#little sci fi/mysterious vibes here
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it/thing
Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial Prompt 218: How Do You Use 'It'?
[Summary: a girl ignores her impulses and prepares for her new fate]

Her fingers are guaranteed to stay at her sides, even as the tips curve slightly towards her palms as if to stop a reaching she’d never permit. Instead it’s her eyes that rove, that graze and brush and take in the whole… thing.
She’s not too sure there’s actually a word to describe it.
The room, at least, she can: oppressive. Like a chamber blooming off a cave’s narrow tunnels, with a ceiling curving and pulsing, no windows in sight and the only light comes from the thing, a lacing pattern like veins casting over her skin. It’s like stepping inside a balloon, for some unquestionable reason, and probably she should be running back out. Places that feel like this are never going to be safe; things that happen here are never right. These are the places of lifechanging events, the sort the people making don’t live to see what change they create.
But like her fingers stay at her sides, her feet stay firmly pointed inwards. Away from the only exit she can see, because though it’s there, open and waiting, she won’t take it. Can’t take it.
“How do you use it?” Quiet. Serious. Two words perfect to describe her in the last five days; possibly the two words that made her perfect to get to this position. Deeper inside this thing, he turns, eyes glinting in the darkness. The thing’s light causes a water-like ripple, dropping down his forehead and colliding with his brows.
“It’s simpler than it looks,” he answers with a ghost of a smile. “Quite intuitive, once you’ve settled in.”
It’s not quite an answer, she notes. In service of his want to be mysterious a little longer – up to this point, he has been the only one to work it – or in genuineness that there is no way to answer. To drive a car, you sit in the front seat. For this, maybe first look rings true, that there is no front seat.
Still, she wants an answer. Directions, something to grasp and work with. She doesn’t want to step in only in his shadow, letting him be the only way to settle in.
“How’d you do that, then?” She can’t make herself take another step closer – what if she disturbs something? – but she can set her mouth into a hard, challenging line.
Once more, his mouth twitches. Not a true smile, nothing more than a whisp. Under these lights, it fits better than it would outside. Like the swirling dimness befits controlled looks, thin expressions.
“Are you sure you want to know?”
Again, not an answer. This time her fingertips curl towards her palms with deliberate needed sharpness, to clench her fists in frustration. Is it not enough that she entered this place? That she’s gazed up and around at this thing, taken a breath and not turned and fled? She’d heard rumours that the two others they’d tried had done that. They’d looked at what she had, and chose whatever other options they could scrape, but she hasn’t. She’s still here, not running.
“Maybe you should trust our superiors. If they’ve let me in here, clearly they’re confident I want to know.” Her tone’s sharper, like the edge of her chin that she juts out. Can he see that, in this light? At least her voice is unimpeded; this whole thing doesn’t seem to emit any sound. It’s mostly a lightshow, pulses and waves that make her feel like there’s sound missing.
There’s no smile this time, ghost or not. There’s just a laugh, sharp as her tone, barking across the space. She jumps; controls it into a jolt of her shoulders, practically invisible.
“That’s more bite than the last two had,” he says with a wry shake of his head. “I think I might have offended you.”
Might?
“If you want to make it up to me, you should answer my questions.” She badly wants to fold her arms over her chest, a firm wall of steel, but it’s better keeping them at her sides. His eyes flick over her again – and how does she look, under this light? – before jerking his head at her. Gesturing her closer.
She doesn’t swallow, because she knew what she was getting into when she came in here, yet it does take a second more than she’d like to work her feet into the first steps.
“It works through here,” he explains as she slowly steps closer. It’s narrower, and it gets dimmer, further from the exit. The darkness swirls like a too-thick blanket; she doesn’t give into the impulse to breathe too quickly.
Instead she looks where he gestures, a part of the wall carved out, hollowed. It’s like a geode cracked, the thing bleeding in blunt chunks around the hollow, the place, she understands, that she is to control it.
Across, there is another hollow. His.
Claustrophobia rears to brush against the back of her neck, ignored like every other impulse she’s had since entering. Third time’s meant to be the charm, and she’s the third to enter. She’s the one who won’t let herself leave.
“It’s intuitive, once I settle in.” An echo, a questioning statement for confirmation. Either way, she glances at him, finding his eyes by the way the film catches the thing’s light. He nods, the ghost back on his lips.
“Don’t worry,” he tells her, a sentiment that doesn't help at all. “It’s not as horrible as it looks like it’ll be.”
#flash fiction friday#flash fiction#short story#writeblr#anna's writing#word count: 916#I'm calling this speculative#little sci fi/mysterious vibes here
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hey can u give me interactive fiction recs? i went down a rabbit hole with wayhaven and infamous and i need something to fill a void 🙏
Hi, sure i’ll list some of the blogs on here from ifs i’m playing and enjoying and I hope something will fill the void haha
If you like wayhaven try and check out:
@barbwritesstuff Bloodmoon and Thicker Than - the themes are different but you get vampires and werewolf in modern times creating a bond with others peers plus you have to solve mystery and navigate powerplays so they’re both very fun!
@vapolis Remember You Will Die - it’s a bit darker theme wise(cyberpunk/sci-fi), but the MC is so fun and unhinged and the RO’s as well haha
@vendetta-if Vendetta - again different theme but you have complicated family, you get cool powers and the fighting scenes are chef kiss imo
Instead if you liked infamous:
@pressplay-if Press Play - it’s music themed. It’s an esclusive interview with the members of a retired famous band after years since they disbanded. The author said it’s a tragedy and your MC is probably not gonna have an happy ending with the ROs so you’ve been warned haha
@apt502-if Apartment 502 - Kind of has a New Girl/Friends vibes. It’s a slice of life, you move to New York and get a new job, meet new people but you also lose someone… it has sooo many choices and opportunities for customising your MC, fyi your MC is not gonna have an easy time in the beginning just so you know
@loveandleases Love and Leases - slice of life, you get to move on after a break up and some family drama. Lots of nice ROs with different vibes and personality, also I’m a sucker for these sitcom like ifs cause I love to see how it goes and evolves!
I’m add some fantasy options ‘case I really like these too.
(Some of them have some warnings so i suggest read those before checking out the actual if!)
@virtues-end Virtue’s End - I’m a sucker for the aesthetic of this if, gives me gothic fantasy Middle Ages with a little bit of Bloodborne vibes sprinkled in there and I’ve been loving all the chapters (also Shea has me and my mc in a chokehold hahah)
@night-market-if The Night Market - I really admire and appreciate the world building of this if (also love all the hints at mythology and take on some religions in it) and how it’s not all so black and white for the characters, in the sense that even if I don’t agree with the choices of some characters I still get where they’re coming from and for me that’s characters well written that I enjoy!
@louroth Ouroboros - darker theme, apocalyptic vibes but with some magic and fantasy in there. I like the different MCs you can make and you also have some monster options for the ROs, if you like that!
@ataleofcrowns A tale of Crowns - The setting for this if is one of my faves and all the ROs are captivating yet diverse along with their backstory and I love the building of the MC as well (check out D storyline if you like the angst of A’s in Wayhaven, they’re very different but the angst hits good)
@coeluvr Crown of Ashes and Flame - I really like the setting and, again, you can seek vengence, if you want, and the characters are all interesting and you can get a nice dose of angst if that’s what you like
@llamagirl28 The Bastard of Camelot - again really enjoy the theme of Arthurian legends and the spin the author chose. You get a lot of options for the ROs to pick from and you can also choose the type of relationship you’ll have with your parents AND you get a dragon (read the warning before playing and make sure you’re comfortable with what you’re gonna read)
@intimidatingpuffinstudios The Soulstone War Series - again fantasy with magic, dragons, an interesting plot, you get a donkey and the RO’s are all hot hahaha
@fallenhero-rebirth The Fallen Hero Series - superhero themed but in an apocalyptic world and you play as the villain! It was one of the first if’s I’ve played and I still replay it every once in a while cause I really like it!
I’d have added more but the list was already long so maybe I’ll do a part 2 hahah!
#sorry if this took a while but irl got busy#like i said if you want more titles i have more haha#hope you find something to fill the void in the meantime#thanks for the ask!#interactive fic
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party 4 u (oberyn x f!reader)
wc: 6.8k | other fics | rating: 18+ | ao3
summary: you only threw this party for him
warnings: explicit smut, modern au, public sex/exhibitionism, face fucking, drugs/alcohol, f!reader is able bodied and has hair that can tangle, non-linear rose-colored flashbacks (unreliable narrator perchance), angst, unresolved longing, em dash use bc of my adhd not ai, flashbacks are italicized for your convenience,
a/n: i took the song too literally to just write smut bc that shit is angsty gatsby vibes but obviously i wrote it so there will be fuckin', nobody panic (me 2 me)
-> this is an extremely belated submission to @chaotic-mystery's #wired4youchallenge, apologies for missing the deadline (it's bc of who i am as a person/the maladaptive coping mechanisms i cling to) -> moodboard and gif by @clubsoft <3 i couldn't have figured it out without your encouragement and beautiful graphics
─────────────────────
All these parties used to feel like flirting with transcendence. When you were in his orbit every experience was like that. His proximity came with an ecstasy tinted lens.
Luxury colognes diffusing between body heat. Parliaments smoldering and forgotten. Liquor-spiced lips. All things that used to be alluring to you—charming even—the symbols of a lifestyle people claw their way into.
But tonight this party is so offensively loud that your exasperated sigh is drowned out. The manor is glitzed up. A constant backdrop of wealth. Status. A farce. Just a part of your plan.
You roll your eyes, unnoticeably in the strobing lights. The facade of old money has socialites flocking through the doors. They rail lines off of silver platters while their limbs tangle on velvet sofas, feeling safe enough to let loose without any cameras or consequences.
You slip through the library. It’s unrecognizable. Behind the grinding, swaying bodies of the rich and spoiled are rare editions of famous literature and collections of poetry. The corners of your mouth drop into a grimace.
It’s all hollow. Without his hand resting on your lower back, or his lips brushing over your ear funneling whispered words into your bloodstream.
He brought vibrance to every room. Life. But tonight everything is dull and plastic.
If you close your eyes, you can see him. Wearing that crooked smile that gives you butterflies. His shirt barely buttoned and his dark tousled hair, like he’s alway freshly fucked.
He’s a devastating flirt. The only man in the universe that could actually make you weak with a wink and a smirk. And the way he carries himself. Ringing with opulence; true royalty.
Without him it’s all cheap. Contrived. There’s an undercurrent of sweat and hairspray coating your lungs. You press through sticky bodies draped in silks and designer labels.
Gold confetti caught in your hair glitters under the pulsing lights. If Oberyn were here, the lights would feel like something ethereal. Tonight, they flicker around the room like little lies. Artificial stardust.
Finally, you push through a group of people whose faces you’ve seen, but names you can’t come up with. You find a server with fresh drinks. The bass rattles in your bones as you take a flute of bubbling gold liquid and drift into another room with a different soundtrack.
Lavish trays of catering spoil, untouched by a crowd more inclined to seek a different type of party favor. It’s brighter but the crowd is louder.
He’s not there.
You slink outside. Past the pool. Something bouncier blasts from the speakers. The water glows sci-fi blue. People who should be dancing stand in circles.
Men smoke cigars they think project the size of their dicks, while women who deserve better smile back at them with glossy lips and glazed eyes. You press a finger between your brows. Massaging in a circle to manually deflate the judgment. You float back into the house not unlike a ghoul haunting the estate. Your eyes linger on the entrance as if he might materialize in front of you.
He doesn’t.
To a stranger, the entire party is perfect. Gilded and gleaming. Filled with beautiful bodies and stories that will be repeated for years. But there are fractures everywhere.
Discarded heels abandoned under a marble bench. A fur jacket slumped over an armchair like roadkill. Untethered balloons huddled near the stairs. You smile when someone walks past you. Your dress is perfect, hugging your form, plunging low and sparkling. Your hair, makeup, everything is curated and styled.
Here you are. The host of the party, dolled up and painted to perform. You should be the center of the party. Instead, you’re nearly invisible. But there’s only one person's attention that matters. The obsession propels you to keep looking. Surveying every room, checking the door, walking past the pool, and scrolling through your messages again and again.
Overfull rooms. Bodies sculpted by personal trainers. Everything is drenched in lust and loneliness. Anxiety rips through you like a drug you didn’t mean to keep taking, squeezing your chest and making you restless.
But, bound by duty you follow the same path again.
It’s compulsory.
Maybe you’ll still be tracing the same steps when the sun comes up.
Maybe you’ll end up right here, under this light, in this spot, with this ugly gloom stuck to your ribs.
Maybe by morning, you’ll be part of the decor. Another pretty thing people walk past without asking who put it there or why or how to care for it. You turn toward the window overlooking the garden, forcing yourself to stare through the reflection. Afraid to face the wanting in your own eyes. ─────────────────────
Light spills across tangled sheets, golden and reverential. The room smells like sun-dusted sex, sweat, and perfume.
There’s a decadence to the stillness. Drapes half-pulled, music from last night still paused on the speaker. The heat of the day—of your bodies—rises until you’re tempted to kick the sheets off altogether.But you feel him.
Your heart skips. Makes you stay in place. Lips twitching into a grin as you’re entranced by the weight of his palm resting on your hip, fingers spreading slow and possessive.
He’s draped around you like a dragon resting with his treasure. Unbothered by where you stick to each other, where the sweat slips between your skin, by the glitter in your mess of hair that he’ll never get out of his linens.
He hums against the back of your neck, thick with sleep. And gravelly satisfaction. Pleased to wake up so late in the afternoon that the sun floods the room, as long as you’re skin to skin, twisted up like vines.
You don’t open your eyes yet, hoping to prolong whatever spell you’re both under. His voice comes out low, worn from the night before.
“You’re awake.”
“M’not,” you murmur into the pillow.
“This is a dream then,” he purrs.
“I wish.”
“Then I will make it one. Go back to sleep.”
You smile against your pillow as he draws his hand lazily along your skin, mapping every dip and curve. His touch really is like a dream. A dream you’d happily live day after day, locked in a world that only contains you and him.
All you could want.
As syrupy as your mind is while you’re in his arms, each time he traces your torso your nerves prickle and light up. When he presses a line of kisses down your neck and along the top of your shoulder, you can’t stop the breathy, soft sigh that turns to a moan.
You can feel his smirk spreading on his cheeks as he hooks his chin over your shoulder.
“You’re still awake,” he whispers, tickling your ear.
“Can’t help it,” you argue.
“No.”
He shifts and the laugh bubbling in your chest gets caught in your throat. Behind you, he’s hard and warm and already pressing against the curve of your ass. “This,” he grinds against you slowly, like he has all the time in the world, “I cannot help.”
“And this,” he draws his hand lower and lower, stirring up the molasses-thick heat low in your belly. Your thighs part instinctively, and he hooks your leg behind his before curling his fingers over your hot cunt. “This you cannot help,” he murmurs as he dips his fingers into the pool of slick between your lips.
You make a noise of agreement in your throat as he teases you with too slow, too precise movements, spreading your wetness along your puffy folds.
“Do you know why?” he asks.
“Biology.”
“Wrong.” He nips at the slope of your neck. “It’s fate.”
“Oh, fuck off—” he plunges a thick finger inside of you and your mouth hangs open, wordlessly.
“Something divine molded our bodies to fit together.”
“Divine,” you repeat, still sleep-rough and greedy, arching back into him.
He doesn’t tease. He moves with you—hips rolling, his finger sliding out of you only to trace the mess along your folds. He traces along your tender flesh, up and down. He parts your lips and brushes the lightest touch directly to the head of your exposed, glistening clit. Your breath stutters.
There’s something quiet in the whole moment. Sacred. It’s not about getting off, not yet. Just about feeling. Reminding your bodies of their favorite rhythm.
You arch so beautifully against him, and he shifts just right, laying his thick cock against your messy pussy. You snake a hand down, laying your palm over his shaft and ever so slightly use your hips to glide back and forth, coating him in slippery, sweet arousal.
His mouth trails over your shoulder, teeth catching at your skin, the scratch of his stubble awakening your senses to something sharper. No more dull, sleepy haze. When you finally roll over to face him, blinking as you take him in—you realize he means it.
The reverence he holds as he drinks you in. The way he glows as he gazes into your eyes. Like he sees something worth worshipping even beneath the leftover smudges of eye makeup, the tangled hair—for every flaw you can find he’ll find something to admire. He smiles at you with that deadly Oberyn charm and you might as well be boneless.
“Kiss me,” you whisper as if anything louder would ruin the moment.
He obliges, kissing you slowly. Plush lips pressing against yours. Mouths moving together, heavy and familiar. The kind of kiss you can’t teach someone.
Nobody is leading or following, no teeth clacking, or noses bumping. Fluid. It deepens with each breath, tongues dancing, hands roaming, heat building. The heady, thick desire blooms in your chest. It floods your veins until your entire body is an erogenous zone.
The kind that builds until you’re writhing, gasping, and aching with vicious need. Until the greed is too sharp and you wedge your hand between your bodies to guide his leaking cock where you want it.
The harmony is intensely intimate. Moving like two pieces of a whole, he lines up with ease. Your eyes lock on his. Warm, dark, and honest.
It’s too soon to call it love, but that doesn’t stop your heart from pounding the word against your chest.
You swap hot, gasping breaths as he slowly pushes into you. The sound of slick skin and rustling sheets says enough. Simple sounds. Raw. More vulnerable and tantalizing than any filthy words.
When he sinks into you fully there’s a connection beyond physical.
You know it without a doubt but neither of you say it out loud. Instead, he carves his memory into you with painstakingly slow, deep thrusts. His forehead pressed to yours, his voice filling your ears now.
“Perfect.”
“Made for me.”
“Feels so fucking good.”
In what feels like forever and no time at all, you’re twisting your hands in the sheets, chanting at him to keep going, just like that, as your brows draw together and your lips form an ‘o’.
There’s a crest that builds and builds. He encourages you with every word, every kiss, and every roll of his body against yours. Under his body, in his arms, on his bed. Present. His.
Your voice drops, deep and jagged, “Oh–fuck.”
You relax into it and he sweeps you away. Into a release that rolls from your core to your toes to the tips of your ears.
Sated and panting.
When you finally open your eyes, he only looks hungrier. And damn he looks good with an appetite. Without another word, he’s on you again, littering you with kisses, leaving a wake of dewy prints on your skin. He doesn’t falter when you rasp out his name. He mouths at your soft tits like they’re an offering. He spends long enough palming, mouthing, and sucking at each one that he must have them memorized. Your nipples ache, spit-slick and tender, riding the intoxicating line of pleasure and pain. He admires how swollen they are and traces a finger over the teeth marks in your pillowy flesh. He kisses the little bruises blooming where he sucked until your fingers threaded into his hair to tug him off. Lip curling into a grin at the pained look on your face that makes his cock kick against the mattress. He works his way further down. Dragging his mouth across your stomach. Watching you the whole time before lifting your hips toward his face. Holding you in his strong hands. He chuckles softly, feeding off how needy you look, like you’re drunk with anticipation. You press your tongue hard against your cheek to stop from begging—or drooling. And, finally, mercifully, he licks into you. Hot, wet tongue slowly tracing the same path his fingers mapped earlier before. The same dream-hazy intensity, stroking gently and languidly. He’s a master of sensation. Playing with pressure to work you up then grounding you instead. Sucking and kissing at your inner thighs while your clit pulses for him to come back and wrap his lips around the oversensitive nerves and make out with your cunt. And he does. Humming into you while obscene wet sounds float around the room. It’s overwhelming. His nose nudges your swollen hood as he works his tongue into you greedily. The pressure of his strong jaw has you mindlessly grinding against his face. His facial hair adds friction that makes you keen, empty headed. The muscles in your thighs start to tremble. He’s nearly lost in your pleasure, drowned. He slips two fingers inside of you and with expert fluidity he coaxes you toward another orgasm. His lips stay sealed over your clit, suckling. His fingers curl, firmly petting at the spongy patch he finds so easily. Tears spill from the corners of your eyes and he groans into you as you come again. Your walls contract rhythmically around his fingers and your abs tense, everything in you curls toward him rigidly until the euphoria washes over you and everything softens.
His face glistens when he pulls out of reach, hovering. Your lungs stretch your ribs for more air and you want to pull him closer. Stay here forever.
One more breath streams over your swollen cunt, then he presses a kiss to your thigh with an air of finality. “You’re hungry,” he announces. You don’t give a fuck about food. You search your mushy mind for the words you want. Hand reaching weakly in search of his cock. You want to make him come. Before you remember how to talk he speaks again. “I can hear your stomach.” Your brows furrow. “I don’t care.” Something strict ripples in his expression. “I do.” It’s not loud or commanding, but there’s an authority that makes your face hot and you nod. In minutes he’s feeding you fresh fruit and pastries. You lounge in that bed as long as you can—spending the afternoon in and out of kisses. Laughter muffled by sheets. Limbs wrapped together in slow affection. No urgency. No worries. No need to name a love so rich. ───────────────────── The glow of the memory vanishes. Burst like a fragile bubble when someone brushes past you with a drink in each hand. The cool condensation sticks to your arm. You flinch like you’ve been burned. You lean against the windowsill, curling in on yourself like you can disappear into the architecture. Maybe if you’re still long enough, he’ll appear and everything will shift back into color. The song playing makes your stomach sink. The carefully crafted playlists from the records you’d played in his suite, from clubs you went out to on special occasions, from memories you can’t let go of. Now they’re just mocking you. And then there’s the cake. Birthday cake. You didn’t see him anywhere on his birthday. You tried to reach him. He never answered. And now, tucked on a side table, barely noticed—his favorite flavor. No one’s asked about it. Not the cake. Not the candles. Your dress feels too tight. Shoes pinching your toes. You chew at your lip, looking around the room. Some of the party guests know your name.
Some of them know his.
None of them know the way he made you feel. The way he looked at you. The way the two of you could dance to no music. The way you always found each other in a room—no matter how packed it was with people, bad lighting, or loud music. But you can’t find him tonight.
You threw the party just for him. Spread the word in every social circle you thought might reach him. Every part of this whole production you designed like a siren song for him. And he’s not here. And nobody cares. You push off from the windowsill, snap your shoulders back and with a flip of your hair, you’re already taking another lap. Propelled. To keep moving. To keep looking for him. ───────────────────── He knows the very first moment he sees you. And maybe you do too. You aren’t looking for him, but he finds you anyway—cutting through the crowd with swagger and purpose. Inevitable. Kismet.
Wordlessly you join together on the dance floor. Bodies in tune. The music is your heartbeat. His palm spreads low on your back.
He watches your mouth when you smile.
He doesn’t ask to kiss you.
You lean in first.
You press your lips to his like you already know the way he tastes. He kisses you back like he’s been waiting for you to catch up.
Your first seventy-two hours together is a blur. Cocktails on the rooftop of a hotel neither of you are staying at. His hand between your thighs in the back of a cab. Waking up in luxurious sheets, body aching in ways you dream about now.
His charm is powerful but casual. Not rehearsed. Confident, but not performative. He’s open. Unashamed.
He’s gratuitous, spoiling you with fine dates and traditional romance—but also indulging in your spirited nature.
He’s happy to eat street food and people watch on a park bench while you assign stories to couples who walk past. You never miss him because you’re never apart.
A matched set, you spend weeks never out of reach of one another. His hand is always ready to wrap around yours. Your laugh is always echoing wherever he brings you.
His attention is blinding, gravity inescapable. You know there are jealous looks and unconfirmed rumors lurking at the edges of all the parties, but you’ve no concerns.
You know him.
You look at each other like you know the color of each other's souls. You aren’t afraid of the depth or the dark either.
You know he’s a hedonist with a heart on his sleeve but it’s wrapped in thorns. You don’t need to know all of it to love him. To love being with him.
He’s passionate in ways that don’t always make sense. Loyal to ghosts, grieving things he won’t name. But he lights up for you.
He knows there are no highs without the reality of lows. That pleasure and pain are two sides of the same coin. That to love anything in the world is to risk everything, too. He doesn’t say that part out loud.
Instead he lives in the moment, and invites you to let go of the future and breathe with him. Dance with him. Laugh with him. Get drunk. Get fucked. Get lost in the glimmer of his realm. Instead it’s transfused between his lips and your skin.
He’s an open book when you ask questions in the dark, but you never ask what you’re afraid to hear. You ignore the tendril of unease and focus on what you can feel.
His hands on your hips feel like reassurance—like the whisper of a promise. The weight of his cock stretching you, filling you, feels like it’s steeped in ardor.
He holds your hand when you watch the sunrise, he reads you sonnets like some fantasy lover. He keeps you so close his skin burns against yours like sunlight. It feels mystical. You can taste the sugar of the fruit on your tongue, the salt of his sweat on your lips. It feels real. ───────────────────── The champagne you picture chasing down his chest with your tongue loses its dazzle. It’s just another fizzy drink going flat and warm in your hand. Recentering yourself in the party makes your fingers numb. The friends of his from out of town that you thought would bring him to the door are strangers to you now.
Maybe they’re strangers to him now too. You wouldn’t know. That reality bites at your spine like ice. You swear you can hear your footsteps echoing despite every room being filled with people.
They’re everywhere. Bodies spilling through the doorways like pests. No matter where you stop to check your makeup or pull out your phone it’s like you’re in the way. At your own party. Like there’s nowhere you belong. He’s not here and now it feels like you don’t belong here either. It’s all…off. The lights feel too harsh, the loud music makes it feel like you can’t think. Every fake laugh you catch as you pass the pool sounds more grating than the last. Unlike the nights you used to love a crowd. An audience. ───────────────────── Dripping with charisma he entranced guests in multiple languages—spoken and physical. His hand grazing someone’s waist, resting on someone’s shoulder, someone whispering in his ear. But his eyes always slide back to you.
No matter how big the party is.
No matter who he’s talking to.
He’s magnetic. Undoubtedly. Impossible not to watch. Men lean in closer to hear his tales. Women brighten under his gaze. He commands the room like a king while making everyone feel adored and respected.
But he always returns to you.
He finds you near the bar, plucking the glass from your fingers and taking a sip without asking. His mouth is on yours before you utter a word in mock protest. The taste of liquor shared from his tongue to yours burns warm and honeyed. You can hear the buzz of the party behind you, but you don’t turn to look.
His hand trails over your ribs, along the plane of your back, hot against your shoulder blades. Innately your bodies are drawn closer, not a thought of the indecence crosses your mind when you shift, cradling his thigh between yours.
His fingers slip under the hem of your dress and he cups the soft swell of your ass. Eyes flutter shut, your hips roll instinctively reaching for him, seeking pressure.
He hums low and sultry against your mouth, like he’s impressed with how you gasp when his grip tightens. He encourages you to rut against him like you’re in your own world.
And you are, when he touches you nothing else exists.
Your heart thumps loudly, first in your chest then echoed in your cunt.
“Look,” he murmurs, tilting your jaw to peek at the balcony and the lounge.
Drinking, talking, smiling, laughing. The villa is lively, guests dressed beautifully like the scene should be a painting. You’ve gotten to know some of the faces and names, but aren’t particularly concerned with any of them right now, or how many are looking at the two of you. You’re preoccupied. Thoughts racing with excuses to slip out of the room altogether.
As if he’s inside your head, Oberyn deviantly grabs another handful of your asscheek beneath your party dress and squeezes. Hard. This time his fingers graze the damp lace clinging to your cunt and you dig your teeth into your lower lip, jumping at sensation.
Some of the people looking at you turn their heads away nonchalantly, but others merely sip their drinks and look at you with focus in their eyes.
A flash of adrenaline swoops through you head to toe. You don’t stiffen or shrink. Your thighs clench. Possession and heat flares like he just struck a match.
Oberyn cradles your head looking into your eyes. Yours are heavy-lidded under the weight of his attention, his are blown dark mainlining your arousal.
He doesn’t take you upstairs. He doesn’t even take you to a room. His hand stays on your waist as he leads you through the open archway to a daybed draped in silks and scattered with pillows.
The party is in full swing around you, but you don’t care.
All you hear is his smoky voice. “You want them to see?”
His teeth graze your earlobe when you nod and feel him grin. He doesn’t ask again. He turns you toward the room, dark eyes roaming over the nearest group of minglers. His voice is calm, but it carries.
To the rest of the room, it’s smooth and bold, but you can hear the wild frayed edge and it makes your skin tingle.
A couple shuffles out. A beautiful woman holds eye contact with you as she sinks deeper into an armchair. Someone lowers some drapes, partially shrouding the room and trapping the lust filled air between you.
Oberyn’s eyes are on you as he slides his hands down your curves, then back up, hooking on the hem of your dress and inching it higher and higher. He briefly surveys the room before his eyes land back on you and he cracks a wolfish grin.
“You’re glowing,” he chides. Your pulse is loud, senses heightened and pierced with reckless want. “We’ll show them what makes you really light up.” His words and possessive grip are an electric jolt.
He soothes your minor trembling, massaging circles into your soft skin with his thumbs.
Folks settle into the velvet couches, drinks in hand. Some lean back, others edge closer. The woman whose eyes haven't left you, rolls her lip between her teeth.
It’s dizzying.
He commands the entire room, but he needs no words to do it. He doesn’t even have to take a second glance. His mouth trails down your neck and lays you down like an altar he’s ready to worship.
It’s not a show.
It’s a masterclass.
He touches you like you’re the only one in the room. In the world. Your pulse quickens as eyes land on you. The stares are sharp, prickly against your skin.
But there’s no shame rising up. Instead, it draws something deeper from you. More primal. Untainted by social constructs.
He spreads your legs wide, with a delicate kiss to each inner ankle. He undresses, joining you in your naked state. You’re exposed but it feels powerful.
The sight of his leaking cock only amplifies your hunger. Nothing emboldens you more than the proof of his desire. He stands before you like a demigod. Toned, broad, and radiating sex and strength. Uniquely actualized in his masculinity in a way that makes you blossom before him.
He’s unhurried and unapologetic. He slowly pumps his fist along his shaft as you salivate anticipating the weight of it on your tongue.
You trail your hands gracefully along your body, until you’re entranced by each other. Sharing the heavenly sight of the two of you with a room of people you’ve already forgotten existed.
“Look what you do to me.” He looks like he’s so hard it hurts. His hand grips the base of his cock, flush against the dark hair that trails down from his navel.
You roll your nipples between your thumbs and forefingers trying to ease the same discomfort.
It’s too much.
You can’t stay leaned against the pillows, legs spread, cunt dripping any longer. You crawl toward him, to the end of the king sized daybed, like a vision. The corners of his eyes soften, but you have tunnel vision.
With a soft grip you wrap your fingers around the head, teasing your thumb along sensitive nerves just below the crown. You take delight in the little jerk of his hips, before leaning closer to lick the bead of precome from his slit.
“I love this cock,” you purr.
“Yeah?” He slips a hand around the back of your head.
“Nicest one I’ve ever seen.”
“Show me how much you love it. Show them.”
You don’t need more encouragement to take him into your mouth, coating him with your saliva and moaning in tandem as you twist your fist down the rest of his length.
You find a rhythm. Enraptured by every ridge and vein gliding along your tongue. It takes a little gagging and sputtering before you’re able to relax your throat and let him hold your head firmly and take over. Fucking your face while you do your best to stay in place on your hands and knees.
The sloppy, slick sounds and his strained grunts are like a potent drug taking you higher. When he pulls your head back, you make a delirious giggle.
Your swollen lips and the drool shining on your chin snaps his restraint.
He leans down to kiss you like he’s starved, making out with you as you both keep moving until his body is covering yours. His hands grip your wrists to keep you in place, holding you steady while you writhe and arch beneath him wanting more.
He praises you softly, privately, both with words and low grunts. He traces his teeth along the line of your neck and you roll your head to the side. Your audience is glued to you. Eyes dark, but gleaming with fascination.
“Keep looking at them.”
You try. Struggling to keep your eyes open on your admirers as he angles to finally fuck into you. The room spins as he pushes deeper and deeper.
The faces orbit the two of you like you’re the sun as he thrusts into you with brutal tenderness.
“Now look at me.”
Your focus darts taking in every detail. The clench of his jaw, the beads of sweat on his face, the pride in his eyes. And fuck, that hits.
Knowing a room full of people can see the way he fucks you like it’s his reason for being. That he doesn’t need to show you off to make anyone jealous or boost his own ego.
You know he was going to have you the second he gave you that look at the bar when he sipped your drink. You knew the two of you would only last minutes before you had his dick stroking deep inside of you.
There’s only an audience because you liked it when someone noticed. And he fucking loves the way you say his name when he’s making you feel good.
As you climb closer and closer, you lose control over your own body. Arching beneath him, drawn taut on the precipice.
“Relax.”
You try to abide by his words. Releasing the tension and coiled muscles. He doesn’t demand your orgasm. Just stays steady, powerful, precise. His cock drags over nerves you can’t reach on your own.
The air is so thick, all you can hear is the sound of your bodies colliding as he snaps his hips. Your tits bounce. Sweat drips from his body to yours.
All thoughts dissolve as he continues to pound into you. He reaches the end of you. Hits the perfect angle again and again. Wringing out your pleasure like he’s saving it for himself.
“Yes. Yes. Yes. Oh god.”
You come around his length, your walls contracting trying to milk his release out at the same time. His lip curls in a snarl, fighting to hold on a few more seconds.
When you do catch your breath it’s like a one track mind.
“Now you. Show them,” you request, spreading your legs wide as he sits up. His pretty cock glistens with your release. Your pussy flutters as he jerks himself. The sight, the sounds, they have you moaning in response.
In seconds his muscles are tensing and a gravelly groan morphs into a string of curses as he paints your swollen folds with his milky come.
The two of you are locked in the moment, breathing heavily. He wrings the last drops of his pearly spend from his tip. You give him a lazy, wide smile.
You rest your eyes for only a second, feeling his weight shift on the soft cushions, and then you feel his breath, hovering over the wet mess between your legs.
He presses one soft kiss to your mound, before spreading your lips wide with his thumbs and licking a hot stripe along your seam. A glass lands too loudly on a table.
You don’t register the sound. You’re floating in the fog of sex and awe. The center of the party. Everyone watches while he eats you out with gusto.
You’re his to please. His to show off. The pride in his eyes rings in yours too. He’s mine. Your lashes flutter. ───────────────────── Tonight the windows are fogged with the breath of too many bodies, glass dewy and moist. You press a fingertip to the pane, watching the faint imprint blur. Outside, lights are strung like constellations, mocking you with their useless glow. Seeing his name on your phone, the blinding screen, cold in your palm, makes your stomach tighten. There’s a moment of hesitation—a flicker of sanity—where you consider locking the screen and slipping the phone back into your clutch. You consider throwing the damn thing out the window.
But the memory of his mouth on yours, his voice in your ear, the shiver of your skin under his touch—it’s all too loud, too vivid, too close.
A glance around the room confirms what you already know. Nobody here is going to stop you. Judge you. Notice your bad decisions. You press the icon. It rings and rings. Your heart thrumming loud, blood pounding in your ears. It keeps ringing. Your throat closes, strangled by the hope that he might answer. Will he tease you for waiting so long, or say your name in that gentle tone? Does he smile when he sees your name on his screen? The line clicks to voicemail. You hang up. Jarred by the sound of his unbothered voice telling you to leave a message. The music and dulled voices bleed back in. The glitter on your hands shines up at you. You remember putting it on. Thinking Oberyn would find it sexy. It’s just scraps of metallic trash stuck to your skin. A nightmare to scrape off. There’s a bag of purple pills still nestled in a pocket in your clutch. Little promises of oblivion. but they’ll never fill the void. The unbearable awareness that the man is only a memory.
No matter how many parties you find or throw, how many drinks you swallow, how many names you repeat and forget by morning. Nobody else makes the room spin the way he did. The pills glimmer under the low light. Not enough to forget. Not enough to wash it away. ─────────────────────
Like the shimmering pool under the midday sun. Where cool water washes away your nerves. Droplets race down Oberyn’s shoulders, sliding over the curve of his collarbone, catching in the hollow on his throat.
You could look at him every day. For the rest of your life. And still your heart would swell.
When he laughs—head tipped back, splashing lazily, you know he’s just a man. But he’s always felt like more. Like he’s the light in your days and the stars in your nights.
It’s hard to focus on anything but the way the sun reflects off the water, off his skin, like the universe is designed to enhance him to something ethereal.
You wade closer, the water rippling around you. He surges toward you effortlessly, scooping you up with a strength that somehow still startles you.
Chlorine and kisses. Suntan lotion and laughter. It’s an afternoon full of playful banter and flirty touches.
But somehow, it’s inescapably nostalgic at the same time. Like you were already viewing it as a memory while you were living it. Like you never wanted the day to end.
───────────────────── Now you’re stuck in a party that you’d beg to end. You stay perched on the windowsill, legs curled beneath you, the phone cradled in your hands. It’s a relic now. Useless.
You scroll through the messages. Reading the words in his voice. That flirtatious slant to his words, the reckless confidence that always landed. Where is he now?
Your fingers shake as you type: Why are you treating me like someone that you never loved?
The words stare back at you, searing white against black, burning into your mind.
You hover over the send icon, teeth worrying your bottom lip. There’s a lump swelling thick and tight in your throat, a pinch behind your eyes.
You don’t cry. You won’t. You can’t.
Tears spill over anyway, hot and unbidden, rolling down your cheek. You swipe them away, harshly, jaw clenched so tight your teeth ache. If he saw you now, would he touch you? Would he kiss you on the mouth and say that he loves you?
Your screen stays dark.
No messages. No apologies. No response. Just the ache that roots itself deeper, crawling into your ribcage and clawing at your heart. Your thumb hovers over send again, but you don’t press it.
You don’t press it.
You’ve sung into the void enough.
───────────────────── There was no void when the two of you spent every night together. On good days and bad.
When the room is heavy with heat.
And the curtains are drawn to block out the dawn. But they don’t stop the light that spills in through the cracks.
His mouth is everywhere.
You can feel the weight of his affection pressed into every inch of you—his lips on your throat, the whisper of his breath down your spine, the roughness of his hands skating up your thighs. Stretching you open physically and emotionally.
“I love you.”
His mouth finds yours, tongue slipping past your lips. A slow, languid sweep that makes you levitate.
“I love you.”
He’s lost in the act. They’re words you aren’t supposed to hear. Maybe he never actually said them.
You nod, thighs tightening around his waist, pulling him deeper. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, pussy-drunk slurring it into your neck.
Words spill from his mouth hot and desperate, cut off with kisses that leave you breathless. His fingers curl tighter around yours, tethering you to him.
You anchor yourself in his skin, parasitic but well intended. His body chants against yours. His hips spell it out over and over.
Your bodies move automatically, synchronized and fluent.The friction, the slide, the heat of it all burns soft and slow, and it feels eternal. Endless.
It blurs as if you did melt into one another. Suffocating in the intimacy, the emotion drowned in sweat-soaked sheets. The promises stop before the sun comes up. But in that moment, you believe it.
─────────────────────
And for some reason, you still believe it now.
That he’s yours and he’s at your party trying to find you to kiss away your tears.
You let the hope shatter.
You blink as the memory stings like a thorn.
The champagne flute slips from your fingers, and you watch it fall in slow motion, bracing for the cinematic crash—for glass to splinter across the floor, jagged like the shards of your heart. For something symbolic. For something that matters.
But it bounces.
Plastic.
A cheap party favor, nothing more. It rolls awkwardly under a table, ready to be forgotten.
The nausea creeps up slow and unyielding, squeezing your stomach tight, hollowing out your chest. You shut your eyes against the swell of it, the embarrassment, the reality, and instead, you imagine—
Imagine turning to the door and seeing him there, the world cracking open just for you. The music would change, you’re sure of it. Something dreamy and timeless.
His eyes would find yours across the room, and time would fold in on itself.
You imagine his stride. Purposeful, confident, tempered with softness, shoulders relaxed but strong. The crowd would part without him asking, instinctively shifting around the force of him, until he stood right in front of you.
He’d smile that slow, crooked smile, the one that always seemed like it was just for you. You’d lean into his touch and he’d tilt your chin up to kiss you—sweet and soft, then deeper, like he could infuse the unsaid words into your lungs.
But when you open your eyes, he isn’t there.
A blur of sequins and jewelry. Flirty smiles and glassy eyes.
You look away, breath catching painfully, and then—
There.
Dark hair. That stride, familiar and effortless. Your heart lurches in your chest, hurling itself against your ribs. Your body follows instinctively, leaning toward him.
But he turns.
It’s not him.
Not him, not him, not him.
The breath leaves your lungs. The world tilts for a second—just long enough to feel it. Vertigo from hell. Plummeting drop of your stomach.
You swallow hard, blinking back every emotion.
Just a mirage of posture and cologne.
You unlock your phone and type out one more message, unsure if you want to send it or block him. I only threw this party for you. ───────────────────── thank you for reading pls tell me if you liked any of it, hated any of it, or felt nuanced and complex feelings or ??? ty <3 join my taglist heretags: @lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @miss-oranje-disco-dancer @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame @indiegirlunited @syd-djarin @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist @94namkooksworld @mushgloomz @probablyreadinsmut @joelmillerisapunk @sunshinehaze1 @lilac-booo @hhoneypascal @mushgloomz @noisynightmarepoetry @probablyreadinsmut @joelmillerisapunk @dontlookatme121 @worhols @natalieispunk @jokesonthem @slimybeth69 @4ever-billies-girl @Gossipgirl-03 @hopelessromantic727 @woodxtock @megumiaki
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on going landoscar fic rec !! :]
equal machinery by anon | race engineer oscar/driver lando
“Did you know you get, like, actual stars in your eyes, or hearts, maybe, when you talk about racing cars?” “Sorry,” Oscar’s pretty sure he’s fucked the interview, “I’m not usually like that.” – I finally write Driver x Race Engineer Landoscar as an excuse to talk about racing.
so fun and interesting to read about how oscar sees his work, sees the cars, sees lando
astra ex machina by @ne0nyx | sci fi mecha pilots landoscar
“Don’t you get weird vibes?” “Weird vibes?” Oscar repeats, eyebrow raised. “Yeah. Like… I don’t know. Like there’s something we’re not being told, something we don’t know.” “It’s space. There’s always something we don’t know.”
Lando opens his mouth to argue… but nothing comes out. He processes Oscar’s reply.
Technically, he’s right. - Lando is a Mecha Pilot, and Oscar is his mysterious new partner.
GOD, FUCK, THIS FIC ,,, newest chapter broke my heart ,, the dread and anticipation is gonna make me throw up but im still in for the ride
i think i found a part of me beside you by @complementaryhalves | driver landoscar + teammate dynamics
The night before his first Australian Grand Prix, Oscar receives a weird racing tip from his manager. When the season turns desperate, he shares with Lando, and they begin to use it. After all, what's a little strategic mutual edging between teammates? Except, it turns Oscar's rookie season into a journey of self-discovery he hadn't quite anticipated: race after race, he'll fight a lot with his own head and heart, learn many new things about himself, Lando, and the world, and maybe find love along the way.
messy teammate relationship baby !! i need to reread this one its so gooddd. teammates who rubs together,,, uh,,, well lets see how theyll end up 😭
Call It What You Want To by @dearbongjae | college au + rich people problems
Oscar Piastri didn’t mean to start a school-wide scandal. But when his “fictional” love essay goes viral across campus and the entire media, everyone thinks it’s real. Which is awkward, considering the boyfriend in question doesn’t exist. Unfortunately for Oscar, being a Piastri means his private life isn’t personal—it’s business. His powerful, reputation-obsessed parents now expect to meet this perfect mystery boyfriend. And whoever Oscar dates? They better be someone who brings value to the family name. Enter: Lando Norris. Model. Golden Boy. Media darling. And currently, the center of a PR disaster thanks to a false dating rumor linking him to a problematic, tabloid-loving model and socialite. George, their mutual friend, sees potential when others see disaster. So he sets them up. Oscar walks in with a plan; Lando walks in with an open mind and a quietly hopeful heart. What begins as a mutually beneficial arrangement turns into something much messier, because falling for your fake boyfriend wasn’t part of the deal. And Oscar is very good at pretending. Until he’s not.
SO EXCITED FOR THIS ONE ! asshole ish oscar and popular golden boy lando :]
ceruse + celibacy by @agustloves | tudor era + prince lando/servant oscar
“Every Tudor rose has its thorns.” During the Tudor dynasty in England, Oscar is cursed (or perhaps blessed) to be the servant for Prince Lando. From a poor life in Italy to sleeping in the room opposite royalty. He yearns to get his family to score positions with royalty too. The only issue is, the prince he serves is infuriatingly divacious. Yet beautiful. And complex. And they fall in love. In love and war. But an arranged marriage between Duke Jenson and Prince Lando changes everything in court. Will Oscar risk it all to save an ill fated Lando?
oscar being a caring asshole (?) to bratty prince lando. lando is equally a brat and a tortured soul and oscar is equally cruel and loyal to lando. the angst here is crazy. there are a lot of moments where i audibly gasped while reading.
while the eyes are on us by amilyame | hunger games setting
Twenty-three slips with his name. That’s all it took. "I present to you the tributes of District 10 for the 74th Hunger Games!" Helmut Marko’s voice rang out. Lando glanced again at Oscar standing next to him — straight, motionless, with an impassive face. A person who had chosen to be here himself. In the district, they said that the butcher Piastri's son's hand wouldn't tremble even when he needed to slaughter a young bull. I wonder, thought Lando with sudden grim clarity, would it tremble when the time came to kill a person?
shepherd lando and a butcher's apprentice ,, the shepherd and his guard dog ,,, what more does one need. ALSO love how the author adapted "oscar being a fanboy since long" here
Satellites by @fairielux and @mintraindrop | star wars au
The Force has led Lando and Oscar into Wild Space. To a planet named Kesh. Their sanctuary and a way to learn about themselves.
im a sucker for a good crossover (?) au ,,, it feels like the authors are having fun writing too <3
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Favorite fantasy series: The Folk of the Air. I do NOT understand the hate this series gets on booktok/IG. The world-building is immaculate, the politics are juicy, the writing is engaging, and the romance is a slow burn that’s secondary to the plot and character development. I will read anything that Holly Black writes.
Favorite sci/fi series: The Murderbot Diaries. These are quick, quippy, and satisfying reads. I would die for Murderbot.
Favorite romance series: Not sure if they count as a series since they’re all standalones in the same universe, but Ali Hazelwood’s books ft. Women in STEM having unrealistic romances gets an A+ from me. If you need easy beach reads with happy endings, go for one of these (Also, the first book started as Star Wars fic; neat!).
Favorite graphic novel series: I’ve been following the Heartstopper webcomic for years, but I finally purchased/ re-read the print books this year. If you want sweet, nostalgic writing with diverse queer representation and whimsical art, Heartstopper is for you. If you want a historical/educational story, I highly recommend the Marchseries, which is an autobiographical view of the civil rights movement by John Lewis.
Favorite historical romance: I know I’m not supposed to judge a book by it’s cover, but I put off reading A Lady for a Duke despite rave reviews because I simply did not vibe with the cover. This was a terrible choice. I read this book in one euphoric sitting and then re-read it two additional times this year. The banter! The pining! The drama!
Favorite fantasy: A Taste of Gold and Iron and its follow-up short novella Tadek and the Princess. These books may have changed my brain chemistry. I loved this world and its characters and the novella made me cry like a baby.
Favorite science fiction: The Martian. I’d read this before but I re-read it on a work trip and fell in love all over again. Such an excellent science-y sci/fi book that nonetheless feels very approachable and fun.
Favorite non-fiction: They Were Her Property is the driest book I read this year but the content was fascinating (and horrifying). If you want to interrogate your perception of white women’s role in slavery (and, to a lesser degree, the role of Christianity therin) — take your time, and be ready to adjust your worldview—especially if you think Gone with the Wind was an accurate portrayal of the south. How to Survive a Plague, on the other hand, is less dry—you can tell a journalist wrote it—but it’s very detailed. It’s rare that I don’t finish a book in one or two sittings, but this took me over a month. If you’ve ever wondered about the social history of the AIDS epidemic and how a diagnosis went from a quick death sentence to an easily manageable condition (and how hard grassroots movements had to work to get some fucking help to make that happen), this is for you.
Favorite comic: Infidel. Damn. The art. The narrative. So short but so impactful. This is horror, so be mindful.
Favorite graphic novel: This is a tossup between If You’ll Have Me, a sugary-sweet sapphic romance, and The Prince and the Dressmaker which is an equally adorable story about expressing ones true self regardless of social expectations.
Favorite WTF: Butcher and Blackbird and Bride. I’m still not sure how I feel about B&B but it was certainly an interesting way to spend two hours. Bride is on the list purely because reading the word “knot” on a print page instead of an AO3 tab felt illegal.
Favorite feel-good/comedy: Monstrous Regiment. I’ve read this book so many times and, after the election, I read it again. I doubt any other book will surpass what has become an emotional support story for me.
Favorite YA: Cemetery Boys (Magic! Mystery! Queerness!) She Drives me Crazy(Athletics! Misunderstandings! Enemies to lovers! Queerness!), and A Little Bit Country (Country music! Thinly veiled Dolly Parton references! Queerness!) (Hm. Seems to be a theme here).
Favorite Sports Romance: Icebreaker (the Graziadei one, not the Hannah Grace one). You know how a lot of hockey books (my own included) can be light on the actual hockey? Not the case with Icebreaker. The character development was lovely, but the hockey was divine. Graziadei clearly knows and loves the sport.
Favorite historical fiction: What the Wind Knows (Mystery! Time Traveling! Love! Ireland!) and Kindred (Mystery! Time Traveling! Love! The Antebellum South!).
Favorite Space Odyssey: Gideon + Nona the Ninth. I had to make a special category because neither sci/fi nor fantasy feels appropriate for this yet incomplete series which is as rollicking good fun as it is completely confounding. I still have no idea what’s happening but I can’t wait to read the next one.
Favorite pleasant surprise: A Court of Mist and Fury. I waited so long to read the ACOTAR series because I got such conflicting reports from folks. I took the advice of a reader I trust and powered through the first book. ACOMAF was worth the contextualizing journey. I loved it. I’m still working through the rest of the series but this book was an unexpected joy.
Least favorite book: Lol, no. We don’t play that game here.
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@batmanisagatewaydrug Book Bingo update!
Seven completed prompts, details under the cut
Sequel--Wind and Truth by Brandon Sanderson. Also this year reread the first four books (and two novellas), but I'm mostly not counting rereads towards this challenge.
Reread a childhood favorite--Anne of Green Gables by LM Montgomery, specifically the full-cast audio created by Mary Kate Wiles. LOVED this version of it, and got caught up with their regular release schedule right as I got to the last chapter of my personal favorite in the series, Anne of the Island. Sadly, doesn't look like she'll be recording the rest of the books, but on a visit to my parents' house I grabbed my old box set and I'll be rereading the other five soon.
20th Century Speculative Fiction--Dawn by Octavia Butler. Kind of grabbed this on accident? I knew Butler wrote an alien series and a vampire book, and I thought "Dawn" was the vampire one. Made for a very confusing first chapter, but once I realized my mistake I really enjoyed it! I love sci-fi biology that makes a point of being really alien. Book 2 is on hold at the library now, I think I'll have it in about 2 weeks.
Fantasy--Paladin's Grace by T. Kingfisher. LOVED this book, had seen it recommended by a reviewer whose taste I usually vibe with, and I'm a big fan of What Moves the Dead, so I wanted to see how this author writes a romantasy. A quick read (had it checked out for about 20 hours total), with a couple I fell in love with right away. For sure will be reading the rest of the series, it did a great job of making me like the side characters who will star in the others and getting me invested in the overarching mystery. Some great romantic tension, and thank god for something in this genre with main characters in their mid to late 30s.
Memoir--My Father's Son by Alan Cumming, audiobook read by the author. Recommended by my sister, who has loved Cumming since she made us watch Spy Kids on repeat for the entire summer of 2001 (and 2002. and 2003.) He does only mention that franchise once, but the book was great. Had me in tears and gasping out loud, and a well-done balance of emotional weight and charming anecdotes.
Romance--Lessons with the Mothman by Kathryn Moon. Talked about this in the last update I think. I'm a sucker for a monster romance, what else to say.
Read and make a recipe--Finally perfected eggs over medium! Used this recipe, which is admittedly a very simple one but I've been wanting to practice this for forever and they finally came out great. I served on toast with a slice of cheese and a little bit of Great Value brand "Chicken Dipping Sauce" (not to be confused with the "chicken finger dipping sauce").
I'm currently reading fills for two more prompts, with plans for a lot of the rest:
If you made it all the way here, and have recs for the prompts I don't have plans for yet, let me know!
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Cycle of the Stars by @daeyumi
Sci-fi Fantasy AU | Adult | Tumblr & AO3 | Ongoing
Synopsis: The prophecy always has three heritors. For Wisdom. For Courage. For Power. Heralding an age of strife by their presence alone. Always three, to maintain the balance of the world.
Is it destiny? Or do we walk the path to preservation of our own accord?
Content Warnings: Body horror
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Eerie and delightfully intriguing. I've seen some of the concept art and the first chapter of the fic, and I'm very excited to see more. The fic itself has very vivid descriptions-- fitting for such beautiful pieces of artwork that compliment the story. - waterglider
This fic opens with a note claiming they are not a writer. Categorically untrue. Everything about this setting has been hauntingly beautiful and a very Zelda magi-tech exploration of the series. There is little to say at the moment when I'm writing this only because there is not enough yet to say more. I guarantee there will be more to add soon. - amelias-hart
Cycle of the Stars is an AU anchored by absolutely stunning art, and more recently, by a first chapter on AO3 which is no less outstanding. I'm going to focus on the posted chapter for this review, because the art speaks for itself - check it out in the resources! Good for aesthetic of course, but it's also an absolute vibe - takes you right into the universe it's building. As for the chapter, the only word for it is fascinating. The writing pulls you right into everything Link is experiencing, and what he is experiencing is being dumped into the middle of a frightful and disturbing mystery. All in all, this AU is just really, really good and promising. It's going to be a treat to see it as the story continues to develop. - Karama9
Oh wow! The opening reminded me of the game Myst. I loved the surrealism in the beginning as Link gradually becomes aware of his surroundings. What a nightmare to wake with no memory of who you are and find yourself in a facility that appears to be abandoned. Gorgeous, surrealistic artwork accompanies each of the chapters thus far. - Mistress Lrigtar
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You can find @daeyumi at AO3 and here on Tumblr at their tagged handle.
#original legends#loz: original legends#legend of zelda#zelda fandom#zelda fanfiction#loz art#legend of zelda fanart#zelda#loz#Cycle of the Stars
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Hey, this might be a little out there, so feel free to ignore it if it’s too much, but I just wanted to say that I absolutely adore your writing and I’m so grateful for all the stories you share! Thank you so much for all the inspiration!
So here’s my request:
I’d love to read a fantasy AU where BTS are immortal guardians of the cosmos, each tied to a different constellation. Their soulmates are mortals who have a starfragment embedded in their palm.
Imagine this: Jungkook, the mysterious guardian of the Orion Nebula, falls for a human astronomer who’s spent her life studying his stars—only to realize she’s his destined soulmate. But as her starfragment starts to fade he defies celestial laws and shares his immortality with her, unknowingly setting off a chain reaction that could destroy both of their worlds, causing a cosmic disaster.
It’s a little wild, but I think it would make for an epic story!
💌Reply:
Hi there! ✨️
First of all, THANK YOU so much for your kind words and for trusting me with such a unique and creative idea! Your request was absolutely NOT too much—in fact, it was such a joy to write! I loved diving into this cosmic fantasy world and exploring the dynamic between Jungkook and Lyra (I guess I'm not very creative choosing names), with all the celestial drama, angst, and fluff that came with it. The concept of immortal guardians, star fragments, and forbidden love was so inspiring...
I hope the story I wrote captured the epic, emotional, and otherworldly vibe you were imagining! If there’s anything you’d like adjusted or expanded, just let me know—I’m always happy to tweak things to make it perfect for you.
Thank you again for such a creative and heartfelt request. It was truly a pleasure to bring your vision to life! ✨️💜
REQUEST NAME:
Nebula's Requiem
↳ Jungkook x f!OC Lyra (Soulmates); Fantasy AU, Angst with Fluff, Cosmic Romance
Rating: G maybe T (I'm bad at this and read too much stuff when I was too young so you better don't trust me)
Word Count: ~ 4k
Genre: BTS AU, Cosmic Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Mythic Romance, Action, Found Family, Epic Battle, Emotional Whump
Warnings: Intense action sequences, strong language, near-death experiences, existential horror, celestial body destruction, transformation trauma, godly devotion, cryptic foreshadowing.
Pairings: Jungkook × f!OC (Lyra) – Godlike Devotion, Fated Bond, Mythic Romance
Featuring: Taehyung as the chaotic Pleiades guardian, Yoongi as the stoic black hole keeper, and Jimin as the dazzling Andromeda protector. Celestial warlords, space-time anomalies, divine power struggles, supernova awakenings, galaxy-shattering battles, sarcastic Yoongi wisdom, Taehyung’s chaotic brilliance, Jimin’s flamboyant mischief, and Jungkook as a relentless force of cosmic love.

The abandoned Seoul observatory crouched atop its hill like a skeletal beast, its domed roof long stripped of copper, its telescopes rusted sentinels pointing blindly at the sky. Dr. Lyra Han’s boots crunched over shattered glass as she navigated the decay, her breath crystallizing in the subzero air. She came here every new moon, when light pollution dimmed enough to glimpse the truth—the Orion Nebula, bleeding crimson and gold through the observatory’s fractured dome. Tonight, its glow pulsed like a wounded heart.
Her gloved hand trembled as she adjusted the radio telescope, its gears shrieking in protest. Static crackled through her headphones, then...
Hiss
Click
Voice
...not her own.
Lyra froze. The frequency wasn’t hers. It wasn’t human. The voice wove through the static like smoke, low and resonant, speaking in no language yet understood by her bones. She’d heard it for months now, always when the nebula swelled brightest. Tonight, she’d record it. Prove she wasn’t hallucinating.
“Just… a few more adjustments,” she muttered, scribbling equations on the frosted windowpane with a half-frozen marker. Her breath fogged the glass, her left palm—always unnaturally warm—pressed against it for stability. The star-shaped scar there itched, as it did whenever the nebula flared.
Jungkook had not risen from his throne in three mortal decades.
Why would he? His realm was a graveyard. The Orion Nebula coiled around him, its once-vibrant gases now sluggish and dim, chained to his obsidian throne by filaments of dying light. His brethren called it a cage, and he its warden. They did not know it was his penitence.
But her voice...
It pierced the silence like a comet. Crackling through the radio waves, soft and stubborn, a mortal woman dissecting his prison with equations sharper than celestial steel.
“The Orion Nebula isn’t just a nursery for stars,” she’d murmured weeks ago, her words etching themselves into the throne’s armrests. “It’s a requiem. Something here is… grieving.”
Jungkook’s hand spasmed, fracturing the throne’s arm. Grieving. Grieving. How dare she...
He materialized in her realm in a storm of nebula dust.
Lyra didn’t hear him arrive.
She felt it.
The air thickened, tasting of ozone and burnt cinnamon. The radio static sharpened into a scream, then silence. When she turned, he stood haloed in the nebula’s bloody light—a figure carved from shadow and starfire.
His skin was not skin but a living tapestry of constellations, their patterns shifting like restless serpents beneath the surface. Hair as black as event horizons fell to his waist, threaded with filaments of gold that pulsed in time with the scar on her palm. His eyes—gods, his eyes—were twin supernovae, white-hot cores ringed with dying stars.
He wore armor forged from the remnants of collapsed suns, jagged and iridescent, and a cloak that billowed not with wind but with the gravitational pull of unseen worlds.
Lyra stumbled back, her hip striking the telescope’s edge. Hallucination. Sleep deprivation. Hypothermia. Her scientific mantras dissolved as he spoke.
“You are wrong.”
His voice was the death rattle of a star—a basso profundo that vibrated her teeth, layered with echoes of a thousand collapsing worlds. The observatory trembled, dust raining from the ceiling.
Lyra’s gloves slipped as she gripped the windowsill. “Wh-what—”
“It is not a requiem.” He glided forward, boots leaving scorch marks on the rotting floorboards. The nebula’s light bent around him, as though spacetime itself recoiled. “It is a cage.”
Her scar burned. She ripped off her glove without thinking.
The starfragment embedded in her palm—a shard of cobalt light she’d borne since birth—flared violently. Jungkook froze.
“You.” The supernovae in his eyes dimmed to embers. “You carry… my sorrow.”
Lyra’s knees buckled. The scar was reacting, tendrils of light snaking up her wrist. “What are you?!”
He did not answer. His armored hand hovered over hers, close enough that her skin blistered from the heat. The starfragment screamed—a sound only she could hear—and suddenly, she saw
A throne of blackened starlight.
Jungkook, younger but no less ancient, weeping diamonds as he shattered a star with bare hands.
A nebula screaming as chains of light cinched around its heart.
Her own infant fist, closing around a shard of celestial debris.
A voice -his voice- howling across the cosmos: “Forgive me "
Lyra wrenched back, gasping. “N-no. This isn’t—I don’t—”
Jungkook’s face contorted, the constellations beneath his skin roiling like storm clouds. “You should not see. You should not be."
“Be what?!”
“Mine.”
The admission detonated between them. The radio telescope exploded in a shower of sparks. Lyra screamed, shielding her face, but when the debris cleared...
He was gone.
Only the scar’s afterglow remained, throbbing in time with the nebula’s wounded pulse.
Lyra’s apartment was a cathedral of chaos. Star charts papered the walls, equations scrawled in red ink bleeding over coffee stains. Her telescope pointed defiantly at the boarded-up window, and her kitchen—now a warzone of half-empty ramyeon cups—still smoldered from Jungkook’s abrupt departure. She’d spent hours scrubbing scorch marks from the floor, her starfragment throbbing like a second heartbeat.
It’s not real, she told herself, scalding her tongue on bitter tea. A stress-induced hallucination. Sleep deprivation.
Then the ceiling screamed.
The black hole tore through her apartment like divine vandalism.
One moment, Lyra was glaring at her starfragment—now dimmer, smaller —and the next, spacetime itself ruptured above her stove. The air curdled, condensing into a singularity no wider than a dinner plate, yet radiating gravitational malice. Dishes levitated, her textbooks shredded into confetti, and the microwave imploded with a metallic shriek.
From the void emerged a figure wreathed in dying starlight.
Taehyung, Guardian of the Pleiades, tumbled onto her linoleum floor in a cascade of supernova debris. His cloak—woven not from feathers but from the souls of extinct stars—billowed with phantom winds, its fabric shimmering with the trapped light of a thousand dead galaxies. His hair, a nebula incarnate, shifted from violet to ultraviolet as he laughed, shaking comet dust from his brow.
“Apologies for the mess, mortal!” His voice was a symphony of chaos, notes clashing like colliding asteroids. “Black hole shortcuts are… unrefined.”
Lyra staggered back, her spine hitting the fridge. Another hallucination. Worse this time.
But the stranger’s eyes pinned her—one pupil a spiraling galaxy, the other a pulsing quasar. His grin sharpened. “Ah. You’re the reason Kookie’s been moping for eons.”
Jungkook materialized in a supernova’s afterglow, his armor crackling with contained fury. “Taehyung.”
The Pleiades guardian waved a hand, and Lyra’s toaster erupted into a miniature supernova. “Miss me, Orion?”
“You violate celestial law.” Jungkook’s throne-scarred hands flexed, nebulae churning in his palms. “The mortal realm is forbidden.”
“Says the god who branded his soulmate.” Taehyung flicked a finger, and the floating ramyeon cups aligned into a scale model of the Solar System. “Adorable, isn’t she? All fragile bones and borrowed time.”
Lyra’s breath hitched. “Soulmate?”
Jungkook’s gaze snapped to her—a supernova’s glare. “Silence."
“Oh, let’s not.” Taehyung levitated onto her countertop, legs swinging like a child’s. His boots were soled with dying white dwarfs, their light leaching into her tiles. “See, darling, that pretty shard in your palm?” He pointed to her starfragment, now flickering erratically. “It’s a piece of his prison. Which means...”
“Enough.” Jungkook lunged, but Taehyung dissolved into stardust, reappearing behind Lyra.
“...you’re bound to his suffering. And dying because of it.”
Lyra’s vision tunneled. The room tilted.
Taehyung’s hand—cold as the interstellar void—closed over her wrist. Her starfragment screamed, projecting holograms of Jungkook’s throne, the nebula’s chains, her own infant face bathed in celestial fire.
“Your mortal coil can’t contain cosmic grief,” Taehyung murmured, almost gentle. “His sorrow is killing you.”
Jungkook stood frozen, his constellation-kissed skin gone ashen. The Pleiades guardian laughed bitterly.
“Look at him! The mighty Orion, who shattered stars to build his cage. Now he’d let you die to keep his hands clean.”
Lyra wrenched free, her scar searing. “Stop—stop talking like I’m not here”
Silence.
Taehyung tilted his head. Jungkook’s fists clenched, neutronium armor groaning.
“You… feel nothing?” The Pleiades guardian drifted closer, galaxies swirling in his irises. “No cosmic pull? No recognition?”
Her laugh bordered on hysterical. “I’m a radio astronomer who hallucinates gods! What do you want me to..."
Jungkook moved.
One heartbeat, he stood across the room. The next, his hand—incandescent with dying stars—cradled her jaw.
“Look,” he commanded.
And she saw.
Scenes flashed...
A younger Jungkook, golden and laughing, weaving nebulae with Taehyung.
A council of gods sentencing him for crimes unnamed.
His hands, trembling as he carves a shard from his own nebula.
A newborn’s cry—Lyra’s first breath—as the starfragment grafts to her soul.
Centuries of watching, yearning, as her mortal life flickers like a guttering candle.
Lyra recoiled, tears boiling as they fell. “You… stole part of your prison. Put it in me. Why?”
Jungkook’s hand fell. "To remember.”
“To remember what?”
“That destruction is not all I am.”
Taehyung snorted. “Poetic. Now fix it.” He tossed Jungkook a jar brimming with stolen galaxy cores—primordial energy sources banned by celestial decree. “Share your immortality. Break the bond.”
Jungkook stared at the cores, their light refracting in his eyes. "The cost...”
“...is worth paying.” Taehyung’s levity vanished. “Or would you let her die a martyr to your pride?”
Lyra’s knees gave out. She slid down the fridge, staring at her dimming starfragment. “I’m… really dying?”
Jungkook’s silence was the answer that shattered her world.
The Cosmic Vault existed outside spacetime, a fortress carved into the ergosphere of a rotating black hole. Its walls were forged from quantum paradoxes—every step Lyra took fractured into infinite possibilities. To her left, a version of herself aged into dust. To her right, she became a god. Jungkook gripped her elbow, anchoring her to the present.
“Do not look. Do not think.” His voice was strained, the constellations beneath his skin fraying at the edges. "Mortals unravel here.”
“Too late,” Lyra muttered, her starfragment pulsing like a Geiger counter. The vault’s aura reeked of static and forgotten graves.
Taehyung materialized ahead, juggling three miniature neutron stars. “Remind me why I'm the distraction?”
“Because you’re expendable,” Yoongi said, emerging from the shadows like a wraith.
Yoongi, Guardian of Black Holes, was a study in controlled annihilation.
His armor was simpler than Jungkook’s—obsidian plates smoothed by aeons of gravitational erosion, their surface devouring light. His eyes, hidden behind visors of collapsed spacetime, glowed faintly with Hawking radiation. The gauntlets on his hands were twin singularities, humming with entropy.
“This,” Yoongi said, activating his gauntlets, “is why I hate poets.” The black holes whirred, unraveling the vault’s lock—a mechanism built from contradictions. “Sharing immortality? Might as well piss on the laws of thermodynamics.”
Lyra frowned. “But you’re helping.”
Yoongi didn’t glance up. “Taehyung owes me five hundred supermassive black holes. And Jungkook…” His gauntlets sparked, fracturing reality. “…deserves a second chance. Even if he’s an idiot.”
Jungkook’s jaw tightened but he said nothing.
The vault door split with a scream.
Inside, the Font of Eternity churned—a liquid star contained within a cage of gravitational ropes. Its light was alive, lashing against the bonds like a caged animal. The air thrummed with the screams of every mortal who’d ever begged for forever.
Lyra gagged. “It’s… sentient?”
“It is a compacted timeline,”Jungkook said, stepping forward. “Every drop contains a million potential eternities.”
Yoongi crossed his arms. “Touch it, and those eternities become your problem. You ready to babysit entropy, princess?”
“Don’t call me...”
“...Focus,” Jungkook snapped. He unsheathed his dagger, its blade forged from the last light of a dying universe. “The bond must be severed at the quantum level. Lyra—your hand.”
She hesitated. The scar ached, whispering of Jungkook’s grief, his rage, his regret.
“What happens to you?”
“Irrelevant.”
“Liar,” Yoongi muttered.
Taehyung’s voice crackled through their comms a nebula fragment stuck in Lyra’s ear. “Enforcer drones incoming! Kindly hurry with the cosmic felony!”
Jungkook sliced his palm, letting godblood—thick and iridescent—drip into the Font. The liquid star hissed, morphing into a vortex of screaming faces.
“Now,” he ordered.
Lyra pressed her starfragment to the Font. Agony erupted—a supernova in her veins. The scar unfolded, tendrils of light fusing with the liquid eternity.
Yoongi cursed. “Her mortal frame can’t stabilize the merge! Jungkook, you idiot...”
“Hold. Steady.”Jungkook gripped Lyra’s shoulders, his eyes bleeding starlight. “You are not small. You are infinite!"
The Font erupted.
Lyra’s scream echoed through paradox walls.
Her body flickered—mortal, immortal,
other. The vault trembled, quantum walls fracturing. Yoongi swore, black holes flaring as he fought to stabilize reality.
“Get her out!” he roared.
Jungkook reached for her, but the Font’s chains snapped. Liquid eternity flooded the vault, birthing and erasing civilizations in its wake.
Taehyung’s voice cut through the chaos. “Incoming Enforcers! And—oh hell—is that a class-9 supernova?!”
Lyra glimpsed it then—a detonation wave rippling through the cosmic fabric. Her starfragment ignited.
“Jungkook!”
He tackled her as the vault imploded.
The asteroid belt was a graveyard of dead planets, its debris field stretching into infinity—jagged rock and ice glinting under the faint glow of a dying star. Lyra’s breath fogged her helmet visor, her body tethered to Jungkook’s by a cord of braided starlight. Behind them, the Celestial Enforcers’ warships loomed like steel leviathans, their hulls etched with runes of obliteration.
“Stay close,” Jungkook ordered, his voice fraying at the edges. The nebula in his veins pulsed erratically, dimmed by the Font’s backlash.
Lyra gripped his armored forearm. “Why? Because you’ll vaporize me if I wander?”
His jaw tensed. “Because I cannot lose you again.”
The words hung between them, charged and fragile. Then...
A missile of condensed dark matter struck their flank.
Lyra’s tether snapped. She spun into the void, the Enforcers’ gravity nets closing in. Jungkook roared, diving after her, but the second missile detonated inside his chest.
The supernova ignited.
Lyra caught him.
Or he caught her.
Their lips met in the electric silence between explosions.
Jungkook’s kiss was superheated plasma, a fusion reactor contained in flesh. Lyra’s tasted of stolen stardust and mortal defiance. For a heartbeat, the cosmos stilled...
Then her starfragment detonated.
The shockwave tore through the asteroid belt, vaporizing rocks into primordial dust. Lyra’s scream crystallized into a symphony of creation as light birthed from her scar—a supernova contained in a mortal shell.
Jungkook shielded her with his body, his armor disintegrating. “Lyra—control it...”
“I can’t...”
“...You must.” His eyes bled starlight, hands cupping her face. “You are not destruction. You are dawn.”
Yoongi materialized in a maelstrom of fury, black hole gauntlets devouring Enforcer drones. “ROMANCE IS CATASTROPHIC!” He annihilated a moon-sized asteroid, its fragments forming a temporary shield. “Jungkook! Contain your apocalyptic girlfriend!”
Lyra, half-blind with supernova energy, stumbled into a floating debris field. Her veins glowed like magma fissures, every exhale scattering starseed.
“Darling! Catch!”
Jimin’s voice. Then—weapons.
The Andromeda Stardust Nunchucks spun toward her, each chain forged from the galaxy’s spiral arms, their handles inlaid with pulsar cores. She grabbed them, and the universe sang.
“Flick the wrist!”Jimin called, his lithe form dancing across an asteroid in robes of living auroras. “Stardust is a language—speak it!”
Lyra swung. The nunchucks left comet trails, their impact rippling spacetime. A meteor shattered into glittering sapphire shards.
“Jealous?!” she taunted Yoongi, dodging an entropy beam.
He atomized a drone with a snarl. “Of what? Your impending supernova-induced death?”
Jungkook fought like a god unshackled.
Nebula tendrils lashed from his fingertips, binding Enforcer ships in cosmic vines. His blood—now liquid starlight—dripped into the void, crystallizing into black-hole daggers. But his gaze never left Lyra, a supernova blazing through her mortal frame.
“Kookie!” Taehyung’s comet skidded to a halt, Pleiades cloak singed. He hurled a galaxy core grenade, its detonation birthing a temporary star. “She’s not dying—she’s evolving!”
Jungkook froze. “What?”
“The starfragment wasn’t a leash—it was a cocoon!” Taehyung ducked an ion blast, grinning manically. “Her mortality was a lie! She’s the universe’s reset button—a primordial supernova!”
Lyra’s nunchucks faltered. Memories flooded her—not hers. Ancient ones...
A cosmos before light.
A council of gods fearing a power that could unmake them.
Her soul, forged in the first supernova, sealed into human flesh.
Jungkook, unknowingly binding her to his heart to protect her.
“No…” She gripped her head, supernova energy scorching her helmet. “I’m not—I’m not human?”
Jungkook reached her as the energy peaked. “You are Lyra.” He tore off her melting visor, forehead pressed to hers. “That is all that matters.”
The Enforcer flagship fired.
Yoongi intercepted the blast.
His black holes collapsed into a singularity shield, muscles straining as spacetime itself screamed. “Hurry!”
Taehyung tossed Lyra a galaxy core. “Take this!”
“What?”
“JUST DO IT!”
She swallowed the core.
The supernova erupted and shifted...
Lyra’s scream was not a sound but a rupture —a fissure in the fabric of spacetime that echoed with the agony of dying stars. Her body hovered at the epicenter of her own annihilation, limbs contorted as supernova energy ravaged her mortal shell. Skin crystallized into diamond fractals, hair unraveling into solar flares that scorched the asteroid belt to glass. The Enforcers’ warships disintegrated, their crews reduced to ash-motes singing requiems only she could hear.
Jungkook lunged through the inferno, his nebula armor sloughing off in molten ribbons. Beneath it, his true form flickered—a skeletal constellation, ribs cracked from eons of grief, eyes hollow supernovae. He crashed into her, their bodies skidding across a disintegrating asteroid.
“Lyra!" His voice was raw, bleeding stardust. “Anchor yourself! The power is yours—it does not own you!”
She clawed at her throat, veins pulsing with primordial fire. “It’s—too much...”
“You are more.” He cradled her face, thumbs smearing iridescent tears. “You are the dawn that outshines the dark.”
Their second kiss was not a collision but a symphony.
Jungkook’s lips burned with the desperation of a god who’d forgotten mercy. Lyra’s tasted of supernova ash and human defiance—salt, iron, and the faintest trace of peppermint chapstick. Where their mouths met, reality bloomed.
The supernova imploded.
Then... silence.
A newborn star ignited between them, its core a swirling helix of mortal DNA and celestial fire. Light rippled outward, mending shattered asteroids into delicate rings, repainting the Orion Nebula in hues of amethyst and gold. The Enforcers’ ashes coalesced into butterflies of condensed stardust, their wings whispering apologies as they scattered.
Lyra gasped, her crystallized skin softening into flesh. The starfragment scar now blazed as a constellation across her collarbone—Orion’s belt fused with a supernova’s heart.
“Jungkook…” She stared at the star, their star, orbiting them in lazy spirals. “What did we do?”
He laughed—a sound like nebulas relearning joy. “What you were born to do.”
Taehyung emerged from a supernova’s debris cloud, his Pleiades cloak now mostly scorched. “Dibs on naming the star!” He lobbed a galaxy core at Yoongi, who vaporized it mid-air. “Lyra’s Folly? Jungkook’s Redemption Arc? Sparkles McSparkleface...?”
Yoongi sat atop a black hole singularity, massaging his gauntlet-singed wrist. His visor was cracked, revealing eyes like event horizons—endlessly patient, endlessly exhausted. “Name it ‘Regret’ so I can christen it with your funeral.”
Jimin descended from Andromeda’s spiral arm on a comet, robes billowing with bioluminescent nebulae. His hair shimmered with stolen quasar light, and his smile could’ve jumpstarted dead stars. “A performance worthy of encores!” He tossed Lyra a thermos of liquid starlight. “Drink, darling. Supernova hangovers are brutal..."
Lyra sipped, warmth flooding her veins. “Why does this taste like… ramyeon broth?”
Jimin winked. “Andromeda’s secret recipe.”
Jungkook traced Lyra’s new constellation scar, his touch featherlight. “The council will come for you. For us.”
She leaned into him, their star nestled in her palm like a firefly. “Let them.”
Taehyung snorted. “Oh, they’ll try. But between your apocalyptic snogging and Yoongi’s chronic grumpiness...”
“...I will erase you,” Yoongi said mildly, summoning a black hole.
Lyra laughed, the sound harmonizing with the star’s hum. For the first time, her soul felt aligned—no longer a mortal borrowing time, but a cosmic equation balanced.
Jungkook pressed his forehead to hers, their breaths syncing. “You are stardust and supernova. Mine.”
“Yours,” she agreed. “But not only yours.”
Their star pulsed, casting shadows that danced like promises.
The Orion Nebula no longer wept.
Where chains of dying starlight once strangled its core, new stars now pulsed in rhythmic constellations, their light harmonizing into a symphony that echoed across the cosmos. Jungkook’s throne had been dismantled, its fossilized starlight repurposed into bridges that arched over nebula rivers, their waters singing with the memories of liberated suns.
Lyra walked those bridges often, her boots leaving trails of bioluminescent moss. The supernova tattoo across her collarbone shimmered with every step, its light fractalizing into miniature galaxies that drifted like fireflies. Jungkook trailed behind her, quieter now, his hands weaving stardust into intricate braids for her hair—each one a protective charm, a silent apology, a love letter written in celestial geometry.
“You don’t have to follow me,” she said one dawn-cycle, catching his wrist as he threaded a braid with pulsar beads. “I’m not going to dissolve into supernova debris.”
“I know,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her tattoo. It flared gently, casting his face in cobalt relief. “I follow because I choose."
Taehyung arrived unannounced, as always.
“Housewarming gift!” he declared, dumping a black hole bonsai tree onto Lyra’s dining table. Its event horizon swirled with tiny trapped stars. “Water it with starlight, talk trash about the Cosmic Council, and it’ll bloom into a portal to anywhere!”
Yoongi, nursing a mug of black hole coffee brewed in his singularity kettle, raised an eyebrow. “Or implode the quadrant.”
“Same thing!”
Jimin descended next, trailing Andromeda’s auroras like bridal veils. He gifted Lyra a mirror forged from the newborn star’s light. “For vanity,” he teased, though they all knew its true purpose—to track the Council’s approach.
Lyra caught her reflection: a mortal woman glowing with borrowed divinity, her eyes flecked with supernova remnants.
Not a god. Not human. Something… else.
Peace, Lyra learned, was a fragile nebula.
The Cosmic Council’s warships lurked beyond the galactic rim, their silhouettes blotting out star clusters. Jungkook’s spies brought whispers of tribunals and treason charges, of gods who feared her power—their power.
“Let them come,” Lyra said one night, her tattoo blazing as she stood atop the bridge. The newborn star orbited her like a loyal hound, its light painting Jungkook’s scars in gold. “We’ll turn their verdict into stardust.”
Jungkook’s smile was a rare, slow-blooming thing. “You are… terrifying.”
“You taught me.”
He kissed her then, deep and unhurried, as their star spun protective sigils into the void.
But in quiet moments, Lyra heard it—a dissonant chord in the nebula’s song.
The newborn star flickered when she wasn’t looking, its light dimming to blood-crimson. Strange symbols etched themselves into the bridges, vanishing when Yoongi inspected them. And Taehyung’s bonsai tree? It grew a single obsidian leaf engraved with a warning:
THEY ARE COMING.
BRACE FOR WAR.
Lyra tucked the leaf into her journal, between sketches of Earth’s moon and Jungkook’s sleeping face. Outside, the nebula sang sweeter, brighter—a lullaby for the calm before the storm.
Jungkook found her there, braiding stardust into her hair. “You should rest.”
She leaned into his touch, her tattoo humming. “Soon.”
Above them, their star pulsed once, twice, as if counting down.
#bts fanfic#bts imagines#bangtan sonyeondan#bangtan#bangtan fanfic#bts#bts army#magicshopstories#jungkook imagine#jungkook fanfic#jungkook#jeon junkook#jk fic#jeon jungkoooook#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook x oc#jungkook x original character#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#jungkook au#park jimim#bts jimin#jimin au#kim teahyung#bts teahyung#taekook#bts fanfction#bts fantasy au#bts au
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Movie ask anon here with more specific asks! These might be too specific but I hope you've got some.
Old romances that seem like they're flaunting the Hayes code (thinking of Some Like It Hot's "Well, nobody's perfect", or the threesome vibes in Singing in the Rain, tho that last one might just be wishful thinking on my part)
Doomed romances where there's sizzling chemistry but the people are bad for each other or something tears them apart. Even better if they know they're bad for each other.
Mystery/detective films that do something unusual with the genre. Maybe they're masquerading as sci-fi or fantasy? Or they have a twist?
Horror/Monster movies with an ensemble cast rather than a "hero/final girl". Ideally one where the cast isn't narrowed down to just one survivor.
Movies where the guy wears a shirt less often than Jacob. I'm thinking Conan the Barbarian but there's gotta be others.
Spaceship / Alien Planet sci-fi that feels different from Star Wars / Star Trek, maybe that came before them or was a contemporary?
Comedies where the joke is the relationships and personalities of the characters? Very much NOT whatever monty python / spaceballs is.
Bonus sections:
"B-Movie / Cult" films, stuff that flopped when it came out but is good in hindsight.
"Not on netflix/hulu/hbo/disney/mainstream streaming" stuff. Films you're gonna have to dig for.
Good movies for being jumpscared into your date's arms.
(Anon is referring to this post.)
I will try, but there will be repeats.
Flouting the Hays code/threesome vibes
(Perhaps) A Little Night Music
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kidd
Lawrence of Arabia
Paint My Wagon (delightfully horrible movie, and I think what you're looking for
Doomed romances
Dangerous Liaisons
Doctor Zhivago
Hiroshima mon amour
Mystery or crime with a twist
Murder on the Orient Express (1974)
The Usual Suspects
Anything by Alfred Hitchcock, though you can get started with Psycho, Vertigo, and Shadow of a Doubt
Horror or monster movies with ensemble cast
The Exorcist. Please just watch The Exorcist.
Shirtless or skimpily clad men movies
Die Hard
Predator
Terminator
Pre-Star Wars spaceship or alien planet sci-fi
Classic Doctor Who
Alien franchise
Frankly most of the genre is different from Star Wars and Star Trek, those just struck it big
Comedies
The Producers (both original and remake are great and both worth watching since they're different takes on the same story)
Movies that flopped
The Thing
Movies to dig for
Caveat: I don't know where in the world you live, but "difficult to find" for me in Norway could be "oh that's on Amazon" for you.
Veiviseren (Pathfinder)
Good movies for jumpscares
Alien
Really, having tried to compose this list I think you're looking for very specific things, and have taste that differs from mine. I suspect @hotvintagepoll will be a treasure trove for you, and a good starting point.
Best of luck!
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read in 2024: shortbox comics!
I haven't really reviewed most of these anywhere (and I struggle with reviewing short comics sometimes) but I'll do that here, brief thoughts under the cut
Sacred Bodies
a human woman and a giant bird person have an arranged marriage, and come to understand each other. beautiful watercoloury art and interesting worldbuilding
Blade of the Fane
this is the longest comic here - more or less graphic novel length. a medieval fantasy. I loved it! took me a second to get into it - the writing felt a bit rough/awkward in the beginning, though that's maybe just the medieval language. I got used to it. such beautiful art! and hiding under the moody atmospheric exterior is a funny little shit of a protagonist and a sweet and extremely powerful slightly uncanny creature who is hopelessly devoted to him. gay rights
Death Fiddles and We Dance
a stowaway joins an immortal spaceship crew regenerating the war-torn universe. beautiful story. so atmospheric and all the background details are fascinating and create an interesting world & relationship in a short amount of pages
We Live Here Too
comic about a generation spaceship that is also a bomb. very short and moving and to the point.
Lapis Blue
scifi horror comic about a girl working on a spaceship - and happy to do so, unlike everyone else - whose reflection comes to life. about identity and fear of change and being alone. a bit freaky and so good!
The Collapse of Brine City
quiet comic about a deep sea worker returns to the ocean city to find an eviction notice in her shitty lower-level flat and is forced to confront her past and ex. poetic and minimalistic and a little sad
The Fool, The Absolute Madwoman
sapphic romance/thriller that starts off seemingly innocuous but slowly gets more unsettling. Some beautifully delicate art. I'll admit there are a couple places where I was like wait what's happening here? but also that adds to the unsettling vibe
Expiry Date
short sci-fi horror/erotica where people's bodies are valued for their productivity/labour over everything else. when you come home from your shitty job and find a calling card next to your neighbour's mutilated corpse and think yeah that sounds like a good idea, whatever it is. oof.
Clair De Lune
beautiful and sweet little comic about music and magic and hate-to-love sapphics. love the use of colour.
Curtain Falling
a woman with amnesia cycles through various fairy tale scenarios, trying to figure out who she is and who the other mysterious woman who keeps showing up is. short and with great storytelling!
A Pretty Good Wizard
little slice of life comic about a wizard attending a normal high school. very cute i love this wizard
Gnome Granny
a very sweet comic about hobbies and collections and finding community
Chrysalis
short comic about a little girl who can see through things, right down to their core. some beautiful black & white art.
Hometown
short but haunting Filipino horror comic about a boy who found his mother's dead body, and his life after.
Copellia Et Swanilda
sweet little comic about girls and dolls and jealousy. I'm not really familiar with the original ballet which I think would have made me enjoy this more but I do enjoy chatani's unique style
Felicity
true story about a goose who was at the centre of a social isolation experiment in the 60s. :(
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I’ve read 10 more books let’s get a rec list here for future use for people to look up on my page or alone.
Disclaimer:I think reviews and opinions show a lot about who you are and your life exp so. I am a woman lover who is 30 with ADHD. I am cisgendered she/her. I like listening to books on my drive in and out of work. I’ve read and watched a lot of scifi and fantasy and these books reflect that too.
In order of most loved:
1. Most Ardently by Gabe Cole Novoa 🏳️⚧️🏳️🌈⏳ Historical Romance. this beautifully crafted novel moved me to tears. Set in a historical, mundane world, it captures the essence of the original while offering a fresh perspective.
2. Some Desperate Glory by Emily Tesh 👯♀️🏳️🌈👽🚀now MC Romance very very low I like to think she’s a little bit some where in the ace spectrum but 🥹🥹 Avicenna gives you enough gay vibes trust me. It is a real journey. MC is broken out of her brainwashing and tries to save the Earth and Universe. It’s high Sci-fi fun. I really loved it.
3. The Last Binding Trilogy by Freya Marske 🏳️🌈👯♀️🏳️🌈🪄⏳🔎 Alright each book is from a different intertwined couple’s POV. Each book is very much historical wizard mystery’s found family. Each book has steamy interesting spicy scenes. I find this series more impressive now because I still think about the couples and its universe was fun. Side note the last couple is the best.
4. The Tithenai Chronicles by Foz Meadows 🏳️🌈⏳🪄🔎 it’s more historical than super magical but both books have decent mysteries. It’s about an arranged royal marriage one comes from a conservative country suffering from trauma which we get to see but is treated respectfully and not harped on and the other is a warrior who is a little neurospicy. So Velasin is so dear to me I forgive a lot because he’s baby and I love him. They have non binary characters and disabled characters in the story being treated like people. There is some very spicy scenes in these two books. The new character in the second book so amazing they reminds me of Tennal from Oceans Echo in spirit anyway. I liked them. But his spicy scenes had me blushing for days. A con of this book is it’s very emotional so depression trauma warnings.
5. Sunbearer Trials by Aiden Thomas 🏳️🌈🏳️⚧️🦹🦜 I can’t believe I forgot to do a review of this one considering I really enjoyed it. So it’s YA dystopian Latin America folklore kind of like superhero and god goddess. Really heart warming found family coming of age. Also in the vein of hunger games etc. I loved the universe and the structure of the world. Each character was well developed throughout the book. Main character is someone you want to see succeed. I’m so excited for book 2. Lots of neurospicy peeps represented in my opinion.
6. Simon Snow Trilogy by Rainbow Rowell🏳️🌈🪄🧛🏻🐲 Also YA feel book one has a lot of Harry Potter jabs but it’s not a direct parody. I also think in book 2 3 they take jabs at diff genres which was fun. The series is very funny has perspective from all the characters. The universe is interesting. Romance is decent. Lovable characters. It isn’t good to think too hard about anything.
7. The Unbroken by CL Clark 👯♀️⏳👑🪄 this book would be higher up if I wasn’t iffy on the main couple individually I’d rank both leads pretty high on best characters. It’s a book about colonialism political magic rebellion found family. It’s action packed it’s interesting with a good mystery. A disabled main character and a more male presenting lesbian with is something new. Touraine is going to do what Touraine thinks in her heart while Luca serves with her brain and wallet.
8. So this is ever after by f. t. Lukens 🏳️🌈👯♀️🪄👑⏳ Does what it says on the tin is YA. Medieval setting with standard fantasy quest group. Very easy read.
9. Out of the Blue by Jason June 🏳️🌈🧜🏻♂️🎬🎓very YA vibes. Very romance. About a nonbinary mer person on their journey out of the ocean to help a human and a film obsessed gay chubby human on his journey to get over a relationship. I would have this book ranked higher except for the ending and School vibes do kind of make me cringe.
10. Temperature of You and Me by Brain Zepka 🏳️🌈🦹🔎 about a boy whose skin is fire and human who works at a dairy queen. Mystery is weak some holes in the plot.Romance very immature. School age kids.
Okay so audible had a sale anddd I got a couple titles on there (if I have to spend a fortune on gas and tolls I’ll spend a small one on the books that keep me sane) and I have 4 Libby audiobooks checked out. I still have a hard time with wlw books. Or too much thinking. It needs to hit a sweet spot for me since I’m usually driving in hard conditions so can’t use the super brain on the story. Anyways any suggestions or recs would be welcomed!!!
#lgbtqia books#lgbt book list#book list#lgbt books#lgbt book recs#most ardently#some desperate glory#a marvellous light#a strange and stubborn endurance#the sunbearer trials#simon snow series#the unbroken#Jenny’s books
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Today's compilation:
Do You See 2000 IDM / Electro
Alright, back on some electronic shit for today. Here we have a 12-inch sampler from a little, short-lived label out of the UK called deFocus, which was run by Clair Poulton, a woman who first cut her teeth at Aphex Twin's own Rephlex label before launching a label of her own called Clear; and then after Clear closed up shop, she started up this one.
Do You See represents the first of two 12-inch releases that showcased the type of music that deFocus' roster was cooking up at the time at the turn of the millennium, which happened to be mostly different shades of IDM. Some of it was fused with an old school electro vibe too though, like "Touched," which was by a group called Aphelion, and "Mystery One," which was by Mystery, whose own identity (or identities) appears to've indeed been a mystery! Both of these tracks come with pretty standard electro backbeats, but their respective vibes seem to be diametrically opposed to one another—"Touched" has a chemically icy whimsiness to it and "Mystery One" seems to be more interested in plumbing the depths of hell 👹. (And for more Aphelion, you can also check them out as Replicant on the breathtakingly chill, 10-plus-minute beaut' from 1996 that is "Analiz.")
But while those are certainly both two pretty sweet tunes, I don't think that they really hold a candle to another type of IDM that's on here: the more emotive kind that likes to surround all those pecky and glinty, rhythmic IDM bits with captivatingly fluffy clouds of melody and lush synth pads. Plus One's "Mayday," which was written by Plus One himself, but actually produced by the one and only legendary IDM duo of Plaid, is one such example, as it first supplies old and dramatic, cinematic string work, but progressively floods the remainder of its track with a beautiful blend of electronic, intertwining synths that sound significantly much more sci-fi-modern. You think that this song's hitting its creative peak at about a third of the way through when it adds its first new synth to pair with all these strings, but it actually has multiple more levels to ascend through, which is definitely gratifying, but doesn't even seem all that necessary, given that it's already achieved its status as a chief highlight of this record once that first new synth is poured in in the earlier going! 😌
And then for a song that appears to mix some of the electro vibe with that lush and lovely synth work, we have the pretty sublime "Commuter Love" by CiM to close us out. It's not nearly long enough, but in a similar way to Mystery's "Mystery One," it too has a bit of a sinister underlying synth to it, but in this song's case, the light of the trancey twinkling stabs that arrive soon afterwards seem to do a lot to neutralize much of that darkness.
So every track's a highlight on this one as deFocus puts forth an IDM statement here that looks back on the past with a deliberate eye on elements of electro, but seems to have its other eye trained on the future too. And when you have a pair of eyes that appear to be looking in completely opposite directions from one another, then I guess what you can say is that their combined eyesight is definitely, well...deFocused (<_>).
Check out my post from earlier this year on Two You See too, which also has an alternative hip hop track by Jon Tejada on it that features abstract rap veteran Divine Styler.
Highlights:
Lackluster - "Starcell UK" Aphelion - "Touched" Plus One - "Mayday" Mystery - "Mystery One" CiM - "Commuter Love"
#idm#intelligent dance music#defocus#do you see#clair poulton#electro#electronic#electronic music#2000s#2000s music#2000's#2000's music#00s#00s music#00's#00's music
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I'm so glad we're on the same page when it comes to contemporary romance. I thought I was gonna get crucified 😭 (y'know how people on tumblr are). That said, I'd like to ask for book recommendations, novels if the plot's interesting enough. I'm looking to expand my little library
no definitely not crucified! my blog is a place where differing opinions can co-exist, so you’re safe here.
as for book recommendations, i’d be delighted to deliver. all of them will be divided by section and i’ll include page amount ♡
fantasy
babel - r.f. kuang / 558 pages, historical, fantasy, speculative fiction
the poppy war trilogy - r.f. kuang / 1800 pages across all three books, historical fiction, fantasy
piranesi - susanna clarke / 245 pages, fantasy, speculative fiction
curious tides - pascale lacelle / 544 pages, young adult fantasy
in the company of witches - auralee wallace / 330 pages, mystery, fantasy
the watchmaker of filigree street - natasha pulley / 318 pages, historical fiction, fantasy, mystery (very steampunk if you’re into that)
the kingkiller chronicle - patrick rothfuss / 2,551 pages across the whole series, epic fantasy
the priory of the orange tree - samantha shannon / 830 pages, epic fantasy (the prequels are definitely worth reading too. if you like the legend of zelda [especially botw] it’s kinda like that but make it sapphic)
the burning kingdoms - tasha suri / 1,532 pages across the whole series, sapphic fantasy.
the locked tomb - tamsyn muir / 1,488 pages across the whole series, sci-fi sapphic fantasy.
the stormlight archive - brandon sanderson / well over 1k pages, epic fantasy.
untethered sky - fonda lee / 152 pages, fantasy (very one piece-esque and the book cover is so cool. i also recommend the green bone saga! [also fonda lee])
the night circus - erin morgenstern / 387 pages, historical fantasy
mystery/crime
the seven dials mystery - agatha christie / 375 pages, crime, mystery (all of her books are so fun, read them all especially the hercule poirot books)
the big book of christmas mysteries - otto penzler / 674 pages, short stories, mystery (a bunch of stories from multiple authors put into one. all very sherlock holmes-esque)
the hollow man - john dickson carr / 213 pages, crime, mystery (wintry vibes)
the last one - will dean / 448 pages, thriller (the ending…. go into this one blind)
run on red - noelle w. ihli / 291, horror, mystery
the peacekeeper’s apprentice - laurie r. king / 440 pages, historical, mystery
all the colors of the dark - chris whitaker / 656 pages, mystery, thriller
billy summers - stephen king / 517 pages, thriller
bullet train - kotaro isaka / 432 pages, crime, thriller, mystery
that’s not my name - megan lally / 304 pages, young adult thriller
sci-fi
scythe - neal shusterman / 443 pages, dystopian, young adult sci-fi
the time machine - h.g. wells / 128 pages, classics, sci-fi
stories of your life and others - ted chiang / 287 pages, sci-fi, short stories
orbital - samantha harvey / 207 pages, literary, sci-fi
project hail mary - andy weir / 476 pages, astronomy, sci-fi
literary
the dutch house - ann patchett / 337 pages, literary, historical (also recommend all of patchett’s books. one thing this woman will do perfectly without fail is write a complicated family dynamic)
the goldfinch - donna tartt / 784 pages, literally, mystery
violeta - isabel allende / 322 pages, literary, historical (sweeping, BEAUTIFUL. highly rec)
#mars replies ⟢#can you tell fantasy is my favorite genre#i have many south/southeast asian and middl east fantasy books its wild#so much more where that came from#my reading habits are concerning ive got lots on the roster#like i read all genres#i wont make this post 15 miles long tho#anyone can pop in at any time to ask for more#book recs#book recommendations#letterstokennedy ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
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writeblr intro
hey i'm chance! i've done a writeblr intro recently but i didn't like it, so this is take 2. here's the old one.
─── about me -⋆⋅☆
name : chance
pronouns : they/he
likes : cyberpunk, romance, anime, kpop, music, history, design
age : 20
i tend to swear both on here and in my writing, so if you're sensitive to that, i don't think my blog or work is for you. i also use the word 'queer' a lot since i self-identify as such, when i do choose to self-identify.
i'm interested in so much, which would be impossible to fully state. there are so many new things out there and i love learning about them all!! this blog is mainly for writing but i'm not strict on that.
i also am pretty sure i'm neurodivergent (no diagnosis or anything yet) and tend to delve into hyper-fixations for weeks at a time. if i haven't posted for a while, it's probably because of one of my other hyper-fixations or school.
i'm going to college for my bachelor's in graphic design, which might make my responses during the school year delayed.
i'm always open to ask or tag games!! it might take me a few to respond but i'll respond.

─── writing -⋆⋅☆
you'll find a lot of diverse characters, the found/chosen family trope, romance or rom-com, angst, and references to actual history or historical events within my work. sometimes i throw in a little art fact since i'm an art student. in nearly every one of my works you can find a prominent lgbtq+ character, too.
i write for original works and fanfiction alike. i often alternate what project i'm writing on and tend to leave wips unfinished. there's no one specific fandom that i'm in since i tend to dabble in everything.
i enjoy reading all sorts of stories, but some of the tropes and genres that have a special place in my heart include:
[ genres : romance . action . sci-fi . dystopian . heists . cyberpunk . horror . comedy . mystery ] [ tropes : friends to lovers , enemies to lovers , fake/pretend relationship , college au , coffee shop au , domestic , fluff , angst ]
─── ⋆ looking for ⋆⋅☆
more writers to follow!
good vibes & friends
writing advice & critique buddies (will help critique ur work too)

─── works in progress -⋆⋅☆
nova futurum | original work | #wip: nova futurum
─── ⋆ status : brainstorming
a lgbtq+ mafia cyberpunk story with the working title "Nova Futurum." i've got the general information down and i'm currently working on fleshing out my main characters. for now it's in the very basic stages, but feel free to ask me about it or give any tips!
you still would've been mine | fanfiction | #wip: yswbm
─── ⋆ status : outlining, research, & writing draft 1
Steven "Steve" Rogers wakes up in the 21st century after crashing into the ice in 1942, leaving behind his life as the mascot of the USA along with his childhood in Brooklyn NYC. The Winter Soldier, a man left behind in the war recovers his memories as the man known as James "Bucky" Buchanan Barnes after meeting Steve in the modern time. Steve and Bucky recall their childhood and their experience in the war as they recover.
matchbreakers | original work | #wip: match
─── ⋆ status : brainstorming
xavier works at match breakers. instead of setting people up on blind dates, he goes to dates and breaks up the couple. all sorts of people hire him, disapproving parents, jealous ex's, and those scared to see their ex's angry side. what he doesn't expect is falling in love with one of his own clients.
scars of duty | original work | #wip: sod
─── ⋆ status : plotting
Lucian is a hero who protects the city of Haines and the other members of his hero's league. They're a small-name hero just trying to make do with what they've got. A villain new to the city shows up and shakes Lucian’s perception of their own superpowers and the world.

< tag lists: if you'd like to be added for any project, let me know. i'm not the greatest at remembering the tag list but i will try! >
─── ⋆ more of my socials & my design portfolio
#writeblr intro#writeblr#writers of tumblr#writing community#writeblr search#writeblr introduction#author intro#reintroduction#writeblr reintro#graphic design#matchbox twenty#wip: nova futurum#wip: yswbm#masterlist#masterpost#pinned post#pinned#intro#writerblr#writeblr community
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character / domhnall availability / any except for familial or t*boo story / domhnall is a former detective a few months out from being fired. after losing his job, getting a divorce, and his father dying, he's in desperate need for a vacation. renting a cabin in a woodsy village, domhnall is expecting to enjoy himself and clear his mind, only to get wrapped in a mystery. your muse either is the mystery he's trying to solve, involved somehow, or just an innocent bystander. please note that while domhnall is no longer in law enforcement, he still has a cop-like attitude and spent many years as a detective. setting / a nice little countryside village where everything seems peaceful (think murder, she wrote or midsomer murders). this can be more a cozy mystery type vibe or something more horror-y, possibly even supernatural or sci-fi!
it was supposed to be a fresh start. domhnall was supposed to put it all behind him, cleanse his mind of his obsession with the black widow of manhattan, elizabeth granger, and try to figure out who he was now that he could no longer call himself a detective. in a way, it was probably the best thing to happen to him. his wife, nora, left him because he was too dedicated to his career. his career left him because he was too dedicated to putting elizabeth granger away for the rest of her life, crossing lines that he never should have crossed. in the chaos of it all, his father back in belfast died, and it led to… this. domhnall would certainly never call it a mental breakdown, but plenty of people did, including his captain. he was no longer fit to be a detective, a feat that was quite hard to accomplish with the way the city protected its boys in blue, and now he needed to get on with his life. maybe he’d write mystery novels or something, turn his years of service into something lucrative. maybe he’d discover some late in life passion for cooking, or just… something. anything that wasn’t obsessing over the case that got away.
that’s why he came to a remote village in the countryside. no internet signal, very little communication with the outside world, just vast greenery in every direction. domhnall thought it was exactly what he needed. the unfortunate part was that it was all kind of… boring. the peace he sought in the remoteness of the cabin was exactly what bored him. he had never been the type to sit and binge some tv show, reading only interested him for so long, and there was no one around to play chess with since his wife divorced him. that led him to take a long, long walk every day through the countryside. just like the past five days, domhnall took the same route through the woods towards the center of the village, passing another cabin that looked rather abandoned. for some reason, this cabin kept grabbing his attention. his curiosity was piqued, though he tried to ignore it but his resolve was weakening each day. finally, he couldn’t take it anymore, and found himself outright snooping. looking through the window, domhnall didn’t notice a presence behind him until he saw their reflection standing behind him. jumping back, he turned around with a sheepish expression. “oh… hi.” he shoved his hands into his pockets to seem more innocent. “sorry, i didn’t see you there.” he glanced back at the cabin behind him, “i’m not, ah, trying to break in or anything. i was just curious… do you live here? or know who does?”
#indie rp#1x1 rp#indie horror rp#indie crime rp#indie para rp#indie oc rp#indie roleplay#* STARTER / open .#* DOMHNALL CARNAHAN / narrative .#there is literally no market for this and it's christmas eve but maybe someone will wanna do a cozy mystery with me :(#plus every few months my crush on colin morgan comes back lol and i need an excuse to look at him#police mention tw
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Any fiction recommendations? I’ve repeatedly read Locked Tomb, natch. I’d love something similarly brainwork inducing but maybe a touch lighter. Also not fantasy or sci fi…I need something to listen to while I do a ton of chores, and those can be hard (for me) because the unfamiliar proper nouns get confusing. :/
anon!! I'm terrible at reccing anything based on “if you liked TLT” because TLT is like five different genres in a trench coat, but I TRIED (⭐) Here are some brainworm-y recs that aren't sff — where by brainworm-y I mean that they stayed with me for a while after I finished them, but aren't overly confusing. (most of them are books, but available on audio)
Podcasts: a tumblr pal recced me the deviser based on me liking the eldritch elements of tlt; it's short and horror-y, and I really enjoyed it.
I haven't checked out the new TMA yet but I see many TLT peeps who are enjoying it (or S1 of the original The Magnus Archives could be a good entry point if you haven't ever listened to it)
TV: Unfortunately I hardly ever watch live action stuff BUT if you haven't seen either IWTV (the series not the film) or Yellowjackets, I do rec those! There's a lot of overlap between these fans and TLT fandom on my dash. His Dark Materials also goes hard and you might enjoy it (dysfunctional characters! worldbuilding! religious weirdness!) but it has more sff elements than other stuff I've recced. Oddball out of nowhere but The Great is a fun show if you enjoy the meme moments of TLT + people being gleefully horrible + having feelings despite your best intentions
Animanga: Utena (!!!!!) also Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood, which occupies a very similar space to TLT in my brain
Books!
✧ I went through my “women unhinged” goodreads shelf and found some books that are avaliable in audio format, and might appeal. These are wildly varied in scope and ngl the criterion was just “at least one person (besides myself) who enjoyed tlt also this book” and the similarities stop there. It's all vibes baby! Still, I tried
my heart is a chainsaw by stephen graham jones (horror, slasher), bunny by mona awad (horror, wildly unhinged), the witching hour by anne rice (horror, gothic)
matrix by lauren groff (historical, lesbian nuns), anything by sarah waters (historical fiction + lesbians), rebecca by daphne du maurier (historical, gothic)
the plot by jean hanff korelitz (litfic, thriller), sadie by courtney summers (thriller, coming of age). anything by gillian flynn (thrillers with terrible women).
✧ I really enjoy Tana French thrillers for the strong sense of place, great prose, and the complete emotional turmoil of her character-centric narratives. If anything sounds up your alley, I enjoyed the witch's elm + dublin murder squad series. They're murder mystery procedural but the messy characters really elevate the novels. Available in audiobook also
✧ American Elsewhere, technically scifi but set in New Mexico. Somehow, cosmic horrors who have taken over a quaint little town and worse! They are enforcing HETERONORMATIVITY upon it! They also have tentacles. The main character rocks
✧ Sundial by Catriona Ward: insane, gripping psychological horror. A mother and her unsettling daughter take a trip to the isolate desert ranch where the main chracter grew up. Surrounded by unsettling science experiments
✧ A Touch of Jen by Beth Morgan: when the parasocial relationship is so strong, it accidentally summons a hellmonster from another dimension
✧ SFF adjacent, sorry, but set in the real world (historical, tho) — Cuckoo Song by Frances Hardinge, a middle grade novel with fairytale elements that gave me more brainworms than any kids book ought to, mostly because I LOVED the main character. She occupies a very similar place in my brain as Gideon does. This is actually the only book on the list that I'm not sure is available in audio format, but if you get a chance and it's up your alley, I'd check it out
I hope there's at least ONE thing you'll like in here! lmk (also. lmk if you don't have access to a way to borrow audiobooks but would like to)
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