#the universe must have a twisted sense of humor

[ohmuqueen]

Oh my god it's not only 3 SHINee releases on my birthday, there are four!!!

Romeo in 2009

Odd in 2015

"Kimi No Seide" in 2016

Taemin's ADVICE in 2021

T^T im a mess

[gamerwoo]

Bang Chan: The Girl Who Didn't Cry Wolf (Part One)

Characters: Bang Chan x fem reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, enemies-to-lovers-ish??, slowburn, werewolf/alpha!chan, (werewolf)hunter!reader, angst, a tiny bit of fluff if u squint ig (chan takes care of reader's injuries), some humor toward the end, mentions of blood, violence, mentions that reader is from america and moved to korea, reader doesn't know korean [dialogue in bold is meant to be korean]

Word count: 4,317

Summary: You've learned to do whatever you can to protect yourself after an incident almost a decade ago had your father and brother dragging you to a new country to start all over even though they blamed you for what happened. After finding yourself stuck in a house of werewolves, you're forced to come to terms with your feelings over what happened back home when the alpha imprints on you and his pack claims they're keeping you prisoner. You know exactly how this will end if you give in, and yet you can't seem to get yourself to leave the sweet and charming werewolf who's willing to do anything to make you comfortable. You're just hoping that maybe there'll be a good end this time.

a/n: this is a part of the TftP universe, which is a Seventeen series!! if you haven't read that, some of this series might not make a lot of sense, but it can still be read on it's own! :) [if you do read TftP: this series also takes place after the events of Jeonghan's part, which is currently still ongoing]

Next | TGWDCW Masterlist

Your face was scratched up, your arms were sore from trying to push the werewolf off of you, and you were pretty sure the warm liquid dripping down your chin and onto your chest was blood, but you couldn’t tell where you were bleeding from. You limped your way through the forest, glad to have subdued the werewolf long enough to get away. You were out getting berries when you were attacked, so you only had the tiny pocket knife on you for defense. God, your family was going to have your ass for sure for not being prepared for this.

But you were currently not going toward town, you were going away from it. You just needed a place to hideout and patch up. Maybe you’d look a little better in the morning and your father wouldn’t berate you as hard as he would seeing you in your current state. How could a hunter not be prepared for a werewolf attack? That was the first thing your parents had warned you about when you started hunting alone. They let you in on the fact that werewolves weren’t just mythical monsters made up to scare kids into being good lest they be dragged off into the woods and eaten by one. But that was something you needed to know if you were going to go out hunting. You had to be aware of every creature – mythical or otherwise – that was out there.

Were you a werewolf hunter? ...Sort of. But you still were supposed to be ready to fight back if one attacked. You kept 3 silver bullets on you at all times, and yet…

The house you saw pulled you from your thoughts. It was made out of tree logs and seemed fairly big but not so big that it looked odd for it to be here in the small clearing. It seemed cozy and all of the lights were off, so you figured it must be abandoned. Who in their right mind would live out in the middle of a forest anyway?

You dragged your bum leg toward the house – you were pretty sure you twisted your ankle while running because you really had to prove you’re the worst hunter in the history of hunters that night – and in through an open window. That was a dead giveaway it was abandoned because nobody would just leave their window open like that.

The window brought you into a kitchen, specifically on top of a counter next to a sink. You slid down quietly and crouched down to your hands and knees. It was just precautionary and instinct to hide, so you crawled your way around the large kitchen table and out of the kitchen to a hallway. You saw a door wide open across the hall, seeing a sink and a toilet in there.

Jackpot. The bathroom has to have some medical supplies, right? Even if it was abandoned, maybe the people left some of their stuff there. Maybe they were eaten by bears so their belongings were left untouched. It was best to check for any sort of supplies just in case.

You carefully crawled your way over and through the door. Once inside, you closed the door silently and stood to look through the cabinet behind the mirror. Just as you hoped, there were bandages, peroxide, cotton balls, and other first aid things. You immediately got to work, cleaning off your face of the blood before tending to the small scrapes and cuts that had filled with dirt. You knew cleaning them would sting but it still made your teeth clench and sharply intake a breath.

A few seconds after the small noise you made, the bathroom door was flung open, making you gasp and leap toward the opposite wall. A younger looking guy – he could’ve been a teenager for all you knew – with fluffy brown hair stood in the doorway, dressed in a baggy white t-shirt and some loose shorts. His angry, golden eyes slowly shifted to red as he glared at you, and you knew you really fucked yourself over now.

“Shit…” you cursed under your breath, your hand fumbling in your pocket for the only small weapon you had.

Before you could even wrap your fingers around it, the wolf lunged at you, bringing you down to the tiled floor with a thud as your head hit the cool tiles. It hurt but thankfully it wasn’t enough to disorient you. The wolf’s claws grew, pinching at the skin of your arms. You lifted one foot in the space between you and kicked against his abdomen, throwing him off of you. In the process of him being flung away, his claws scraped against your biceps, making you wince slightly. It wasn’t anything too bad but it definitely broke skin. You quickly pushed yourself up and raced to get out of the bathroom, leaping over the wolf on the ground.

Just as you had jumped over him and ran to the open door, he grabbed your bad ankle and tugged you down onto the floor, landing on your stomach but catching yourself with your hands. He dragged you back to him as you tried to dig your nails into the hardwood floor. You knew this is how you would die but you were going to fight the whole time. It’s what you were taught to do.

He roughly flipped you over and straddled you. You punched him straight in his cheek with all the strength you could muster, but you knew your strength was nothing against a werewolf.

He let out a loud growl that had you cowering for a moment. He took that opportunity to claw roughly into your left side, making you cry out in pain now. But he apparently didn’t like how loud you were because he pinned your wrists above your head, and leaned down with his fangs extended, roaring in your face. The sight sent a chill down your spine, and tears pricked your eyes when he dipped his head down to your neck, mouth open wide and fangs extended.

You knew this was it. You had no way to fight back or run away. You weren’t strong enough in this state, and you didn’t have any weapons to help you. In a case like this, it was better to just have a quick death over one that was drawn out.

You squeezed your eyes closed and braced for the end, requesting through clenched teeth, “Just make it quick.”

You knew you had no way to fight back or to run away. This was it. All you could do was wait until it was over. You weren’t backing out of this. You never backed down, and even if you were facing death, it would be no different. The last thing you were doing was dying a coward.

But his weight was suddenly lifted off you, and you heard him hit the wall with a crash. Your eyes flew open to see a man a few inches shorter than the wolf towering over you, but his back was to you and his stance was protective. A wild, defensive growl ripped through his chest, the warning aimed at the wolf that was on you. He turned his head just enough to look back at you before his focus was in front of him again.

When your eyes met, that was when you felt it. The draw that you were told about by your father when he was telling you all about werewolves. He said both parties would feel it, but it was stronger for the wolf. For both, it was almost instantaneous as soon as their eyes landed on their mate. And you felt exactly that.

It felt like being in love, but it was like it was all at once instead of falling slowly. It hit you like a train instead of floating down a river. It felt…exactly like–

“Seungmin. Don’t,” the man’s voice was a low rumble that pulled you from your thoughts and had your blood turning to ice. The threatening tone to it was enough to make a grown man run for the hills, but you were frozen in place, trying to make sense of it all.

You didn’t even notice the other wolves that had rushed down the stairs to see the commotion, golden eyes going from your attacker, to your...mate, to you.

“Chan?” a new voice asked, their deep voice gravely from sleep full of concern. “Did you…?”

He had. He had imprinted on you. A werewolf-hunter-in-training was now the mate of a werewolf.

The stunned silence that followed was short lived when the front door a few yards behind you slammed open, and a familiar, beaten body dragged himself through the door. His golden eyes landed on you before turning red and narrowing.

It was the wolf you had just fought and gotten away from. This was just your shitty luck.

“Minho?” one of the wolves from the stairs recognized him. "Where the hell have you been? It's late."

His eyes just stayed glued on your body on the floor, “You?”

Despite the fact the situation could probably only be made worse by you opening your big mouth, especially when you didn't really understand the language they were speaking, you spoke up against your better judgement, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

-

You were literally carried to your mate’s room, kicking and screaming despite the fact your body was screaming back at you to stop. Your injuries were burning with intensity, and you were sure you were bleeding all over your mate’s naked torso – especially from the cuts in your side. He didn’t seem to care, so neither did you. Then again, you wouldn’t care even if he did fuss about it.

“Put me down!” you demanded, slamming your fists into his bare back. “I’m not going to be your captive!”

The little Korean you knew wasn’t going to help you in this scenario. Your family had moved to Korea about half a decade ago after a freak accident involving the death of your mother, but you didn't pick up on a ton of the language since you didn't interact with other humans that often – speaking wasn’t necessarily important for your line of work. Instead, there were a few words and conversational phrases that you had picked up on in town or from other hunters – mostly about hunting, trading, and buying.

“So you want to go home and get humiliated by your family in front of the rest of the town? Maybe even worse for all I know,” he questioned, though the last part was a bit softer. His voice wasn’t as menacing as it was when he faced his pack brother but he was still definitely annoyed. “Believe me, I don’t find this situation ideal, but I have to protect you. It’s instinct. We both know it.”

You were too stunned to say anything for a moment. You didn’t expect him to respond, let alone understand you. But he replied in perfect English with a thick accent you didn’t recognize. Not many foreigners had moved to your country since before The War, but the numbers had only gone down even more afterwards. Even other Americans had moved away after The War, but your family stayed until grief struck.

“Th-Then–” you slowly began, finally remembering you had to say something otherwise he would win the argument. “Then I’ll run away.”

“I’ll just come find you and bring you back,” he promised with a chuckle. It was weird to you how your heart fluttered at his promise. It was something that never happened before. “No matter how many times you try to escape, I’ll always find you. You know that.”

He finally set you down, but it was on a bed. Once the blood rushed away from your head, you noticed that there were a few curious wolves standing by the open door. Your mate paid them no attention as he went to a corner of his room in search of something.

“Felix,” his voice was sure, like he already knew the person in question was there.

Sure enough, a thinner wolf with blonde hair that flared out around the back of his neck stepped forward. “Yeah?”

“Could you get the bandages and a towel? Jisung, you and Jeongin go collect the herbs, please,” Chan’s voice was soft as he walked over to you with a very large t-shirt. He placed it on the bed beside you and mumbled for you to change before he went over to address his packmates at the door. “The rest of you need to give her space unless you want the angry hunter on your ass.”

He seemed to be over his anger toward the other wolf who attacked you – Seungmin, apparently. And you were also surprised to hear him address another one of the pack in English. 

So maybe Seungmin had understood you before.

“Chan, I’m concerned,” one of them spoke up. “Seungmin and Minho–”

“Keep them as far away from this room as possible,” the alpha stated urgently. “You know how they are, and the last thing I need is another fight. They’ll both take their grudges to the grave.”

“Why was she in here?” another asked, glancing at you from behind the alpha.

Chan just moved to block his view, “Considering I haven’t gotten the chance to ask her after Minho came running at her, I wouldn’t know.”

While Chan spoke to his pack, you took the time to really look at him, and you noticed something about him. Other than the obvious things like his good looks, chiseled jaw, and perfectly carved torso, you took note of various scars that scattered seemingly his entire body. They all seemed to be healed, but there were just so many of them. He had a handful on his face and even more littering his torso, arms, and hands. You saw about half as many on his legs, just off of what you could see from his shorts that were low on his hips. You wondered just what kind of trouble this guy got himself into on a daily basis to have that many scars.

The first one that spoke sighed and ran a hand through his black hair that was messy from sleep. “Alright well...we’ll leave you to it. Let us know if you need anything.”

Chan sighed as well and nodded, his voice softening. “Thank you guys. It means a lot.”

He softly closed the door and turned to look at you, his eyebrows scrunching together when he saw you, “You didn’t change clothes?”

You looked at the shirt he set beside you as if you were looking at food you found disgusting, “Am I supposed to?”

“Yeah, that’s kind of why I got it for you.”

A knock on the door had him turning away from you again – not before he caught you rolling your eyes – but he called over his shoulder for you to at least remove the bloodied and torn shirt. His broad frame blocked the door from the blonde wolf that had gotten the medical supplies to take care of you, so you peeled the shirt that was stuck to you with sweat, and both wet and dried blood off of you, leaving you in your bra, and beaten and dirty leather pants. Chan closed the door with the supplies in his arms, turning to face you again. You noticed something glint in his golden eyes, almost like they were shifting for a second, but the change was too quick to notice. They were the same gold when he knelt down in front of you, only worry was showing clear in them.

“It’s pretty deep…” he murmured as he examined the large claw marks that tore across your side. “How’s your ankle?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “My ankle?”

“I know it’s injured, you couldn’t even get away from Seungmin,” he chuckled, beginning to mix various herbs together in a bowl. “I’m Chan, by the way. Or Chris, if you want. What’s your name?”

You stayed silent, not even looking at him. Instead, you looked at a spot on the bed to your right, looking away from your wound.

Chan noticed your silence, looked up at you and let out a playful sigh, “Nothing? You don’t have a name?”

“Why would I tell you that?” you quizzed, still not looking at him. “Ever heard of ‘stranger danger’? Or do you not encounter that since you live in the woods and only talk to squirrels or something?”

He chuckled, “Is that what you think we do all day? Stay in the middle of nowhere and talk to squirrels?”

“You realize we’re enemies, right?” you pointed out to him suddenly, finally looking down at him. “Why do you even think I’d let you know any personal information?”

“Because I know you feel it, too,” he informed you in a gentle tone, his eyes soft like he was trying to comfort you. “And I know you want to be stubborn about it because of instincts and whatever, but the very least you can do for me is tell me your name to make it slightly easier.”

“Nothing about this mating thing is easy! We’re opposites; we’re supposed to be killing each other but you’re treating my wounds and saving me from your pack – one of which I tried to kill!”

Which was true. Maybe he was nice, sure, but that didn’t mean anything when you had been training for almost a decade to kill his kind and had been force fed all of these narratives that told you you had to hate him and his pack, regardless of if he had saved you from death and was now treating your wounds. You came from a family that would kill them and you if they found out you showed any sort of kindness toward them.

You were missing. The realization suddenly hit you that you wouldn’t be returning home anytime soon, and your father and brother would both get worried and come looking for you. And if they found you, the first thing they’d do is kill every last wolf in this house.

…Why did that thought hurt as much as it did…?

“That’s how this works,” he sighed, sounding and looking tired, pulling you from your thoughts once again. “Do you think I’m happy about this? I’m not. But I can’t fight the instinct to protect my mate, okay? So this is just how it’s gonna be, and, as level-headed as I want to be so I don’t make it worse for you, I suggest you don’t test me.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, “Yeah, whatever. You’re not that scary.”

The low growl resonated in his chest, but it only made you laugh as you looked down at him. He continued to just stare back before he went back to mixing medicine to help your wound, dropping the mating subject, but picking back up on your name, “So, who are you, hunter? I told you my name so it’s only fair you tell me yours.”

You sat back on your hands, letting out a deep sigh and speaking as you let it out, “_____. It’s _____. Happy?”

It was his turn to smile now, glancing up at you through dark lashes as dimples appeared on his cheeks, “Very.”

It was only then that you had realized the door had opened with two wolves holding clear jars of various plants and herbs. Both of them just stood in the doorway, looking uncomfortable at best.

“Um…” one of them with round cheeks and shaggy brown hair spoke up timidly, “i-is this a bad time?”

-

Chan was half-surprised to find the entire pack still awake, gathered downstairs in the cramped kitchen. And of course, the topic of conversation was you and their alpha. Jeongin and Jisung, who had mixed up the herbs to help heal your wounds, were giving out all of the information they had gathered from the few minutes they were in the room.

The pack had moved to a tiny cabin quite a few miles away, but they had recently decided to move back to their cozy little hole under the giant tree due to lack of space at this new place they’d found. They were still in the process of packing up to move back to said tree, but they now assumed plans would change since you had quite literally crawled into the picture.

All eyes darted to Chan as he walked in, carding a hand through his hair.

“Is the menace finally asleep?” Minho asked, venom in his voice as he tended to his cut-up arm.

“Yeah, I had Jisung mix something up to get her to sleep,” Chan breathed. His thoughts were running at a million miles an hour but he was trying to hold himself together in front of you despite his own confusion, and conflicting emotions and instincts. “I figured if I helped with the pain myself it might freak her out, and she’s already been through a lot tonight.”

“Her?” Seungmin spat, icing his cheek as he sat in a chair opposite Minho at the table. “I wake up to go pee just to see some hunter in our bathroom! And she’s got a fucking right hook, let me tell you.”

“It’s not like she broke your jaw,” Jeongin reminded him, rolling his eyes. "You're not even gonna bruise."

Seungmin shot him a dirty look and opened his mouth to snap back, but Changbin was faster to speak.

“What’re we supposed to do now, by the way?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin looked almost scared, “this is the first time we’ve…had…a mate in the house. What happens next?”

Jisung snorted, elbowing his brother in the upper arm, “What, are you afraid of girls?”

“No!” Hyunjin glared at him. “We’ve just never had a mate here before! I’d be confused no matter the gender!”

“I meant,” Changbin interrupted, “with moving, taking care of her, sleeping situations – stuff like that.”

“Well, moving is obviously on pause,” Chan sighed, rubbing his hands over his face as he tried to organize his thoughts.

Changbin was right, there was a lot to consider now. You were taking Chan’s bedroom, but he was sharing a room with Felix, which meant they both had nowhere to sleep now. There was also the matter of sharing a bathroom, but that was a bridge they’d cross when they got to it, he figured. 

“Um…any way Felix can crash with one of you guys?” he asked once he’d removed his hands from his face. “I’ll just take the couch.”

Minho gave him an incredulous look, “No!” his exclamation sounded almost like a question – a very loud question. “You think we can cram a fourth person in either of our rooms?!”

The house was small, and Chan knew it was already a tight squeeze fitting three grown werewolves to one bedroom. Him and Felix were the only paired roommates just because their bedroom was the smallest. The other two bedrooms weren’t much bigger, but he had to figure out something for Felix.

Jisung could tell Chan was obviously stressed, so he quickly spoke up, “W-we can make it work, though. Don’t worry about it.”

Minho’s head whipped around to look at him like he was insane, “How?!”

The younger wolf shrugged, “We could…share beds?”

Minho’s face was quickly transformed into a smirk as he leaned over in his chair, looking up at Jisung, “You just want an excuse to sleep in my bed.”

“I–”

“I accept.”

Felix made a face as he eyed the two, “I think I’d rather crash in Seungmin’s room.”

“I don’t care who sleeps where or with who,” Chan stated, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Everyone just please go to bed now.”

“I mean this in the nicest way possible,” Jeongin began, “but how are we supposed to sleep with her in the house?”

“She is a werewolf hunter,” Felix agreed a bit timidly, not wanting to upset the alpha more than he already was, but he was wary about having you in the same house as them – especially with how small the space was. “Doesn’t that make her our enemy? I don’t want to sound mean, but…she could…kill all of us in our sleep.”

For the nth time that night, Chan let out a deep sigh, “I mean…technically, no. I barely sense any werewolf hunter on her, so she’s not a huge threat. But…she’s definitely trained to be one, I won’t lie. Still, I don’t think she’s a threat to us.”

“Oh, so we’re just supposed to trust her based on vibes?” Seungmin spat.

“She has the training of a werewolf hunter but do any of you even sense werewolf hunter?” he countered. “But…yes, you’re right. She’s not really an ally either. She definitely knows she shouldn’t feel…how she does toward me.”

The room was silent as Chan’s emotions seemed to finally weigh down on them. They could really see the hurt in his eyes when he said that, and despite how angry or nervous they might’ve been, they felt bad for their alpha. They knew what being denied by your mate could do to a werewolf, so not only could they not even imagine the heartbreak he was feeling, but they feared for his health and his life.

“So…” Minho spoke up slowly, “what you’re saying is…I could maybe take her in a rematch?”

A few of them chuckled, and the room felt lighter again. Even Chan cracked a smile and felt thankful for his snarky brother for at least getting him to do that.

“Just go to bed.”

»»————-　　————-««

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[wolfish-trickster]

I'm sorry, I can't choose you

Gojo x fem!reader, Geto x fem!reader

Part 5

Previous part

Word count: 1.8K

Summary: Gojo and you had a talk, he's still hoping you'll go back to him while you are fighting your own battles. Geto found out you knew about his crush and is also fighting a similar battle to yours.

Warnings: bad grammar (possibly), typos, angst, very little comfort

A/N: I'm sorry the update took so long 😭 I was super busy with studying for finals BUT I finally passed all seven of them today so, as promised, here is another chapter. Will start working on another one to release it as soon as possible to make up for the time there wasn't any. Thank you for waiting and enjoy the reading <3

Taglist: @ilovebattinson @catobsessedlady @tqd4455 @nanao4k @abcdefghijklmmopqrstuvwxyz @username23345 @www-kiana-mp3 @wirwirfr @rjt017 @yu-87 @mars-is-here @yozora7154

To say the atmosphere in Shoko's house was depressing was an understatement. Gojo was paler than his hair, practically no soul behind his eyes. You weren't any better. You were so tired. Mentally and physically drained. This entire situation took a huge toll on you, both of you. The only thing you wished for right now was to get out on the fresh air and not think about any of this anymore, yet you were too scared to even move.

A key scratched against the keyhole. The door handle jiggled. Both of you looked at the front door, awaiting some sort of a judge to close the case and release both of your from this misery.

Geto's huge body nearly blocked the entire door frame. He was breathing heavily as if he sprinted here. Maybe he did. You didn't care why. He was a saviour either way.

"I'm done talking to you Gojo," you whispered while still looking at Geto, hoping he would take him away, to his home or for a drink or somewhere. Didn't matter where. Just gone.

Instead he walked towards the table and stood infront of both of you. "Are you done talking?" he said inbetween heavy breaths.

"I am," you said.

"I'm not."

"Gojo. We. Are. Done."

"That's not just for you to decide!"

"Satoru," Geto interrupted before you could open your mouth, "you talked, that's what you wanted, right? Now, do as you promised and go home. I need to talk with her too."

Gojo's eyes filled with hope behind his shades. His best friend is a true saviour. He will convice you to give him another chance. Suguru always had a way with words, was sophisticated and always knew how to convice others to do his bidding. Besides, Suguru's foolish riding was the reason why the two of you started talking in the first place. Once a matchmaker...

Without a word Gojo stood up from his chair, put it back in its place, took one last sad look at you, your tired face, glassy eyes, hair a mess. He couldn't help but reach out to touch you one last time. He wiped a dried tear from your face. "I'm sorry. I know it's late to say it but I want you to know."

Once his back faced you he looked at his best friend and gave him a grateful smile. Gojo mentally thanked Geto for stepping in and helping him clean up his mess before he walked towards the front door. Once the front door closed Geto sighed and ran a hand through his hair, messing up his manbun.

"Well, I guess you know what I wanted to talk with you."

You genuenly had no idea. It only now downed on you who you were in one room with. Geto Sugur. Also known as the reason behind your break up with your ex boyfriend, a best friend to said ex and also a man who has had a crush on you ever since you met both him AND your afore-mentioned ex. And he wants to talk with you. Yup, the universe has a pretty twisted sense of humor.

"I have few theories..." you said carefully.

"Does any of them involve this?" He said and held his phone infront of your face for you to read. It was the chat from last night. Oh.

You squirmed in your seat and looked away.

Geto smiled more to himself than to you. "I guess you must be pretty uncomfortable right now."

"A little," you admitted.

"Well don't be," he reassured you, " I didn't come here to ask you out." As much as he wanted to.

As soon as he realized it was you talking to him last night his chest swelled with hope. He ran like he never did back to Shoko's house. The closer he got the more excited he felt. Until his conscience woke up. It beat him up internally. How dare you, it said. You try to convice the whole world you're a good person by not wanting to hurt your best friend and yet now you're hoping that girl will fall into your arms because she accidentally found out you love her? How stupid can you be?! Did you even think about how Satoru might feel?

Yes, he did. He thought of it every night when he caught himself daydreaming about you. How a life by your side might look like. He knew he was only hurting himself more but he had no idea how else to deal with all these feelings. Was he really willing to keep his word to not date you even if you and Gojo break up? He wanted to. God he really did. But the temptation to woo you and finally have you in his arms.

You're a cruel monster, his conscience yelled at him again. You don't deserve her, nor Satoru.

He never hated himself more than when he slammed the door open. He saw both of you sitting there looking like a total mess. His conscience screamed at him, he screamed back, but ultimately his voice just wasn't loud enough.

"Can I ask how long?" your soft voice interrupted his stream of thoughts.

"How long what?"

"You know..."

"How long have I had a crush on you?"

You nodded.

"Do you remember when all four of us hung out and we came across a lost kid?"

Nod again. How could you forget. It was the first day your heart sped up when you looked at Gojo.

Geto leaned his lower half against the kitchen table, still not looking at you. "You were so adorable helping that little kid. Reasuring him, wiping his tears, holding his hand while searching for his dad. You were so gentle and I just wanted to protect you in this cruel world. But that role fell on Satoru," his smile vanished, "and as you can see he majorly fucked up."

Your chest hurt. Poor Geto. Even though he was the source of Gojo's absence you now knew he had no idea. He was innocent in this mess and you were wrongfully angry at him for stealing your boyfriend away from you. And after hearing this you felt a huge urge to apologize to him.

So you did.

"I'm so sorry Geto."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Well, at least now you know."

"Did Gojo know?"

Geto gave you a deadpan look. "Would I still be alive if he did?"

You frowned in confusion. "Yeah? I mean, he was never the jealous type."

He chuckled. "Him? Not the jealous type? Please, he got all pouty even when a stray cat responded to my 'pstpstpst' and completely ignored him."

"But," you blinked. This information was new to you. "Whenever I spoke with a male colleague he was super chill. Once I even played a prank on him to see his jealousy level but he had no reaction. None at all."

Geto hummed but didn't say anything. He had some theories about this, one worse than another, but to spare you more wounds on your heart he kept quiet.

He shook his head. "Whether he got rid of his jealousy or not, can you still please keep it to yourself? The man's a mess as it is, if he found out it would crush him."

"Sure," you said and rubbed his arm a little. "I really am sorry."

He smiled and gently shook your hand off of him. Your touch has always been pleasant to him but now that his ugly little secret is out it was more painful than walking barefoot on bunch of blades. "It's okay. You did nothing wrong. I should be the one to apologize."

Your comforting being rejected hurt a little, you weren't even sure why. "Apologize for what? You can't help feeling certain things towards someone," change of subject to take your mind off of him rejecting your touch and possibly going to thoughts you weren't ready for yet.

"True, but," he got quiet for a while. "I'm still sorry."

You smiled at him reassuringly. "I don't know if it will make you feel better but I'm sure you'll find someone much better than me. You're kind, smart, level headed, your heart is in the right place. There will be bunch of girls wanting you in the future."

"Kinda sucks that the only girl I want is the ex of my best friend."

Your heart ached. If only Suguru was someone completely foreign to Gojo you would've- NO. No way. Even if you could see a million green flags in this man when compared to your ex he's still the best and possibly only friend of said ex. You can't even think about getting together with him. Why were you thinking that in the first place?!

"Well," Geto straightened up and looked at you for the first time. You hated how your heart skipped a beat when his purple eyes met yours. "To spare us more heartache and embarassment I'll be going now."

Without thinking you reached out and grabbed onto his sleeve stopping him from leaving.

Nobody dared to move. Both of you had the same question on your mind: why did you do that?

In the end without turning around Geto whispered. "Please," his voiced cracked, "don't give me hope. It hurts so much as it is right now."

Only then you realized in how much more pain he must be right now. His position in all of this was way worse than yours. You let his sleeve go.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. If you spoke any louder your voice would crack too.

Geto didn't respond. All he did was quietly walk out.

Neither of you noticed the crown of white hair outside the opened kitchen window.

[bvidzsoo]

Cherry Blossoms

🌸Student!Mingi🌸

TW: nothing, just a lot of crack imo, and mentions of murder sorta lol

Word count: 1.9k

Genre: university!au, stranger to lovers!au

A/N: Wellll, hi? hehe, idk either what this is other than a super random drabble that I had to write or else it would've haunted me for the rest of my life LOL (it also might be another excuse to not write my thesis *dies*) Apologies if the humor is not humoring, I usually don't write in this style (at least imo). I hope you enjoy, and let me know your thoughts about it! (divider)

            Have you ever had a moment of clear confusion? So profound that no matter how hard you tried making sense of it…it just started making even less sense? That the longer you moved your mind around it, the stronger the headache became. Well, that’s how I felt staring up at the scarily tall guy looking down at me with the softest eyes, which were slightly shaking if I looked close enough. His plush and red lips pulled into the sheepiest grin I’ve ever seen and nose tall and straight, probably sculpted by some God the second he was born. I knew his face, I mean, it would’ve been hard not to when I’ve spent half a year staring back sometimes as I have caught him looking at me numerous times. This guy standing in front of me right now, placing his weight from one leg to another, hands behind himself, and cheeks very slowly flushing, was a predicament I would’ve never even thought I could’ve dreamed of.

“Come again?” I found my voice at last, eyebrows threatening to go past my hairline.

“Are you free right now?” The question sounded innocent enough, but I couldn’t put myself past the graveness of his voice. I would’ve never imagined it could go so low and hold so much rasp, but again, I have barely heard his voice before as he rarely conversed with people around himself.

“Depends why you want to know.” I answered, pushing my hands inside the pockets of my striped spring jacket. The weather was finally warm enough to allow us to wear our lighter fabrics without freezing to death at any given point of the day. The guy standing in front of me hesitated for a second, and then ran his fingers decorated with heavy rings through his silver-blonde hair. The change to it was new, and I would be a liar if I said I wasn’t taken aback by it when I saw it. But it fit him, in a very handsome way, If I must admit that.

“I was just wondering if you’d like to hang out with me…” Oh, well, that was another twist to the plot I had not been expecting. I chuckled, not because I found him funny, just because I knew my two best friends would be hollering on the sidelines hearing this guy’s words. Half a year spent staring at me from the shadows, avoiding eye contact and aggressively watching me when I wasn’t looking, now stood in front of me, looking just as nervous as I felt on the inside, asking me to hang out with him. What sort of alternate universe have I accidentally entered this morning?

“Okay, sure.” He didn’t need to know I actually had one more class. He had finally approached me, was talking to me, looking at me, and acknowledging my existence as one should normally do. That sounded like a good enough reason for me to skip my last class, I’m sure anyone would understand.

“Oh, that’s…” The flush on his cheeks became more prominent now, and he bit his plump bottom lip to stop his lips from spreading into a huge smile, “nice.”

I hummed and offered him a small smile, actually feeling excited about how things were turning out. Even five minutes ago if someone would’ve come up to me to tell me that he’d finally approach me and even ask to hang out, I would’ve laughed in their face.

“Oh, I’m Song Mingi, by the way.” He clumsily reached his hand out, staring at me expectantly. I was so used to his sharp gaze on me that I found myself holding his gaze with a wider smile now, grabbing his hand, and giving it a firm shake. Song Mingi didn’t have to know that I already knew more about him than I should’ve, considering the fact that we were strangers until now. Really, before you start calling me creepy and a stalker, social media exists these days. And let’s be honest, if a mildly attractive guy keeps staring at you every chance he gets, wouldn’t you also be even just a little bit curious about who he is? Call me a magician or simply skillful when it comes to finding people on social media, but it’s been over three months now that I have known his name, and, well, birthday. I might be one of those crazy astrology girls, huge emphasis on being sarcastic right now, astrology girls are awesome when they aren’t fighting demons and regretting every life choice upon one glance at one’s birth chart.

“Lovely finally knowing your name, Song Mingi,” I chuckled, releasing his hand, watching as his eyes widened a little bit, “Oh, you certainly can’t think I haven’t noticed you staring—”

“Oh, I’m sure you have!” Mingi cut me off, chuckling awkwardly, “I didn’t make it very subtle, to be fair.”

“Not at all.” I chuckled amused, flashbacks of his other three friends huddled around, as if we were in kindergarten or something, staring me down while I walked by with, of course, with Mingi in the middle, watching me with a blank face, fierce eyes boring into the back of my head, “I’m Y/N.”

“You have a beautiful name.” Well, perhaps that would’ve made me choke if I had been drinking something, but to my luck I wasn’t, and so I straightened my back, trying to fight off the shyness threatening to cage me in. So far, at least the very little I knew about Mingi by observing him back when he, miraculously, wasn’t paying attention to me, was that he was quiet. Withdrawn and a little even shy, perhaps, but mostly just content in his own world, unbothered by those around him. He rarely spoke, but when he did, I have noticed his friends fighting demons to not die from laughter. And if he turns out to be a funny guy, bingo, isn’t that what every girl wants?

“Thank you,” You have a beautiful face, but I can’t go saying that to him right away, right? “What do you have in mind? I mean, where do you want to hang out?”

And now let’s hope he’s not some dodgy psychopath who hates my loud laugh and made an elaborate plan to slaughter me the second he gets me alone.

“Would you like to go to a coffee shop or would you prefer walking?” Mingi proposed with a gentle smile, his rather sharp features looking dangerously soft and warm as another blush threatened to flush over his cheeks. If he kept on blushing, I might just die from cuteness aggression, “The weather is really nice today…”

It is, but not nicer than you, Song Mingi, “It is, let’s go for a walk, maybe?”

“A walk it is, then.” Mingi sealed the deal with a firm nod of his head, and I couldn’t help but giggle, trying to remind myself that this was really happening and I wasn’t in some alternate universe, or even in dreamland. Wouldn’t be too surprising if this interaction was just a fraction of my imagination; my mind is a scary place when it becomes delusional.

“Would you like to go to the park up on the hill?” That was the nicest park in our city, and well, at this time of hour it was littered with just the perfect amount of people to not become bothersome, but neither scarce. Not that I have trust issues—I do—but this is a complete stranger I just accepted to hang out with, and quite shockingly, I do not wish to become the next true crime topic of some youtuber.

“It’s a lovely spot, but…” Mingi suddenly looked slightly embarrassed as he ruffled his silver-blonde hair, rings glinting deliciously under the sunlight, “it’s a bit far from our university and…I don’t have a car.”

I quickly waved the ridiculous words away as I watched Mingi become more embarrassed, “Don’t worry about it, I have one. We can still go.”

“But…I don’t want you to use fuel just for us to—” I reached out as I grabbed his arm, the sudden physical contact stunning Mingi into silence. Oh, did he also feel the charged spark and instant butterflies taking off in my stomach? Or was I starting to like this guy without actually getting to know him first…

“While fuel is expensive, I love to drive.” I smiled sweetly at him as Mingi licked his tasty looking lips; I can’t seriously think they are tasty when it’s our first time talking, “So don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” His eyebrows furrowed just slightly as he nervously chewed on his lower lip. I nodded and grinned at him, probably doing something no sane person would’ve done. But I have stopped caring a long time ago about what others consider sane or not. Rising on my tiptoes, I slung an arm around Mingi’s shoulders and yanked his head down, just a little closer to my face as I nodded enthusiastically. The way his face became red shouldn’t have made me feel so giddy.

“Extra super-duper sure, Mingi.” He chuckled and poked my cheek, I guess it was my turn being taken by surprise. We stood like two idiots grinning at each other as I released him and he took a step back, running his fingers through his silver-blonde hair again, drawing my attention to it once again. Oh, how could I have forgotten? He was a Leo, was he waiting for my compliment? But before that, I was curious about one thing, “Hey, why do you always stare at me?”

Mingi’s face went blank for a second and it made me think that perhaps now is when his psychotic side comes to light, meaning I would dodge a bullet quite early on, but no, he rubbed his lips with two fingers nervously and averted his eyes, “Uh, well…obviously I’m into you. I mean, you know, why else would I stare at you so much?”

Oh, and he’s blunt. Don’t you just love a man who gets straight to the point?

“Because you’re a psycho who hates my guts and imagines how to kill me any time he sees me?” I offered another option, and watched as Mingi’s eyes widened to the point they would pop.

“No!” He exclaimed, almost looking scared himself, “God, no! You’re pretty, and attractive, and you caught my eye a long time ago, I was just too much of a chicken to approach you before.”

“Well, what changed?” I raised an eyebrow, and Mingi scratched his nape awkwardly.

“Uh, my friends threatened to tell you if I didn’t do it myself.” I chuckled and motioned for him to follow me as I started walking towards the parking lot of our university.

“Took them long enough,” I muttered under my breath, but Mingi’s eyes fixated on me as he heard me, “Well, Mingi, I also must admit you’ve caught my eye. Mainly because you staring so much made me feel uncomfortable until I got used to it, but…you’re quite handsome yourself upon a closer look, I must admit.”

Mingi chuckled, shooting me an amused lopsided smirk, “Means I’ve got a chance.”

“Means you’ve got a chance.” I looked at him with a grin, our gazes locking for a few seconds.

To date or not to date a Leo, is today’s question.

Masterlist

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❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

[orchidego]

ao3 has taken me places I wouldn't even go to with a g*n

smoking on that dramione pack

( @ailenach asked me for a dramione rec list so that's what this post is, anyone else read at your own risk )

Compiler’s note - skip down to the list if you don’t need to know why/what exactly I like in fic!

aka my dramione ethos: The most compelling dynamic in a ship, for me, is when it comprises of two people giving each other the strength to be the people they need to be.

Before he can be loved, Draco must be redeemed. In a way, he’s awfully bad at being a blood supremacist (lacking real conviction). Draco’s Slytherin morality, at least as a teen, compels him only in the direction of protecting and preserving himself and his own; he doesn’t seem to have a morality outside of this. Everything else is borrowed from his fear and desire to conform to his loved ones’s expectations. Contrast with Hermione, who has an outsized sense of morality—she knows exactly what is good and right, and she throws herself into her causes with self-righteous conviction, headstrong and beautifully off-putting.

Draco, the boy who belonged everywhere, watched his fragile worldview turn to ash and became unmoored. Hermione, the girl who belonged nowhere, bent the world towards her through obstinate radiant willpower, and established herself. Two people who could, maybe, find a home in each other.

A Draco in love with Hermione might wrap his morality around her courage, might steady himself while in the service of her. A Hermione in love with Draco might be preserved by him, may be bolstered against burning out or being misunderstood or unseen. They’re both industrious with their respective tasks (she researches! he toils!), which lends itself to them having intellectual parity. They’re both kind of intense. Then there’s the general enemies to lovers appeal, the idea that at no point in time were these two characters ever indifferent towards each other. The banter potential alone…!

So this is some of the kind of exploration I like in fic, pressed in many different tones; ff is especially unique in that we can play around with the elements (AUs, contrived circumstances, tonal shifts, narrative beats) and be more experimental because the weight of canon grounds it.

My rec list:

Before I truly begin, I feel like I have to comment on it: I did ultimately enjoy Manacled. A "Voldemort wins" fic with a Handsmaid Tale twist; it has compelling structure, with a D/Hr dynamic suited to my tastes and what I find interesting about the characters. However, it's dark (mind the tags) and I’m still not certain if the content was handled as effectively as the author meant it to be, and so I don't think it's a universal recommendation despite its staggering popularity. If you do want to read this I would recommend downloading it because she's going to delete it off ao3 once the novelization of it comes out next year.

My quintessential dramione recommendation is, of course, The Disappearances of Draco Malfoy. It's a full Deathly Hallows rewrite where Draco goes Horcrux hunting with the trio and as far as I'm concerned, it's canon. Unlike every other fic on my list, I would recommend this to everyone. Written very closely in style to the books, I think it has universal appeal and it’s the perfect jumping off point for the pairing while being convincing. Sometimes I would find myself wishing that this was the direction the books had taken. PG-13, in terms of violence and sexual content, which I find significant enough to bring up since there’s usually a lot of sex in popular ff.

My favorite humor-based rec: Bad Omens. Written in the vein of Terry Pratchett. I would describe this as a "star-crossed morons" kind of story. It's literally perfect.

Remain Nameless. Caveat that this sort of trailed off for me once the central tension with the relationship was resolved but I think in terms of an adult redemption arc it was very sweetly done. Sometimes achingly tender.

The Fallout is probably my favorite “extended wartime” fic of all time. The intimacy in this makes me want to kms, in a good way. I'm linking to a downloadable pdf here since it's been removed off other sites.

Love in The Time of Zombie Apocalypse. Zombie outbreak AU. Strays from canon characterization but. Plot goes crazy. Complex character work. Hooked me all the way through.

Thirteenth Night. Post-war, Hermione assigned to monitor a memory-charmed Draco. Less epic than a lot of the other recs on this list because the scope of the world is small, but it’s quietly good.

This is just my plug for anything PacificRimbaud has ever written, but particularly the historical rom com Love and Other Historical Accidents, the raunchy and funny One and Done, and the tender romantic one-shot Les Pelerins.

BLOODY, SLUTTY, AND PATHETIC. Listen to me. Listen to me. The title sort of explains the tone and it carries entirely throughout. I am obsessed with this version of Draco. All men should be bloody slutty and pathetic. Post-war, ministry employee Hermione, marriage law AU (which tbh I don't tend to love usually, so this really is exceptional).

She Whom He Harbors. Ok before you read the summary/tags and judge me, yes, this is basically a "fuck or die" fic. I figured I needed to make the rec in case this is a vibe anyone is interested in pursuing. But it's not just gratuitous smut, I swear, there's a compelling plot here. Lot of orgasms. But there is a plot.

Brand New World. Epic in scope. Diverges in plot while they're still at Hogwarts. Great Draco redemption arc (which is important to me!)

The Gloriana Set. ThebeMoon is my personal queen of Hogwarts Eighth Year fics. I would also rec The Darkwood Wand, by the same author. Both very fun reads.

Things Without Remedy. Time travel! Adore the serious relationship build in this one.

Tea & Necromancy. Sort of an experimental tone. Equal parts funny and morbid.

Sucker Punch. Also would classify this as experimental; you'll know if you jive with the writing within a few paragraphs.

Choice and Chance. Absolutely delicious plot divergence at the point of Hermione's torture at Malfoy Manor. Involves multiverse elements.

Beyond Recall or Desire. If you like soulmate bonds!

Malfoy Shrugged. On the shorter side; just a great two-shot.

Tromp as Writ. While I'm recommending perfect one-shots.

Mindbound. This author has a series of very short works based on fairy tales. This one is my favorite but I'd recommend the others too.

Past / Present / Future. Barbara Kruger AND a perfect adult Draco characterization? J’adore.

My very last recommendation is something that is so important to me, but I'm separating it like this because it's a WIP whereas all the others are completed fics. Please don't let that deter you, if at all interested.

Lionheart. !!!!

What can I say about Lionheart, except that its author somehow resides in my brain and created something for me, specifically? I've really so rarely read fic that is so perfectly balanced in dialogue, character understanding, narrative arc, plotting, action—when I read this, I feel like how I felt at 11, reading Harry Potter. For real. It's a whole series rewrite, truly epic in scope, asking the question: what if Draco had been sorted into Gryffindor? Currently the storyline is complete as to book four, partially through book five, and being updated. The character work is especially stunning to me. This is the sweetest slowburn friendship-to-lovers of my dreams; obviously heavy on the friendship arc since we're not all the way through, and yet I find that my emotional investment in this is so heightened it doesn't even matter to me. I want to read thousands of words of this (luckily, it's already got 600k+ of those). Thank you greenTeacup, for my life.

I obviously have read more than this so if there are any specific tropes/interests/limitations you want a rec for, I'm open to give an opinion. Also I have my eye on a few fics that I just haven't read yet, so alas, this list is not perfectly complete. The next thing I want to read....Détraquée....

[heartfullofleeches]

Oh my- whorshipper god??

Oh my- Imagine them encountering reader, the poor human, doing their mundane and casual routine, when suddenly, an majestic being appear infront of them, and reader being an religious person, try's to bow, but before they could ever try-

The being bow to them, not even daring to meet their eyes, ashamed to have appeared infront of the being they consider supreme and in their own vision.

Reader is confused, while the god is ecstatic while apologizing from their sudden appear and the waste of their little humans time (even if I'm pretty sure they don't understand the concept of it since one year must be the same as second to them).

The stars fall from the heavens; whisking across the tinted sky and to the earth below. The universe reveals itself to you in brilliant streaks of whites and blues. A nightly stroll led you to the center of a previously forecasted meteor shower. Your current position gave you the perfect sight of the feat. A smile crosses your face as another crashes from the sky; mind deep in wonder towards what wish you'd like to humor before it ended. In the moment you feel truly at peace, and one with yourself and the world around you. Completely whole.

"Is there a desire you long to be fulfilled, my grace?"

You open your eyes. When had they closed in the first place? The celestials align before your eyes; their shimmer growing brighter as they cluster together. A flash of white light flares in front of you; lingering as you look into the face of whatever stood before you. You assume this to be its face, as you can vaguely make out the silhouette of something within the light. It was as if a literal star was now before you; burning your retinas and psychic the longer you stare. You quickly shut your eyes.

"My sincerest apologies. I forgot my form is harmful to the human mind. Even one such as yours"

The being's face implodes on itself; the aura that radiates from it trapped beneath layers of skin in a similar fashion to a closing umbrella. It shrinks slightly in sizes, but still looms over you; dressed in black robes that remind you of a church attendees formal garbs. Strange patterns were inscribed into their flesh. They make your head spin whenever you try to focus on them; the whisper of a dead language no mortal should ever witness.

Even in this humanoid shell, you could tell this being was a power like no other. A God or like-minded deity with an unknown agenda and you playing part. Your legs buckle as you almost fall to your knees. You are unsure if this is your God, but feel you should coward in its presence. In a bizzare twist of fate, that's exactly what it does to you.

The deity kneels to the ground; head near the tips of your shoes. They hold their hands up to you in a prayer; their voice quivering despite how it rattles around in your brain.

"Forgive me, my lord. For I have crossed your path without permission. I simply couldn't contain myself after seeing how you gazed at the stars. It was utterly spectacular."

You struggle to find the words to speak - something that was already impossible before their speech. This - this heavenly creature was apology? And to you? It must be a trick of your rapidly decreasing mental state. The deity senses your confusion. It drops its hands and fumbles with the fabric of its robes.

"I can tell you have trouble grasping the situation. I do not blame you, only ask that you continue to heed my words. I have existed in your reality since the dawn of your kind. I grew tired of my place amongst the stars, and took interest in watching your kind. Never before have I seen another like you. You've sewn the wounds of loniness in my heart with only your existence. You are a treasure to forever behold. My savior."

A flush breaks across its face; cheeks tinted a faint blueish color. It grows more and more excited with each word that fumbles from its mouth; fidgeting in ecstacy from just being near you. You're still unable to properly respond.

"I know I've taken up much of your time and I am sorry. It Is important to you. I only wish to offer you by service as your loyal follower. The line between reality and fiction will bend to your whim if you allow my aid. I give my all to you, my dear grace."

[blog-name-idk]

The Plot Twist | 01

Summary: Once upon a time you would have jumped at the chance to live the idol girlfriend life. The cameras, the action, the whirlwind romance. But what was once a dream has now become your worst nightmare, and you fully intend to fight the universe as it repeatedly conspires to set you up with your seven perfectly good soulmates from Bangtan Sonyeondan.

In which we punt Y/N into all the fanfiction tropes and you do your feral best to subvert the love story.

Because nani the fuck, you are The Plot Twist.

Pairing: OT7 X Fem!Reader

Genre: Soulmate!AU, crack, humor, idol!AU, light angst, slow burn, romantic comedy, just a fun silly old time

Rating: 18+

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AN: Hello all!

This is a fic that is being co-written by @blog-name-idk and @eserethriddle (who also has their own crack/soulmate subversion AU which is INCREDIBLE and HILARIOUS go read it). The inspiration for this fic was that one meme about the anime protagonist avoiding their fate, and then it became a monster. We are having a great time writing this and we hope you enjoy it as well!

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Chapter 1: "What are soulmates, even?"

A prevailing belief amongst the aging population of overbearing parents is that an unattached woman, of average birth and social standing, professionally situated in one of the high-rise buildings in modern-day Seoul, must be in natural want of three things the very morning she turns twenty-five: an envelope of birthday money, a spa coupon, and a blind date prospect. Society’s elders allege that the advent of the twenty-fifth age prompts the rightful transition of the child-minded miss into a full woman, the barest hints of her girlish whims to be cast aside for her foray into the next, imperative stage of life.

Ha! Whatever the hell that next stage is, you have absolutely no care, no inclination to find out. Altruistic as they pretend to be, those very same elders are possibly bored, amateur matchmakers, or worse: aspiring grandparents.

You have your own priorities. You're living the good, simple life of binge-eating all the snacks you can now afford, buying questionable decorations for your single-bedroom loft, and, with undeniable consistency, sleeping in and gaming at ambiguous hours. Half-baked attempts at health fads and investments in miracle under-eye creams notwithstanding, you're barely halfway through your twenties but already living the dream!

Whatever that happens to you after this point? Unimportant. You have all the time in the world and your inner child to appease.

Heavy footfalls thump across the wooden floor of your bedroom, abruptly pulling you from the safehaven of your subconscious. The shrill, scraping noise of your floor-to-ceiling curtains being pulled open flag your internal alarm, but the matronly scolding that greets your senses, voiced in a too-familiar hometown dialect, subdues it just as quickly as it comes.

Burying your face into your pillow with a weak groan, you resign yourself to the loss of another wonderful morning spent in bed.

You should have known this would happen. As long as this woman breathes you will never know true peace.

“Eomma.” You scowl, throwing your blanket to the side as you sit upright on the bed. “This is exactly why I moved out.”

“Bah! Look at you!” your mother scoffs as she takes in your bedraggled appearance. “I booked you an appointment at The Deluxe and instead you want to waste it?” Busying herself all over the room, bending over and picking up litter – the remains of your night's valiant efforts – she crows, “And all these junk food wrappers on the floor! You pigged out, playing those games all night again!”

Well… yes, there was no denying that. It had taken you until early hours of the dawn (and three much needed, middle-of-the-night, rage-reducing convenience store trips) to reach your current savepoint in-game. Although it seems highly unlikely that your mother would be impressed by your latest feat at Super Mario – Kaizo, because somewhere inside you rests an unlovable, masochistic monster – you still cannot find it in yourself to want to change the way you had spent the previous night given half the chance.

Your mother, bless her old-fashioned heart, is simply predisposed to worry about your dubious gamer-slash-working-girl lifestyle, which, not only being within her rights, is also completely understandable! So as long as you kept up visible effort at maintaining the “beauty sleep and charm regimen” she swore by, she usually fell somewhere between unbothered and complacent.

But no. Not today.

"What did you threaten the landlord with to get the key this time?" you query under your breath, too quiet for her to hear. Sleep-addled as you are, you still have some sense of self-preservation.

It just… doesn’t help that your whole face looks as puffy as it feels. Judging by the tight set of your mother’s mouth also reflected by your bedside mirror, her slanted eyes pinned on you, you're sure she’s set to try and advertise the benefits of gua sha within the next minute.

Clearly, getting your own apartment had afforded you more freedom, but not the complete detachment you had been hoping for. And that was fine – every so often you do have the solo-living blues and miss her grapevine chitchat – it just isn’t apparent to you now in your half-comatose state, berated even before you have a chance to obtain caffeine.

Sighing in defeat, you move up and lean against the headboard. Your swollen eyes try to peek past the door frame, to no success. There’s an undeniably hopeful lilt to your voice when you ask, “So appa’s here, too?”

“Ha! That man drank himself silly, crying all night long!” At the mention of your father, your mother’s tone transitions from frenzied to fond, soft mirth dancing in the brown of her eyes. “‘Starting tomorrow she won’t be my girl no more,’ he’d said! It was a right mess! Your uncles had to help me carry him home…” she prattles.

Rounding the bed as she makes her way to you, she pulls you close to her chest, surrounding you with the comforting, familiar scent of her – and your – favorite laundry detergent and the faint smell of the kimchi she had for breakfast. She places a doting kiss on the top of your head then assures you in a rather soft murmur, “Sorry, sweetheart. He’s not here. He was so down he couldn’t even get out of bed, but he’ll call you later when he feels better, I’m sure.”

“Alright,” you concede, melting into her embrace and choosing to let her love bloom in your chest instead. Sometimes you complain about her lightning-fast mood changes from holy terror to loving mother, but after twenty-five years of being your appa’s girl, you figure you can give her this one morning. You snuggle into her. “Thanks for coming over, eomma. I can already smell the seaweed soup.”

“Of course, dear. I heated it up. Happy birthday.” She angles your face upward and pinches your cheeks.

You groan and paw at her to fight her off, but the playful moment is broken when she holds your face hostage and threatens very seriously, “If you don’t make it to the appointment, I’ll drive you to that speed-dating event in Hannam myself. I know for a fact they’re taking walk-ins tonight.”

“But eomma…” you whine, feeling like a fool for letting her motherly love lull you into a false sense of security, “I’m the birthday girl! Shouldn’t I get to decide my itinera–”

A familiar gleam flashes in her eyes and you immediately pinch your lips shut.

You may have gotten your father’s dimpled smile, but the stubborn fire in your spirit, the fierce glow of your gaze… These are the attributes that make you a famed corporate demon and Nintendo speedrunner.

These traits are also definitely, absolutely, undeniably from your mother. And alas, she has had more years and recognition in perfecting her technique.

With the Hyundai car keys twirling around her index finger, you just know she’ll make good on her threat. Your mother, dramatic as she can be, is bull-headed enough to follow through on every ridiculous warning she makes.

Another quality you yourself have inherited.

Glancing at the clock, you scramble off your mess of sheets and pillows and hastily set your feet onto the hardwood floor. Chuckling nervously as you avoid the course of consoles and controllers strewn about the room, you wonder aloud, for no reason at all, “The appointment has a fifteen-minute grace period… right?”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You don’t know what happened after stepping into The Deluxe, not exactly. Scrambling past the morning rush on foot, desperate to avoid all kinds of traffic in your anxious, sleep-deprived state, you barely even recall getting to the spa’s reception area in time.

Upon confirming your appointment, a chic lady handed you a satin robe and ushered you into a private room, pointing you to your assigned spa bed with a gentle, amicable smile. Hypnotizing oils and calming tones sang to your senses, beckoning you to slumber with the promise of warmth and safety. The moment the lights dimmed and the massage therapist placed her hands on you, kneading your stiff shoulders, total exhaustion had taken over and you’d blacked out. An instant, indisputable K.O.

When you woke up it felt like you had re-spawned. Misplaced and mistakenly rearranged, put back together in a whole different body. You weren’t even sure if a body spa was all that had happened… You wonder for a moment if you might have been secretly brainwashed and implanted with a trigger command to kill an unsuspecting prime minister somewhere down the line, but you figure the gods have something else planned for a plain shut-in like you. Surely something less cinematic?

Seeing your reflection in the mirror, your split ends gone and your hair somehow now highlighting your best features, your face made up… Well, now it's clear that a lot more had happened to you. Your skin feels creamy to the touch and smells like rich patchouli, your nails are trimmed and painted ballet pink. You doubt their in-house aestheticians had taken one look at you – dehydrated and soulless to the brim – and voluntarily offered their services… Perhaps your mother did splurge and book you the full blowout package.

In that case, considering the luxurious upkeep of The Deluxe, you send your mother a heartfelt message of thanks followed by a cheerful selfie before finally stepping out to stroll through the nearby streets of Yongsan.

Unlike your usual self, you actually feel good. Very, very good. Beautiful, and rested.

Who wouldn’t love turning twenty-five if this was all it entailed?

As you make your way across the uptown plaza, the phone in your tote bag vibrates suddenly, chiming its innocent, dulcet tones. You stop, retrieve the gadget, and stare at the institution-registered number on the display screen of your phone before clicking to accept the call.

“Hello?” you answer tentatively, hoping you're not about to get called for jury duty.

“Good day. Is this L/N F/N?”

“Yes, but who…?”

“I am Junior Liaison Officer Choi Mijin from the Ministry of Korean Domestic Affairs. I understand you turned twenty-five today, L/N F/N-ssi. In accordance with Republic Act 134340 promulgated January of this year, this is your mandatory communication from the Soulmate Registry Department. May I proceed with the orientation, or is this a bad time?”

“Huh?”

Did she just say soulmate…?

You blink once. Just ten meters from where you stood, a squealing toddler startles and chases away a flock of unsuspecting pigeons perched on the brickstone plaza, wings fluttering against air and cobble. The cacophony washes over you in a raucous echo.

You blink again, stupefied. “Sorry, what?”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“I understand this must be confusing for you. Although our record here indicates that your parents are soulmates, L/N F/N-ssi?”

“M-My parents?” you stammer. There was that word again!

Despite your obvious bewilderment, Junior Liaison Officer Choi Mijin remains unfazed. Not missing a beat, she draws in a quick breath and launches into a clearly scripted monologue: “Historically speaking, the Soulmate Phenomenon was first observed to affect a significant percentage of the adult human population by sociological groups and academic societies. Throughout the years, in tandem with the discoveries of international research institutes and medical community programs based locally, the national government has authorized a domestic agency to advise the public on matters that directly concern their health, relationships, and cosmological well-being. The current research consensus theorizes this phenomenon to be amplified by genetics, meaning that those with parents who are soulmates are highly likely to experience the phenomenon themselves. On these grounds, to offer you a better civilian life, we at the Soulmate Registry Department would like to confirm if you, L/N F/N-ssi, have been experiencing symptoms relating to this phenomenon…?”

You don't reply, locked in a cage of dumbfounded silence. Junior Liaison Officer Choi Mijin simply continues as response, “If so, I am pleased to report that cosmic interference will now rise to thirty-eight percent, with a ten percent margin of error per day, per soulmate–”

“Cosmic interference?” you interrupt, still quite lost in disbelief. "Per soulmate? What?”

"It's possible to have more than one soulmate," replies the desk worker, matter-of-fact. In rehearsed evenness, she elaborates, "It is the department's official advice for soulmates to initiate friendship at first introduction. Otherwise, aggravated cosmic interference can be expected, and may even escalate to public duress."

“Aggravated…? Duress? Uh, give me a second.” You pinch the flesh of your arm. “Ow.”

Eventually, after getting some of your thoughts in order, you manage to ask, "But what if I answered that I wasn't experiencing any of the symptoms? That I don't have a… soul-mate?" The word slides weird and heavy off your tongue.

"Ah. In such cases, please do not be alarmed. The natural implication is that you may continue to live life as usual," the girl's tinny voice reassures. "If you do not have a soulmate then you will not be subjected to visual, somatic, auditory, kinesthetic, olfactory, or gustatory anomalies. This kind of life is plain, but also advantageous, in its own way."

…Too much. This is just too much.

“But what if I do? What if I do have a soulmate, but I don't want to acknowledge it? What if I want to keep my life as it is?"

Choi Mijin pauses, not having a prepared response for the first time.

"Hm? Let me look that up." After audible typing noises and the near-infinite scrolling of her computer mouse carrying over, she finally speaks again. "Hmm. Nah. Nope. Not in our F.A.Q.’s. I wouldn’t not advise against that, no.”

Those were so many negatives you don’t even know what had been implied in the first place.

“I could forward the call to my supervisor," Mijin suggests, trying to be helpful. “The average standby time is one hour and forty minutes. Do you want me to?”

Massaging your temple with your free hand, you attempt to ignore the blooming headache ruining your prior good mood. "I… guess not? I’m not experiencing anything, Choi Mijin-ssi. That just means I don’t have… a soulmate… right?”

Mijin makes a grunt of assent. "Correct. If you did have a soulmate, you’d have to submit forms DR-2a and FS-3c to our main office in Hongdae. There are housing subsidies, minimal tax deductions, and life insurance programs that can be applied for.”

You do not know what else to say. Of course bureaucracy would somehow be involved in the systematization of the soulmate phenomena. You clear your throat and settle for, “Ah.”

“For now, L/N F/N-ssi, your status with us is PR - Pending Registry. Please confirm your status with us in person within the year, else the aforementioned benefits are considered irredeemable. Late registration is prohibited by the Ministry of Korean Domestic Affairs. This is only to ensure civilian and public safety, you understand?”

“Um.”

You look down, stare at your sandaled feet.

You can feel your toes, yes. You're alive, yes. You look at your hands and see all five fingers.

This is real life, yes.

“Yeah, okay. I understand… I think. Hmm. Yes.”

“Great. And, ah, happy birthday. I guess. Twenty-five sure is… something.” Ever since the beginning of the conversation, it is only at this moment that the liaison officer’s tone betrays her professional disposition. Despite your inner turmoil, you do feel for the girl on telephone duty as she sighs and says, “I’m really not paid enough for this.”

The line goes dead, and you’re left to pretend your world has not just shot off its axis.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Kim Namjoon loves the chaos that is his fucking life.

It’s just. He constantly struggles to be the pillar of peace in the middle of it all.

"What are soulmates, even," whines Namjoon. "People who share the same taste in music? People who finish each other's–"

"–sandwiches?" Jeon Jungkook suggests, throwing a hopeful look at the snack in Namjoon’s hand.

Namjoon sighs in defeat and tosses the gremlin his sandwich. It’s gone in seconds.

No, really. Namjoon loves his life. Despite the near-chronic muscle ache and subtle paranoia that comes with baring his artistic, musical persona at a global scale on the daily, Namjoon still truly believes his life is wonderful. It’s meaningful, it’s spontaneous, and he never feels stuck. In fact, he gets to wake up assured that the world has something new planned for him. He gets to navigate life with a profound sense of purpose each day because he gets to rise from bed, head to the bathroom, take a look in the mirror and complain, “Which one of you did this bullshit?!” in countless, exasperated variations.

Because he is truly, utterly blessed.

Namjoon collapses against the plush armchair and rests his legs on the coffee table (yes, like a neanderthal), reinvestigating the faint bruising he’d found this morning on his limbs. Reaching over, he presses on his blemished skin and feels nothing.

“Taehyung’s been practicing cartwheels again,” he realizes.

The entirety of it had overwhelmed Namjoon, at first. Despite his height, he’d acted like a giddy kid about it, because nobody else in his family had – or even seriously regarded the concept of – soulmates. The library books he’d consulted said he was unlikely to experience the phenomena for himself, and so he’d thought what was happening to him was some type of ghost experience, shamanistic punishment, or hallucination that accompanied the grievances of becoming older. That his mind had finally reached its breaking point. Since he was, after all, for the past ten years, what people would refer to as, overworked.

Mm-hmm. Indeed.

From Ilsan to Seoul, desperate only to chase his dream and share his love for the written cadence, he’d found six of the most precious, talented, hardworking, beautiful people he would be happy to maim and kill each godforsaken already-late-for-our-schedule morning instead. It had been a running joke amongst the staff that the group only survived their initial years in the industry through their unmatched chemistry, but once the youngest of them all – Jungkook – turned twenty-five? Everything clicked.

The team wasn’t just a team.

Namjoon still thinks about it a lot. The evolutionary metaphysical logistics of it all. How, upon turning twenty-five, the human “cosmologically matures,” and with the prefrontal cortex of the human brain fully developed, its high cognitive reflex for recognizing patterns in daily life is traded for identifying patterns in the amalgamation of the universal consciousness instead.

It’s some high-level, fucked-up, oddly wholesome matrix shit.

Along with its regulations, the national registry for soulmates had only been established earlier this year. And though Namjoon would have appreciated any primer on the shared experiences he’d soldiered through with the boys, it was nothing short of a miracle that they had all met, grown, and gotten this far together since the beginning. In place of scars they had anecdotes of each other, kept and cherished all the same. Mountains of memories, good times and bad…

A decade. Ten years since they had shared their first greetings at a rundown garage, bright-eyed with the single aspiration of producing heartfelt, healing music.

Ten whole years.

The matter at hand is what happens now. With their original ten-year contract fulfilled, all the shows and radio stations only seem capable of talking about (read: dissing on) Bangtan Sonyeondan. So-called “experts” and industry seniors hinging on their disbandment. Like the seven of them had made it to the top, and now was high-time to let the accolades go and freefall.

Namjoon wants to scream and curse and tell them all off and yet…

All seven of them are at a standstill. One wrong move could push all seven of them off the ledge, off the pedestal of their own making. Their contracts are hybridized now, solo and group opportunities taken into serious consideration. Clauses had been inserted for mixed agency projects, brand endorsements, business ventures, and, most importantly, well-earned rest.

The immense physical and emotional battery of being in an idol boyband, the relentless media scrutiny, the hardship of being isolated and away from home – none of them wanted another ten-year repeat. The legal discussion of it had been fruitful, but in the aftermath the grueling effort had sucked the – bear with him on this – soul out of them.

And it wasn’t just Namjoon. At the latest dinner everyone had admitted to feeling… off. Petty bickering had been frequent lately, uneasy afternoons as well as uncharacteristic detachment. Moodiness. Namjoon’s afraid to put a name on it, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

Could depression be shared through their soulmate bond? God, Namjoon hopes not. So many things could happen, and this time, no amount of planning makes it seem possible to control. It feels like something else. Something familiar but new and oddly foreboding.

Well. Whatever the hell it is, Namjoon doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it one bit.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Instead of attending the blind date event for dinner, you find yourself standing at the porch of your parents’ diner instead.

Your father hurriedly shuffles to the doorway to usher you in, struggling to hide his excitement with the bogus scowl he plasters on his face.

“Young lady, why are you here?” he admonishes. Deciding to act preoccupied, he starts wiping down the tabletops, grumbling all the while, “Shouldn’t you be at that event in Hannam? Your mother said you wouldn’t have the time…”

You want to march over and hug your appa. You know what he’s really asking, why he’s glancing nervously past your shoulder. You’re here? Does that mean you’ve met the one who will replace me as your most important person? The government people nagged us about registering and they said in the future you might find yourself in this soulmate business too and you’re my little girl but… are you still?

You playfully nudge him by the shoulders with a bump of your own. “Naw, but don’t tell eomma I skipped it.”

Your father's lips twitch but then settle into a secretive smile. You both know that The Madame would drag you back by the scruff of your neck if she knew. And possibly send your father to the doghouse.

For some reason you can’t fathom, it frightens your mother to see you living the bachelorette life so well. Despite their being soulmates, her opinion is at complete odds with your father's, who basks in the joy of being the most important man in your life. And while you can kind of understand where your mother is coming from, chasing after boys… filling your heart with sweet nothings and butterflies… You’re not thirteen anymore. You're past that phase now. You know better than to put all of your romantic hopes and dreams into something that will inevitably let you down.

“Maybe that kind of thing isn’t for me, appa.” you admit. “You and eomma found each other, that’s good enough for me.”

Your father glances at you as he flips the store sign from open to closed, and says, solemnly, “Wildflower, you never know what the universe has planned.”

You take a deep breath, shoulders pinched. “But…”

“But what? But you don’t want love?”

“Appa…”

Your mother walks in through the backdoor. When she sees you next to your appa, her eyes shine with happiness.

They’re your eyes, too.

Your father hums. “Look at you. The best of both of us.”

Because It’s fine. You’re fine. You don’t need a soulmate. Your happiness couldn’t possibly be dictated by a cosmic phenomenon. Your life is beautiful, and simple, and enough. The things that you have, the love around you – they’re already more than what you deserve.

You pluck off a spare apron and help out with the rest of closing. Your father brings out his special blend of makgeolli and leaves you in-charge of hotpot prep for dinner. Drunk in just two bottles of soju, your parents compete about who had cooked the better seaweed soup, crooning absurd versions of the happy birthday song until you yield and promise to stay the night.

Chatting with them, laughing yourself to tears, you completely miss the double-decker bus that passes out front.

Unlike most city buses, this one has its exterior gorgeously laminated in purple, black, and gold. The vehicle is sleekly rendered with congratulatory greetings for the tenth anniversary of an all-male idol group, along with well-wishes of their fans upon the announcement of their individual pursuits as artists.

Your mother squints quizzically at the fan-made bus as it passes, an arm lifting to point it out to you. In her drunken haze though, she barely manages a garbled whine before her head bows and drops onto the table with a soft thunk.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

In the backseat of his custom-interior Palisade, Park Jimin groans, letting his face fall into his palms.

How is it even possible to get stood up at a speed-dating event? When he’d gotten there, everyone had already been paired up, and sure, work had held him up and made him late, but weren’t people supposed to turn up no matter what? Damn. Maybe the organizers were right. Maybe he is at the age and status nobody wants to be matched with anymore.

God, Taehyung is going to make so much fun of him for this.

The only silver lining is that this means Namjoon and Sejin can't chew him out for being "irresponsible" and "putting himself in danger." But come on, no one would believe that a member of BTS would have to resort to a speed-dating event. When he's bare-faced the worst that could happen would be for someone to say he kind of resembles Park Jimin. Probably.

Yes, he has six great soulmates he loves with all his heart. But he loves five of them like brothers. He does want something more, and it's gotten to the point where seeing an old man pushing his wife's wheelchair brought him to tears. Or as Jungkook would say – he wants a soulmate that makes his privates happy, not just his heart.

Is it that so much to ask for? He knows he’s already lucky. So lucky, far luckier than most of the world. He's blessed to have one soulmate, let alone six. The success of BTS wouldn't have been possible without everyone's hard work, but there are many groups that work just as hard and never see the light of day.

Maybe he just needs space. Maybe he should get his own apartment, spend some time outside of the house he shares with his six partners in crime. Somewhere he can just be Park Jimin, a boy looking for love, and not Jimin of BTS.

With a renewed sense of purpose, he grabs his phone and starts looking at listings.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Masterlist | Next

[zukka-fic-recs]

Hello! I am totally new to reading Zukka and would love some recommendations. If you've already done this, please feel free to just link to another post! I would love a few recs of what you consider to be "must-reads". I'm open to any length or rating (although I tend to read rated E), I would just love to start with a few that are phenomenal :)

Hi stavro!

Welcome to the wonderful world of Zukka fics!

Here's a Zukka starter pack for you, I limited it to 10 fics to stop it from getting too unwieldy, but it was really difficult to keep it so short tbh, so if you want more lmk!

Zukka Must-Reads

Blue by blacklipscurse

Available on Ao3, Complete (Part 1), Teen, Slowburn, Canon-Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Blue Spirit Zuko, Secret Indentities, Ba Sing Se, Angst, H/C, Homophobia, Physical Disability, Humour / Humor

Wordcount: 192,682

This fic is a whole damn phenomenon in this fandom and it's phenomenal to match! The way the characters are written really draws you in. It's a very emotive fic and I truly cannot emphasise how funny blacklipscurse's writing is, I laughed a lot. Especially at Zuko, and sometimes Sokka. 😅 There is a sequel but it's a WIP and Blue can stand alone. :)

absence of heat, excess of destiny by theycallmesuperboy / @baegarrick

Available on Ao3, Complete, Gen, Canon-Compliant, Alternate Universe - Soulmate, AU - Soulmate-Identifying Marks

Wordcount: 4,336

Absolute classic, and I love soulmate fics so for me this is top tier.

Real Slow by surveycorpsjean (Ao3) / zanimez (Tumblr)

Available on Ao3, Complete, Mature, Post-Canon, Fluff, Smut, H/C, Angst, Ambassador Sokka

Wordcount: 21,490

The way their relationship gently unfurls in this is very satisfying. Highly recommend!

Hallowed by HairCrescendo / @sword-and-stars

Available on Ao3, Complete, Explicit, Smut, Fluff

Wordcount: 4,615

Smouldering smut and fluffy feelings. I'd recommend all of HairCrescendo's work tbh, they're a fantastic writer and they have about a dozen more Explicit works. ;)

three words that become hard to say (I and love and you) by overcomeeithlongingfora_girl / @overcomewithlongingfora-girl

Available on Ao3, Complete, Explicit, Smut, Praise Kink, Subdrop, Domdrop, Light BDSM

Wordcount: 2,977

This fic is hothotHOT, and yet also so sweet and emotional it makes my heart hurt. Bring a fan and some tissues.

Courtesan by lesbianophelia / @mendontprotectyou

Available on Ao3, Complete, Explicit, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Light Praise Kink

Wordcount: 2,200

So scrumptious I just want to eat it. Prepare to feel things. 🔥

For Peace and Zuko by BeersForQueers / @omgbeersforqueers

Available on Ao3, Complete, Explicit, Slowburn, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Future Fic, Canon-Divergence

Wordcount: 43,277

Speaking of classics, honestly you could read anything and everything by BeersForQueers and I would recommend doing so! They're a longtime member of the fandom. They were there for this ship when it needed it most (I want you to know that I just blew a kiss to the sky). Having said that, For Peace and Zuko is one of my absolute favourites. The sequel Ice Cave makes for a lovely epilogue.

when the prison doors are opened by alternatedoom

Available on Ao3, Complete, Explicit, Underage, Sickfic, Angst, H/C, Voyeurism, Animal Killed for Food, FWB, Imprisonment, Dub-Con

Wordcount: 164,648

I don't know if this counts as slowburn given... ahem, the progression of things. On the emotional front, perhaps. Their relationship development is messy in a delicious way, really twists you around into such wonderful spirals... Idek if I'm making any sense, that's what this fic does to my mental capacity! Every character interaction is just so so good and the way the tension gets ratcheted up and then unwound is captivating. I could gush about this fic all day, but instead I'll just leave it at: it's really, really good and you should read it.

In the Soft Light by CSHfic and VSfic

Available on Ao3, Complete, Teen, Slowburn, Pining, Canon-Divergence, Alternate Universe - War Ended Early, Angst, H/C, Firelord Azulon, Miscommunication, Pining, Underage Drinking, AU - Moon Spirit Sokka, side Bakoda, Sickfic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Bed-Sharing

Wordcount: 83,904

Some of my absolute favourite authors in this fandom and all of their work is fantastic quality. In terms of spot-on characterisation, wonderful descriptions, plenty of humour to balance out the angst... Their writing is masterful, and this is one of my favourites of their fics. They have more mature/explicit works as well. ;) (Side-note: I absolutely adore Zuko in this fic).

(do you take this jerk to be) your one and only by jatersade

Available on Ao3, Complete, Teen, Slowburn, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Arranged Marriage, Bed-Sharing, Misunderstandings, Pining, AU - Royalty, Alternate Universe - 100 Year War Ended Early, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Wordcount: 55,846

I love the arranged marriage trope and I love it when authors play around with the gang's status as the children of royalty and world leaders, and this fic does all of that so well. Jatersade's pacing and the quality of their charecterisarion really elevates this fic.

---

I wanted to keep this list to complete fics, but I do have to mention feels like we only go backwards by oldpotatoe, because although it's a WIP it is iconic.

Also, a personal favourite of mine that has been discontinued (but didn't end on a cliffhanger or anything) is invisible string by wilteddaisy (taotu). I have it saved to my phone as a PDF for when I need a comfort read, that's how much I love it.

[nontoxic-writes]

thanks for the tags, @firenati0n, @kiwiana-writes and @cha-melodius!!

i dont have anything new to post for wip weds and honestly the job search has been wiping me outtttt and im too tired to dig through 65k+ words for a good snippet so i'll say that today is april 10th and for Reasons, i wish this was ready to post now (and that it had a title lmao) because cat's out of the bag with this one:

(cw for suicidal thoughts)

Henry blinks, and the fantasy falls away. It's just him, alone, at the stern of the Titanic, the ocean churning beneath him and a bleak future awaiting him once it docks. He only has six days left with Henry Fox before he has to be buried, before he no longer has a life to himself at all. Six days, and he still isn't entirely sure who Henry Fox is, who he would like to be if he had more. Without thinking, he steps onto the first rung of the railing, then the next, then the next, until he swings his leg over. It’s only then that he realizes what it is he’s doing. He glances at the sky again. It’s still an empty black, no stars blinking back at him. He leans forward, hands gripping the railing behind him, and he contemplates it. It would be quick, at least. He's certain that the weight of his secrets will pull him straight to the ocean floor. "Henry?" Henry’s head whips around, and the universe must have the the most twisted sense of humor. "Alex?!"

a titanic au? from nontoxic? likely place for it to be.

no-pressure tagging @indestructibleheart, @welcometololaland, @hgejfmw-hgejhsf, @rmd-writes and @maxbegone, also an open tag for anyone who wants it, im sorry im so braindead and literally cannot remember anyone at the moment, someone please send sleep.

[sallowsdiary]

Today was a true test of character—or at least, my ability to handle the most trivial of disasters. You see, this morning I woke up with a plan: to be the epitome of style and sophistication. I prepared myself meticulously, donning my finest tie, checking every detail with the precision of a potion master. But alas, I made a grievous error.

In my haste to impress, I neglected one crucial detail—my face. Yes, I missed a patch of stubble right under my left jawline. It wasn’t until Imelda gave me a rather curious look in the Great Hall that I realized my mistake.

It was as though the universe had conspired against me. Of course, Prewett, ever the opportunist, decided this was the perfect moment to showcase his new “You don’t have to be perfect” charm. He spent all of breakfast mocking me with every conceivable beard joke known to wizardkind. By the end of the meal, even Ominis was snickering as he suggested I start a new trend called “The Lopsided Stubble.” Two entire tables erupted in laughter. I would have hexed everyone if only my wand hand wasn’t still trembling from embarrassment.

I’m starting to think that perhaps the universe has a twisted sense of humor, or maybe I’m just doomed to have my grooming mishaps broadcast to the entire school. I spent the rest of the day dodging inquisitive glances and giving curt replies to avoid any further embarrassment. The stubble, now a prominent feature, has become an accidental conversation piece. I half-expect it to start asking for its own owl and a private room at the Hog's Head soon.

Either way, I shall prevail! I’m off to find a charm that prevents my stubble from growing in such an unpredictable manner, or at the very least, devise a brilliant retort for when Prewett inevitably brings this up again. Must run, Ominis just walked in.

—S.S

[monroeknoxwrites]

post-canon trans!eddie wip

eddie wasn't there for the end of the world. Or the end of hawkins anyway.

He wakes weeks later, in a hospital bed several miles away. His uncle explains that henderson kid contacted him, let him know he was alive but barely.

"I didn't think you'd make it on the ride there," his uncle says, looking at his hands. "But we couldn't take you to anywhere nearby."

He trails off, lifting his eyes filled with apologies. Like he failed him along the way somehow.

'What're you sorry for?' eddie doesn't say. 'You're only the only one who stuck around.'

What he does ask is "What happened?" How much would they tell his uncle? How would they explain the shredded state of him?

Turns out, dustin used jason and his goons as the scapegoats this time.

So the universe does have a twisted sense of humor.

Not that jason was around to contradict them -- he apparently died in the "earthquake".

All that and they failed. Must have. What else could cause that much destruction?

His uncle's info gets shaky after that. He knows the army came in, for diaster relief. Then they lost media coverage.

"A week after the quake there was some sort of aftershock? It destroyed most of what was left standing."

eddie's mouth goes dry.

His fingers fidget with the rough texture of the dull blue hospital blanket, the texture distraction enough for the panic screaming at the back of his mind.

It sounds like bats.

"What, uh. What about the people there?"

His uncle sighs. "You care about those people?" There's bitterness in his tone but only a little. Mostly he looks sad. And proud?

A lots going on, eddie isn't sure if he's processing all this right.

"I guess you would," his uncle interrupts him from asking again.

"You're little friend visited a few days ago. Brought the Harrington boy with him, older, fancy hair?"

"Steve." The name tumbles from his mouth and with it a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Yeah. They told me most of the town was evacuated before it hit. Few causalities. All their friends and families made it out safe."

robin, nancy, the other kids -- they're all okay.

He nods along. Mutters to himself. "Good. Great. I knew they'd do it."

"Of course, this was after they asked about you."

eddie snaps back to attention, shifts in the bed.

"He— /They/ asked about me? What'd you tell them?"

"Why else would they come all this way?" his uncle counters, fussing for a second with the pillows behind him.

"When they came, the doctors said you'd be awake soon. But not soon enough for them." His uncle smirks. "They wanted to wait around until you did. The head nurse chased them out eventually.”

Yeah, that sounded like dustin. Hard convincing that kid to do anything. He was sure dustin pestered steve for a ride here, that's why he stuck around so long.

"I have a number from each of them," his uncle says rifling through his pockets.

"Asked me to call if there was any change. Or let you do it if you were well enough."

"Both of them?" eddie asks slowly, like he's trying the words on and finding they don't fit right.

"Yeah. That dustin kid was pretty insistent. 'Day or night' he said."

eddie laughs, in spite of his confusion, in needing to know what they both said.

"Yeah, he's like that."

"Steve, was it? He practically pushed the kid out the door and handed me his, asked me to just let him know when you were awake again."

eddie doesn't know what to say to that. He's all too aware of his uncle's eyes on him. Searching him.

He pulls a grin, gestures at his healing wounds. "Guess he doesn't wanna see his valiant rescue wasted."

"Hm."

The conversation ends there.

For all the fucking sleeping he's been doing lately, eddie tires pretty quickly. He's nodding off by the time his uncle leaves to talk with the doctor.

He drifts to sleep with the vague impression of arms carrying him. Two sets of voices coming from miles away.

One crying, begging him to hold on.

And the other...

Hang on, man, okay? We're back, we made it out. So you need to hang on. I didn't go through all this for you to die on me!

"Don't be upset."

Not the best thing to hear in a hospital.

eddie had just finished swallowing the last bit goblin shit that passes for food in this place. Apparently different textures are bad for recuperation. Or any texture.

His uncle gives him that great opening line as soon as he's in the door. He's sitting close, speaking low.

"The doctor's coming in now. She's gonna tell you a few things."

eddie taps his fork against the tray to the rhythm of the song he played on top of the trailer. It's been stuck in his head since he woke up.

He continues in silence, waiting, shoulders subtly tense. He can guess what this is about.

"I had to put you under the other name," his uncle says, as delicately as he can. He's looking sorry again and eddie hates it.

A lopsided grin splits his face. He taps faster at the tray yet responses casually, "A few weeks ago I was sure my time was up.

"I think I can handle it."

He kept that grin on his face when the doctor came in. It knocked her off balance a little but she recovered far too quickly. Returns it with a subdued one of her own.

"Miss Munson? Would you mind me calling you Samantha?"

'Actually, I'd prefer if you called me just about anything else.'

"Sam's good."

The doctor hummed meaningfully. She cast a glance at his uncle.

"Sam, there are some sensitive subjects I need to speak with you about. If you'd rather do that in private—"

His uncle didn't move in his chair but eddie sensed him shifting into protective mode.

"And I told you I wanted to be present for this. She's... She's just woken up, it might be too much."

He stumbles over the word like it's wrong coming out of his mouth. With the guilty hesitancy of a kid swearing in front of their parents for the first time.

It lightens the wound up feeling in eddie's shoulders.

"Mr. Munson." The doctor's short tone tells eddie this is a common argument between them.

"Your niece is of legal age. It isn't appropriate for me to discuss these things with you present. The only reason we did beforehand was because her unconscious state necessitated it."

His uncle readies himself for a fight. He's never been a big fan of doctors and Eddie can tell he's extra agitated by the situation. The muscles in his balled knuckles jumped at the word 'niece'.

He cared more about this bullshit than eddie did.

Avoiding a shouting match in the middle of a hospital, eddie cuts in. "Then it doesn't really matter if he sits in on this then."

The doctor clears her throat, gives him a pointed look he willfully pretends not to understand.

"Sam honey, I don't think you quite grasp the nature of what I need to discuss with you."

"Of course not, you haven't said anything yet."

The doctor glances from his uncle to eddie, recognizes her 'polite suggestions' are a waste of time, and surrenders.

Her motherly face drops, continuing in a more clinical vein.

"Very well." She put on the glasses dangling around her neck as she read his chart. It made her appear even more severe.

"The extent of the damage to your chest was significant. In closing the wounds, we had to remove much of the damaged tissue."

Something clicks in eddie's head.

Something he really should have noticed immediately but he was too busy celebrating still being alive and knowing his friends made it out too.

The general soreness that is now his chest distracted him from another feeling: lightness.

The bandages, he didn't think because of the bandages, it all seemed normal!

The doctor mistakes his pawing at his chest, the stunned expression on his face as devastation, her voice carrying a note of sympathy.

"Easy honey, you'll open your stitches."

eddie flops back on the bed, running both hands through his hair. He lets out a sharp sound.

"This isn't easy for one so young. But I can give you the number of a doctor who specializes in reconstructive surgery."

eddie doesn't pay attention to her. He purses his lips, fisting the hands in his hair, eyes dead ahead. It's taking all the scant bit of self control he has not to shout.

His uncle takes the number, ushers her out the door.

eddie catches the pitying look she shots him from the doorway but he honestly couldn't care less.

Once she's gone, he throws his hands into the air and crows. Bad idea. Intense pain blooms in his chest and he's curling into himself, wincing before dissolving into deranged giggles.

"Careful!" His uncle scolds. "She's right about one thing: you're going to pull those stitches if you don't settle down."

"Looks like. Saving the world isn't the only boon. I got out of all this," he gasps between laughter.

His uncle shoves a paper cup of water in his hand, shaking his head but not commenting on what he said. He's used to him not making sense.

eddie needs another dose of pain meds for all his antics. Worth it.

He helped vanquish vecna and lost his tits in the process!

eddie rides the high of his prize all day. The nurses label him a menace; pestering them about how long until he can get the bandages off. Pacing the wing once they release him from the IV.

It's hard staying still.

He bets they wish he was their quiet unconscious patient again.

[burningexeter]

[PITCH]

Incredible Stories Told By Shego

What is it —

A spin-off/reboot of Kim Possible, and a horror anthology series hosted by Shego in animated wraparound segments that appear in the beginning and end of every episode with Nicole Sullivan reprising her iconic role.

PREMISE:

As with most antholgies, each and every episode has a new setting, story and characters although some details connect the stories and therefore not only does it help make the series stand out from others of its genre but also heavily imply a shared universe.

But another thing that adds to it is that the series is live action with animated wraparounds featuring Shego in a Rod Serling/Cryptkeeper type of host role that book-ends every episode and the overall tone of the show is a mix of enchantment, sci-fi, adventure, mystery and most of all, horror with inspiration being taken from Amazing Stories, Trick r Treat, R.L. Stine's The Haunting Hour: The Series, Tales From The Darkside and last but not least Wild Tales.

Every episode obviously features a different cast in a scary and often surreal situation that would involve ghosts, aliens, witches, zombies and monsters but the storylines are much darker and some episodes serve as very dark morality tales. Better yet, the threat of death is not implied, being both clear and permanent. In addition, death in the show is not limited to antagonists and minor characters with some stories even ending with the main protagonist(s) being killed.

That said, there will be a good and solid as a rock balance between good and bad endings with the formers feeling the most earned and the latters being dark and twisted horror ends.

EPISODE IDEAS:

The Rain In The Trench — Set in World War I, a fighter pilot who's shot down, a sadistic and ruthless private and a soldier who's left eye is bloodshot after a gunshot to the head all find themselves trapped behind enemy lines in an abandoned, almost maze-like trench where the spirits of those they've killed who were innocent begin to haunt them and play off their deepest and most darkest fears.

Purgatory On The Way — A spoiled beauty pageant queen is on her way to compete and win her 100th competition when she ends up in a violent car accident that leaves her in a bloody coma and winds up stuck in purgatory where it's revealed she's destined to die later on but she refuses to pass on before she wins the award her career has been building towards.

Bad Wolf Rising — At one of the best but most toughest military schools in the state, a cadet who's not known for his bravery is the only one who's able to stop a deadly wolf-like creature that's infiltrated the school and it's starting to feast on the flesh and meat of the teachers and students when the moon is out and the lights fade.

Sticky Fingers — With the skin of her fingers ripped off, a rookie police officer must use all of her skills she's able to do in order to escape from the clutches of a demented serial killer who's been responsible for the deaths of several officers in the city and is about to add her to his victims' list.

Deer In Headlights — A group of rowdy college students accidentally run over a deer after getting drunk at a party and try to get it out of their car windshield its head smashed through, only for it to keep on coming back to life again and again no matter how many times they actually kill it.

NOTES/TRIVIA/DETAILS:

• The show will run for a total of three seasons as a get in and get out sort of way.

• If the show is a success than it will spin-off into Global Justice.

• While she will still have her signature sense of humor, Shego is far more darker and scarier here than she is in the original series.

• At the end of the show, it will be heavily implied that Shego is somehow responsible for the events in every episode.

• The show will push the rating for how much violence and darkness we can get away with.

[spookyc]

So I was watching season 2 clips of dead end as you do and I was watching the one where Badyah has her totally normal and straight imagining of Norma and Zagan being a thing. You know the whole twilight parody scene. And along with commentors having no sense of humor, of course they have to spin it towards the ship being problematic.

And I will say, as someone who was kinda sorta spoiled on this, I had my worries too, but if you're looking at the actual context of the show, there's nothing to get upset over. Yes, Zagan is 1600, but that's because she was turned when she was 16, so physically, she is still in the body of a 16-year-old. But before you bring up mental age, it's also very clear that she still thinks like a 16-year-old. You don't even have to look at season 2 for this, it's apparent from her first appearance that she's childish and immature.

Like how she talks about how it's "so unfair" that her brother gets to rule over planes when she doesn't. Or later in the finale, when she loses to Temeluchus and is threatening to tell their mom about it. So she's very clearly still a teenager.

And Norma is 17, so what, one year age gap, technically. Is this really what we're getting upset over? Because it's not an issue when a vampire is thousands of years old and looks like an adult and gets with a fellow adult but when a 16 year old gets turned and is 16 for a thousand years and there is the hint of a possible relationship with a 17-year-old, suddenly it's problematic.

This is not the same as the "1,000-year-old loli" that anime likes to use as a cover up. You wanna know why? Because those characters have the appearance of children but supposedly "have the minds of adults" and it's just a twisted way of getting away with having an adult be with what is clearly a child. The same case is true of dragon maid, where the dragons are said to be hundreds of years old but Kana clearly looks like a child and even goes to fucking kindergarten and is still sexualized.

The problem is that there is a clear disconnect between the physical and mental age of the character, but that isn't the case in dead end. Zagan's physical and mental age match up, and her and Norma aren't even sexualized, they literally just kiss in Badyah's imagination which was a twilight parody, it was supposed to be comedic.

And yet I've even see people try to say that "Well Norma doesn't even look her age" which like, excuse my language, but kindly fuck off. I, like Norma, am a very short individual, 5'2 in fact and I can remember a clear and recent example where I was called 16 instead of 18. So you're literally playing into the stereotype that short adults don't exist and that if you're short then you must be younger. But I'm sorry, some people just do not look their age, I often compare myself to that of a 12-year-old boy (which hey, still a boy) but that doesn't make me 12.

Norma isn't portrayed to be any younger than the other characters, she's just at a lesser height compared to them. But that doesn't make her automatically younger than them. And also, I'd like to say, that DE:PP is a CARTOON so of course things are going to be exaggerated, it kinda comes with the medium.

And one final thing, I've also seen people bring up the point of "but what about when Norma gets older" and it's like. Come on, guys. No one actually thinks this ship is going to be endgame. It's simply just not happening and I would be willing to bet my entire bank account on that. Not that I and many others don't enjoy it, but let's be honest with ourselves. Hell, if we're taking Norma's word for it, she literally says Zagan isn't her type. And even if they go back on that now that Norma is training under Zagan, at most, they'll be a fling. But they certainly won't last long enough to be an established couple or anything like. And even in a universe where they were endgame, all that would have to happen is for Zagan to make Norma a vampire with her. And then BOOM problem solved.

Anyway, just wanted to get that off my chest before twitter inevitably makes a callout post about it, that is, if it doesn't implode within the next few weeks.

[sayheykid]

*banging pots and pans* TELL ME ABOUT YOUR OCS!!!

you don't have to twist my arm! my story is mostly focused on friendship and growing up through the lens of college athletics (my fake university and fake surrounding small town are characters in and of themselves)

the central storyline focuses on the baseball team, and several people on/around it. here are the ones you MUST know:

charlie: irish/italian guy from boston and it's obvious from everything about him. captain of the team, de facto dad. he is so so very tired and he acts like shepherding 35 guys is the biggest burden in the world but he would die for any of them and they all know it. he literally cannot turn off being the oldest brother no matter how hard he tries, and holds himself to unreal strict standards, whether that's in baseball, outside responsibility, his family or the numerous handyman projects he's taken on to keep his college house from falling apart. he's a right handed starting pitcher who still believes starters should throw 200 innings a year. he's also more in love with his girlfriend than any human being has been in love with anyone else ever.

ramón: he is both the most and least chill person you've ever met. lanky sidearm lefty pitcher who was born to be a bullpen personality and forced to start. he's loud and colorful and knows everybody. (those who don't know him know of him) he has the best hair on the team and is the designated dj. he does not seek out responsibility to the extent charlie does, but is a competent and respected alternate captain. functional disaster bi

tyler: first string catcher and the babiest boy in the world. i love him so much, he follows charlie around like a lost duckling and has been adopted as charlie's little brother/son. people know he's smart (mechanical engineer baby!!!) but don't realize the depth of his personality because he's pretty shy and it takes a while to get his sense of humor to shine through. he cannot grow a beard under any circumstances. only baseball player in history to be taller than his listed roster height. don't judge that he's from ohio, he couldn't help it.

jake: he's a center fielder and everyone knows it. shows off on the field but is very down to earth in every other aspect of his life. extremely suave and charismatic with a dazzling smile. probably the most involved in extracurriculars of anyone on the team, and should probably be president some day (dude you can't be athletic and smart and musical and handsome and a genuinely good guy. leave some for the rest of us). nigerian and has two moms<3 he was also the kid that took the bite out of the nerf football growing up sorry

sam: charlie's younger sister and captain of the women's hockey team in her own right. she's extremely fiery both on and off the ice, and can sometimes be a bit brash. when it comes down to it though, she's one of the most compartmentalized and action-oriented in an emergency. she grew up as the only girl with two competitive older brothers (ben is between charlie and sam) and the experience was absolutely formative. she takes everything as a challenge, and is more of a frat bro than many of the actual fraternity brothers at their university. all three siblings have adhd.

ellie: love of my life!! charlie's girlfriend and sam's best friend though it's hard not to love her, no matter who you are. she is definitely the even keel in the friend group - very patient and compassionate, and balances a lot of the different personality types at play. she's also the only non athlete, but is unequivocally an equal member of their dynamic. she once gave tyler a buzzcut (at his request) because she's the only one who could be trusted with the clippers. she's just very graceful and poised and the boys would be lost without her, charlie most of all. with that said, she has her own life and own priorities and is quite successful as editor of her college newspaper.

other notes:

charlie and ramón are the oldest, jake is a year below them, and tyler sam and ellie are all in the next year, one below jake and two below charlie and ramón

the four boys all live together in a house off campus (they have one more roommate but he's not as important to the story)

there is literally so much lore i am vibrating trying to cut more than 60 pages for charlie ALONE down to a paragraph. i didn't even get into my worldbuilding which is its own thing. i have brain worms i'm happy to share at any moment.

Thank you for asking! I'm glad my kids are getting out into the world

[fearsmagazine]

IT'S A WONDERFUL KNIFE - Review

DISTRIBUTOR: RLJE Films & Shudder

SYNOPSIS: “A year after saving her town from a psychotic killer on Christmas Eve, Winnie Carruthers’ life is less than wonderful — but when she wishes she’d never been born, she finds herself in a nightmare parallel universe and discovers that without her, things could be much, much worse. Now the killer is back, and she must team up with the town misfit to identify the killer and get back to her own reality.” -Press Notes

REVIEW: Michael Kennedy’s screenplay for IT’S A WONDERFUL KNIFE does for “It’s A Wonderful Life” what his script for “Freaky” did for “Freaky Friday.” Director Tyler MacIntyre does a solid job of balancing the satire and horror to create another yuletide terror ride.

The narrative does a nice job of setting up the tale with many elements that deconstructs Winnie’s world once she is transported to the alternate universe. I appreciate that it is a linear mystery that Winnie has to solve unlike a film like “Happy Death Day” where the main character has to keep going back until they get it right. The story capitalizes on a bunch of the concepts George Bailey experiences once he enters Clarence’s alternate world, but by way of a “Scream” film. Clearly Henry Waters is the contemporary Mr. Potter. I thought it was amusing how Winnie’s relationship issues are also resolved by her encounters in this alternate universe. The satire is delightful and much of the tone present in Kennedy’s “Freaky” is here. I appreciate his sense of humor, as he includes such Easter eggs as a character named Gale Prescott.

I enjoyed the production designs and locations. The killer's costume design, the Angel, is a nice homage to Ghostface from “Scream” and the angel reference from “It’s a Wonderful Life.” They found the perfect town in Canada for their location and there was an element to it that was reminiscent of George Bailey’s and Marty McFly’s hometown. MacIntyre does a solid job of balancing character development with action sequences to sustain the film’s energy level. The visual effects are effective, but nothing groundbreaking. The special effects and blood are solid, but not as bloody as in “Scream.” Russ Howard III’s score strikes a nice balance between satire and terror with often a playfulness of a Danny Elfman score. The rest of the costumes are okay and could have used something, maybe a few more ugly sweaters or something.

The film features some veteran genre actors such as Katharine Isabelle from “Ginger Snaps” who plays Aunt Gale and William B. Davis, the ‘Smoking Man’ from “The X-Files” as Roger Evans. Jane Widdop, who plays Winnie, and is Laura Lee on Showtime’s “Yellowjackets,” brings a lot of charm and charisma to the role. She brings a lot of energy to her performance. Justin Long often creates likable characters you want to hate. Here he gives his character this peculiar, annoying accent that just makes him so memorable and unlikable, truly. There are some other nice casting choices that will appeal to a variety of fans. It’s a solid cast that gels together and makes for an entertaining view.

It seems every holiday season another film comes along that adds to the holiday horror cannon. In 2022 it was Adult Swim’s Yule Log. For 2023 writer Michael Kennedy and director Tyler MacIntyre turn their sick and twisted sights on “It’s A Wonderful Life,” as they turn it into demented roller coaster ride for genre fans with IT’S A WONDERFUL KNIFE. Presenting another darkside of the holiday season, once again proving capitalism is a dangerous thing. A solid serial killer satire that is worthy of a place in your Christmas horror film rotation with “Black Christmas,” (good god the original!), “Silent Night,” and anything else that helps you put the red in your holiday season.

CAST: Jane Widdop, Jess McLeod, Joel McHale, Katharine Isabelle, William B. Davis & Justin Long. CREW: Director - Tyler MacIntyre; Screenplay/Producer - Michael Kennedy; Producers - Seth Caplan & Daniel Bekerman; Cinematographer - Nicholas Piatnik; Score - Russ Howard III; Editor - Arndt-Wulf Peemöller; Production Designer - Tiana P. Gordon; Costume Designer - Matea Pasarić; Angel Concept Artist - Francis Lafleche; SPFX Makeup - Nikki Delong; Visual Effects - SUPERCHILL. OFFICIAL: N.A. FACEBOOK: N.A. TWITTER: N.A. TRAILER: https://youtu.be/n1fvBRAPhEM RELEASE DATE: In Theaters November 10th, 2023

Listen to Our Interview with Director Tyler MacIntyre - HERE

**Until we can all head back into the theaters our “COVID Reel Value” will be similar to how you rate a film on digital platforms - 👍 (Like), 👌 (It’s just okay), or 👎 (Dislike)

Reviewed by Joseph B Mauceri

[monstermaster13]

An Aykroyd Simp’s Wish Come True.

Nathan to Were-Aykroyd TF.

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

Every fan has an origin story and each origin story has a result that tells you it all, Nathan was a huge Dan Aykroyd fan and he wasn’t afraid to admit he was a simp, it started in 2020 and now he was a full-blown simp for Dan in general thanks to his friends on Discord egging him on, but that was about to become so much more. He couldn’t help but dream about Dan sometimes, to the point he dreamed about turning into him and it felt real…even though they were just dreams, at least he thought they were just dreams. But one night he had a dream/vision that he didn’t know he’d have, basically the vision had him thinking about Dan and talking about him to his friends, but the dream took on a twist when he started to morph and transform, this had happened ever since he got transformed into the Were-Aykroyd he is today and he loved it, he tried to hide it, his love 0f 80’s horror added to this.

At first he thought it would be horrifying to be like that, but eventually he warmed up to it and he couldn’t help but think about it, naturally he always seemed to get jealous of others whenever they got transformed…’Aaaw come on, why do they get to morph and not me? I’m the main Were-Aykroyd here and I feel like these people aren’t all worthy of it.’ He was just naturally petty like that, and that's alright. He had his dark moments, yes but he never intended to come across as a villain, it’s just he was the kind of person some people would avoid, and if you think this is going to be one of those anime tf stories with some random oc being turned into one of those bishounen types or a Jojo character or one of those random ones that are a garbled mashup of pop culture references that don’t make sense, this is one that has elements of horror and humor to it. Late in April 2022, the Aykroyd dreams came back to him and made him want more of it, his inner Were-Aykroyd was starting to get worried, he hadn’t been around in a while.

The night of May 6th proved to be more impactful than he thought…he had been having another dream about the Were-Aykroyd side to him, but in said dream he was being viewed as insane for believing in the Aykroyd-verse lore. ‘Look, I told you i’m not insane. There is indeed an in-depth and fascinating lore behind all of Dan Aykroyd’s movies that nobody knows of and it’s all real. I have done a Quinton Reviews style analysis on all of Dan’s filmography and have come to the conclusion that Doctor Detroit and Loose Cannons belong in the same universe.’ ‘You must be insane if you analyzed those movies.’ ‘And what’s wrong with analyzing them?’ ‘They’re both terrible.’ ‘What did you say?’ ‘I said Doctor Detroit and Loose Cannons are terrible movies.’ Without warning, he knocked the person who said that onto the ground with seemingly inhuman strength.

“Wow..how on earth did you do that?”

“You mean knocking someone down with inhuman strength like that?”

‘Yes…wait a minute, aren’t you?’ ‘The Were-Aykroyd? Uhhh…how do you know that?’ He nervously blushed as he tried to remain calm but he panicked, causing his right hand to enlarge and the skin on it to mature as hairs grew on it, his brownish Were-Aykroyd hairs. ‘No, not now…not now.’ He moaned as his stomach gurgled, making a dash for it, he made his way out as quickly as possible before hiding behind the nearest display stand.

“Excuse me for a second…”

This part always was one he could tell was bound to happen, this always happened and when it did, he always awoke to find himself transforming. A couple of minutes later after the dream ended, he woke up to a rather familiar sensation, his stomach gurgled a couple of times. ‘Here we go, it’s been a while.’ ‘Why yes..it certainly has.’ He looked over into the mirror, and he noticed he was already seeing Dan Aykroyd in place of his reflection. ‘Dan. I thought you…’ ‘That I wasn’t contacting you after a while? I’d never leave you, i’m the one true friend you have, unlike some of your previous friends who turned on you and left you.’

“That’s true..”

Nathan raised his eyebrow, this did sound suspicious but he wouldn’t doubt his twin even for a minute. ‘Yeah, i have been getting visions of you a lot recently.’ ‘Which you should be.’ He had been having a bit of an odd year so far, with all the body-snatching and alien attacks within the same area and serial killer incidents our Were-Aykroyd friend was going to be there to help him. 'I could use a break from the crime in this city to be honest, too many murderers stealing human bodies.' 'Yeah, can't they pick their own bodies instead of just picking those of their allies.' 'Some of them kill their own team mates.' Nathan was glad to see his twin and spirit animal again. ‘Do you miss turning into me?’ ‘Oh Dan, you most certainly know I do.’ ‘How would you like to give it another go?’

“You don’t need to ask me.”

“Alright, relax and just listen to me.”

Nathan concentrated and he listened to Dan’s voice, Dan began to condition him and made him feel calmer and as he did, he thought of all those good transformations and forgot about the previous episodes involving the doppelgangers lots of transformation horror and detail involve skin-shedding like reptiles, yet too much melodrama about how they hate being human like Julian for example…'I don't get why Julian hates his human form so much, I mean shouldn't he like being human as opposed to being reptile-like?'.

“Yeah, I don't get how Rachel doesn't immediately recognize him in his transformed state."

‘Yeah I don't get that as well, I hate melodramatic shapeshifters, annoying as all hell.’ ‘But luckily you’re not like them and you like the type that’s more like me, right?’ ‘Of course.’ 'I know you initially resisted and attempted to hide your transformation, but then again you had no reason to.' 'Not many people can understand my powers, I cannot understand them either.'

Nathan concentrated a few more times and as he did, he felt warming sensations spreading across his body as skin matured and lost imperfections, looking at his chest he could feel it broadening and growing as brownish hairs developed on it. In addition to this, the hairs grew on his stomach which broadened a bit as his hands enlarged. He examined his body for a bit, taking it all in as he knew now this was natural. The were-aykroyd was always going to be there for him and he was very proud of this fact, he felt a couple of sensations as his back slowly broadened and his shoulders followed suit and he shot up to the height of 6’1.

His feet enlarged as two of the toes on both of them fused at the knuckle and developed the traits of being webbed as his rear plumped up, he always did simp over this bit…it had been established before he was bisexual and his were-aykroyd side was the same way, but of course he had a particular taste. His neckline altered as his hair darkened, his forehead grew a little bit higher up as his eyebrows thickened, arching a little while one of his eyes turned greenish and the other remained brown, his nose broadened and developed a cleft in the middle as his features became more Aykroydian and plumped up as his voice altered to sound exactly like how he looked…which was to say…like he was Dan Aykroyd, which he sort of was, but he also was himself. He looked over and saw a list of plans ‘Nathan’ had set up, a couple of spells for altering characters in different universes. ‘Perfect.’

His transformation reached completion as he was in his Were-aykroyd form once more and he was glad to be back in business. He began to copy the plans for the spells and then summoned his siblings who were of course Dan Aykroyd characters. ‘Got a new set of plans set up.’

“What are we waiting for? Let’s do it.”

“Absolutely.”

He printed out the plans and got everything that was needed for the spell and he recited it, unleashing a dark blast of supernatural energy that transcended the realm he was in and entering the dimension of the tv show Herodale College, which was an Animal House style comedy about superheroes and villains, he knew of the heroes that he wanted to transform, he admired shapeshifters so he got Mr Mimicry, the team's resident morphing expert who was also an alien to morph into a Were-Aykroyd, the shapeshifter thought it would be easy to morph back to normal but he got stuck in Were-Aykroyd form, which was then followed by Hero House in general being transformed.

The Were-Aykroyd known as Dan smirked as he watched the dark energy wave spread to several other universes, before landing at the Marvel universe. ‘Not yet…but soon.’ ‘Do you have interest in going after them sometime?’ ‘Oh, definitely. After all, were-aykroyds do love heroic figures like law-enforcement and superheroes.’ ‘That’s true, you could recruit some of them.’ And thus with that Dan finished the spell and began warming up another one, this one would be a teleportation spell to bring the Avengers form the MCU over into his half of the universe.

Later on he fully organized for a few Were-Aykroyds to be sent into the MCU as part of his next plan, he would send out some of them to keep the SHIELD agents busy while he worked on his plans to do with the Avengers, he knew exactly what to do with them, and unlike a certain titan he didn’t need the Infinity Gauntlet for it, and thus the year of the Aykroydian invasion was once again kicking off in full force.

Sometimes you don’t need a complex story to tell a good tale of how your character became how they are, sometimes all you need is brainpower, not when you naturally have been developing your own original story for years. And that’s really what anyone could ask for, or even wish for.