're saying (like swearing).

First fandom you wrote in?

LITG

Favourite fic you've written?

I, like Sarah, absolutely hate this question. My fics are my children. I like some of them more than others, though (I never claimed to be the world's best mother). But I love them for different reasons.

I love Welcome to Racers because it was my first AU. I loved The Only Two Things because I got to create an entire world, an entire city for my characters (Yes I'm aware Waterford, Ireland is a real place but God, I loved that story so much). TT,IS was the first fic I started and it gave me the friends I have today and the amount of people who tell me it's S4 canon just makes my whole life. Jaded was something different. It was a challenge to myself and I'm so proud of it. Unhealthy has been the most difficult to write, but it's also pushed me the hardest in my development of characters. FLW has been so much fun because I get to dive back into my music roots, urghhhhhh. Love.

I don't care if it's narcissistic. I re-read my fics on a regular basis. They're perfectly tailored to my taste. I love doing a nice re-read and sprinkling in a few extra details with liberal use of the edit button. If there was someone who knew my fics as well as I did, they'd get something a little bit different on every read. Might just be a line or two, might be a thought or a reaction, but I love to add and tweak and tinker with them all.

Love.

tagging: @i-boop-you @crimswnred @ellegreenwxy @tammyisobsessedwith @operationnope @sparxaf @eskiix