#most of these are within the past 12 months though

[ducktracy]

doing that thing i did once before where i upload a menagerie of my Garageband Meddlings of cues/songs/blips/etc that are either too brief to post on their own or too unfinished. 95% of these are just studies of pre-existing Carl Stalling scores HAHA (that some of you may recognize! some of you may not! i’ll put sources in tags) but HEY! i tried to organize them from most substantial/finished to least

[shinyspooks]

one thing i've noticed with a lot of dpxdc prompts involving Impulse is that you guys seem to exclusively use the "apocalyptic future" storyline from the Young Justice cartoon.

personally. i think it's FAR funnier to use the original comic's version;

when he was born, Bart Allen's body was developing too fast. The speedforce was affecting him in a way previously unseen- he looked 12 even though he was only 3 years old mentally.

so, the scientists of the future could only come up with one solution; they put his body in stasis and put his mind in virtual reality.

Bart "Impulse" Allen, grew up in a video game.

After he gets sent to the past and shocked out of his rapid aging, he treats the world the one you'd expect someone who grew up in a video game would. He has no concept of consequences, mortality, and thinks in the most absurd outside the box ways.

He of course gets past this, character development and all.

But still, he's quite shocked when one of his video game mentors, Phantom, suddenly appears in a very much physical form, in the past no less.

And... why doesn't Phantom recognize him?

Or; in the future, scientists need a computer program that will allow a speedster's mind to grow properly. They decide to use the notes of the renowned (and long gone) "Tech Wizard", Tucker Foley. Within Foley's notes is a program simply called "Phantom".

Meanwhile, in the past, Danny is incredibly confused when this random speedster kid calls him by name before he's even introduced himself. Does this mean he's going to end up on another time adventure again?

Bonus: Bart canonically has an evil clone named Inertia, who took his place and pretended to be him for like. Literal months if I remember right, and nobody noticed. Anyways, give me a redeemed!Inertia hanging out with Dani or give me death-

[bonefall]

Clan Culture: Names and Titles

A guide to the meaning behind warrior names in Better Bones, including when a kit receives their first suffix, what happens in the case of a conflict, and honor and dishonor titles.

Edit 1: More added to FAQ!

Clan cats ferociously value their titles through life. It is a symbol of their honor, the proof of their rank, and a sign that they are a blessed warrior of their Clan.

Famously, a warrior name consists of a prefix, and a suffix. The prefix is given by their kin, and the suffix changes at least three times within their lives. The first, -kit, is given when a kitten sees their first full moon with opened eyes. The second, -paw, is given at their apprenticeship ceremony. The last is awarded after completing their Warrior Assessment, as written in Law 12 of the Warrior Code.

Once a Clan cat has a suffix, to leave it out of their name is ONLY done by family, else it is a sign of open disrespect for their rank. To respectfully shorten a Warrior's name, one sound from the prefix and one from the suffix are combined.

Squirrelflight = Squilf / Pishkafsheek = Pishee

Hallowflight = Hawf / Shahafniooaw = Shaw

In Clanmew, some names can get quite long! The full title only has to be used during sacred ceremonies, so that StarClan will gaze down upon the warrior using their name as a vector. Nicknames are common; a full name is a holy incantation.

(Though, this works both ways. Some enemy warriors make a point to use the full name when they cuss you out in battle, so StarClan can watch them beat you up. It's especially funny when they do this and then get their ass kicked.)

Below the cut;

Fading Kits; The Promised Name and the First Name.

Journey to the Moonplace; Conflicts and Leader Choices

Pride and Shame; Honor and Dishonor Titles

FAQ

Fading Kits; The First Name and Prefixes.

It is a part of life, for cat parents of all cultures, that they will have at least one kitten in a litter who does not live past their first month. It's so normal that it is not treated like a tragedy, it's as expected as afterbirth.

In Clan Culture, these are called "Fading Kits" or "Faders," and the same word is used for the 'twinkle' of a star. It is believed that Faders are StarClan Warriors who get "caught" during their delivery of the souls of the other kittens, and briefly fall to earth before fading away again.

They're thought to be family, in most cases! It would be very insulting to tell your grandfather that you don't recognize him, so, kittens are not "named" until it's clear they are not simply faders.

The first rank a Clan cat has is "kit." They are given this suffix, along with their official prefix, after they witness their first full moon with open eyes. It is believed that a Fader would not be able to gaze upon the moon without bursting into tears and dying on the spot, desperate to return to StarClan's hunting grounds. This title is called the "First Name."

(Jaykit was slightly delayed in receiving his First Name, as there was some debate that he could complete this ritual. The matter was settled by the Cleric, Leafpool, describing the moon to him in detailed prose to which the 3-week-old replied, "ok")

Prefixes are taken from just about anything that Clan cats are familiar with. Animals, colors, plants, so on. The reasons these names are picked can range from it being a good physical description, to having an abstract symbolic meaning, to being in honor of another cat.

While no word is "banned," there are names that carry social connotations. Thistles, wildfires, and honeysuckles have political implications. Cuckoo birds are referenced as an extreme insult. Cooked food used in a name would be considered extremely silly. Parents may be talked to if the names they pick are considered bad or 'not serious.'

If the First Name is ESPECIALLY bad, to the point of being abusive, the Clan might refuse to honor it. This is rare, and subjective based on the culture at the time.

Fading Kit: A kitten that dies without an obvious reason before its first moon. Extremely common and expected within a litter; not named.

First Name: The first prefix a Clan cat has, earned after witnessing their first full moon with opened eyes.

Journey to the Moonplace; Conflicts and Leader Choices

According to legend, the very first "True Names" were given to the five founders, after the First Battle. Upon each leader, their ancestors bestowed the fragment of a star, so that they too would be able to bless their warriors with holy titles of their own.

This is a sacred responsibility. A leader is expected to put immense thought and care into bestowing a name upon their warriors. Part of this process is checking with StarClan to ensure that there is no spirit with the exact same name. Full titles are holy, an incantation that means you. It's EXTREME disrespect, both to StarClan AND the warrior, to make them share the same title.

If a leader is about to see a conflict when they're being given their -star suffix, StarClan itself will give them a new prefix... but they will always honor a meaningful personal request.

Though they act as an extension of StarClan, every leader is unique in the sorts of names they give! For example, Mistystar likes to "theme" litters with matching or similar suffixes, Brokenstar would pick names that sounded threatening and cool, and Bluestar preferred 'straightforward' names.

To challenge the name that a warrior has been given is a challenge against the leader that named them. You're calling into question something that they have the sacred authority to do-- and possibly even saying that they don't have StarClan themselves on their side. It's a very serious thing to do in public.

According to Law 12 of the Warrior Code, all apprentices must do three things before they can be considered a warrior. The Assessment, The Pilgrimage, and The Vigil. These are called The First Tasks.

These are typically done in order. After passing the assessment, the apprentice goes on a trip with their leader to the Moonplace, which is the Moonstone in the Forest, and the Moonpool at the Lake. There, the leader communicates with StarClan to present the name they've chosen, and to make sure that no spirit shares it. When approved, they return to the Clan where the Warrior Name Ceremony is held and the vigil is sat.

A warrior's first vigil will last for 12 hours. Since Clan cats are crepuscular, the apprentice may choose if they want to sit for a Day Vigil, or a Night Vigil. They must stay quiet for this entire time, unless interrupted by an incoming threat.

(However, this is a value so strong it can permanently impact a young warrior. Stoneclaw sat vigil on the night of the WindClan Massacre, and watched ShadowClan warriors kill her sister, mother, and father. She found herself unable to speak ever again.)

True Name: The full title of an adult Clan cat.

The First Tasks: Three actions that an apprentice must complete before becoming a full warrior, as outlined in Law 12.

Pride and Shame; Honor and Dishonor Titles

A full name is a holy incantation, calling upon StarClan itself to turn its gaze upon the warrior it describes. When that name no longer properly encompasses who that warrior is, the leader might choose to change it.

For outstanding achievements, a cat can earn an Honor Title.

There's many ways to earn an Honor Title. An act of inspirational heroism (Hallowflight), a huge discovery or contribution to Clan life (Leafpool), or even surviving an extreme injury that should have been deadly (Honeysnake). It's also common for them to be given for distinctive scars and injuries (Shredtail, Crookedstar), which are a point of pride for Clan cats and their battle-oriented culture.

Because it's totally up to the discretion of the leader, there are certain times in history where they become common, and others where they're rare. Some leaders believe that the first warrior name should be simple to encourage the quest for an Honor Title, while others believe that they should be spontaneous and sacred rewards.

For a crime or a terrible sin, a cat can be branded with a Dishonor Title.

Like their counterpart, Dishonor Titles can be acquired in all sorts of ways. Usually, they're given for codebreaking behavior, so that the whole Clan will address them by their mistakes for a certain amount of time and see them as an example. Some cats will even specifically request that their leader gives them a Dishonor Title after a serious failure-- it is thought that while they live under the shameful title to repent, their true, "holy name" can hide away until their pride recovers enough to wear it again.

Dishonor Titles are not supposed to be permanent unless the crime was severe, such as Darkstripe's poisoning of Sorrelkit. Before being cast out of ThunderClan, Firestar renamed him Belladonnaheart for what he'd done-- it would have served the double purpose of calling StarClan to witness the exile, AND of warning other cats of WHY he'd been cast out.

(though, it was undercut immediately by Tigerstar, who renamed him as soon as he had the chance. Debate rages on if Tigerstar had the holy authority to do such a thing, and what the 'true name' of the spirit now is.)

But, Dishonor Titles can also be used in cruel ways. When Swiftpaw was killed by the dogs and it seemed like his cousin Brightpaw wouldn't survive, Bluestar furiously challenged StarClan by giving her the warrior name "Swifthound." They would take TWO swifts to the stars, or leave her alone to recover. This was a terrible thing to do, to turn her into a pawn in Bluestar's war with StarClan and force her to wear the guilt of the gruesome death of her cousin as a holy title.

TigerClan also used Dishonor Titles in a shocking and sickening way-- by changing Stormpaw and Featherpaw into Graypaw and Silverpaw, to remind them that their birth killed their codebreaking mother, and that their traitor of a father was not here to pay for his crimes, so they would instead. Mistyfoot and Stonefur were also forced to take the names Festerberry and Heartworm.

Honor Title: A reward given for outstanding achievements.

Dishonor Title: A punishment given for breaking the Warrior Code or committing a sin.

FAQ

Q: "On conflicts; if a cat earns an honor title or becomes leader, does their old name get 'freed up' for a new warrior?"

Yes! Conflicts only apply to the final name; though the names of famous cats will be avoided generally (Tigerstar, for example.)

Q: "When a spirit fades away, is their name freed up?"

Yep. StarClan won't protest if a spirit is fully faded or forgotten; but they still won't allow cats to share names with famous individuals. For example, Tigerstar had been double-killed by Firestar, but StarClan still renamed Tigerheart to Heartstar.

Q: "Are there any outright banned prefixes or suffixes?"

Nope. Just use in-universe judgement as mentioned above. Every leader is different, and cultural views of certain prefixes shifts over time.

Q: "If conflict names are so discouraged, how do they deal with conflicting kits and apprentices in StarClan?"

Young cats that reach StarClan are called "cherubs." They unlock a full title based on the cat they "should have become" in life, and choose the age they wish to appear as. Cherubs are very special spirits that I'll get into with more depth another time!

Q: "Do Fading Kits exist in StarClan? Do they take up a name slot?"

No. If they weren't just a "visiting" spirit, the soul is young and clean enough to get immediately re-used for another Clan cat. They're not named.

Q: "I have a question about Tigerstar's authority to change names!"

These are ambiguous cases even in-canon, and actively debated within Clans and between individuals. Tigerstar had a lot of lives from the Dark Forest after being outright rejected by StarClan, and many cats wanted to discredit his rule on top of that, leading to some fractures in how Tiger-Titles work supernaturally.

Stormfur's strongly-held personal beliefs lead to him still referring to Stonefur by his Dishonor Title. Most Clan cats believe that Darkstripe's true name is still Belladonnaheart, so using his old name doesn't properly summon him. The most important factor is if the cat in question believes they're correct.

Q: "Can Honor Titles and Dishonor Titles be revoked posthumously? Can true names change after death?"

Yes, but it's difficult and rare. Either the leader who set the name can do it, or there would need to be lakewide acceptance of such a thing through a ritual or the slow turn of memory through generations. This is more controlled by mortal cat perception than StarClan's will.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

hey hey hey I have had a hell of a day (Actually Hell) because I did too many fun things (a problem apparently) and then also we put up the christmas tree leading to the inevitable christmas tree installation arguments (they pop up every year like clockwork!)

anyway i have been overstimulated and stressed (just want to emphasize that there is NO pressure here whatsoever! id like to avoid any semblance of that actually and I know you're already working on 12 days so take your time) and it would be very cathartic to see chris dealing with similar issues (the Wonderful guy. we are pretty similar.) thanks a lot for reading this, even if you don't write anything !

Sorry this took so long, Anon! I swear I've been trying to get this written for literally almost two months now

CW: Some references to Chris's past, overstimulation, anxiety

"Hey, where did Chris go?" Laken blinks and looks around, but the living room of the house they rent - filled with laughing, happy people - shows no sign of Chris's telltale lavender hair with its new-penny copper roots.

One of Brit's friends just shrugs at them and gestures, vaguely, in the direction of the kitchen. "Dunno. He wandered off a while ago, maybe that way?"

"Oh, okay. Huh." Laken steps back, the circle of laughing people closing up tight as soon as they do. Their dark eyes scan the room, but there's no sign of him.

He'd been doing great - all but holding court, one of the most popular people at the party. He's sort of famous, since the Olympics, and people had been peppering him with questions and compliments, crowding around wanting nothing more than to be friends with the ex-pet who stood up to the bad guys on live TV. They'd seen him dancing, too, the music loud enough to nearly make the walls shake. The easy, unselfconscious dancing they loved in him the most.

He'd seemed to be enjoying himself, at the time, but...

Where has he gone?

They weave around people, stopping to pick up an ornament that has fallen off the tree. The scent of pine is subtle and ever-present, and they carefully work the ornament's little loop back over a branch, ruefully watching a couple of pine needles come loose and drift down. The damn thing is already starting to turn a little brown around its edges, thanks to Laken's roommate having insisted on buying it literally the day before Thanksgiving.

Laken doesn't even celebrate Christmas, not since they stopped going to Mass on Christmas Eve years and years ago. Still, in a house they rent with three others, they're the only one who doesn't at least pay lip service to the holiday.

And even if they don't give a fuck about Christmas, they do like having an excuse to throw a party.

The tinsel wrapped in spirals around, over, and below the ornaments glitters in the light, and the look makes them think of Chris, and how his eyes have always looked just the same, to them, when they're out at night and the moon hits the green of his irises just right.

Their search leads them to Ben, contentedly sitting on the couch, a drink in one hand and his phone in the other, quietly reading something there while the party is in full swing around him. He glances up and then instinctively, immediately, uses a finger to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Hey, Laken. What's up?"

"Is Akio not coming tonight?"

"Oh... no." Ben blushes - it's adorable, and Laken can't help the smile playing around their lips. "He's got some kind of meeting with the gymnastics team, or his coaches? Or... something like that. He said sorry, though."

"Nah, no problem. But, hey, so. Uh, have you seen Chris, like within the last ten minutes or so??"

Someone puts Christmas music on and Laken shudders as they hear that damn 80s pop song start up again. If they have to hear that fucking song one more time...

"Nope. Not in a while." Ben shrugs, taking a drink. Whatever he has in that cup is pinkish-red and probably far more alcoholic than it tastes. Laken's roommate had insisted on a signature cocktail. "You could check outside? Sometimes when there's a lot of people, to Chris it's... too much."

Laken nods, still scanning the crowd, but their stomach knots a little with the first hit of real anxiety. Ben is right, Chris can get overwhelmed by too much noise and movement, but also he's been drinking tonight - they saw the same red punch in a cup in his hands earlier - and he has a tendency to get... hazy, when he drinks. Flirty in ways that aren't natural to him. Willing to let people hug him that he doesn't like, unable to bring himself to stop them. Sometimes his stammer smooths out, which makes people who don't know him feel more comfortable and people who do know him nervous. He starts tipping his head to the side in a way that makes the sweep of his growing-out hair hide the scar on his forehead, biting his lower lip when he smiles. It makes Laken feel a little sick to see it happen and realize Chris doesn't even notice when he's doing it.

The last thing they need is to have to come up with an explanation for Chris losing track of himself again, or why he's eating olives off the charcuterie board Brit brought knowing damn well he'll just go to the bathroom and get sick all over the place again, or... fuck, what if somebody hits on him and he's too drunk to stop it?

That hasn't happened since college, but...

They pull their phone out, uneasily checking for a text, but there's nothing. If he went outside, he'd text, right? He does, he always does. Texts can be easier and Chris is always a little nervous about being outside alone.

He insisted on coming tonight, said he was feeling good lately, but-... what if-...

They flinch when fingers touch their arm, only to see Ben must have stood up when they weren't looking. He slips his own phone into his jacket pocket and looks Laken over more closely. "Hey. It's okay, he's probably fine. You know he gets weird when parties are really going. It's like a light switch, enough to too much, I totally get it. It's why I'm on the couch fucking around on Kindle instead of, you know... talking to people." Ben says it like talking to people is literal hell, and... okay, Laken can see how that might be the case. "He probably just needed to get away from it and wandered off."

"Uh, yeah. I know." Laken rubs at the back of their neck, fingers moving through the soft, shorn undercut beneath their longer black waves. "I'm sure that's it. Just... you know, sometimes he... when he gets nervous..."

"I got you." They adore Ben, sometimes, for how often they don't have to finish the sentences they don't want to say. He knows what words haven't yet spilled, unwilling. Sometimes he acts like he belongs to us, not like he loves us. Sometimes I can't trust him to find his way back on his own. Sometimes I feel like Jake, and I hate feeling like Jake.

Words die in their throat.

Ben squeezes their arm, gently. "Let's split up and search around. I'll go outside, you go around the house, okay? We verify how he is, then whichever one finds him tells the other. Sound good?" Ben smiles, and Laken relaxes a little, finding a smile for him in return.

"Yeah, sounds good. Thanks, Ben."

"No problem." Ben has always understood Chris, thanks to his little brother being similar in some ways. He understands Laken's worry, too, because better than anyone else here - he knows how Chris sometimes gets lost in his past, especially if he's drinking, worse the maybe twice Laken's ever seen him try an edible or a pill.

What if he got drunk and someone offered him something and he took it? Drunk Chris sometimes isn't a Chris who can easily turn down anything he's offered.

This party was a stupid idea.

Laken takes a deep breath and squares their shoulders.

Chris is not a child.

He is a goddamn grown man and Laken is not his keeper. They're not his parent and they're not a babysitter. They're definitely not his fucking... owner or whatever the bastards that hurt him would have called it. They're his partner. He can handle himself, better than they could if they'd lived his life, and they need to trust him to either know his limits and to get away if he can't say no, or to come to them if he wants to ask for help. Otherwise, they're not any better than the bullshit he's been buried in for longer than he's known them.

Ben goes to check outside, slipping silently out the sliding door onto the back porch where a small crowd has congregated in a cloud of skunky smoke, while Laken heads upstairs, peeking their head in to room after room with no sign of him anywhere. They see some movement under a pile of coats, but that's... definitely not Chris, based on the very female voices who yell at them to give them some fucking privacy, please.

"Sorry, Brit," Laken calls, closing the door tightly. "And, um, Leigh. Just looking for Chris-"

"Well, he isn't in here or we'd have kicked him out already," Brit says, cranky but without any real anger in her voice. Laken doesn't recognize the redhead whose eyes pop up from beneath the pile of coats next to her. "Check a different room."

"Yeah, I will. Uh... keep having fun, I guess-"

"That's the plan! Now leave, please!"

The door latches as they close it, and they exhale. There's one room left, at the end of the hall, and they can hear a familiar murmuring from behind the door when they press their ear up against it.

Laken knocks, rapping gently with their knuckles, and turns the knob when they hear no answer - but no demand to stay out either. The murmuring goes silent. They sigh, and the door swings open, light cutting across the carpet until it reveals their wayward boyfriend.

No one has claimed this bedroom yet, so it's bare and empty except for a couple unpacked cardboard boxes, Brit's exercise bike by the window, a couple of her yoga mats, a laundry basket with a few folded towels, and a bare mattress the last housemate had left behind on the floor when they moved out.

Laken's lips press together, eyes scanning the room. Chris's phone is on the mattress, along with an empty beer bottle, but Chris isn't. "Chris? Cariño?"

A muffled rustling makes them jump, heart in their throat, and then they realize the sound came from the closet, where the folding doors are closed. Laken pulls them open to reveal Chris curled up, knees nearly to his chin, an open bottle clutched in one hand, his chewy necklace in the other. He'd chosen the bat one tonight, and his hand is closed around it in such a tight fist Laken can tell his knuckles are white even in the dark.

Chris doesn't look at them. He's swaying, rocking forward and back, his eyes focused on something far, far away from them. There's red lines on his left wrist, where he's dug his nails in, scratching not quite deep enough to draw blood, but close. Laken takes a deep breath, shifting into a crouch.

"Talk to me, Chris."

"No." The answer is flat, and they watch his thumb rub over the little nub of the silicone bat's nose, the points of its tiny ears. "No, no, no. No."

At least he's saying it out loud.

That alone makes the knot of anxiety in their chest start to loosen. If he can say no, he isn't gone, maybe just... standing a little farther back, inside his own head, than the surface.

"Okay. Okay, that's fine. No talking, that's fine. Are you okay, baby?" Laken keeps their voice just above a whisper and lays their hand on the wood trim that frames this shitty excuse for a closet, the floor creaking under them. "You... kind of vanished on me, there."

Chris's eyes flick to them and then away again. "Loud," He manages, and he sounds like he's forcing the word out between gritted teeth. Maybe he is. "Too, too, too... too loud. Too much, too... many."

"I guess Ben called it." Laken sighs, pulling out their phone and sending Ben a quick text that they found Chris and everything's fine. they get a thumbs-up in reply almost immediately. Ben must have been as anxious as they are, if he was just watching for their text to come in. "Do you want me to call Jake to come get you, or..."

"No!" He snaps it, and Laken tries not to wince. He's just struggling with the noise of the party, they tell themself, he's not actually angry. Chris almost never gets angry, and even then it's only at himself. Which... is worse, somehow. "No. Just... Quiet, it's... it's it's quiet."

"Right. Do you want me to stay with you? Be quiet with you?"

He shakes his head, but he doesn't say anything else. His mouth moves, but no further sounds come out.

"Chris, did..." They want to ask, did someone say something to you? Sometimes people said things, referenced pets or something in a way that set him off. But even if someone had... he probably wouldn't tell them, at least not now, not when every word seemed to have to filter through layer after layer of self-protection in his mind. "Never mind. Is there anything I can do for you? Water, or..."

He shakes his head. "No. Just. Um. Quiet... quiet, now. Please?"

"Yeah." Laken leans over and presses a kiss to his hair. He tips his head against their lips and they exhale in relief. "I love you, Chris. Come back if you can, but if you can't, that's okay, too. Just don't hurt yourself, okay? Things should start winding down in a couple hours." They take the little plastic bat and push it against the hand that's still scratching at his shoulder, until he takes hold of it again, pressing it against his mouth and running it back and forth, back and forth.

Chris is quiet, but as they open the door to head back into the hallway, they hear a quiet, "Love, love you," from Chris, barely audible.

They smile as they close the door. Down the hall, the sounds of the party hit them like a brick, beckoning them back to the noise and the cheer and the awful fucking Christmas music still blaring at top volume. Someone yells something out and the whole damn crowd cheers, making Laken wince at it feels nearly deafening.

Maybe Chris has the right idea.

-

@finder-of-rings @endless-whump @arlin-always-writing @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @whumpyourdamnpears @cubeswhump @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @outofangband @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things

[rosanna-writer]

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (19/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~3.2k

More of Feyre settling into her place in the Night Court and understanding exactly what it means to be Lady of Night. Some dialogue and text is lifted directly from A Court of Mist and Fury.

Read on AO3 or you can find the nineteenth chapter below the readmore.

ch. 1 - 10 | ch. 11 - she underestimated just who she was stealing from | ch. 12 - no amount of freedom gets you clean | ch. 13 - stay stay stay | ch. 14 - call it what you want to | ch. 15 - even when you're sleeping, keep your eyes open | ch. 16 - you drew stars around my scars | ch. 17 - do you remember all the city lights on the water? | ch. 18 - and it smells like me | ch. 19 - your mom's ring in your pocket

The next morning, I ate breakfast standing in the space between Rhys's back and his wing, peering over his shoulder as we both read the latest report from Azriel. The spymaster's words were short and to the point—I understood most of it, and Rhys answered my questions about what I didn't.

The conclusions were clear enough. Despite Azriel's extensive network of informants, there was no new evidence of the attackers' identity, and the Cesere trove had been completely looted. Nothing had turned up for sale on the black market. And strangely, a complete accounting of whatever had been inside of the temple was impossible to find. No survivors meant nothing but dead ends.

I was still finishing my tea when Amren arrived with a stack of books that was nearly half her height. Slips of paper with handwritten notes were shoved between the pages of all of them, and some of the titles were in languages I didn't recognize.

Amren dropped the stack unceremoniously onto the kitchen table. "Research. As requested before you leave for Illyria, Rhysand."

"Research on what?" I said.

"On you, girl. And whatever power has been thrumming in your veins since you were Made."

I downed the last of my tea—I wasn't sure I wanted to talk about whatever remnant of the Great Rite still lived within me. It was something I tried not to think about. In the past couple of months, I'd gotten used to ignoring it, though the echo was still constant.

"And I assume you found something, or we wouldn't be having this conversation," Rhys said.

"I have theories, but books aren't enough to prove anything—we'll have to run tests."

I set down my empty cup, and Rhys rested a hand on my lower back. If Amren hadn't been there, I would have leaned into his touch.

"We don't have time for dramatics today. Please explain," Rhys said, and it was the closest anyone, even a High Lord, ever got to barking an order at her. From the way Rhys stood a hair closer to me than usual, I could tell it stemmed from protective instinct.

"Feyre has been claimed by the Night Court, and she's mated to its High Lord. It stands to reason that she's a creature of Night. But at the same time, her Making was a boon from Spring Court magic after taking Tamlin's place in the Great Rite. She may be…something else entirely."

An oily knot of dread settled in the pit of my stomach. "If Tamlin thinks I stole power from him and swore fealty to Rhys on Calanmai…" I said.

Perhaps being the Cursebreaker wouldn't be enough to keep Tamlin from hunting me and seeking revenge if he thought I'd worked against him. Saving all of Prythian might not matter in the face of the feud between Night and Spring.

Rhys let out a low growl. He must have been thinking along the same lines.

"Agreed," Amren said with a curt nod in his direction, "and because treasure troves with objects from both Spring and Night are few and far between, it's time to stop stalling. You have a promise to keep."

"Find another method," Rhys said. Darkness began to leak from him, the inky whorls stretching in my direction. Tendrils wound around my arm but didn't squeeze.

"Feyre has to go claim it anyway."

"She's already proven more than enough."

"Spare me, Rhysand. We all know what you were thinking when you put that bargain tattoo on her finger."

A muscle feathered in Rhys's jaw. Amren rolled her eyes.

"Tell me what you're talking about this before this comes to blows," I snapped, shrugging Rhys's hand off my back.

When he glamoured me, Rhys kept the bargain tattoo visible on my ring finger now that we were back in the Night Court. He'd never actually promised me that the morning after Calanmai wouldn't be the last time we saw each other, so it had never faded. In truth, I'd grown a bit fond of it. But if there was something I hadn't been told about it…

Amren looked at Rhys, and there was something almost amused about the way the silver in her eyes swirled. He took a deep breath, clearly gathering himself. I crossed my arms and waited.

"There's a ring," Rhys said, and each word sounded as if it were ripped out of him. "An heirloom of my family, passed down from female to female. My sister wasn't born yet, so my mother gave it to me when I was a boy. A reminder that she was always with me, even during the worst of my training, and I safeguarded it with preserving spells, the way our kind do for anything valuable. When I reached my majority, she took the ring away and gave it to an ancient, wicked creature called the Weaver, who added it to the collection of treasures she amassed over millennia."

A hoard of spelled objects from all over Prythian, the perfect setting to test what magic matched the echo still within me. Assuming, of course, that I could avoid the monster guarding it.

There was one aspect of it I couldn't quite follow. "Why would your mother give it away?"

Amren's answering serpentine smile made my blood run cold, though I doubted the look that Rhys shot her in response could have been any more murderous.

"Another test. If I were to marry or mate, then the female would either have to be smart or strong enough to get the ring back. And if she wasn’t either of those things, then she wouldn’t survive the marriage. I promised my mother that any potential bride or mate would have to pass, but I think if she were still here…she'd agree that you've already done more than enough."

I froze. And nearly forgot to breathe until I blurted out, "A wedding ring?"

My wedding ring, really. It sounded so human. Rhys was my mate, my soul-bonded partner—husband didn't even begin to cover it.

"Yes, but you're under no obligation to—"

I cut him off; a horrible thought had just occurred to me, and I needed to ask, even though Amren was growing impatient. "You— You haven't…sent someone after it before me, have you?"

"Cauldron, no," he said, horrorstruck. I felt a bit better, though, knowing that there wasn't some poor female who'd died attempting to marry Rhys a few centuries before I was born.

"And this isn't— You're not…proposing?"

For a moment, Rhys just stared at me with the wide-eyed expression I'd last seen Under the Mountain when I'd told him I was nineteen. Amren rapped her nails against the table.

But a pounding against the front door saved him from having to answer my question. Cassian, Azriel, and Mor had arrived, and there were more urgent matters at hand. The door unlocked with a gesture from Rhys, and Amren muttered something about leashing his dogs as we made our way to the sitting room.

Cassian wasted no time reporting on everything he'd learned about the rogue war-bands—their numbers, their movements through the forest, who in Windhaven sympathized with them. I wasn't familiar enough with Illyria to follow all of it. But I still listened carefully, waiting for a chance to suggest I go with.

The conversation turned to exactly what to do with the ringleaders. It was obvious enough that they couldn't be allowed to live, not after they'd supported Amarantha. Killing them in woods would be most efficient. But it would be out of the public eye, a missed opportunity to send a message, albeit a bloody one.

Perhaps it was the question of how to claim my wedding ring still being fresh in my mind, but a thought struck me. It might have been ridiculous—I wasn't entirely sure what sort of creature the Weaver even was—but it seemed worth considering.

"If we need to make a statement to keep control of Illyria," I said, cutting in, "then we could give them to the Weaver and kill two birds with stone."

Five pairs of eyes landed on me, all with naked shock.

Rhys was the first to smile. "Are you suggesting that we allow a death-god to eat a few rogue Illyrians in exchange for the return of your wedding ring?"

I couldn't tell if he was mocking me—it did sound ridiculous when he put it like that. In truth, I didn't care enough about the ring that I was willing to kill for it, but the Illyrians who'd gleefully bowed to Amarantha would be put to death anyway. And years of hunting had taught me to wring every last ounce of utility from a kill.

I lifted my chin. "Amarantha refused to free her human slaves. I'm the Night Court's resident human. What better way to punish them for supporting her than turning them over to me?"

Azriel's brows flicked up in approval. After our conversation in the training ring yesterday, the sight of it made me feel a bit more sure of myself.

"If we're cracking a few wing bones, Feyre might as well get a turn," Cassian said. Breaking an Illyrian's wing bones—ideally leaving enough jagged edges to tear holes in the membrane—was one of their most severe punishments, I'd learned, a favored way of preventing prisoners from escaping to the skies.

"It's Illyria, not Velaris, so word will get out, which we can spin in our favor. Distaste for slavery instead of petty revenge against those who supported the bitch who made Rhys her—" Mor said, choking back that last word with a grimace. Her throat bobbed. "The bitch who hurt him."

"I'll never be offended by you telling the truth. Even about that," Rhys said softly.

On the other side of the sofa, Mor took his hand and squeezed it. "No one reasonable would fault you for slaughtering your rapist's supporters. But for the unreasonable ones…it's also true that involving Feyre could help dispel the rumors that Prythian's savior is a pawn you intend to discard."

"Assuming the Weaver is willing to bargain, it's not a bad plan," Azriel said.

"Hell of an assumption, though," Cassian added. He crossed his arms, the siphons on his hands glinting in the sunlight streaming in through the window.

My eyes slid to Rhys—I had their support, but as High Lord, this would be his call. If he wanted me to stay out of it and find another way to get the ring…I'd understand.

"All of it is your choice, Feyre. If you don't want to risk leaving Velaris, no one will force you," Rhys said.

I hadn't thought of it like that. I'd been so prepared to prove myself useful, ready to argue that a human wouldn't slow the rest of them down or get in the way. But Rhys's concern was the burden it placed on me.

Perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised—after Calanmai, he'd told me that if nothing else, I needed to understand there was a target on my back. I was safe behind Velaris's wards, hidden away in an untouched city like a gem in a vault.

No one would blame me for staying behind. I'd nearly lost my life countless times since Tamlin dragged me over the Wall, and continuing to push my luck might be a bit…insane.

But when Rhys's mother had left that ring with the Weaver, it had been a message. The test wasn't about whether I was worthy of her son—after all, the Cauldron itself had matched us—but rather a statement about what it meant to share your life with the High Lord of the Night Court, hard-won wisdom wrapped up in a challenge she'd designed to outlive her when the worst came to pass.

Lady of the Night Court wasn't just a title…it was a mantle to take on.

"I'm not shying away from any of it. I'll go," I said.

There was a flicker of pride down the bond, identical to the one I'd felt the first time I'd landed a hit to Rhys's jaw. And apparently he wasn't the only one who felt that way—from where he'd been leaning against the doorway, Cassian reached over and mussed my hair. I hissed, batting his hand away.

"Send your mate and your dogs out to the yard if they insist on playing, Rhysand. The adults still have matters to discuss," Amren said.

Cassian's smile turned predatory. "Amren, if you wanted to play—"

"Can we not?" Mor said with a groan. "We're supposed to be working."

To his credit, Cassian said nothing after that, just smoothed my bangs back into place apologetically. Rhys watched for a moment, expression soft, before turning his attention back to the task at hand.

Amren had a point; there was plenty to plan with Rhys being away from Velaris for a while, the priestesses still in need of support, and more information about the state of disarray in other courts filtering in daily. We were at it for a while, making plans and setting priorities.

It was another early night, followed by another early morning.

For the first time since Calanmai, I strapped a quiver to my back, a hunting knife to my thigh, and slung a bow over one shoulder. The familiar weight made my stomach churn. Even though I'd eaten breakfast, fear that the food would run out came roaring back, and for a moment, I felt as if I were still starving in the winter woods.

I forced myself to breathe. That part of my life was over. I wouldn't let it get the best of me now.

Dawn was breaking when I met Rhys in the foyer. His wings were still too weak to manage the long-haul flight from Velaris to Illyria—we'd winnow most of the way, then land. With the bow and quiver, it was a bit awkward, but Rhys scooped me up in his arms easily.

My unease disappeared, so quickly that for a moment I thought he might have pushed past my shields and slashed it with a talon. But no, I just…felt better with Rhys holding me. The scales of his leathers brushed my cheek as I pressed myself closer.

I felt a rumble in his chest as he chuckled, low and soft. "Good morning to you, too," he said.

"We have somewhere to be," I grumbled.

Rhys kissed my temple as the world disappeared into smoke and shadow. In an instant, we were high above the ground, falling fast. I yelped and held on tighter as his wings snapped open.

We pitched forward, and the wind died down as we settled into a smooth glide. The air smelled strongly of pine, and I breathed it in deeply as I lifted my head and beheld Illyria for the first time.

This high up, the tents and buildings were little more than dots on the mountain. And we were far from the only ones in the air—everywhere, winged males were soaring to and from Windhaven. Two of them drew closer, and flashes of cobalt and crimson in the morning sun were enough to identify them as Cassian and Azriel.

As curious as I was about Illyria, there wasn't much to see as the ground rushed up to meet us. Fire pits, the grey stone of the mountain, a few squat permanent buildings. Not much else.

Rhys's wings flapped occasionally, enough to keep our descent slow and controlled. With my arm hooked around his shoulders, I could feel the strain in his muscles. But he was managing—and making it look effortless.

Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel landed in perfect synchrony, with the ease of seasoned warriors who'd trained to fly in formations. Rhys set me down, and I found myself wishing there was a more graceful way to stand up after being carried.

Because people were staring.

The High Lord had returned after fifty years Under the Mountain, with a human girl cradled in his arms. I drew myself up to my full height and met their stares. There was no warmth here, no joy. But there hadn't been much of that in my ramshackle village below the Wall, either. I might have been the only person without wings for miles, but in a way, Illyria seemed familiar.

An older male approached, flanked by a small group of warriors with their hands near their weapons and their wings tucked in tight. As they took in my Illyrian leathers and the ash arrows peeking over my shoulder, I tried not to fidget.

"Your dog," the male said, indicating Cassian with a jerk of his head, "already completed camp inspections yesterday. Don't tell me you've brought a human to check for dust in the barracks, too."

He'd said human, but from the way he spat the word, he might as well have called me a cockroach instead.

"After fifty years away, it's good to see your sparkle hasn't dimmed, Devlon," Rhys drawled. "Feyre Cursebreaker is a member of my Inner Circle, and she wouldn't be here to clean up a mess if you'd kept a tighter leash on your men."

I didn't feel much like a threat, not surrounded by winged warriors twice my size. But I knew better than to let that show. With practiced ease, I pulled an ash arrow from my quiver and gave them a small smile as I tapped it on my thigh.

Devlon hated Rhys—I'd knew that much from all the planning we'd done the day before. I wasn't sure if he was bold enough to call his High Lord a whore to his face, though. From the way he'd narrowed his eyes, I could tell he wanted to. My grip on the ash arrow tightened.

"These last fifty years have been difficult for us all," he said through clenched teeth.

"I'm not interested in hearing your excuses. The current state of your camp is pathetic, and if I see one more misstep, you can consider yourself court-martialed."

Rhys turned and started walking towards the tree line, not bothering with a dismissal. Azriel, Cassian, and I followed without another word.

There were more stares as we crossed the camp, not just from the warriors, but from Illyrians who'd clearly been in the middle of chores or going about their business, too. If Windhaven was anything like my village below the Wall—and I suspected it was—word traveled fast. I focused on matching the quick pace Rhys was setting with his stupidly long legs, lest the gossip be about Prythian's savior jogging to catch up and falling on her face.

It wasn't until we'd stepped into the forest that Rhys's wicked amusement slid through the crack I kept open in my shields for him. Stupidly long legs? But you look so delicious framed between them.

"Save it for when we're back home, Rhys," I muttered, and I could've sworn I heard a snicker, either from Cassian or Azriel. We reached the edge of the camp not long after that.

There had been days those first steps into the woods had taken everything out of me. Days I'd been weak from hunger, exhausted from hours on my feet, but alive and determined to stay that way. To ensure my family stayed that way.

Enough food and rest made a difference, but the weight of memory was a heavy one, something that had lodged itself deep in my bones. It might still have dragged me under. But I had a lifeline, an unbreakable cord to grip, and for once, I was working as part of a team.

The work ahead of us might be grisly, but nocking the arrow in my hand had never been easier.

[deandoesthingstome]

Welcoming Committee - Part 12

Pairing: Captain Syverson X Reader/OFC (Drea); August Walker x OFC (Genevieve/Neve); Captain Syverson x OFC (Genevieve/Neve); August Walker x Reader/OFC (Drea)

Word count: 971

Series Summary: You and Sy have been together for three years, but you still like to mix it up. The new neighbors down the street give you a chance to do just that.

Masterlist for series warnings. Heads up: this is 18+ ONLY

Chapter Warnings: p in a straddled reverse cowgirl, oral f receiving, mention of m masturbation, surprise!

August kept me spread wide for Neve and continued to thrust up into my ass. I was past the point of any resistance, not that I was interested in preventing any pleasure about to overtake me, but at one time I might have subconsciously thought I could delay the gratification by tensing against his push and her pull.

I dared one more glance at Sy, wide-legged and enraptured on his private island across the room and I knew exactly what he was thinking about. In less than twenty-four hours, he'd have me locked down on our own bed and he'd be describing to me exactly what he was seeing right now. And he'd tell me how he would never forget the night so early on in our courtship when I'd grabbed his neck and pulled his ear close as he was absolutely railing me into the bed and I'd whispered in his ear to tell him how hot I thought it would be if he was instead sitting in a chair across from the bed watching someone else fuck me into the mattress. The way he groaned back at me, whipped his head to capture my lips with the scorching hot kisses I'd come to crave, and began to fuck me harder and deeper than I ever thought imaginable. That was the moment I fell for him completely and he said the same the next morning when we rehashed the night.

We spent the next few days laying ground rules, sharing fantasies, admitting desires, and promising each other forever. Our friends were only mildly shocked when we announced we'd done more than gamble on our impromptu Vegas trip the following month. Neither of us needed or cared for the trappings of a traditional wedding, or marriage for that matter. As evidenced by the way Sy sat perfectly content, stroking his giant cock with a look of sheer adoration as his friend impaled me over and over on his dick and his friend's wife licked, sucked, and fingered me to within an inch of the most intense orgasm I'd felt in a good, long while. Sy knew I needed this.

It wouldn't take much longer. Neve had taken August's lead and was now alternating her soothing licks and nips with sharp taps from her fingers and my pussy was pulsing with a tightness that could only mean one thing.

"Fuck, Neve," I whimpered. "So fucking good. Please, Sir. Will you let her let me come?"

August growled in my ear, the roar pairing nicely with the increased speed of his hips and though I couldn't see it, I could tell he was nodding down to her because her eyes darkened with intent as she slipped two fingers back inside me and circled her thumb across my clit. I could feel her press the backs of her fingers against August as he slid up and down inside me and then she pulled forward and focused all her attention at the soft, spongy bundle of nerves that was about to explode.

I lost sight of Sy and I could no longer hear him praise me from across the room. The blood rushing in my ears and the blinding lights exploding behind my eyes as the release inched closer shrouded me in a floating haze of impending bliss. When Neve finally flicked her fingers free and rubbed my clit and pussy lips hard, I let loose with a wail I don't think anyone in the room expected.

Neve smiled wide with pride and opened her mouth to receive the gush she and August had coaxed from me. It was short-lived, but she clearly wanted more and I knew I had it in me.

"Again. Do it again, Neve. Please!" I begged and she complied, alternating the press of her fingers and thumb and tongue in the secret code she'd so adeptly discovered before drawing her hand back to give a few sharp slaps and a final rub to release another gush and wave of vibration.

August gave a final thrust before he jammed his hips against mine and stayed connected, pelvis to ass as he pumped his load into the condom. I wished I could feel his hot seed dripping from me, but the extra swell of his throbbing member was still enough to send a last shockwave through me leading to one last gush of clear, sweet liquid for Neve to lap up.

When she was done licking me clean with a few gentle nips for good measure, she stood and helped August ease me off his cock. I collapsed onto the couch, drawing Neve close with me as we tangled our legs and intertwined our arms and relaxed into a heaving mess of cuddle.

"You good?" August leaned over to ask with a gentle whisper and a soft caress to my cheek, no longer playing Sir with me. When I nodded assent, he told me "Good girl. Stay right here and we'll get you cleaned up."

I couldn't really say how long he was gone, but a glass of water was eventually pressed to my lips and I felt the soothe of a wet, warm towel drawing soft across the pleasant ache between my thighs. Neve still cooed sweet nothings in my ear and I had a vague notion that I'd like to ask Sy if he and August could agree to let her and me have something private, just the two of us, sometime. Maybe often.

I had only ever felt so safe in the warm embrace of one other person, and right now that person was making his way over to our couch to slip in behind me and tell me how he was gonna have a hard time waiting till tomorrow night to relive the memory of this one.

[atxxzist]

broken | c.s (12)

prev // next // series m.list

pairing: choi san x reader

word count: under 2k lmfao

warning: nothing but lmk

a/n: its short but i needed this scene to be its own standalone chapter

you wish you can say the night san left is the last time he breaks your heart.

it would be ideal to say everything ended there; that although you can still recall the feeling of emptiness from waking up to nothing, it spared you from the worst heartbreak possible.

a heartbreak that you would then seek out on your own because you're all too good at self sabotage and chasing temptation; a complete hypocrite you are, angry at san for not ending things sooner but now that he did, it's so unsatisfying.

this can't possibly just be it.

there's still so many unanswered questions, so much resentment, and so many unspoken wounds that needs to be addressed.

he's caused you so much pain one after another, and he can't just... walk out without giving you some form of closure. you feel you deserve that, at the very least.

the morning you head to his apartment is the most low, pathetic, and desperate you've been, even the you a couple months ago would be disappointed. but you suppose she would understand if she knew just how everything's gone to shit within the past few days.

the walk of shame up the stairs is halted when you meet those familiar pair of eyes that causes an immediate sink to your stomach.

he has a cigarette between his fingers and pulls back only to pinch his brows together at your appearance.

you shouldn't be here. everything was supposed to end after he left.

the quiet and hesitant steps continues to be taken until you stop in front of him, gaze leveling his, and though you haven't said anything, your eyes tells it all.

a reflection of everything you've gone through, and you're tired, defeated, even more so than the night at wooyoung's party.

whatever you have to say, and whatever you're here for... he knows he won't be able to give to you.

you linger on the cigarette in his hold before prying away, the entire time ignorant to the fact he even smokes.

san thought he was also done with it given he haven't touched any other forms of addiction beside alcohol in more than half a year, but the withdrawal from you is just about the worst one, old habits started showing up just to numb everything temporarily.

the separation is taking a toll on him just as much as it is to you.

"you shouldn't be here," he's the first to break the thick tension, taking one last dig at the cigarette before throwing it down, but he refuses to look at you, whether out of shame or annoyance.

"i know..." you reply, almost like a whisper, but there's not a lot of time to dwell in the awkwardness of the situation because he's already making way back inside with you not missing a beat behind him.

"then why are you?"

the harsh and blunt delivery makes you stop in track, because san isn't one for confrontations. he usually avoids them. but you register that at this point in time, there's no more pretending.

the facades you both had put in front of each other for so long are gone, and all that's left is a broken history between two people who started it for all the wrong reasons.

"because i want answers."

your voice is so full of confidence, he wouldn't be able to tell just how nervous you really are. how, you still feel so small and fragile, he could break you without trying.

but if there's one thing you learned from being with san, is that if you want to stand a chance, you would have to play his game.

stand tall and act like you're not the tiniest bit intimidated by the slight tilt of his head and the burning of his gaze as he looks you up from the couch.

a quiet sigh leaves him, watching as he goes on to shake his head in slight irritation, you can't help but to feel some type of way at the gesture.

"i don't know what more i could say to you that i already didn't--"

"--all of this. why did you do it?" but the confidence only turns to remnants of betrayal, he has to keep from recoiling.

"i told you, y/n. i gave you a choice, we made a deal and you agreed to everything."

"we made a deal, but i said i wanted out only for you to bust into my freaking room--"

you flinch in position when he suddenly gets up and walks over, his looming figure almost closing you in against the wall as fear quickly washes in.

"--you think i don't know that? i was there. so tell me again, why the fuck are you here?"

"because i want to know why the hell you took me on that trip! why did you stayed all those nights, and why were there times you actually seemed genuine, only for you to always walk out... always leaving me hanging..."

san goes from aggravated to feeling guilty in a matter of seconds, his body language softens at your frustration, only for a low mutter to fall out, "even if i tell you, it won't matter. none of this will."

"nothing ever matters when it comes to you, san. but it matters to me, because you knew i was stupid, naive, and easily manipulated, and you took advantage of that--"

"i know!" the volume makes you jump, "i know i fucked up, i know this is all my fault! that's why i'm trying to fix it!"

"how is this fixing anything?"

"because if i had stayed, would that have been any better?"

the thought knocks, and it knocks you over hard to the point of denial.

"i don't know what it would be like if we actually gave this a chance, because the entire time i feel like you never allowed me to get too close."

"even then, i don't have to tell you. you're not stupid, y/n. you know deep down how wrong i am for you. how wrong we are for each other."

you swallow down the tension, completely speechless, and only able to stare at san as he actually starts sounding reasonable... which is what makes it so unsettling.

"actually, i think you probably would like me a lot less if you really got to know me." he scoffs it off with a short laughter and his bittersweet gaze continues lasering into yours.

"i know you're sweet and all that, but i always had the smallest suspicion that there was a deeper, hidden reason for why you wanted to know about me so much."

it's that statement that picks up the immersion even more because you're curious; wonder what the presumption just might be.

"maybe a part of you was secretly hoping that i'm this broken soul who grew up in a shitty environment with shitty parents, and that's why i'm the way i am..."

but again, you have a natural instinct for self defense.

"what? no. i-i never thought--"

"then are you saying you like me for who i am? the douche that screwed you over so many times? because i highly doubt that."

"i never planned on changing you or anything like that!" you cry out, trying the hardest to hold back some tears, beyond frustrated at the assumption being projected onto you, but also at his approach.

he's exceptionally hostile, because not only is he trying to convince you, but also himself.

"good. then i don't have to tell you why whatever this is between me and you will never work."

for a brief moment, your head is in another dimension where time has pulled you back to a discussion your professor and classmates had about what brought them to writing.

for many, literature is in their blood. for others; for you, it is a way to detach from reality and to dream of another; living in your head and escaping... it's not a bad thing if that's what drives you, your professor said.

it's good to always keep a wishful mind that anything is possible in that form.

"but if you need to hear it for yourself; for a peace of mind... you won't like me. it's as simple as that, but i'm sure you already got the memo."

he stops to catch his breath before going on, "i'm not special by any means, and i don't come from some interesting background like you probably think i do. i'm just some prick with well-off parents and enough time to fuck around. it was what drew me and wooyoung to each other initially... because we were both just some stupid rich kids."

"i was only able to get you the job because of all the connections i have, yet i don't work a damn day in my life and am definitely not the one paying the bills for the roof over my head. the trip, everything i ever offered, and anything that came out my pocket, i paid for because i could afford to. that's me. that's who i am. fucking choi san, and all the reasons for why you shouldn't want to be with someone like me."

and you really do dream big, because you want it so bad... for it to possible.

"but it's not like we get to choose who our family are and how we grow--"

"--come on, y/n. have a little more self respect than that. you know what i mean, or do you still need me to say it outright for what it is?"

he's growing short and as selfish as san's always been, he feels he's doing it for your sake for once, fighting to end it as hard as you're fighting for it.

"it's just... so unfair."

so unfair that he made you fall in love only to take it back in the end.

"i-i just feel like you never tried enough. maybe i'm not fond of who you are currently, but i could learn to--"

"please don't make it any more harder than this, y/n. you don't get with someone hoping you can learn to tolerate them... that's not how it works."

it's good to dream of the imposssible once in a while and fill your head up with 'what-ifs', but it's not healthy to get caught up in them. let it consume you and then be disappointed that in the end... san didn't come around for you.

"you're a nice girl, y/n. you really are so sweet, and i can see myself with you someday..." he says with a distraught look you will forever remember given how his words make your heart thump, only to then shoot it down, "but not right now..."

because this reality can be cruel, and no matter how hard you cling, it is sometimes about accepting defeat and moving on.

putting it to perspective, it's funny and ironic how everything turned out. how you used to make such a fuss about not knowing who san is, only for you to find out in the worst way possible.

even more ironic that things between you guys pretty much ended with a screaming match of some sort.

but the one good thing to have come out of it, is that you can confidently say that that was the last time choi san broke your heart.

next // series m.list

taglist: @sorryimananti-romantic @revehosh @cookiechristie @avantalem @atiny68 @sannwa @shibera @mochibabycakes @justineasian @eastleighsblog @baguette-atiny @crimson-mia @yeosxxx @sleepychimm @atz-diary @diorwoo @naiify @becauseiloveyunho @damagelove @softie00 @s-nsanshine @atinytinaa @moonseonghwa @lemontreefantasy @wooyoung4eva @yeosangsbiceps @likexaxdaydream @knucklesdeepmingi @barbielibra @tmtxtf @brown88 @harusoraa @frankenstein852 @yujispinkhair @mermaid17venus @nolxverlikeme @writersun @kkayfan @wooyoungjpg @galaxypox @byunniebaekhyunnie @vixensss @interweab @svintsandghosts

[starlightxsvt]

I Like It When You Love Me

➳ pairing — artist!the8 x wife!reader

➳ genre — broken marriage au, primarily angst, fluff, smut.

➳ word count — 6.6k

➳ synopsis — the canvas of your marriage with your husband, world known artist, minghao is seeming to tear apart. it wasn't always like this and you don't know how long you can hold on when you can't see a future for the two of you.

➳warnings — marriage troubles, cursing, drinking, anxiety, arguments, sickness(fever), medication, misunderstanding, lots of crying, allusions to cheating, pregnancy talk, unprotected sex(don't do this irl), emotional sex.

➳ playlist — i like it when you love me- oh wonder// wish- choi yuree// lie- sasha sloan//say you love me- jessie ware// lie again- seventeen// breaking down- ailee// hai cheng- the8// without you- seventeen.

It's late when your aching feet hit the cold floor of your home.

The wall clock reads 12 am. With a grunt, you head to your bedroom, annoyed at the thought that you didn't have many hours at home before you had to go to work at eight.

The past week has been extremely hectic and being the managing director of a leading private company does not help as more duties keep being handed over to you. But you aren't usually a pushover. You wouldn't have accepted all these works or spent all these stupid extra hours at work had you not been feeling this pain.

This horrible, diabolical pain that has you overworking just to numb it.

Minghao had returned from a five-day trip to Paris this weekend and you were so excited to have him back, eagerly awaiting to spend some quality time with him as he promised before he left.

Except, you got none of that. Minghao returned and then drowned himself in work, saying that he had to finish two pieces within this month for an important client.

Hurt would be an understatement for what his words made you feel. Disappointment, desperation, anger, sorrow and a million other feelings went through you and you wanted to smash things around and tell him to fuck off with his artwork.

Only you didn't. You just nodded and let him go do his work, creating masterpieces. Masterpieces that have now become far more precious than you, even though he once claimed that you were the most precious thing in his life.

That was a long time ago.

In the two years of your marriage, it wasn't always like this. It had started happily, full of love and understanding and all good things until slowly your husband gained popularity and were asked to attend a thousand functions at a thousand different places over the globe and create more and more artworks for important elites.

That was okay. It made you extremely happy that he gained the recognition he deserved. But what was not okay was the distance that started to form between the two of you despite your best efforts. At first, he asked you to come along with him, and see the world and however tempting that offer was, you had your life set here. Your job, your family and friends, the house that you two had just bought. So, you denied his offer and let him go on his way.

But you visited. During the second week of his month-long stay in Rome, you flew over to visit your husband whom you had missed desperately. Though after you arrived, you realized it was a bad idea. Your husband barely had time to eat with the numerous orders for paintings piling up and he spent all day locked up inside a room with only his paints and brushes. If he was happy to see you he didn't get to express it much.

Still, you stayed. You stayed a week and then a couple of more days just because you longed to be close to your husband, breathe the same air as him.

Eventually, you had to return home, to your work. Later, when he came back from Rome, you thought you'd finally have him all to yourself but how wrong you were.

Your husband was exhausted and he slept for a whole day straight. But you couldn't hold that against him. So you cooked for him, cuddled him and took care of all his needs. And then, a day later, everything was back the way it was as he left early in the morning for a meeting with a curator, throwing apologies your way.

It all went downhill from there. He was always with his work, breathing it in and out as it became the sun of his solar system; replacing the sun that was once you. His apologies stopped coming and you stopped expecting them because for one, they didn't change anything and two, they only made you feel guilty. Like you were holding your husband back from his success.

So you let him go. Let your marriage go. You stopped asking when he'd return home and instead said it was all okay and if he needed anything you'd be there.

But on days like today, you regret your decision. On long, exhausting days like today, you don't want to do anything but come home to your husband and let him hold you in the safety of his arms like he once used to.

But your desire stays like that, a desire, far from the reality in which you sit on the cold, empty bed that you share with your husband and weep.

-

You don't know if it's the alarm or the horrible thrumming of your head that wakes you from your slumber. Huffing, you shut down the noise and try to sit up, only to feel like your head might as well come off of your neck.

"Fuck." You hiss, rubbing your temples. You definitely can't go to work today with this headache.

With all your might, you manage to get yourself up and stumble towards the dining room as you desperately try to pour yourself some water.

"_____?" Someone calls your name.

You turn towards the direction of the voice and blink furiously, trying to focus through the numbing ache. "Hao?"

Your husband stands there, dressed for work as he sips a cup of coffee. You definitely didn't expect to see him as he always left for work before you.

"You alright?"

"Y-yeah." You breathe roughly and gulp down the glass of water you managed to pour yourself before you slump down onto the breakfast stool. "You're still here." You murmur, eyes closed as you rub your forehead.

"Yeah. I came home pretty late last night."

Pretty late. That means later than he already does.

"Do you have a fever? Or is it just a headache?" You feel him standing next to you.

"Headache." You murmur.

"Take some medicine then. Should I call Martha?"

Martha is your family doctor and despite her expertise, you can't tolerate her for more than a minute when she starts running her mouth. Which she always does and doesn't get the hint to stop anytime soon. You heavily doubt that's going to be helpful given your current condition.

"No. I'll just... rest." Your words come out slurred. You hear a sigh next to you before your husband puts a hand on your shoulder. "Alright, then. I need to get going. Call Martha if you feel too bad, hmm?"

You only nod and watch with blurry vision as your husband puts on his coat and heads out the door. The silence that follows is eerie. It stretches the gaping hollow inside your heart as you pathetically sit by yourself and let the silence wash over you.

For a little moment, you don't register the pain in your head. No, it is overtaken by the scathingly ache blooming in your heart as you realize your husband just left you by yourself when your head feels like it'll split into two, when you can barely see or walk straight.

You don't know what you had expected. Maybe a hug? A kiss? Words of reassurance? Or a promise of returning home as quickly as possible? Or to pick you up and tuck you in bed? Maybe heat something up for you? Maybe stay with you for a few minutes longer?

Tears burn your eyes as you sit and think about your miserable state. You are angry, frustrated, and in horrible pain but for the first time since this drought started between you and your husband, you feel hopeless.

There is no hope left for you. For this marriage. There cannot be when he saw you in pain and still chose to leave for work. And the hopelessness frightens you more than anything.

Your husband doesn't love you anymore. He doesn't care anymore.

The sound of glass shattering makes you realize you had just thrown it into the floor out of anger. And you can't bring yourself to care. You walk over the little pieces, breaking them further underneath your slippers as you head back into the bedroom and lie down.

Tugging the covers up to your chin, you close your eyes and cry silently, wishing you'd rather never wake up again.

But you do.

It's noon when you open your eyes again and this time it doesn't feel like you've been hit with a crowbar on your head. No, but it feels like you've been sleeping inside an oven, your skin covered in sweat and heat radiating off your face. As you press your palms to your head you realize you have a fever.

Great.

Sighing, you stand up on your wobbly feet and head to the kitchen to get something for your groaning stomach. Ignoring the shattered glass lying on the floor, you heat up the leftover rice and curry you found in your fridge.

Alone and miserable, you finish the food that now has lost its flavourful taste.

Much like your marriage.

Then you grab the medicine box and quickly swallow some pills before you sit on the large couch in your even larger living room.

The afternoon light pours in from the large windows, bathing the room in a beautiful, angelic shade of golden. The sunlight falls on a particular piece of artwork that hangs on the wall of the living room, painted by your dear husband.

The artwork is simple but vibrant, realistic and full of emotions, just like all the works of your husband. It's a painting of two hands, one holding the other, a beautiful ring adorned on the ring finger of the woman's hand. The woman is you and the man is your husband.

He drew this piece after he had proposed to you and then gave it to you as your wedding present. You remember being delighted and shedding a few tears at the marvelous artwork and remember being even more delighted on the day you tied the knot.

You thought you had found your happily ever after. That no matter what, you had your husband and he had you and together you'd get through anything the world threw your way. Only two years later, you now sit alone and feverish, in a large house that contains nothing but you the painful echos of your heart.

The memories once beautiful have now become bitter and before you start shedding more tears, you push yourself up and head towards the bathroom to take a bath. Once done, you retreat into your bed and let the wallowing grief swallow you whole once more.

It's nighttime when you wake up.

9:46 to be exact. Your headache is pretty much gone and the fever has come down a bit but you still feel drowsy and exhausted. You hear the shower running which makes you think you are hearing things.

But no. The wristwatch and wallet sitting on the dresser assure you that you didn't hear wrong and that your husband is home. Which is a record. He's never home this early. Well 9 pm isn't anywhere near early but comparing that to his usual 11 am or even later entrance, this sure is a record.

You sit up as you hear the shower stop. A few minutes later Minghao emerges from the bathroom, wearing a loose pair of pajamas.

"Oh, hey. You're up." He smiles. "How do you feel? Did you take some pills?"

You only nod as you watch his naked upper half. How long has it been since you saw him naked? You can't remember. The feeling leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

"Good." He hums as he puts on a tee. "I ordered some vegetable soup for you. It should make you feel better."

Once again, you nod.

"Oh, I found some broken glass on the floor. Did you get hurt?"

"No, I dropped a glass by accident."

"Oh. Well, I've cleaned it up so don't worry. I'll get the table ready. Freshen up. Let's eat it while it's hot." He says as he heads out of the room. You sit in silence for a while, processing the situation before doing as he asked.

-

The silence at the dinner table is borderline suffocating. The air between the two of you is tense and it chokes you as you have trouble swallowing the warm soup. You wonder if it's you who only feels this way. Your husband, sitting opposite you, eats his dinner in a relaxed manner and you have no idea what is going on in his head.

As impassive as ever.

"When did we become like this?" You whisper, almost to yourself as a wry smile sets onto your lips. Minghao's eyes lock with yours as he frowns. "What?"

You sit straight and clear your throat. You need to get this over with. "When did we become like this, Minghao? Since when has it become so tense between the two of us? It has been months since we shared a meal— since I shared a meal with my husband and what are we doing? We're acting like strangers, like we're not fucking married to each other! Like.... like everything is fine!"

"Everything is fine. What are you talking about?" His voice is calm and it makes your blood boil.

"Fine? Everything is fine?" You scoff. "When was the last time we went on a date? Okay, never mind, when was the last time we had sex? Or hugged each other? Or kissed properly? You know what, fuck all that, when was the last time we, a married couple had a proper conversation or saw each other for more than two minutes?" By now you have stood up and are yelling, your fists banging on the table as you pour out everything bottled up inside you.

Minghao's brow knit into a frown as he hears you ramble. He gently sets down his spoon and intertwines his fingers as he sits and stares at the table in silence.

"You actually think everything is fine, huh?" You're baffled. "You have nothing to say."

"You know how busy I have been." His voice is quiet.

The audacity of this man!

"How dare you say that, Minghao?" You seethe. "You are trying to tell me that for the past eight months, you've been so busy that you couldn't spend a few minutes of quality time with your wife?"

He remains silent and you feel like you are tumbling down an abyss of dark despair. He doesn't seem even a little bit worried or regretful. Has he truly moved past you or, is it...

"Have you found someone else, Hao?" Your voice is tiny. His wide eyes land on yours.

"What? No! How could you say that?"

"When you barely have time for your wife, one can think that, no?"

His lips form a hard line. "No, ____. I'm not seeing anyone. I've so much work to do I barely have time to sleep."

"Yeah, that's it. Work, work and work. All you do is work. I look at you and honestly, I feel like you're the only person in the world who works. I've never seen someone as busy as you, so we all must be jobless, huh?" You sneer.

Fury blazes in his eyes as he abruptly stands up, making the legs of the chair scratch loudly against the floor. "You have no right to talk like that! Do you know how much pressure is on me? Do you know how much people expect from me? Do you think we'd be living in this huge fucking house and driving nice fucking cars without my hard work?"

"That's the thing!" You scream. "I never wanted a huge house or a fucking car! I've only ever wanted you! I want my husband to be with me. I want to come back home to my husband and I want to be his priority just as he's mine. I just want you, Hao." Your voice cracks, your arms slumping at your sides in defeat.

He keeps scowling at you, his jaw clenched. Moments pass by and you expect him to say something but instead, he walks away from the dining table and towards the hanger by the door, from where he picks his coat, slings it on his shoulder and walks out the door.

You stay rooted in your spot, absolutely baffled.

Moments pass by as your brain processes everything that has taken place in the last ten minutes. And then, the headache returns. Stronger than before. So intense that you've to sit back down on the chair and clutch your head tightly.

The pain is strong enough to distract you from the fact that you are crying. When you realize, you're angrier at yourself.

The last thing you should be doing is shedding tears. You did nothing wrong. You addressed the elephant in the room and it is his fault for running away instead of talking to you.

Gosh, when did it become like this? When did he become like this?

More tears gather in your eyes as you think back to the times when things were not like now, when you never imagined one day it could come down collapsing.

You used to be each other's world. Where did it go wrong? Did you not try enough? Or is it simply the fact that he doesn't love you anymore?

The absolute despair makes you want to rip your hair out and you're more annoyed by the stupid headache, making you feel pathetic and weak. Trying to shake the pain and the tears off, you stand up and drag yourself to the bedroom, locking the door behind you.

If he comes back, he can sleep in the other room. There's no way you're letting him in your bed tonight.

Switching off all the lights, you crawl into bed and close your eyes, trying to tune out the throbbing in your head and the events of this evening.

-

You wake up with cold sweat. The first thing you feel is your headache which has gotten significantly worse since last night. It feels like someone is pounding against your temples and it's going to crack anytime soon.

The next thing that captures your attention is the early morning sunlight, pouring from the windows and flooding the room, in turn burning your eyes. Who the hell drew out all the blinds?

Then, you feel something against your cheek, warm and soft. Confused, you blink repeatedly, which proves to be a hard job due to the headache and try to focus your vision. Tilting your head just a little you find a man sitting by the bed, one of his hands stroking your cheek with the softest touch.

It's your husband, you realize after a second.

He looks different. Very different than last night. The harsh lines on his face, the anger in his eyes, the hardness in his jaw are all gone. They are replaced with a soft, worried gaze, his brows furrowed in concentration as he gapes at you intently, his lips parted just a bit. The morning light floods in from behind him, casting him with an ethereal glow and you forget to breathe for a second as you simply take in his beauty.

"Baby? You're awake?" He calls, shifting closer to you.

Baby. It has been a long time since he called you that. The fondness and love in his voice are ironically unsettling.

Swallowing, you try to speak but no words come out. You lick your lips and immediately your husband reaches for the bottle of water by the bed. Helping you move your head, he holds it against your lips, tilting it softly. "Drink, baby. Slowly."

Once you are done he sets the bottle back down and sighs heavily, "Gosh _____." He shakes his head. "Why did you lock the door? Do you know how sacred I got when I came home and found the door locked and you were not replying?"

It takes you a while to process what he's saying and once you realize it, you feel a little guilty. You did it to keep him out not intending to make him worry.

"Thank god we had spare keys," he sighs, rubbing his forehead before brushing away the hair over them. Then his eyes set on you. "Your head hurts doesn't it?"

You only nod.

He once again, sighs loudly as he gives you a look that is akin to what a mother looks like at her bratty child. "Why didn't you take some medicine last night?" He scolds, reaching for the folded towel beside you and wiping your forehead. "You need to eat now. Then you can have your medicine." He announces as he stands up. "Let me bring breakfast here. Do you need help to go to the bathroom?"

Bathroom. Right. Your bladder is bursting.

Pushing the covers away you shake your head as a reply and gently get out of bed. Despite your response, Minghao stretches his arms around you in case you lose your balance as you slowly head towards the bathroom.

"Don't lock the door." He commands once you're inside and heads of the room to get breakfast. You do your thing and as you wash your hands your eyes fall on the mirror, almost scaring you.

You look gaunt, tired and messy and it makes you cringe. You splash water on your face repeatedly in an attempt to look a bit more refreshed before admitting defeat and crawling back to bed. Soon after, Minghao returns, with a small foldable table that carries your breakfast. A healthy heap of pancakes, yogurt and berries with orange juice.

"I can't eat all that." You whisper.

"Shush." He gives you a pointed look, setting the table in front of you and starting to cut the pancake into pieces for you.

You want to protest but you're too tired and it feels nice to be doted by your husband. So you opt to just watch him, wondering what could have happened that caused such a dramatic flair in his behavior.

Your head hurts too much to think so you put a pause on those thoughts.

Once done cutting the pancakes into bite-sized pieces, he doesn't hand the fork to you but stabs a few pieces and holds them against your lips. Like an obedient child, you open your mouth and let him feed you.

And so, in silence, he repeats this motion and you happily comply, too tired to even move. Once you are finished eating, he quickly reaches for the cold medicine and drops a couple of pills in your palm with a glass of water. Once you've taken your pills he gives you a soft smile with a pat on your shoulder before taking all the utensils and placing them on the table as he heads out of the bedroom.

You start to feel drowsy, your eyelids starting to feel heavy once again as your head lies against the headboard. A while passes by and you suppose your husband is doing the dishes. Or maybe he's having breakfast. Has he eaten? You forgot to ask.

Just as your mind begins to wander, he's back. "Feeling sleepy?" Minghao asks, a fond smile on his lips as he notices your sleepy eyes. You hum and not, shifting to lie down and he's quick to rush over, helping you lie down and pull the covers up to your chest. Then you watch him close the curtains, darkening the room so that you can fall asleep.

"Sleep for a while. When you wake up, you'll feel a lot better, trust me." He says coming back over to you and much to your surprise, he crawls into the bed with you. You're even more surprised when he pulls you into his arms, placing your head right below his chin as he hugs your body, whispering, "I'll lie with you till you fall asleep."

The gesture warms your heart and gives your stomach butterflies but you say, "Are you sure? I'm sick. You could get sick too."

"Mhmm." Is the reply you get.

There's a beat of silence as you lay still in his arms before you ask, "Have you eaten?"

"Yeah. Just before you woke up."

Another pregnant pause, this one longer than before.

"We need to talk, you know." Your voice is as soft as a feather. You hear silence for a while, which makes your heart drum loudly against your ribcage.

What is he thinking?

"I know." You hear him sigh. His arms wrap around your shoulder tighter as he speaks. "We will when you feel better."

-

True to his words, you feel a hell lot better the next time you open your eyes. The sky is shaded with hues of orange and pink and blue, indicating dusk has fallen.

The bedroom is empty and you can't hear any sounds from outside, wondering if your husband is at work. It is the most probable scenario, considering he had spent so much time looking after you this morning.

With a sigh, you head for the bathroom and start drawing yourself a bath, in which you soak for a long long time. When your fingers are all pruned and you start to doze off, you get off, drying yourself and putting on some nice clothes.

You take your time brushing your hair and doing your skincare with special care since it has been a while since you felt like yourself.

Once done and happy with how you look you emerge from the bedroom to find the apartment empty as you had assumed. For a while, you contemplate whether to call your husband and ask about his whereabouts but you decide against it, not ready to go back to the previous routine.

Instead, to satisfy your growling stomach, you look through the cupboards and gather all the essentials to make yourself some grilled cheese. You're pleased to find your whole pantry stocked and you realize your husband took the liberty of doing the groceries when you were sick. Though it's a simple act, it warms your heart and makes you smile.

As you are toasting the bread for the grilled cheese, the front door opens, making you frown. A moment later, your husband pads into the main area and upon seeing you, knits his brows in confusion.

"Hey," you give him an awkward smile. He looks more puzzled. "Hey. Why are you cooking? Aren't you sick?"

"I feel a lot better and I was hungry." You shrug. You notice he is wearing what he was this morning and it makes you wonder where he actually was.

"Let me do that. You should rest some more."

"No, I'm fine, Hao. I'm tired of lying in bed all day. I need to do something." You decline as you reach for a piece of cheese and carefully put it on top of the bread. You can feel your husband's eyes trained on you and clearing your throat, you ask. "Where did you go?"

"Downstairs. Studio. Had to tie some loose ends."

Minghao's studio is on the first floor of this condo since you both decided that it would be better if he had a separate space for his work and not somewhere that is too far away from your home. So when you two came across a space on the first floor, you rented it out immediately.

Nodding, you focus on grilling your toast. You expect him to leave you, maybe go freshen up but he stays immobile in his spot, quietly watching you.

You frown. "Would you...like one?" You motion towards your grilled cheese. He shakes his head.

"We should talk."

There's a heavy pause in the air. You watch him for a few beats, swallowing the lump in your throat before nodding softly. "Yeah, we should."

It's time to lay all your cards on the table.

Turning the stove off you put aside your snack and take a seat on the couch. Your husband follows you and sits down right beside you but maintains a few meters of distance.

The tension is crackling in the air and as much as you'd like to break it, you've said all you had to yesterday, so now it's his turn to speak. Hence, you wait patiently.

"I'm sorry." His voice is quiet. "For lashing out at you yesterday. For everything."

You stare at your lap where your fingers fidget with each other.

"I... really don't know what is the right thing to say. I know I've fucked up big time and I'm...scared I'll disappoint you more." He breathes, his wide, pained eyes trained on your face.

You heave out a sigh. "I'm listening, Hao. I'm here and I'm listening."

"Right." He swallows, nodding before taking a deep breath and starting. "I'm sorry. I...got my priorities messed up. I took you for granted and I never should have done that. It's just that..." He swallows, searching for the right words as you watch him with patience. "I got lost in work. I mean, one day I have barely any orders and suddenly I have so many clients and so many events to show up at. I got lost. I didn't want to disappoint them but instead, I disappointed you and I didn't even realize it." He shakes his head at himself.

You feel awful for him and your hand itches to reach out and cup his cheek, smooth away the lines of worry on his face. But you hold yourself.

"I'm so fucking sorry. I could never apologize enough. But know that you've always been the most important thing in my life and you always will be. I just... forgot that. But now I'm here, ____. I'm here and I promise to never let you down again. Just give me another chance." His desperate eyes search for yours, his hands reaching for yours and holding them tightly.

"Oh Hao," you whisper, a lone tear traveling down your cheek. "No, no, no." His hands immediately wipe it away as he says, "Please, don't cry. I know you're mad at me and if you want to be alone, I'll let you be. I just needed— "

"Xu Minghao!" You admonish him with a pout. "I'm not really mad. Not anymore." You whisper.

You can literally see the burden weighing on his shoulders lift.

"Really?" His voice is like a gleeful child's.

You nod, moving closer to him and snaking your arms around his neck, fingers playing with his mullet. "Though you still have to do some work to make it up to me— "

"I promise I'll do anything."

"And, make sure this never happens again, hm? Whatever happens, don't push me away Hao. We're in this together. If you're busy let me know. Call me. I'll do anything to help you, my love."

Your husband's eyes turn glassy.

"I know. I'm...so sorry. I'm such a bad husband."

You frown. "No, Hao. Don't say that. You're a wonderful wonderful man and I'm so lucky to have you."

"Really?" A small smile makes his lips twitch.

"Really." You smile. "We all make mistakes, love. What's important is to learn from them and not repeat them. And I know how much painting means to you. You finally had your big break so I suppose you got a little overwhelmed."

His hands reach out to hold yours as he nods shakily. "Yes, I did get overwhelmed. But not anymore. I've got my priorities straight." His eyes gleam as you clearly hear the promise in his voice. It sets your body aflame.

"Good because you should get working on making it up to me. You can start by taking me to bed and you know..." You give him the bedroom eyes as your fingers trail over his neck, teasing him with your touch.

There's a spark in his eyes that shoots desire throughout your body. "Anything you want, my queen." He gives you a teasing smile.

You bite your lip as he quickly pulls you with him, feet moving straight towards the bedroom. As soon as you step in, he pushes you onto the bed and quickly starts taking off his cardigan and then his tank top.

You watch with a lust-fueled gaze, your husband's beautiful body appearing in front of your eyes after a long, long time. Giving you an almost shy smile, Minghao takes off your top for you, leaving you half bare and then kneeling to take your pants off. You aid him in his work as he tugs it off with your panties and a flurry of embarrassment courses through you as you remember you haven't shaved in a while.

Just as you attempt to hide yourself, your husband catches on and gives you an admonishing look. "Uh uh. None of that, let me see my beautiful wife."

He takes off your pants all the way along with your underwear and wastes no time burying his face between your thighs.

The sensation is delightful as you throw your head back and moan loudly, unashamed. One of your hands moves to his head, grabbing his hair in a fist as you hold him against you, grinding on his mouth. You hear your husband moan, the sound muffled against your core and feel his hands trailing up towards your chest as he pinches your nipples.

Another loud moan makes its way out of you as your breath stutters and you gasp, the feel of his hands on your starved body sending shockwaves throughout you. "H-Hao...I won't last..." You croak, hand fisting the bedsheets tightly. The only response you get is a hum as he starts eating you out with renewed vigor, his tongue mercilessly flicking against your clit.

You keep grinding your hips against his face, desperate to feel him even more while your mouth remains hung open with the onslaught of pleasure. It all becomes too much when your husband wraps his lips around your swollen clit and sucks, hard, making you dive head first into your orgasm. A broken cry escapes your lips as he keeps the torture going throughout your high, before finally pulling back and standing up with a satisfied smirk.

You remain limp in the bed, breathing heavily and watching your husband with hooded eyes, his lips glistening with your arousal and a prominent bulge in his pants. Before you can ask him to take them off, he does so and with a mischievous smile moves on top of you.

"Ready baby?" He whispers, his hands moving over his shaft to lube it up with precum. You can only nod, pulling him closer by the neck and kissing him deeply. As you do so, he slips in and your body tenses up as you cry out in a pleasure so beautiful it's overwhelming.

He hushes you, kissing your forehead, waiting for a few moments to let you adjust. You can feel how tense his body is, how harsh his breaths are as he stays immobile to make you feel better.

"Move, p-please. I'm okay." You whisper, eyes searching for his. He swallows and nods, finally giving you a good thrust that makes the two of you moan out loud in pleasure. "Shit," he chokes, eyes screwed tight as he builds up a pace thrusting slow but deep inside you. "I'm not gonna last long." He breathes.

"Me neither," you whisper, your eyes only on him as your nails claw into his back. Even though your bodies are pressed against each other, that doesn't seem to be enough for you as you keep pulling him closer and closer, wrapping your body fully around his, your head resting on his shoulder.

The time away from each other suddenly washes over you, making you realize once again, just how much you truly missed him, his touch, his attention. So you cling to him like a koala as he builds up his pace and when you start feeling that particular tingle, that jolt of electricity down your spine, you warn. "Hao, g-gonna come."

"Thank fuck, love. I'm coming too. Come with me, I've got you." He whispers into your ear, holding you tightly in his arms as he delivers one final thrust and you see stars behind your eyelids as you come with a loud wail of his name.

It takes some time for you to come back to your senses fully and register your surroundings. Once you do, you find your husband lying next to you, arms around your torso, eyes closed as he breathes heavily. The stickiness of his come between your legs makes you wince and want to move but you decide against it, snuggling with your husband instead.

Everything else can wait. Now that you have finally got what you've been longing for, you simply let yourself relax and breathe in his scent, enjoying the moment.

As you both lie in silence, basking in the afterglow, your throat constricts all of a sudden and there's a heavy feeling settling in your heart. "Hao?" You croak. Your voice brings your husband to act immediately as he rests on one of his elbows and peeks a worried glance at you. "What's wrong, my love? Did I hurt you?"

A lone tear leaks down your eye at his tenderness. You reach up to his face, your fingers softly trailing over his gorgeous features. "No, no you didn't. I just— I really missed you, husband."

"Oh love," Minghao quickly wraps his arms around you, pulling you right into his chest and letting you breathe in his scent. It's your place of comfort and healing as you exhale a shaky breath, letting go of all the painful memories.

"I missed you too. And I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. Now all I'll do is make it up to you. Fuck everything else."

"What? No— your works... you have got a deadline. The Kim family asked you to — "

"They can wait. My only priority is you."

"Minghao," you try to give him a stern glare. "It's millions of dollars."

"And you're worth more." He shrugs, dropping a sweet kiss on your forehead. "Besides I've been needing a break for the longest time. I'm sure Mingyu will understand. I'm his friend, after all."

"Still...are you sure?" You whisper.

"A thousand percent. Let's go on a vacation, wife. Take a few days off, hmm?" He asks, hope brimming in his eyes.

You sigh as you rub your temples and give in. "Okay. I will. The past few weeks sucked. I guess I need a break too."

He smiles, blindingly beautiful and your heart soars with happiness. "How about Rome?" He whispers, trailing his lips over your jaw and down your throat.

"Mhmm," you only him, eyes falling close at the sensation.

"Also...there's something I wanted to propose to you." He pulls back to focus his eyes on you, his voice suddenly serious. You raise a brow at his sudden change in demeanor.

"It's about time we start working on making a baby, no?"

Your eyes widen at the proposal before heat spreads throughout your face. "H-Hao— " You're too stunned to speak.

"It's okay if you aren't ready, my love— "

"No! No! I'm ready! I'm ready." You fling your arms around your husband's shoulders. "I just... didn't expect you to bring it up. I thought you wanted to wait longer...?"

You hear his soft chuckle as he wraps one arm around you while cradling your head with the other. "As I said, I'm getting my priorities straight."

You can't help grinning like a goofball. "This better not be a split second decision, Xu Minghao. It is no easy feat to raise a baby." You try to sound stern. He nods solemnly, "I know, love. But I'm ready." His fingers lace with yours. "I want this. With you."

You pretend to release a dramatic sigh.

"Then let's get started, shall we?"

a/n: ik this was a rather plain fic but I thought I should write something simple for a change. i feel like the plot of this was a realistic one, even though it might be simple and predictable. we often overlook these storylines due to its simplicity but I believe they have their own charm. hope you enjoyed reading this and your feedbacks are highly appreciated!

[freelancearsonist]

please i really need a sfw alphabet about Jonathan Levy. Can you do this please???

i'm sorry this has been sitting in my inbox since august i've been going thru it 😭but thank you so much for the request 🥰 this is kind of a long one sorry i went off a little bit 😅

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

he’s like a big human golden retriever. he wants to cuddle 24/7, wants your hands petting his hair while his head’s in your lap or to be wrapped around you in bed, keeping every inch of you warm. hes always showering you with lil kisses and holding your hand. he’s kinda needy 🥹

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

he’s that best friend you don’t see yourself ever making, it kind of just happens? you learn so much from him because he has a new hyperfixation every week that he info dumps to you about. he’s also the best shoulder to cry on after a bad day 🥺

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

as mentioned above, absolutely yes. he’s convinced himself that if a single day passes without your touch, he’ll die. he tends to be the big spoon when you lay down together, but that doesn’t mean he’s opposed to being the little. anything he can get, he’ll take 😌

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

it depends. before mira? wife this man up. all he wants is someone to spoil and take care of. after mira? he has the same wants and needs, but they’re covered by a layer of doubt and fear. it takes some time for him to warm up to the idea of getting remarried after divorce.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

he’s very straight forward and he doesn’t believe in playing with people’s emotions. it might hurt, but it’s better in the long run to rip the bandaid off and start the healing process quickly.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

as previously mentioned, it depends on where he’s at in life. there’s a part of him that’s ready to propose on the first date, and part of him that knows he needs to wait. it wouldn’t surprise me if he proposed within the first year of dating, just to get a ring on your finger so everyone knows you’re taken.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

he’s a little rough around the edges, quite honestly. he’s a little rougher emotionally, especially after being divorced. he’d rather be blunt and hurt your feelings, because that’s less hurt that dragging things out (he learned this on the receiving end). physically, he’s the most gentle partner you could ask for. but he’s not opposed to getting rough if you ask nicely 😌

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

hugs 24/7. all he wants are hugs. he gives the warmest, softest, sweetest hugs and puts his whole body into it. 12/10

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

he’s ready within a week of dating usually. he knows what he wants, and he knows the type of person who fits him. if you’re it, it’s usually pretty easy for him to fall. he’ll wait a while though so as not to scare you off—either let you say it first or wait a month or two until you’re really comfortable together.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

he’s secure enough to not get jealous easily. he trusts you, despite the hurt he’s experienced in the past. and he knows you won’t hurt him. if he’s getting suspicious or finding signs, he’ll have a conversation with you and give you a chance to explain before he starts throwing accusations.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

so soft and sweet and gentle 🥹 he especially loves to trail his mouth along your neck and cover every inch of skin there. anywhere you put your mouth on him makes him melt, but especially his tummy 🥹

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

best dad ever 100000/10. he deserves all the babies

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

he’s an early raiser most of the time. he gets out of bed with the sun and makes breakfast and coffee and gets the day going. he can occasionally be convinced to sleep in with you though ☺️

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

he wants you over every night tbh. probably asks you to move in way too early just so he has you in his bed every night.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

this depends on where he's at in life. pre-/no divorce? you don't even have to ask him questions, he's telling you his whole life story. post-divorce, definitely a lot more hesitant to share himself with other people

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

the most patient. it takes a LOT to get him angry, and even then he's the quiet kind of mad. his anger rarely comes out in a very expressive form.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

he remembers everything he's ever read or heard or seen. it's almost like he's got a photographic memory, especially so when he's in a really caring and loving relationship

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

the first time you told him you loved him hands down. he was so insecure up to the moment and hearing those three words was such an instant relief.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

vvvvvvvv protective. he's a little jealous underneath all the security he tries to display in your relationship. he knows you're his, but he likes to prove it every once in a while.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

date night king tbh. like the kind of guy who goes out of his way to make sure you do something at least once a week because complacency is the first sign of breakdown and he'll be damned if he loses you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

smokes (although very infrequently and only in times of very high stress), the kind of guy who leaves dirty dishes in the sink because "they need to soak", but like in every other area he's so compulsively neat that it can be annoying at times

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

more concerned as he ages but also not too worried. he's never had any issues pulling if you know what i mean

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

oh absolutely. he's definitely a partner guy, he functions much better when he's sharing life with someone else

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

his midlife crisis is legos. i'm talking like multi-hundred dollar sets that he spends hours building. you can't tell me i'm wrong

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

he's a little ocd, he needs someone who can take care of their space and make sure it stays neat. if things get too messy it's a major ick for him

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

can't sleep unless he's holding something (there's a pillow in the closet from before you moved in that is permanently shaped into an hourglass from the way he slept with his arms wrapped so tightly around it every night)

[the-blind-assassin-12]

It’s Always the Same

1200 words for 1200 followers #4 

A/N: Hi friends! Welcome to the 12-A-Palooza! This event is my way of saying thank you for sticking with me. Your support and kindness toward me and my writing is out of this world and I’m grateful for every last one of you! This is one of two requests that I got for Jack, and they will be related... and I already have plans to continue it after all the 12-A-Palooza requests are done. So in addition to the Spectrum Soulmate Marcus Pike AU, the Jack Daniels Time Travel AU is now a thing. (And I’m not mad about it at all.) 💚

Warnings: mention of character death, mention of violence, this one is angsty and I am SORRY. 

Requested by: @azure-waves Song: Back in Town Character Choice: Jack Daniels - Thank you for sending this in! I hope you enjoy this, darling! I know it’s a little angsty, but I have a plan so don’t worry too much!!

Jack Daniels was the best Agent within the Statesman organization. 

Skilled, suave, brave, reliable, dedicated. Jack was everything the agency stood for, everything they valued. Because of that, he’d risen quickly in the ranks, becoming a Senior Agent after only eight years of service. 

But there was one thing that set him apart from the rest of the Agents even more than those attributes - his willingness to partake in tests of new, experimental technology that could help the agency gain advantages. He had been the first to step forward when researchers brought Alpha-Gel to trial, fully aware and accepting of the risks involved. 

Nothin’ much to lose if it goes sideways. 

So when Champ and Ginger came to him with the proposition of a new trial, Jack had all but signed on before knowing a single detail. 

“It’s not as dangerous as the Alpha-Gel testing was,” Ginger explained. “But it’s … delicate.” 

“Well, darlin’, I can be as delicate as a daisy when the occasion calls for it. What’s the mission?” 

He didn’t expect time travel.

They called it The Rewind, since for now Statesman only had the ability to move in one direction along the continuum - backwards, and only up to three years - and Ginger had been right to deem it delicate. Time was a fragile thing, and handling it too harshly left fingerprints where they didn’t belong. Those fingerprints could cause the present to cave in on itself and the future cease to exist. 

Jack silently hoped that they never gained the ability to travel beyond the three year mark. He knew that if it became possible to go back to the moment that his wife was killed, no amount of moral obligation would keep him from trying to save her. 

Future be fuckin’ damned. 

The Rewind hadn’t been engineered so Agents could change things that had already happened, though. It was created strictly so the agency could gather intelligence. It allowed a person to go back to a specific time and place, to witness that moment again and again from different perspectives, drop eaves on a conversation until it had been memorized, hunt for clues in the near past that might give them an edge in the present so they could put a stop to things before they happened. 

But it was still in the early stages. There was still a battery of experiments to run. That was where Jack came in. 

“We’ll be sending you back three years, to the night of July 19th. There’s a place on the outskirts of town called the Junction. Or -” Ginger arched one eyebrow. “There was. It closed down six months ago. But before it did? A lot of shady characters used to meet there. We think it’s where Dark Shadow did most of its recruiting.” 

Jack’s top lip curled at the mention of the crime organization. Dark Shadow had been a weapon smuggling ring that operated by overwhelming local law enforcement with a slew of small crimes so that they could pull off their larger ones while the authorities were distracted. They sold guns to drug dealers, who in turn put pistols in the hands of every sales soldier on the streets. They were the reason that countless hearts had been broken by the words “wrong place, wrong time” just as Jack’s had. 

Taking them down had undoubtedly been his proudest moment as a Statesman. 

Ginger explained that since they already knew how things shook out for Dark Shadow, testing the Rewind on their hideout meant that the stakes were low. “For now we just want you to go, spend a few hours there, act as though you’re just a patron getting a drink. You can talk to people as long as you don’t tell them anything that hasn’t happened for them yet. We’ll pull you back remotely when it's time, and then you’ll report on anything you can remember.” 

Jack nodded. “Seems simple enough.” 

“We’ll repeat this process until we’re confident that you’ve absorbed every detail of that night - what people were wearing, the texture of the bar top, all of it. That gives us an idea of how big a window we’ll have when we send Agents in for live missions. How long they’ll need in a space that size with the same number of variables and-” 

“Ginger.” Champ cleared his throat as a gentle interruption. “Think he gets the idea. Don’t ya, Whiskey?” 

“Sure. Like any old night on the town. ‘Cept it’s the same night every night until I can paint it pretty as a picture for you. That about it?” 

Ginger gave a sheepish nod, aware that she was prone to over explanation at times. “Yup. That’s about it. For now.” 

– – – 

Jack stopped outside the Junction, staring at the flickering neon letters on the sign that hung in the window. Like always, the C was dead. This time, though, he noticed that it was due to a crack in the lightbox that looked distinctly like a bullet hole. 

Well look at that. A new piece of the picture already. 

With that he went inside. He wasted no time lingering near the dart boards or sauntering through the billiards tables as he’d done his first few July 19ths. He’d already gained what he could from the people gathered around them on previous trips. This time his focus was directly on the bar. Or more directly on the woman behind it. 

You.

It was his twelfth time pulling up a stool and ordering a drink from you. Nine of those times he’d asked you your name and he’d given you his. You’d spent nearly half your shift ignoring other customers to talk with him on at least seven occasions. Five times he’d caught you looking at him in the bar mirror, a guilty - but not ashamed - grin curving your cheeks. There were four times when you had asked him if he wanted to get coffee at the diner on ninth street, three when he had said yes, and two when you’d invited him back to your place after that. The last time he walked into the Junction he ended up in your bed, with you panting his name into his ear. 

He remembered every detail of every interaction with you.

But for you it was the first time you’d seen him. You didn’t know his name or his drink. Didn’t know that he made you laugh or that his hands had already mapped your body. “What’ll you have, Cowboy?” 

He gave you the same smile he had the last few times - which meant that you couldn’t tell it was just a little sad. “Whiskey’n water, darlin’.” 

Always the same. 

He couldn’t help the twinge in his chest as you turned to make his drink. Jack wasn’t expecting the mission to be time travel. And he sure as shit wasn’t expecting to fall for a woman from a different timeline. But here he was. And there you were. 

The Alpha-Gel trials had been painful. Knowing that you would forget him every time was torture.

Still, when you asked him out for coffee, he grinned, standing from his stool. “You ever been to the 9th Street Diner, darlin’?” 

.

.

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list, please feel free to let me know. You can also fill out the form on my Masterlist! :)

tags:  @something-tofightfor​ @paracosmenthusiast​ @cannedsoupsucks​ @dihra-vesa​ @disgruntledspacedad​ @littlemisspascal​ @hellovanessax​ @mishasminion360​ @nyctophiliiiiaaa​ @practicalghost​ @tanzthompson​ @harriedandharassed​ @woodlandmouth​ @swtaura @trickstersp8​ @princessxkenobi​ @imtryingmybeskar​ @wildmoonflower​ @mswarriorbabe80​ @theredwritingwitch​ @silverstarsandsuns​ @competentpotato​ @pedro-pedrito-pascalito​ @jedi-in-crocs​ @hannahkatharine​ @novemberrain221 @chiyo13​ @myloveistoolittle​ @spishsstuff @writeforfandoms

[cydanite]

Swamp Duo AU: A Conversation Over Tea.

4/9 - (FIRST) (<PREV<) (>NEXT>) (AU MASTERPOST)

(Ao3 LINK)

“Hopefully this is comfortable enough. I don’t really have space for guests inside, especially, uh...” Shelby takes another look at her new-found neighbor. For all she doesn’t know about them, they for certain are a lot bigger, scalier, and slimier then most other visitors she gets. The fish person, who she still doesn’t know the name of, carefully sits down on the wool blanket she'd set on the muddy ground. Their steaming cup of tea comically small within their glove-like hands.

“It’s fine. Thank you.”

She gives a stiff smile, sitting down as nonchalantly as possible at the other end of the blanket. On the ground the difference in size felt a lot more apparent. The way they hunch over to face her better. Their long arms extended awkwardly in front of them, how easily they could strike her while she struggles to stand back up. No, she breaths. No need to make rude assumptions until those assumptions have any backing in reality. The smile gets a bit less forced.

“So uh, we haven’t done introductions yet! My name’s Shelby. I’m a witch. N-not the scary kind though! And in training! I’ve been living here in the Evermoor for a few months now to focus on my studies and to help the people living nearby when they need magic! It’s a part of the Witch Academy curriculum.”

The fish person gives a small nod before turning to take a sip of their tea. They stare absentmindedly at something behind her. Man, she wasn’t good at leading conversations. She clears her throat a little before continuing on.”

“And, um, what’s your name?”

Her guest snaps back to look at her.

“Oh, uh. Jimmy.”

What a weird name for a 12-foot fish monster. Definitely the last thing she expected.

“Jimmy, that’s a nice name! I actually know a Jimmy!” She takes another sip of her tea. It burns her tongue a little. “And- and I don’t mean this to be rude at all! But uh, what are you, exactly Jimmy?”

The now Jimmy looks down into his cup for a second, brows slightly furrowed.

“Y’know I… I’m actually not entirely sure. A, um. A cod I guess.”

“… No.”

“No?”

“I mean- ack! I just, I’ve seen cod before and they’re usually… kinda small? And limbless and don’t talk. And they don’t live 1000 years. Wait are you what cod become if they live 1000 years?”

“No no, I mean, maybe? These are the questions I probably should have asked…” he pauses for a second before quickly taking a sip of tea. “I’d say probably not, I had limbs 1000 years ago so...”

“So you’re 2000 years old?” Shelby leaned forwards.

“I don’t want to be 2000 years old! That’s too old!”

“I... guess there is a 1000 year difference between being 2000 and 1000 years old.”

“1000 is too old too!" He sighs, exasperated. "Never mind. I’m getting myself confused” Jimmy slumped a bit more, pouting into his cup.

Before she can help herself, she lets out a small giggle. It was half the good idea of laughing to diffuse the tension and half the bad idea of laughing because seeing this fish person getting so worked up was just a bit funny to watch. Jimmy’s reaction looks a smidge surprised, he at least stops pouting when he looks at her, but he doesn't maul her for her slight faux-pas. Whew.

She sips her tea again. It's a smidge too cold now.

“I guess it doesn’t matter too much. But I have some smart friends I could ask, if you’d like to try and find out what you are?”

“What, with the witches?”

“Oh no! I mean-" She chokes a second. "Maybe they’d know? But uh, my friend here would be quicker to ask! And sending mail takes a while, y’know? Or I guess not since you live in the swamp. Or the sea?”

Jimmy looks past her again, cradling the cup in his hands. It's probably empty, given how large he is. If it got awkward again she could go back inside to refill it.

“I used to live in a swamp. When I had to leave it I lived in the sea instead. And then I guess I ended up in another swamp.” He puts his cup to his mouth again. She’s starting to suspect it’s definitely empty and he’s just doing that to be polite. Or for a pause, as is the purpose of talking over tea.

“This swamp is nice though! Didn’t have these kinds of trees at my old one.”

“Yeah, haha! They’re everywhere. You kinda uprooted one when you came out of the ground there.”

Jimmy looks behind them at the massive hole in the earth he was slumbering in an hour ago. “Oh, uh, sorry about that.”

“No it’s good! It’s good. I’ve been chopping them down around here so you’ve kinda helped me out a little!”

“Oh, okay.” He takes another fake sip.

She sips the last of her now cold tea in solidarity. Ugh, it was getting awkward again. With the catalyst of tea gone there was nothing left for them to do but talk about themselves. And that sucked. She instead stands up.

“If it’s alright, I’m gonna go message one of those smart friends I mentioned earlier, okay?” She gestures behind her, the universal symbol of “I’m going over there now”.

“Oh! Yeah sure. I thought you said mail would be too slow though?”

“Right! Right, I should have mentioned.” She puts her hands on her hips. It should be mentioned with a bit of authority, she thinks.

“I’m. An Emperor!” She realizes why she didn’t mention it. “Do you even know what that is?”

They’re staring again, right into her eyes. Or maybe it’s through her eyes. A few more second pass than she would like... she's made it weird again. She should start explaining it now.

“An emp-”

“I know what it means.”

Ah. Okay then! Explaining that the ground is magic and slightly sentient and gives whoever promises to take care of it and the living things within it cool powers like not-dying and being able to instantly communicate with other Emperors is one more thing she can remove from her to-do list. Neat!

“Alright, I’ll do that then. You stay comfy, okay?” She turns around before Jimmy can respond, which would have been rude if he did respond. Luckily he didn't, resolving to stare at nothing again. Shelby quietly releases a sigh crammed in her chest and pulls up her messages with Pixlriffs, the archaeologist that lived further inland. The tea was a good idea! It had broken the ice a little and that was all she'd wanted it to do. But it didn’t make the situation as a whole any less anxiety-inducing. She types up a quick message, trying not to let her nerves show in her writing.

ShubbleYT: Hey Pix! Nothing serious at all! Just was wondering if you knew anything about fish people? Since you’re smart and all. Thanks!

Perfect.

She looks back at Jimmy, who was now starring at his hand, opening and closing his fingers like he'd never seen them before... she turns again so they don't catch her staring, nerves making her shoulders tense. Sigh…hopefully Pix will have slightly more of a clue than she does.

[3mcwriting]

Already Gone

Warnings: death, cursing

Fate was cruel.

You knew that better than most.

When, at age 12, you had begun getting struck with prophetic dreams, you had thought you were going crazy.

But you never told anyone.

Who could you tell? Your parents? Your few friends?

As if, they'd all think you were just as crazy as you thought you were.

But when one day your best friend gets hit by a blue sedan with scratches on the left car door, you almost vomit.

Why?

Put simply, you'd dreamt about the occasion three days before it happened. Everything--the slight dent in the bumper, the three long scratches on the left car door, and the man in sunglasses sitting behind the wheel--were the same.

From then on, the dreams had only increased. Or maybe they came with the same frequency as before and you'd only been too in denial and stupid to notice.

Either way, you began paying more attention.

That girl who sat three rows behind you in chemistry? She was going to cheat on the final and still fail.

The boy who always used to get targeted in dodgeball? He was going to marry the boy who had bullied him through elementary.

Your parents?

Well, they weren't going to live past your twenty-first birthday.

Some of the things you saw, you could prevent. With the extra time, knowledge, and awareness, you were able to change a couple things, help a couple people, but that was only as long as fate allowed you to.

Sure, convincing that kid to move his lemonade stand down the street saved it from all the bees that lived in the tree that stood above, but you were unable to do anything when your friend's grandma was diagnosed with cancer. Maybe if you'd known a couple months prior, but you had only found out two days before your friend's family did.

Though you were able to see glimpses of the future, most of the time you were still just as helpless as every other goddamn person in the cruel universe.

Never had that hit you as hard as it did now.

As Natasha shot you with a jolt of electricity from the device at her wrist, her eyes were pleading with you, 'Please, let me do this. Let me save you.'

But the shock of electricity knocked you unconscious for a second. Just long enough for you to see a glimpse of Natasha's broken, still body at the base of the cliff you stood on.

The moment you regained consciousness, you staggered to your feet, desperately trying to reach the woman you loved before she sacrificed her life.

"No, Nat. Don't do this." You grabbed her arm in an attempt to pull her back. Never before had she pulled away from you. But she couldn't let you hold her. Not if she wanted you to live.

But she was selfish.

So she gave herself one last moment with you.

Natasha pressed her lips to yours, pressing against you so she could remember the way you felt. Your arms wrapped around her waist as you deepened the kiss.

You knew what would happen if you let go.

Still, when Natasha pulled away and ran for the cliff, you knew you wouldn't be able to save her. You'd seen her fate.

But fuck fate.

So you ran after her, managing to grasp her arm as she fell.

"What are you doing, (y/n)?" Natasha's voice was desperate.

You grunted, muscles straining as you tried to pull her up. "I'm not going to just- just let you die."

A sad smile spread across Nat's face. "Since when have I ever needed anyone to let me do anything?"

Tears fell down your face, your arms growing weaker. "Please, Nat. We can find another way."

"We both know there's no other way," Natasha's voice was soft. "I love you, (y/n)."

At those words, you tried harder than ever to pull her up. But Nat twisted her arms out of your grasp, kicking off the side of the cliff.

Within moments, she hit the bottom--heart still in her chest and the light gone from her eyes.

She had just killed herself.

And just as always, the only thing you were able to do was watch.

[butterflysociety]

 𓂅 ⸙ pick a pile ; shifting edition ❀

Cards ; Fairy Oracle illustrated by Arthur Rackham and written by Jaymi Elford, Dungeons & Dragons Tarot Deck

Ꮺ pile 1 ; Oracle Cards ; 8(Revolution), 12(Rehearsal), 29(Personal Celebration) Tarot Cards ; 8 of Swords upright, 3 of Wands reversed, Strength reversed, 4 of Pentacles reversed, 9 of Swords upright, 7 of Cups reversed

Through the haze, the answer lies within.

If you picked this pile, I'd like to start off by asking, are you scared of shifting? It feels as though there's a lot of doubt and fear mixed in together in one. Are you afraid of change? There seems to be a lot of desperation to shift, yet it also seems as though you are clinging onto the past, perhaps you're too attached to this void reality (some of you might deny being attached by saying “I’m too focused on dr!” when you’re sticking heavily on bad things in vr).

I think you are searching for answers to shift desperately, forgetting that everything lies within yourself. Currently, it seems as though your mind is incredibly foggy and you are feeling quite lost, you've forgotten to listen to yourself. Are you looking for shortcuts or long term solutions? I think spirit wants you to remember that practice makes perfect, you'll get there someday, and to rejoice in the achievements you've made so far with shifting.

Take some time in solitude, put away the shifting advice blogs and videos, stay off social media and just sit with yourself. Meditate, take some time to listen to your intuition. Take a break if needed, regulate your emotions, they are currently clouding your judgement regarding this journey.

trinkets ; 888, 44, fire energy, dragons, the word 'clarity', the third eye, "wheel of fortune", "fate", the skies, red ribbons, catharsis of something (not literal), descent, mystical drs, “someday I’ll find my home”, nostalgia, bitterness, whimsical daydreams

─── ･ ｡ﾟ❁ : .☽ .* :۰🌷 . ───

Ꮺ pile 2 ; Oracle Cards ; 28(Shared Wishes), 33(Community Celebration), 4(Offerings) Tarot Cards ; 10 of Wands reversed, King of Pentacles reversed, The Fool upright, 3 of Pentacles reversed, Knight of Swords reversed, 8 of Cups upright, Ace of Cups reversed, 10 of Swords upright

Through the darkness, that is when the light emerges.

It seems as though this journey, or your life in general has been quite tough on you. As though you've gone through hell and back, but you've made it here! You're recovering, on the steps to finally thriving. If you're asking for reassurance, here it is! Keep doing what you're doing, you're making progress even if you don't see it yet. I feel as though you've been on this journey for a long time (6 months to a few years). It's alright to feel your emotions and take breaks okay?

It feels as though the ones who chose this pile are mostly respawners. It seems like the people who chose this pile started off as very skeptical, logical type of people. Perhaps you doubted the act of shifting, but here you are! You should take some time in solitude to think over this decision, but also don't forget to hang out with loved ones. I feel as though something that's holding you back is your attachment to this reality. There's a feeling as though you owe the people here something, but really, you do not. You very much have the right to leave this reality behind.

Spirit wants you to know that you should look to your community for advice, for they can help you attain what you desire. Are you respawning with a group? It is soon time to celebrate with your community how far you've come. There is an unexpected offer about to come. Take it, for it will most definitely aid you in this journey and your life in general. It is very important that you take this opportunity. trinkets: lavender, fantasy heaven(?), swords, birds, dove, 2222, 333, the sun, books, soul family, “My tribe, my found family”, heart shaped letters, autumn leaves, academiacore, fairy godmother, action drs

─── ･ ｡ﾟ❁ : .☽ .* :۰🌷 . ───

Ꮺ pile 3 ; Oracle Cards ; 34(Punishment), 17(Rest), 9(Enticement) Tarot Cards ; The Magician upright, 2 of Wands reversed, Queen of Cups upright, Death upright, King of Wands upright, 6 of Pentacles reversed, The Devil reversed

Far we stray, from the path of what's truly us.

Somewhere on this journey, you've strayed far from your original purpose. I feel as though you've lost sight of what you were shifting for, and have forgotten why you shifted. Feels like there's a fear of change, a fear to leave behind what's already so familiar and ingrained in your everyday life. Spirit is encouraging you to embrace this change and to take time to rest and contemplate to truly rediscover who you are meant to be, and why you are on this journey.

I think you are spiralling into confusion and are questioning yourself as to whether you really want what you are scripting, if you really want this lifestyle, if you really want this change. I think you're confused regarding your desires, whether you want them or if you are worthy of them. With the worth, you wondered you deserve to receive them in the first place (I’m getting the feeling that you might have different dr self(ves) in various drs that made you doubt for scripting in scenarios), due to coming from a rough patch in this reality. There’s anxiety involved, which caused you to fearing the future ahead from this vr psyche that sort of bleeds through your dr self(ves). The example I could think of is that you scripted in similar scenario as your vr rough patch, but you handled it better with extra spice and support to subconsciously reconcile yourself with this emotional wound.

There’s nothing wrong with you pile 3, it’s okay to be not okay especially grieving over things you have lost in this vr, there’s a reason why you get to discover that you can go to infinite realities: to live a better life by your own choice. You may feel like collapsing from vr’s situations, but just so you know that you’re still breathing for the sake of yourself. Pick yourself up when you’re finished with comfort and progress this journey in renewed passion. Everything will go into your favor when you realise that you’re capable no matter what, place your faith in persisting until you’ll get to dr.

trinkets: 999, 000, velvet curtains, dollhouses, goth lolita aesthetic, finality, endings, boundary(ies), the word “extravagant”, strawberry cake, dandelions, “Everything is gonna be okay”

[reallydumbdannyphantomaus]

Whats going on in peru??

ok so let me preface this by saying that i'm far from an expert in peruvian politics, but i've been in cusco for the past two months as this all unfolded. i'm avoiding giving my own opinion in favor of relaying the opinions of actual peruvians who i have talked to about this.

so, last presidential election there were two candidates who were in the running: Pedro Castillo and Keiko Fujimori. you may have heard some about this, as Castillo was the left candidate backed largely by rural communities and poor people while Fujimori was the daughter of a previous president/dictator (depending on who you ask) Alberto Fujimori. Fujimori the elder is both beloved and reviled here: beloved by people who say that he helped end the reign of terror of The Shining Path, a terrorist organization that operated here in the 80s and 90s (and still does in a couple isolated pockets but is mostly done now), and reviled by people who say "yeah but he also committed a bunch of political murders himself and was corrupt and sentenced to prison for a reason." his daughter running for president as a far right candidate was complicated here, to say the least.

but she did lose to Castillo, in the end. it was a tremendously close election, though, and Castillo was embattled from the moment he took office. he never got along with his congress, which kept trying to impeach him. he was repeatedly accused of corruption and the like, but his supporters insist that these were lies intended to silence him and force him out. truthfully, i have no idea whether or not that's true.

what is true is that Castillo, staring down the barrel of yet another attempted impeachment, made the decision to dissolve congress instead. this is widely regarded as a bad move on his part, because this is what set this whole crisis off. the military and congress and pretty much everybody else was like "hey dude you can't do that" and congress voted to impeach him, his own government officials resigned en masse, and his VP Dina Boluarte was sworn in. Castillo attempted to flee but has been arrested and is awaiting trial.

so now we get to the protests. there are a number of disparate groups within the protestors themselves, but the protests were ultimately sparked by this event. most of the protestors are Castillo's supporters, who think that he is the rightful president, and that his attempted dissolution of congress was less a coup attempt and more an attempt to stop a legislative coup. there has long been dissatisfaction with congress here, with an abiding belief that is it full of corruption and focused on the needs of the rich and people in lima as opposed to the more rural areas, like ayacucho and urubamba in the cusco region. their demands center around three things: dissolve congress, have new elections, and release Castillo from prison.

so the protests have been going on since earlier this week, though things have calmed down in cusco proper now. but still, i think 12 people have died at my last check of the news. there's also been some looting and such going on, leading Boluarte to declare a state of emergency for the entire country. she's also set a curfew for much of the cusco area, so we aren't allowed out from 8pm-4am. the military has gotten involved in quelling the protests, which some people feel is excessive. the buses are also on strike in cusco, though i think that may be slowly coming to an end.

as for the protestors demands, the dissolution of congress isn't exactly likely and Castillo was just sentenced to wait in prison for 18 months pending his trial, so those demands aren't likely to be met. however, Boluarte has submitted a bill to move elections up to 2024 instead of 2025. the protestors were asking for 2023, so we'll see how they push back on that. but the government wants to open everything up as soon as possible because so much of the peruvian economy runs on tourism, so there's definitely a push to get the protestors to shut up.

as for if they will? who knows. because they are mostly poor, they unfortunately cant afford to keep striking and protesting indefinitely. i don't think it will last much longer, but it probably won't be fully resolved any time soon.

[junk-thrillz]

I wanna hear you talk more about Cody because he makes me insane.

Anon, I would LOVE to talk about Cody. He makes me insane too, he's been one of my favorite pnat characters since I first got into the comic (he was my ultimate favorite until Violet shoved him out of that spot a few months later). Putting all of this under a Read More because it got to be a LOT

It's hard to say what his initial appeal for me was. I think I mostly loved his whole theme of masks and actors and mysteries! The school store scene and its surrounding scenes was my favorite part of pnat basically from the moment I first saw it, and I was DELIGHTED to find out that all of these background characters had insane, hidden depth to them. Cody was especially delightful because him being a dhampir is a crazier fucking reveal than even the school store's existence itself, and once that was revealed it was like a layer of his character had been peeled away. Suddenly his status as the nice, responsible boy was turned on its head, revealing an underlying personality that's a million times more jaded and hurt than was ever previously comprehensible and FUCK it was just so!! Good!! I don't think it was ever about him being a monster, I think it was about the reveal and the intrigue.

I've always loved digging into his character. Before Chapter 8, Chapter 5 was the majority of what we had to go off of for his characterization, and what was in Chapter 5 was already a goddamn goldmine of information. There's a reason why Chapter 5 is my favorite pnat chapter (though my favorite page in the whole comic is in Chaper 4 lmao)!

In the centuries-old past of late 2020, your local weirdo Junk was incapable of separating Cody and Violet from each other in aus, analyses, headcanons, etc. They used to be tied for my favorite character, and it was because I was (and still am) fascinated by their dynamic, the way their respective complexes and insecurities and emotional walls cause problems for them... their argument in Chapter 5 was my favorite scene-within-a-scene for a very long time. All this to say that there's a reason I keep bringing up Violet in a post about Cody; it's still really hard for me to consider one without the other. I love the way they're both protectors (knighthood theming goes crazy in this comic), and I love the way they differ so fundamentally in why they're protectors and how they approach that sense of protectiveness. I love the way Cody jumps to revenge during the Hijeff situation, and I love the way Violet counters that with appalled confusion.

God, can we talk about the revenge thing? The way Cody behaves is fascinating. He's very clearly picked up certain behaviors from his dad, but he thinks that makes him some sort of evil rather than understanding that everyone is a product of their environment. Compared to his dad he's just so... fundamentally kind, with his heart in the right place, but he can't see that because he's 12 years old, in a horrible situation with a horrible parent, and a complicated social situation at school and and-

I'm really glad that he has nice things he can cling to. I can't imagine the nightmare it must be to live in that house. He's got fun clothes he can wear at home on the weekend, he gets to go over to Jeff's house, and those might seem like small victories but they are still victories. I really hope he gets out of there soon. Jesus Christ

Oh oh oh, let's talk about fancontent! I'm going to talk about my own stuff, because there are a lot of very old ideas that will probably never see the light of day otherwise. In the post I'm assuming you came from, anon, I mentioned how I'd mischaracterized my way into the right characterization, and by that I mean both my earliest and most recent interpretations of him really played up his cutesy, smiley demeanor. Very anime girl esque vibe, very over exaggerated movements, very 'actor in a play' type energy. I would often come up with au's that would shove him into some sort of magical girl role, often paired with a healthy amount of body horror for the tonal dissonance. It was, of course, also an excuse to put him in cute, fun outfits. To this day I struggle to draw him in normal outfits that don't make him look like the leader of a magical girl. (If you want a funtastic magical girl au that was actually made for me, check out astralibrary's AU over here.) One of my favorite au's I've ever made was one in which Cody was a magical warrior from another world who fell through a portal and ended up in an ordinary, spirit-free Mayview, where he then had to rely on Violet to get him through the day normal-guy-style. Looking back it's one of my favorite au's in part BECAUSE it involves so many shenanigans revolving around Cody trying to be normal and failing miserably. I believe it to be accurate to canon LMAO

I have so much more I could say about him but I think I've hit the point where I can't put my thoughts into words. To wrap it up, here's a compilation of my favorite Cody panels and bits of official art;

^Chapter 8 Page 44!!

^Chapter 5 Page 44!!

^Chapter 5 Page 58!! I love the way the blur makes his ear look pointy!! You can even see his fangs, a bit!!

^Chapter 5 Page 57!! I love Zack's expressions for him so much

^Chapter 5 Page 165!! "So embarassing", he says, as if he isn't VERY invested

^Chapter 5 Page 167!! Top ten panels that permanently altered my brain chemistry

^Chapter 5 Page 283!! This panel made me nauseous the first time I saw it. Kill your dad, Cody

^Chapter 1 Page 33!! A classic. I love his Chapter 1 look a lot. I love how he's climbing on his chair/desk

^I have an emotional attachment to his old cast page photo.

^CHAPTER 5 PAGE 48. This panel inspired the tiger spectral cody au (not my au, if you haven't heard of it before), and thus made me insane

I think I might have hit the image limit. I got carried away. Here are the honorable mention pages

Anyways. Thank you, anon, for giving me an excuse to go absolutely insane about Cody. I did NOT know this post was going to get THIS long, but once I started it was like I couldn't stop LMAO. I hope you enjoy this thought dump, feel free to send in more asks if you want to ask about something specific/want more lovingly crafted Cody content. If I ever manage to upload a fic to Ao3 with Cody in it, it'll be dedicated to you in the author's notes or something LMAO

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for the tag, @walkinginland!! 💜

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

8! 😅

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

234,699 (the fact that I'm almost at a quarter of a million words feels all kinds of crazy to me 🥹)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently and on ao3, just Outlander. I did a lot more fandom hopping in my youth and on ffnet.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

the best by far is you (Outlander, multichap, canon-divergent - what if Faith lived?)

Beside the Seaside (Outlander, multichap, 1940s au - single parents twist on seasons 1&2)

The Lost Ones (Outlander, one-shot, modern au - Jamie and Claire are neighbors and help each other through a difficult holiday season)

Holly, Ivy, Mistletoe (Outlander, one-shot, tbbfiy holiday fic)

When My Love Reaches to Me (Outlander, one-shot, modern au - follow up to The Lost Ones)

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

I do for most of my fics! Beside the Seaside has become a little overwhelming so I don't respond to those comments at the moment.

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

I have to go with one of my drabble for this bc I dont usually write angsty endings for my fics, only angsty middles 😅 but I think Something to Hold Onto fits the bill for this. Though she be but 100 words, she is angsty.

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

the best by far is you had a pretty happy ending, but I think Soften Every Edge will hold that title once it's finished.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

There was one person who REALLY didn't like the family separation arc in tbbfiy and trolled the comment section a few times, but that's been the only true hate I've ever received on a fic.

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

I hadn't ever written smut before Outlander, and I blame Jamie and Claire being the two horniest muses I've ever worked with for my forray into smut writing lol. I don't write a lot of smut, but if inspiration strikes and I feel like it adds to the story, I will usually include it.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I do not!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of 🤞🏻 Back in my ffnet days, I had someone message me about my fic that they wanted to basically copy and paste bits and pieces of it and change the characters but keep the main storyline (staying within the same fandom, mind you... and just switching characters around) and I said ummmm no?? but thank you for asking nicely?? and then watched their stories like a hawk for a few months, but to my knowledge, they respected what I said and didn't do that 😅

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I'm aware of!

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

I haven't and honestly I'm mystified by how people make that work. I've read a number of fics that were co-written by two people and the results are so cool.

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

I don't like to answer what my all-time anything is because I am indecisive 😭 but at least in terms of writing fic, I've got almost a quarter of a million words published just about Jamie and Claire, so. That answer feels obvious.

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

Oof. I never even posted it, but in my college years, I was vibing very hard with a Smallville au, wrote several chapters, it lived rent free in my mind, and never got around to finishing it. But oh my god the Themes of it all...

16. What are your writing strengths?

Characterization and theme, I think. I feel like if I know the characters and I know what the themes are, I can cobble together some kind of story.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Plotting lol. It's always the joke with fic writing that you have to write a whole story around the one random scene you envisioned, and that's how most of mine start. So figuring out the plot and pacing from there is always a struggle.

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

I always want to include other languages that are integral to the characters (hi, jamie fraser!), but as someone who regrettably only speaks English, I get so nervous about the fact that I rely on google translate and might get it horrendously wrong and upset someone who actually speaks the language because it's That Bad. 😅 So I usually include what I can and then use indicators when someone is speaking in another language but I'm typing it in English.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Oh god, I can't remember exactly, but I think the first fandom that I actually wrote and posted a fic for was One Tree Hill (though some of you on twitter might remember the story of 8th grade Anna turning in a chapter of her Alias fanfic for a creative writing assignment, I didn't ever end up posting that story, so that was just for me, my sister, and my 8th grade English teacher, apparently 💀)

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Oh god. I feel like it changes depending on what I'm working on, honestly. Beside the Seaside has been super self-indulgent and fun to write, but I'm having a love-hate relationship with sharing that one with an audience at the moment. Currently, my favorite one I've written/am still writing is Soften Every Edge - I'm just very pleased with how chapter 1 turned out and loving any time I get to return to that world and that family.

I'm not sure who all has done this already, so no pressure tagging @theawkwardterrier and @behindthelabels