#there are things just sitting in my drafts bc of this precisely

[quillthrillswriting]

the following is an excerpt from my new ATLA aang is aaged up AU fanfic!! (or at least, a teaser from the upcoming update on wednesday) (!!!!) (so excited bc u guys seemed to really like the first ch and left so many lovely comments!!

i present to you, a little sample of ch2 of "the teenager in the iceberg"!!!

---

The trio flew on through the sunset, until Tui rose above them, pulling the colour out of the sky as if she were weaving onyx black strands of soft wool into the most beautiful of tapestries. Katara settled on her back, tugging her fur lined overcoat closer, huddled against Sokka, who was in turn huddled against Aang for warmth. Moonlight and starlight bathed the three in enough light that neither Katara nor Aang could sleep, although Sokka seemed to be snoring away just fine. After a few hours of fruitless attempts to slip into dreamland, both Katara and Aang rose from their respective spots beside Sokka and moved to sit in the driver’s bench.

“Trouble sleeping too, huh?” Aang cocked a grin, tilting his head to Katara. She kept her eyes fixed upwards, trained on the moon and the stars, worried that if she looked away, she’d end up staring into his eyes like a weirdo. 

“I always feel so awake with the moon’s light on me. Sleeping under the stars has never really been a thing that works. It’s too energising, too… too much. It’s hard to explain.”

“No, no… I get it. I feel the same way in a windstorm, all those breezes and gusts of wind, it feels… exhilarating.” She watched through her peripheral vision as he looked up at the moon. “In times of war, I think we all tend to forget how spiritual bending is at its core. I’d say it’s a good thing that you’re in touch enough with the origins of your abilities to feel the moon’s pull tug at you just as much as it does on the ocean.” Katara raised an eyebrow at the cheesy sincerity, and he chuckled in response. “I’m serious! Out of all the nations, Airbenders have the highest rate of benders, and I’ve always felt like it’s because of how much we connect to the spiritual aspect of all of this. We feel our element through our veins, we acknowledge its origins, we treat it as a sacred art.”

Katara nodded, puzzling it all over. “I wish I’d gotten to learn bending as a child properly, the way you did, with the stories of its origins and the teaching of precise bending forms.”

Aang’s brows wrinkled at this. “You- you didn’t get a teacher? But… weren’t you the one to break me out of the iceberg?”

“You’re looking at the last Waterbender of the Southern Tribe.” She sighed, hanging her head. “Everything I know about my bending was either made up through trial and error, or scraped together by bits and pieces of the few bending scrolls my tribe held on to. We’ve never believed in building fortresses and kingdoms the way the Northern Tribe does, and so, when the Fire Nation raids began… our waterbending numbers just continued to dwindle as they were defeated and taken to Spirits know where.” She bit her lip, trying desperately to steady her voice.

“That's… that’s how my mother passed. I was there, in the tent, when she was…killed.”

---

just finished the draft!! 4,424 words baybeeee!!!! you guys are eating GOOD w this update. releasing wednesday morning:))) catch up on the first chapter before then here ->

[akhaste]

Fight!: The excessive fear of accidental plagiarism and the resulting need to check every work I never read vs. the immense fear of accidentally plagiarizing the works i become aware of and resulting need to not read anything ever

[hilarychuff]

jonsa wip

i jot down a lot of fic ideas that i may likely never get around to doing anything with bc my writing motivation can be low and my laziness can be high and i’m usually pretty stingy with sharing those ideas for various reasons but sometimes i feel sad for the orphans sitting in my drafts that may never see the light of day

so anyway here is one of those orphans bc even if i ever actually get around to doing more with it i don’t have any ideas beyond just this one shot or maybe one more part from sansa’s perspective but i don’t want it to be a story, just a moment

so here is part of that moment!!! under the cut with no additional research or checking that anything was correct beyond what i could remember in my brain so it could have stuff legit wrong lmao 

--

He can feel the pull of his body, the phantom of the rise and fall of his chest somewhere far away, the faint thrum of his pulse, a tickle in his throat as someone spoons broth between his lips. It’s waiting for him, waiting for him to come back. He hadn’t felt it before. The Red Woman, he’s sure, has done some sort of magic. Something heinous. Something the Old Gods would surely scorn. He had refused before to give up his father’s gods — and they are the only thing that he has now. Still, even if that weren’t the case, he thinks he would prefer to stay a direwolf. 

That is, until he sees the girl. She’s stumbling through the woods, gasping, snapping twigs and crashing through snow. She is running — or, more precisely, she is being chased. She has no sooner fought her way into view than he can make out the sounds of horses, of dogs, of men somewhere beyond her. He is not sure who growls first, him or Ghost, is only sure that suddenly both of them are on high alert, their chest humming with a low rumble at first and then a snarl ripping through them loud enough that Sansa freezes, falls, stays low to the ground, letting her cloak and the snow shield her as her gaze sweeps through the trees until her eyes finally meet his. 

At first, she only blinks. And then, slowly, as though she’s worried about startling him, she gets to her feet. And she doesn’t run again. Instead, she steps closer, eyes never leaving his, and she takes careful steps until she’s close enough to stand eye to eye with him, nose to nose. He’s as tall as she is. Taller. Her hair is a muddy brown, caked in true mud and speckled with leaves. Her cloak is dirty, torn, stained, and he can smell the blood, dried and otherwise, that wells in the scratches on her cheeks, her arms, marks left behind by the branches she’d  

“Ghost,” she says, breathless. She’s not shaking anymore, her hand steady as she reaches up to just barely brush her fingers against his snout. “Jon’s wolf. What are you — Did he send you?”

He had known her as soon as he saw her, but the sound of his name brings everything crashing back, the weight of the world. When he had last lain in his bed, recovering from a battle, recovering from fleeing the Free Folk and facing down Ygritte’s arrows, he had to himself, I should have stayed in that cave. He had daydreamed that he might have made a life down there, might have made the wildling girl his wife in his own way, given her children and raised them just as Grendel had. He had let himself slip away from himself, imagine what it might have been not to feel the very fight for existence making his every step heavy, his every move a calculated risk. He had been tired of making calculations. 

When he had first slipped into Ghost, he had thought he was finally free of all that. Betrayed by his men, yes. Betrayed by some he thought were his friends, yes. But free of it all the same. It was a simpler escape than the cave, even. He had Ghost with him, and he had snow underfoot and sun overhead, and he had enough game to chase and fresh meat to fill his belly. When he’d first felt the call of his body, he could think of not a single good reason to go back. The Red Woman would not have acted if she did not have designs for him, and he could think of few he would want to serve less. 

Let the Black Brothers fight their own war. Let the Wall fall. Let the Others take him, if that was what was meant to happen. At least he would spend the last of his days running and feasting and feeling the snow beneath his paws. His family was gone, after all. His father dead, his brothers dead, his sisters lost to their enemies or the elements. Or at least so he’d thought, and yet hearing his name — hearing his name from her mouth — 

If he could, if his body were here now, he would slip right back into it. Instead, he paws closer, presses his wet nose to hers, feels her fingers gently tangle in the fur on his chest. He is not alone. He is not alone, and neither is she, not anymore, and there is nothing that could make him let her out of his sight except for the sound of the men in the woods. One of them blows a horn, a dog howls, and Sansa startles so hard that she nearly falls over, kept on her feet only by how her hand suddenly seizes his fur, but he does not help her keep her balance when he uses his snout to shove her behind him, that same growl building right back up in his chest. 

She hesitates again, her hand finding his haunch, and then one of the dogs breaks through the trees, and then her hand is gone and she’s running. He lets her go. He will make quick work of the hound, of this whole hunting party if he must. He will find her again, now that he knows she’s here in these woods. It is not a question of if, only of when. He will become a predator to those who would make his family prey. 

[meltwonu]

| 🎃 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 🎃 |

↪ ✦ playdate ✦

this chapter pairing; yandere!wonwoo x reader, side mingyu x reader

genre&warnings; yandere!wonwoo, kinda asshole!mingyu, creampies, sloppy seconds, intoxication, exhibitionism AND voyeurism, masturbation, dirty talk, one sided pining for all!!, kidnapping, stalking.

✖ That being said, I do NOT condone yandere-like/obsessive/possessive behaviour in real life. this is a work of fiction therefore I will indulge in it. If you do NOT like this kind of content, please just ignore it.

notes; if I’m being honest, the draft for this originally was completely different and I reworked it because I wasn’t satisfied with how it was turning out bc it was too similar to sea castles except mingyu and wonwoo were brothers kjdhfdkjh 😭😭 As always, thank you sooo much for the love and interest in Monster Mash! I know last chapter was.... erm, a lot. LMAO 😆 Have a great rest of your day/night and I’ll see yall tomorrow~! 🎃 👻 💕

word count; ~3800

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - x - x - x - x - x - x

you call me on the telephone, you feel so far away;

you tell me to come over, there’s some games you wanna play

i’m walking to your house, nobody’s home;

just me and you and you and me alone.

The relationship you share with Mingyu isn’t necessarily one that you like to talk about, much less acknowledge on most days.

“O-oh, fuck, M---Mingyu!”

It’s purely physical and a little destructive, in your opinion. Especially when you found yourself frustratingly liking him more than you ever imagined.

He bends your leg, ankle resting against his shoulder as he angles his thrusts to graze against your sweet spot. Shapes dance behind your eyelids, lips parting in a silent moan when you feel yourself already close to cumming.

But it’s Mingyu that cums first, hips stuttering as he growls, “That’s right, fuckin’ take all of it, baby.”

He rides out his high, pulling out of you and letting your leg down before you can even process what’s happening. “Hey, wait, but what about me?” You ask, voice small as you watch him get off of the bed. He tugs his pants on, plucking a shirt off of the floor as he throws it over his head.

“Sorry, I gotta go take care of some business back at campus, Mr. Lee needs the papers graded before tomorrow’s 8AM and I’m already late. You can stay here if you want though, bed’s all yours. I’ll be back in a bit, I---sorry, I’ll make it up to you later.”

He’s gone in a flash, door clicking shut behind him as you sit with your legs still parted. Typical.

Groaning, you flop onto your back against his bed sheets.

“Thanks for nothing.”

Wonwoo says it’s the last time.

But every time is the last time.

He wraps a hand around his cock, soft breaths making the window fog up in front of him as he watches you and Mingyu through the window. He times the movement of his hand to match Mingyu’s thrusts as he pretends it’s your warmth wrapped around his cock and not his own fist.

“Fuck, fuck , fuck…” He whispers in succession, feeling his abdomen tightening as he gets closer and closer to an orgasm.

Wonwoo watches as Mingyu bends your leg over his shoulder, mental images of you underneath him instead.

He remembers the first time he’d seen you in Mingyu’s bedroom, curiosity making him watch through his bedroom window as you fell to your knees in front of the other male. Wonwoo knew better than to watch, so he looked away, cheeks burning crimson before he ever so slowly turned back to the window. 

He couldn’t help it.

Wonwoo had seen you around the university campus too, hanging around the art kids in the building opposite the Sciences building where he typically stayed with his small group of friends; Mingyu included. He thought you were cute and kind, especially when you happened to hang around their group for the day. And he liked you, even if he was too shy to ever say it.

Which was precisely why he couldn’t understand your attraction to Mingyu, of all people.

Mingyu was selfish, almost irritatingly so, and Wonwoo knew.

Wonwoo knew you deserved better too, someone much like himself. Someone who would take care of you better than Mingyu ever could.

Movement in the opposite window has Wonwoo pulling himself from his thoughts, brows furrowed when he sees Mingyu leaving and you still alone in the bedroom.

“What…?” He mumbles, slightly confused when he watches you flop onto your back.

God, what he would do to eat you out right now.

He tightens his grip around his cock, this time imagining himself eating you out, tongue against your clit while you moan out his name and tangle your fingers into his hair. 

A stuttered moan falls from his lips as he cums into his palm, eyes clamped shut as the pleasure washes over him.

Wonwoo promises it’s the last time.

“Hey, did you hear about Jeonghan’s Halloween party next Saturday?”

“He’s throwing one?”

“Yeah, I heard everyone’s invited too.”

Wonwoo pretends to go through his textbook as he eavesdrops instead.

If everyone was invited, that surely meant that you’d be there too.

Mingyu glances over at you, tapping his pencil against the corner of his textbook. “Hey…” He starts, “Did you hear about Jeonghan’s party?”

You glance up from your own textbook, bored eyes on Mingyu who looks up at you from his bedroom floor. Neither of you had talked about the previous time; opting to forget about it since it wasn’t the first time either. “What about it?”

“Wanna go with me? I’ll make it up to you for last time.”

No, he wouldn’t.

“I guess.”

You step out of the Film Developing room, arms full of negatives when you accidentally run into a body that walks up from behind.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” The negatives spill to the floor, scattering all around you as you and the other person kneel down to collect them.

“It’s okay.” The deep voice replies.

“Oh, hey, Wonwoo!” You smile, “What are you doing in the Arts Building?”

He blushes a deep red, kneeling and stacking the negatives before placing them back in your arms. “Oh I--I do some film editing on my own and I--um, I was just wandering around. I had some free time, so I was curious.” Wonwoo shoots you a shy smile as he pushes his glasses up on his nose bridge.

Wonwoo was very cute.

“Oh! I didn’t know that! I feel like I’ve never seen you around here…” You trail off.

“Ah, yeah, I actually have a personal studio on the east end of town. It’s small but… I don’t have to share my things, which I’d prefer.” He smiles, eyes twinkling. “It’s no fun when people mess around with your things and ruin them, y’know?”

“Oh my gosh, I knooooow. Minghao always messes up my developing station and moves my shit around.” You keep talking but Wonwoo barely acknowledges it. Instead, he takes in your appearance, admiring you as you talk animatedly about god knows what.

God, why’d it have to be Mingyu.

“Hey, so are you coming on Saturday?” He blinks confusedly at you, “Huh? Sorry, I--I didn’t quite catch that last bit.”

“Oh, Jeonghan’s party! Everyone’s invited so I was wondering if you were coming!” His blush burns darker; were you asking him out?

“I’ll be there with Mingyu but if you show up, you should save me a drink!” His excitement falters slightly at the mention of Mingyu, but he does his best to send you a reassuring smile.

“Of course, I’ve got one with your name on it.”

Wonwoo was kind, patient and understanding from what you knew.

You’d only met him a few times and you knew he lived in the building across from Mingyu’s but all of your interactions with him had only ever been pleasant.

In another universe, maybe you would’ve been in a happy relationship with someone like Wonwoo.

A sigh escapes your lips as you get ready for Jeonghan’s party; short dress barely covering your ass when Mingyu saunters into his bathroom where you currently were.

“Jeez, who’re you trying to impress.” He mumbles, sidestepping you as he checks himself in the mirror.

“I just felt like being cute, that’s all.”

Mingyu grins, hands on your waist before they slide down to your ass. He squeezes hard; a chuckle on his lips when you mewl.

“Cute isn’t the word I’d go for with this ‘lil number but okay. Let’s get going.”

Mingyu drinks more than he should and he knows it.

He takes any drink someone puts in his hands and downs it before trying to find more which usually leads to a lot of 2AM drunk phone calls and quickies in the backseat of your car.

This time, however, you’re just as bad as he is; taking any drink available as you try to drown out the way you feel when you see Mingyu chatting up someone else across Jeonghan’s living room.

To be fair, you weren’t exclusive anyway.

But his eyes dance over to you, a cocky smirk on his face when he sees the effect he has on you. He knew how you felt too, even if you never said a word about it.

Mingyu didn’t want to ruin what the two of you had, even if he benefited from it more than you did. And the two of you were friends, albeit you weren’t sure for how much longer.

He leaves the other girl as he makes his way over to you, eyes unfocused when he presses you into the wall you’d been standing in front of.

“Let’s go somewhere more private.”

“Ngh, M--Mingyu, fuck--fuck, harder!”

Mingyu keeps you bent over the sink, hips slamming into your ass as he fucks you from behind in Jeonghan’s upstairs bathroom.

The loud music drowns out your loud moans and his filthy words as you eagerly fuck yourself on his cock. “Fuck, this tiny little dress of yours doesn’t do a damn thing. Bet you wanted me to fuck you just like this, huh? Bent over a fuckin’ sink at a party.”

Neither of you had even made the effort to get undressed as you hiked your dress up and tugged your panties to the side, hands planted firmly onto the mirror in front of you as you watched yourself get drunk off of his cock.

“G-god, yes, yes! Fuck me h-harder, damn it!” You whine. Mingyu slaps your ass at this, low grunts spilling from his lips. “Your cute ‘lil cunt begging to be filled with my cock at every second of the fuckin’ day. “ He slurs.

He feels his cock throbbing as he erratically thrusts into you, only a low groan on his lips before he’s cumming.

“O-oh, shit…”

You feel his thrusts slow down as he cums inside of you, a soft mewl on your lips at the feeling. You clench around him, shaking your hips slightly to get his attention back on you.

A sharp knock scares you both as Mingyu pulls out of you; panties slipping back into place like they’d never been touched.

“Hey! People need to use the bathroom, assholes!” Someone yells from the opposite side.

“Fuck, we need to go.” Mingyu grumbles, readjusting himself and zipping his denim back up.

You very slowly lift yourself up from leaning on top of the sink, tugging your dress back down quietly.

Of course. Of, fucking, course.

Mingyu can sense the annoyance even without you saying anything, lopsided smile on his features. “Later, okay? Don’t be a brat.”

“Whatever.”

You head for the door, unlocking it before you step out first and leave Mingyu behind. Your body still buzzes with the urge to cum when you start heading down the hallway, panties sticking to you like a second skin with Mingyu’s cum pooling into the material. You turn a corner into an empty part of the upstairs hallways, sighing slightly as you lean up against a wall.

You hear your name being called as you turn your head, finding Wonwoo jogging up to you.

“Hey! I was looking for you!” He smiles, noting the way you seem to sadly smile back at him. “Something the matter?”

“Ugh, it’s Mingyu…” You start. Wonwoo tenses up, hands balling into fists at his side. “What did he do?”

“He’s so fucking selfish! I don’t know what’s up with him lately but he always leaves me hanging!”

Oh.

It’s quiet between the two of you as your words sink in and Wonwoo’s demeanor changes in the blink of an eye. He takes a step closer to you, fingertips under your chin to lift your head up as he meets your blown out pupils.

“I wouldn’t leave you hanging, y’know.”

You feel a wave of arousal wash over you at his deep voice; did Wonwoo always sound like that or was it the alcohol? “W-what?”

“I said, I wouldn’t leave you hanging. I’d put you before myself, if you’d let me.” He smirks at you, eyes twinkling with promise.

“Show me then.”

Wonwoo drags you into the nearest bedroom; excitement coursing through his veins.

In another universe, he would’ve been more romantic about this.

Dinner and candles, picnics at sunset. Ah, well.

“Well, it’s not much but it’ll do.” He says, locking the door behind himself before he turns to you. He takes in your mildly disheveled appearance, walking you backwards until the back of your legs hit the bed.

“You deserve better, y’know? Someone who’ll take care of you.”

“I know… But you promised you’d show me, didn’t you?” Pouting, you hike your dress up before you sit down on the edge of the bed. You spread your legs as you let Wonwoo see your panties that were practically transparent.

“Fuck, you let him cum inside your tight ‘lil pussy and he didn’t even let you cum?”

“How do you know I’m tight if you never fucked me before.” You retort, shooting him a smirk of your own. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, but you felt more confident now than you’d been in a long while.

Wonwoo leans over you, easing you down until your back touches the sheets. “Only someone as pretty as you would have a tight ‘lil cunt and I’ll prove it.” He pulls away, undoing the button and zipper of his pants before he shimmies his boxer briefs down enough to pull his half hard cock out.

You lick your lips at the sight; he was slightly bigger than Mingyu. “Fuck, your cock is huge, Wonwoo…” He smirks at your compliment, tugging on your legs until your lower half hangs off of the side of the bed. He eases your wet panties down, pocketing them before he spreads your legs wide.

“I’m not typically one for sloppy seconds, but…” You blush at his comment. “...If it’s you, I don’t care.”

“Usually I wouldn’t have someone else’s cum already inside my fuckin’ pussy before I hook up with someone else...” You mumble.

Wonwoo guides his cock towards you, letting the shaft rest against your folds. He starts grinding against you, coating his cock in your wetness and Mingyu’s cum. His cock is already throbbing as he continues to tease you and himself, resisting the urge to fuck you hard and fast like he knew both of you needed. “S’okay, I’ll just have to cum inside you too and fuck it so deep into your fuckin’ cunt that you won’t even remember Mingyu ever did.” He grins.

“God, yes, make me cum too, I wanna cum with you…” Whining, you buck your hips up to meet his teasing touches.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make sure you get my cock nice ‘n wet.” He positions his cock at your entrance, teasing you one more time as you whine and squirm underneath him. “Fuck, you’re so cute when you’re whiny.”

He slowly eases his cock in, meeting no resistance with how wet you already were and the cum already inside you. “God, you really are fuckin’ tight…” Wonwoo mumbles under his breath.

It takes you a second to adjust to Wonwoo’s size before he’s drawing his hips back and thrusting back into you and a mewl cuts through the air when the head of his cock taps against your cervix; eyes fluttering shut with how well Wonwoo filled you up.

“Oh, god, ngh, Wonwoo I--I don’t know if I--I can hold o-off…” A choked cry rolls off of your lips, fingertips digging into the sheets underneath you as you cant your hips up to meet his thrusts. You’d already gotten close to an orgasm before and now that Wonwoo’s cock was snug between your walls and curving into you perfectly, it was hard to hold back.

“That’s okay, baby. You can cum as many times as you want. Use me how you want me.” He offers; voice gentle and inviting as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“P--please, ah, touch my---my clit…”

Wonwoo obliges, pinching and rolling your clit between his fingertips. “O-oh, fuck!”

Your body locks up, Wonwoo’s name spilling from your lips as he throws you over the edge and into the first mind-melting orgasm you’d had in weeks. He smiles dreamily at you, hips still snapping into you as he fucks you through your high.

“So fuckin’ pretty when you’re cumming.”

You can only whimper in response, blushing when you can hear how much wetter you’d gotten after just one orgasm. He takes his fingers off of you clit, licking the wet digits.  

Wonwoo looks down to where the two of you are connected, a soft groan on his lips when he sees how much of your wetness coats his cock. “You really did get my cock fuckin’ soaked, baby. Think you still have it in you to give me one more? I’m close too and, ah, I’d love for you to cum with me.” He shoots you a sweet smile and you feel your heart beat out of your chest.

You nod feverishly, “Mm--Mmhmm… I---I haven’t c-cum in a few weeks so… I--”

“A few weeks?”

You avert your eyes from his inquisitive stare, already knowing how he’s going to react. “Yeah, s’just Mingyu’s been so busy so… He’s been, hah, kinda’ leaving me h-hanging and---Ah!” Wonwoo thrusts into you hard, grinding against you once he was fully bottomed out.

“For weeks now? He’s been treating you like that?” It’d made sense now why he’d seen you in Mingyu’s bed alone that one time. “Y-yeah… but---but he’s just busy, y’know, ah, being a TA and a-all...”

He shakes his head in utter disbelief; selfish Mingyu, as always.

Wonwoo leans in until he’s face to face with you, kissing you on the lips gently before pulling away. He doesn’t say another word and instead works on getting you worked up to cum with him and even through the muffled music, he can hear your loud whines and whimpers and the sound of skin slapping as his thrusts become erratic.

He licks the pad of his thumb before he brings it back towards your sensitive and swollen clit. “Baby, ‘m close…” He whispers; only loud enough for you to catch.

“Ngh, fuh--fuck, Wonwoo, please cum i-inside me… I wanna feel your, ah, cock throbbing i-inside of me when you fill me up with y-your cum…” Wonwoo’s thumb presses harder against your clit and he opts to grind against you instead when he feels the tension in his abdomen start to snap. He moans your name shakily, brows furrowed and eyes clamped shut as he lets the pleasure wash over him.

You lick your lips watching his face contort in bliss and you bring your fingers down and over his thumb as you press down harder onto your clit and the action is enough to throw you over the edge again, head thrown back and a sharp whine on your lips as you cum for the second time. 

Wonwoo slows down his thrusts as he starts to come down from his high and he works you through yours. “Shit, you really are so fuckin’ pretty.” 

A blush coats your skin as your orgasm starts to ebb away and Wonwoo is careful to not hurt you once he starts to pull his cock from inside of you. 

He watches the cum drip out of you, lips pursed into a tight smile. “Guess you should get these back, huh?” He fishes for the wet panties in his pocket; helping you slide them back on and up your legs before he pulls away and starts to smooth down his own disheveled appearance.

You laugh breathily, “I’ll let you have another pair next time.” 

“Oh? There’ll be a next time?” He grins. 

Biting your lip, you stand, readjusting your dress and grimacing at how gross you felt now that your panties were even wetter and covered in more cum. 

“I---I mean, I still... I still have feelings for Mingyu but--but...” You pause; Wonwoo’s eyes on you. “I know I should end things with him, it’s just gonna take some time and I--I think you’re a really great guy, Wonwoo, and I’d like for there to be a next time... It’s just... I think I need some time to get over Mingyu first.” You mumble the last few words, a little embarrassed you even admitted you liked Mingyu. 

“No, I---I get it. It’s no worries! Just---Just come find me when you’re ready.” He shoots you a beaming smile, “I’ll leave first, okay?” 

You nod in response, smiling at his back when he turns to leave. 

“Thank you, Wonwoo.” 

You end up heading home, leaving Mingyu at Jeonghan’s party all-together.

He’d find his way home eventually; maybe even puke in the backseat of a taxi and get what he deserved. 

You giggle at the thought, stepping into the lobby of your apartment building.

Huh, the lights are out. 

You’re a little confused, but you make your way towards the elevators; stumbling slightly with the alcohol still in your system. Pressing the button, you wait patiently in the dark lobby -- only the moonlight providing a soft glow. 

The elevator dings and you quickly enter it, pressing the button for your floor before resting against the banister. 

Hey, is that a person?

Your eyes catch a glimpse of a figure not too far off and only half visible from around the corner, brows furrowed. 

But you didn’t hear anyone enter the building.

The door closes and you shake the thoughts out of your head; it was probably just the alcohol making your eyes hazy.

Eventually you reach your floor, sighing in relief that the lights were still working. You stumble down the hall, dropping your house keys a few times before you can even make the turn to get to your hallway.

You reach your door, sliding the key into the keyhole and turning the lock.

God, it was so good to finally be home. 

“Good Evening, this is Boo Seungkwan reporting live on Channel 17’s 4 o’ clock news. We’re live at the scene here, as you can see behind me, at the apartment complex were Mr. Kim Mingyu resided. The police and detectives are still going through Mr. Kim’s apartment in hopes of finding any clues. His whereabouts are still unknown as well as his female companion. If you have any tips or information of where they both are, please do not hesitate to contact the police or the TV station.” Seungkwan pauses, waving down a pedestrian. “Sir? I’m a reporter for Channel 17 news, can we please have a word with you? It’s about the missing university students.”

Wonwoo sadly smiles, nodding. “Of course.”

Seungkwan gestures for the cameraman to come closer, holding the microphone in between himself and Wonwoo. “Sir, did you happen to know the missing couple?”

“Ah… Kind of. They were attending the same university as myself. He was kind of a friend of mine, and I know he lived in the building across from myself but…” Wonwoo pauses, shaking his head. “I--I don’t know what happened. They seemed like such kind people. I’ve heard rumours that they just fled to another city, but… that’s it really.”

“Did they tell you that, themselves?” Wonwoo shakes his head no. “No, just rumours flying around campus. Everyone saw them at a party last weekend, myself included. That seems to have been the last time.”

“I see, so have the police interviewed you? Do they have any suspects?”

Wonwoo shakes his head again, smiling sadly. “The police just think they ran away, which, I guess isn’t too far fetched. We’re all stressed university students, after all.”

“You mentioned he’s a friend of yours. He didn’t bother to say anything? Do you think he kidnapped her?”

Wonwoo bites the inside of his cheek, worry clear on his features. “I mean, Mingyu was kind of aloof and he was very drunk at that party. I’m not sure if they got into an altercation. We never really hung out outside of campus so sadly, I can’t really say I know if it’d be in his character or not.”

“Thank you sir, for your time.”

Seungkwan lets Wonwoo leave, stepping away to finish the live report.

Wonwoo nods, turning to make his way back into his apartment. 

He enters his place, toeing off his shoes before he heads towards his own bedroom.

By nature, he steps in front of his window; the same one that faced Mingyu’s now empty bedroom.

His lips ease into a small peaceful smile. 

He would have to make a trip to the east end once all the news vans and patrol cars were gone.

He was sure you’d love the food he’d be making for your candle-lit dinner. It was one of his favorite recipes.

And he was sure Mingyu wouldn’t mind watching from his place in the corner, either. 

[beneaththemasks]

hey I promised this a long time ago but my depressed ass didn't let me write so

Analyzing Atsushi and Akutagawa pt.2

cw: dazai hate and beast spoilers

previous part here

first of all I want to clarify that this has been sitting in my drafts for nearly a whole year so yeah it's very likely that I might forget some important details but I'll try to get to my initial point anyways.

a few month ago when I decided to reread beast for a second time (after realising I hadn't paid much attention to it the first time) I came up with all these ideas of how and why Dazai decided to pair Akutagawa and Atsushi together.

again, this analysis is going to be a very real-life-based interpretation on the characters and the whole plot probably. so don't really pay much attention if I mix stuff from the light novels with stuff from the main plot bc the point is basically analyse why their relationship was built.

parting from the final scenes of the beast novel that end with Dazai telling Atsushi and Akutagawa that he needed to make them fight each other in order to protect the world he had created for Oda inside the book, I tried to tie a few ends that were hanging lose for a while in my head.

now, you can read this however you like (be it me being just stupid or whatever) but, ever since we got to see part of how Dazai treated Akutagawa back in the Port Mafia I kept finding myself going through the same problem over and over again to try and understand why the hell was he so fucking obsessed with making him physically stronger rather than, you know, actually focusing on training him as a whole good and worthy subordinate.

why did dazai, being as smart and manipulative as he is, made such a rudimentary mistake of only teaching akutagawa how to strengthen his ability if he knew the boy was a killing machine?

I think you can understand then why the part where Dazai makes them fight each other in beast was even MORE confusing to me...

but that's not all there is to it.

Dazai not only failed (?) to train Akutagawa but he did succeed in training Atsushi??

well, as much as we love to see a character growing and as much as you'd like to attribute it to him leaving the mafia, I don't really think that was the reason. after all, as I already said, Dazai is very smart and has always been, he probably already had it all planned back in the port mafia.

and here's where my galaxy brain starts to think.

right from the start, the whole Dazai's subordinates deal felt very strange and inconsistent to me. I never understood why would he loose so much for Akutagawa and obsess so much with pointing out the fact that Atsushi was better than him when he was no longer part of the PM therefore he supposedly shouldn't mind about wether Akutagawa was good bad or whatever.

it started getting very dense to me tbh but that's not important

enter beast, a world where Dazai can literally do almost anything he wants, and what does he do? the boy goes and straight up fucks up akutagawa and atsushi for the second time makes akutagawa and atsushi hate each other and hold the weight of the world in their hands. again.

ok this was getting VERY annoying, plus their fight was so so so painful to read that it literally made me wonder what was the point in forcing them to face their trauma in such a cruel way at a moment like that.

thankfully there was a reason... but it never clarified precisely WHY FIGHT EACH OTHER.

if Dazai never taught Akutagawa how to be a better and sharper person because he didn't really know how, that was not a problem in beast. because Oda was there to do it. Oda could have taught Akutagawa what Dazai lacked as a mentor.

then, if Dazai wanted Atsushi to protect the book, he could've literally ask him without any need to involve Akutagawa.

but then, the whole point of why Dazai took Akutagawa in the first time "in the original world" and the reason behind why he also took Atsushi would've been lost.

Dazai is, indeed, a mastermind.

he knows what's necessary to make a world where people like Oda can live and write. he knows, probably better than anyone, that god doesn't care about things like balance and harmony. that he'd have to create it himself.

after all, coherency is one of the rules of the book.

Akutagawa and Atsushi fail their mission against Fukuchi (probably at Aku's life cost) in the main plot because that happened in the same world where Oda and Gide die after fighting for the same goal. a world where only those who fight and have the talent will prevail.

Dazai knows very well that, in that world, balance and harmony will never exist.

that's why Dazai creates a new world instead, where Atsushi and Akutagawa never team up and try to kill each other instead. a world where they force each other to recognize their flaws and admit their mistakes, a world where they'll have to learn how to live on with it no matter what they want to protect the world.

protect the world by proving that both sides of the same coin can fit, that none is better than the other.

so yeah, basically, the events that take place in "the original world" are proof to Dazai that god doesn't care about good or evil, that the only ones that will prevail are those who fight for their right to live (and this also probably explains why Atsushi and Akutagawa will never win as long as they fight without acknowledging what they have in front of them).

therefore, he decides to create a world where Oda won't have to fight to live because Atsushi and Akutagawa will fight but won't have to kill each other to prove their existence. they'll simply accept that both sides of the coin can exist even if they're weak, afraid or bad and that will be enough to give birth to a new world order.

there's actually more than this. in fact, there are a lot of reasons why Akutagawa and Atsushi are important for each other despite Dazai's plans and the world's destiny. however, since it'd be too confusing to try explaining it all in the same post sooo I'll be leaving that for a 3rd part.

[ectogeo-art]

For the WIP ask, emma? Is it at all related to the Austen novel?

WIP ask meme

It absolutely is!! :D The fic’s going to be called "comedy of manners" (after the literary genre, thanks to @cemetrygatess for the suggestion ^_^) and it's a straightforward fluffy bantery Elim Garak and Julian Bashir’s Book Club getting together oneshot where they discuss Emma. The inspiration was that I rewatched Clueless, and then I needed More so I watched Emma (1996), and these movies both just gave me such Garashir feelings that I was like okay I have to make them talk about this!!! (While watching I def had in mind the knowledge that Una McCormack’s The Crimson Shadow mentions Garak’s enjoyment of Emma. This is the only fact from beta canon that I wholeheartedly endorse lol. Thank you, Una McCormack, for being so galaxy brain!)

I’ve already fully drafted the fic and passed it by two beta readers (thanks @delicatetrashstranger and @cemetrygatess for your feedback!), and now I’m in the midst of some extensive revisions to make sure I’m doing justice to their literary analysis, and to make sure that I’m putting forward a compelling argument that Garak would truly Love This Shit.

A fun bonus thing that prob won’t make it into the fic (both because idk how I'd work it in and bc I'm unsure about whether it only happened in the movie lol): In Emma (1996), there’s a scene where Emma and a friend are trying to get some kind of gossip/information out of someone and they just kind of sit there staring at him until he nervously fills the silence, and while watching it I was like lmaooo okay so just like Garak interrogating Parmak! XD 

Okay here’s the start of the fic (including some newly rewritten stuff that I haven’t had a chance to show to my readers yet, so any inaccurate literary interpretations herein are solely my own fault lolll):

“So, what did you think of the book, my dear Doctor?” Garak asked, as soon as they’d settled in at their usual table in the replimat.

Garak had enjoyed reading Emma by Jane Austen much more than any of the previous books Julian had selected, but he was loathe to admit that aloud. Despite his best efforts to conceal his true opinions on literature, it seemed Julian was gleaning something from all their lunches together, because Garak found that each new book Julian picked was more and more suited to his tastes. It was terribly embarrassing (and somewhat exhilarating, too) the way that Julian had now targeted him with such laser precision.

“Oh no, you have to say what you think first,” Julian said with a coaxing smile, “because no matter what I say, you’ll just disagree.”

“I can’t believe you would imply I ever say anything I don’t mean,” Garak said, with mock offense.

Julian sighed. “Please, Garak? You know that I enjoy our debates and little disagreements as much as you do,”—(Garak’s heart pounded in his chest. You couldn’t possibly enjoy them as much as I do, my dear.)—“but I promise there’s a good reason why I want to know your honest opinion.” He ducked his head and smiled. “Humor me.”

Garak acquiesced, intrigued by the mysterious statement. “Hmm. Well, I found it quite refreshing to read about characters who grasped nuance and subtlety. I enjoyed having to tease out the unspoken double meanings hidden in every interaction. ”

“Yes, I thought you might like the way they dealt in riddles and subtext,” Julian said, his grin broadening.

Garak couldn’t help but feel his anxieties melt away. Seeing Julian smile—making Julian smile—was one of the few indulgences that made exile even remotely bearable. Ever since the implant had been switched off for good, he’d taken to self-medicating with his dear Doctor’s smiles and laughter instead. Just as addictive. Just as palliative. Just as deliciously dangerous.

“But I think you missed the point that everyone’s obsession with decorum and leaving important things unsaid caused all kinds of unnecessary miscommunications! I found myself often just wishing they would speak plainly for once instead of only implying what they meant and just assuming that their conversational partner would pick up on their true meaning.”

“Oh? And is that a problem you have to deal with often, Doctor?” Garak said innocently.

“Constantly! Usually right around lunchtime. Or whenever I need a pair of trousers repaired. Or whenever a certain someone is avoiding going to the infirmary despite not feeling well.”

“Now look who’s talking around something instead of stating it outright,” Garak teased.

“Just trying to keep up with you,” Julian said warmly.

[thotantics]

✦ genre — smut, drabble

✗ warnings  — graphic description of sex, mmf threesome, unsafe sex, rough sex, gagging, choking, forced oral sex (all consensual, just rough uwu)

✎ word count — 1,275

[A/N] someone requested a dom!chankai threesome M O N T H S ago but i recently cleared out my inbox and drafts so i dont have their exact request, but i wanted to do something short and fun bc they’ve been killing me recently so, @ anon, wherever u r, i hope this is ok for u :((

You definitely didn’t think your evening would lead to this, but you had no complaints. Jongin had pulled you over his lap so he could run his hands up your shirt as you kiss, tongue slow and sensual while his fingers leave goosebumps in their trek over every blazing inch of your skin that he could reach.

For the first few minutes, Chanyeol is content just watching the two of you. He’s so quiet that you almost forget he’s there, that the whole reason you moved to the other side of the couch to snuggle up to Jongin was to make him jealous. He doesn’t react outwardly at all until Jongin’s unhooking your bra, mouthing eagerly down your chest to capture a nipple between his lips.

“Go ahead and get her nice and wet for me, then.” Chanyeol says, voice low and husky even as Jongin’s lips curve into a smile around the tip of your breast, eyes flickering up to gaze at your expression.

“Are you going to let him play with you, baby?” Jongin coos up to you, head lifting from the valley of your breasts to tease your lips with his tongue, eyes dancing over your face to gauge your reaction.

“He only wants me because you have me.” You tell him, glancing back to see Chanyeol shifting his legs farther apart, erection straining in his jeans.

“You say that like I haven’t already had you, my pretty little slut.” Chanyeol laughs, “Go ahead and have your fun. I want to see how far you’ll take this.”

His cockiness only spurs you onto your knees, tits out, wrestling briefly with Jongin’s zipper to get his throbbing cock free and into your mouth. You sit closely, breasts on display, toying with your nipples while you bob your head, gagging yourself on the length of him.

You weren’t sure who were showing off for more at this point, Jongin or Chanyeol. Both were staring wide eyed at you, mouth agape. Jongin was resisting tangling his hands in your hair and fucking your pretty mouth, because you were doing such a good job all on your own. Instead, he flexed his hips in time with the pace you set, rolling up to meet you, groaning when your throat convulsed and tightened determinedly when you gagged on him.

Chanyeol’s impressed. He didn’t think you had this in you but he’s not going to break up the party just yet. He wonders if you’ll make Jongin cum, if you’ll swallow, if your mouth will taste like him when Chanyeol kisses you next. He’s surprised when you stand and strip out of your jeans, fingers massaging against your clit just before you spear yourself on Jongin’s wet dick.

Watching someone else slide inside of you is equal parts infuriating and stunningly beautiful. Chanyeol’s been inside you more than a handful of times but he’s never seen you take dick like this. You’re bouncing on it like it’s your job, head thrown back, moaning like a porn star and he knows it’s all for him. It’s all for show, but that just makes the whole thing more infuriating.

Jongin is enjoying your tight pussy far too much, and Chanyeol needs you to shut the fuck up with all the high pitched moaning, squealing Jongin’s name, so he stands and crosses the room with his cock in his hand. Gripping your hair at the back of your head, he feeds you his cock, successfully stopping all the noises you’re able to make except muffled groans and harsh gasps when Jongin snaps his hips up, controlling the pace.

It’s a punishing rhythm that the two men sync up in to, Jongin fucking you with precise thrusts directly to your cervix and Chanyeol, hips jutting out, yanking you by the hair back and forth, dragging your mouth over the length of his thick cock.

“Slut,” He hisses, finally giving you a moment to breathe, his mouth crashing down onto yours, kissing you messily, his hands cupping your face firmly to make up for the way Jongin has you bouncing on his lap. “You fucking love this, huh?” Chanyeol then he yanks and pulls, disconnecting you from Jongin harshly so both of you cry out in complaint, but Chanyeol shoves you over just as quickly, bowing you so your face is in Jongin’s lap and he enters you from the back, hissing, “Clean up the mess you made, slut.”

You’re barely balanced on your feet, calves aching but the deep punch of his cock repeatedly slamming into you feels so fucking good. You grab onto Jongin’s thighs for balance and he lifts his hips, bringing his slick dick closer to your face, his hands tender when he pets your hair back out of your face for you.

“That’s it, baby,” Jongin chuckles quietly, “Open wide..”

You do what he says, mouth flying open and tongue reaching out until you taste it, a salty mixture of precum and your own pussy fluids coating the gorgeous cock in front of you. Jongin is kinder about it than Chanyeol, letting you do the work but with the other man behind you slamming your cunt so fiercely, it was difficult to build a rhythm.

Instead you find yourself noisily slurping, mouth vacuum suctioning and sporadically choking, spit drooling onto Jongin’s lap but he’s so sweet, stroking your hair and your cheeks, he doesn’t even care.

“Fuck me so good,” He whispers for only you to hear, “Such a good girl.”

At the same instant Chanyeol’s heavy hand comes down hard on your ass, and your knees buckle, but he tucks an arm around your midsection and holds you up.

“You can’t give up yet,” Chanyeol tells you, “Make him cum.”

You double your efforts, arms shaking as you try to steady yourself and Jongin, toes curling into the carpet, finally grips tightly onto your hair and juts his hips up harsh, one final time, cumming so much that it spills from the corners of your lips and drools into his lap while he groans your name.

Chanyeol rips you back from Jongin then, standing you upright, your back pressed tight to his chest, and he fucks you with one leg lifted high, giving Jongin a good view of exactly where your bodies are joined.

With one hand lifting the back of your knee, his other grips your throat, squeezing tight enough to make your head spin while he whispers against your ear lobe, “Who’s pussy is this?”

“Yours,” You choke back to him.

“Louder.” Chanyeol grunts.

“My pussy’s yours!” You gasp when his hand massages your throat and lets you catch a lung full of air, eyes on Jongin who’s smirking up at you from his spot on the couch, relaxed and amused, cock still rock hard and flexing when he notices you noticing it.

You cum like that, limbs flailing wildly, Chanyeol pinning you to his front like you’re his doll, and Jongin smiling at you in that wicked way that makes your knees feel weak. It’s explosive, soaking down your and Chanyeol’s thighs, every muscle in your body tensing and releasing rhytmically as he fucks you through the height of your orgasm. His cock stutters and his hands dig in tight to your hips, slamming you hard against him, rubbing and grinding and pulsing, his breath ragged and husky and desperate until he’s filling you with hot pumps of cum.

Chanyeol is breathing heavy and collapsing onto the couch next to Jongin while you’re left standing, legs wobbly like a newborn giraffe, naked and dripping down your thighs in front of the two of them.

[eremiie]

charm, have you always been such an amazing writer or is it something that happened over time? bc i’ve been trying my best to be as descriptive and detailed in my work as i can, but i’m not creative enough :( idk if it’s something that will come to me later or a skill that people just posses, but i’ve been so unmotivated lately that i completely want to give up writing...

- 🍑

shiiit, first off thanks sm ily

second, i have been writing for agesss, like since elementary school LMFAO, and i’ve also used to be a bookworm as well as i have been reading fics for a long time too so i like to think i picked up on skills as i went!

it’s hard to just apply things you learn at first but it gets easier when you get used to it, so give it some time.

a tip i have is revising, let your first draft be your first draft, just get your ideas down on paper, and the second time you read it over that’s when you can add the detail, then if you read it over a third time that’s when you can look for grammatical errors and mistakes.

start replacing adjectives and verbs, things like that, let your words describe what’s going on opposed to one word.

so the first time you want to write about how pretty levi is (we’ll use him a our test dummy) just be like;

he was gorgeous, and you couldn’t help but stare for longer than you meant to.

second time you come around is when you can add detail and elaborate on this, pretend YOU are looking at levi, pretend you’re studying his feature and point out EVERY little thing!! how is he sitting, what is he wearing, what do you feel when you see him, every intricate detail that makes up levi.

he caught you off guard, from the way the little ebony strands fell at the sides of his head, to the tired look in his eyes that made them all the more mesmerizing. when he caught sight of you, you almost choked on your own breath, eyes of steel sliding over to your frame from where he sat one leg over the other on the soft sofa. a small frown had made its way onto his plump lips and you froze up— was it something you were wearing? you were forced to break away from his porcelain face, you had been staring for a moment too long anyways. you gazed down at your attire to make sure what you had slipped on this morning wasn’t too off putting— at least for him.  

so basically you can tell that this man is GORGEOUS because i included as much as i could, how his hair looked, how his eyes looked, his lips, how he was sitting, to even how he made reader feel somewhat small and wary of how they looked compared to him. he comes off as intimidating and like a precise person just by the details i put into that paragraph.

so basically be descriptive by showing every sense instead of telling the reader what is going on, and that should help you pull more detail and be more detailed!

[drawlfoy]

do you know when the finale of mirror mirror is coming out? I’m so excited to read it

ooh ok so basically i have a full first draft done of the finale but i need to completely rewrite it bc i changed a detail last minute in the first part that impacted the whole thing. to hopefully tide you over, here’s a little outtake on the second oart (that will not be included in the finished product): 

this is what their first kiss was SUPPOSED to look like (rough draft #1 hehehe) 

The concern in his eyes seemed to melt to something else--relief, Y/N thought--as his lips turned up into a little smile. “Do you want to go sit down? I don’t want you falling again. Hate to see you go back into a coma.”

“Very funny. You’re so original.”

By the time they had collapsed onto the weathered brown couch by the hearth, Y/N’s heart was beating so hard she thought it was going to exit her chest. The space between them was nearly nonexistent--something that Draco seemed well aware of as he draped his arm over the cushions right behind her shoulders.

Y/N racked her brain to figure out what that meant. Did he want her to rest her head on his shoulder? Was she expected to go in for a kiss? Was there some kind of unwritten rule about this? Did he even like her anymore? What if this was all an elaborate joke?

“Merlin, Y/N,” said Draco, pulling her attention back to his face. He’d moved even closer to her, his draped hand just barely brushing past the crest of her shoulder, his fingers just slightly dragging across the bare skin. “I can almost hear the gears grinding in your head. What are you thinking about?”

“Oh, nothing really.”

“Nothing?” 

“Precisely.”

The way his smirk grew made her believe that he wasn’t too convinced. “Well, if you won’t share, I’ll tell you what I was thinking about.”

“I feel so honored,” she responded, trying to keep her tone as confident as possible to hide the fact that she was nearly trembling from nerves.

“I was thinking about something that Madame Pomfrey said to you in the courtyard,” he began, a glint in his eye. “What was it...something about how...you dreamt of me?”

Y/N felt lucky that she didn’t have a drink in her hand. The speed at which she stiffened up would’ve no doubt sent it free falling straight to the floor--but she quickly changed her mind and decided that perhaps any distraction would be a welcome one, just as long as he wasn’t giving her that cat-got-the-canary look. His hand had progressed from barely touching her shoulder to ghosting across the outline of her neck.

“And what about it?” Her voice wavered. Y/N had never wanted to slip back into her coma more than in that moment. “I mean, I had the dreams because of the mirror. Of course I was going to see you in it.”

“So, what’d you dream about?” asked Draco, his fingers stopping their light movements to pause at the thin fabric that was her dress strap. 

“I...er…” In a momentary lapse of judgment, she allowed her gaze to slip downwards from his eyes. She promised herself that she’d answer, but once her eyes flickered to his lips it was over.

When she imagined what it would be like to kiss Draco Malfoy, She didn’t think that he would cup her face as tenderly as he did, that he would pull away for just a second and ask “Is this okay?” with the same soft, breathy voice he used in the courtyard. His hands were warm against her skin as he leaned in a second time, his lips surprisingly patient and soft against hers.

“Draco,” she breathed as she pulled away. “We shouldn’t do this here. People will see.” 

His pupils were so dilated that his grey eyes looked nearly black, something that both unnerved and invigorated her. Draco drew in a shaky breath, his hands moving from her neck to his lap. “Yeah. You’re right.”

in conc  i hate writing fluff scenes so this is my first draft of many. i can’t wait to share the final one but i’m not totally sure when it’ll come out--maybe in a week or so? anyways i love you take care anon <3

[mego42]

the writing questions!! eee. 12, 13 and 2 (out of order for some reason oops)

I like the out of order, feels v appropriate but can’t say precisely why. the point is, I like it, and you (and prodigal son, it’s going to be a problem I can tell so thanks for that)

12. Which story of yours do you like best? why?

I just did this one BUT I’m changing my answer and going with the world is on fire (and no one can save me). it was the first thing I wrote for this fandom and I was playing around with parentheticals to delineate beth’s headspace and her internal conflict within a conflict and I really love how it came out. 

13. Describe your writing process

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ““““““““““process””””””””””” um, okay, sure. let’s see, generally, my stuff starts one of two ways, either I have an idea that needs teasing out or a snippet of dialogue or internal monologue pops into my head. if the first one, I’ll usually start outlining to some degree (sometimes it’s high level, sometimes the bullets start being p much moment to moment cues of what’s happening in a scene) before I start writing. If it’s the second one, I’ll usually write it down and then keep going until I run out of steam before I stop and look at what I’m doing and try and figure out what the story is and the shape of the rest of it. 

after that there’s a lot of pacing and muttering and typing on my phone and annoying everyone around me until I have a full draft. then I usually let is sit overnight and then do a full reread, editing, rewriting, etc. depending on how I feel about the thing overall I might lather rinse repeat that stage a few times. once I have a draft I feel good about, I run it through grammarly, curse the robots, check format and either post or send it off for beta reading. If I hang on to stuff any longer once it’s fully drafted I run the risk of scrapping everything and starting over so I try not to overthink it.

less a process, more a trainwreck, but whatever, it is what it is.

2. Where is your favorite place to write?

I don’t really have a dining room in my house bc it’s v tiny but I do have a dining room table (side effect of amassing nearly all of my furniture for free from people who are moving/cleaning out their houses) that I have shoved in the corner of this tiny sort of den thing liminal space that’s half in my kitchen and half a hallway (my house is super weird don’t ask) and it’s got a view out into the backyard (which is awesome, I live against a ravine so it’s like being in the middle of the woods) and really uncomfortable chairs and that’s where I write best for some reason. Idk if it’s a combo of the trees and the lack of comfort but for whatever reason it works.

runner up, pacing around my house on my phone. couches and beds are for editing. 

writer ask meme

[locktobre]

hey remember awhile back when I said I had to look back at After and try to make sense of the timeline based on what I said in the text? I found the notes I made. when I tell you I was extremely vague I mean EXTREMELY

however, in my past self’s defense, the plot of After was originally going to stretch out much longer, over several months, until I decided that was stupid and I didn’t feel like just writing filler while everyone was tensely waiting to be killed, so I just lopped off all that time. (this is also when I dropped a number of different subplots I had been trying to set up, bc it just felt unnecessary.)

obviously, this left me with a bit of a mess on the back end, but I kind of just tied that up by establishing how much time had passed in chapter 20, which was precisely why I did that. plus it gave me the opportunity to have Erika make a meta joke about feeling like that happened “years ago” bc I do that shit whenever I can, altho usually thru Arsenio. and also it was meta in another way, calling back to the fic’s origins of much more domestic drama that has fallen entirely by the wayside as the Preminger plot has unfolded.

originally, Erika’s ladies were going to come in much earlier, as above, bc everything else was going to happen more slowly... they have names and personalities and backstories, and have for years! there’s 5 of them! but as I cut things down I didn’t know where to put them, since the story became less about Erika adjusting to being queen and more about the other stuff. (Anneliese had ladies, too, but they may or may not ever show up. they’ll be mentioned in The Tower, if nothing else, tho.) I still kinda don’t know where to put them, if I’m honest, but it’ll be fine, I’m not too worried about it.

god, it’s so weird thinking about stuff I had planned back then. like, when Erika mentioned back in chapter 4 that she was going to sit for a portrait “next month,” Arsenio was going to be the one to come in and paint her, as a way to get into the castle. I even almost reused that as him pretending to have come a few weeks early, altho obviously I didn’t, but I do have a partial draft of that chapter that features him trying it. I didn’t use it partly bc I decided it was stupid to do it that way, and partly bc it’s way funnier to have Arsenio just walk up with no plan at all and still get in.

anyway, that’s why I usually give my meta lines to Arsenio, bc when he says anything could have happened to get us to this point it’s like, no really, it could have. y’all have have no idea how many plotlines I’ve gone thru and discarded just in working on this. (no joke, today I opened a document from 2015 that had me suggesting a Marisol redemption arc. spoiler alert, that’s not going to fucking happen. not least because I find her delightful as a remorseless villain.)

sometimes I still wonder if paring down the domestic stuff was a good move, or if ppl miss it, altho it’s kinda late at this point to bring it back (I’m trying not to do huge chunks of exposition... but it’s also necessary sometimes)... altho, depending on your interpretation, seeing as a lot of this fic hinges on a past abusive relationship, things aren’t necessarily less domestic. it’s still largely interpersonal relationships and trying to find ways to live your life, just... not the same as it once was. 

regardless, I actually like that it’s more streamlined now. of course, I’ve been writing this fic for 7 years, and I’m an entirely different person than I was when I started, so some change is inevitable. I’ve had a lot of myself tied up in this fic for a long time, so I’m sad to see it nearing its end, altho at the same time, excited to finally move on from it and onto new projects. not as in forgetting, bc that’s impossible, just being able to work on other stuff without feeling guilty that I have something else waiting for me. it’ll be a whole new era and I can’t wait.

[fmdtaeyongarchive]

↬ do you love me?

date: early 2019.

location: n/a.

word count: 2,048 words not including lyrics.

summary: n/a.

notes: creative claims verification for do you love me. no, i didn’t proofread or reformat this so i’m sure there’s mistakes aplenty.

“do you love me” comes after “free somebody” has already been sold off to gold star with an unclear future. it also happens to come early in the process of ash feeling the pressure to learn to write sexier music on demand instead of incidentally, so that he can fit into the image bc seems to be pushing him toward for his next album without sacrificing his control in the creative process.

he has no idea that the song will end up on the same album with “free somebody” that summer at the time of writing it. their genres of retro-inspired pop and alternative r&b and the process they go through from beginning to end aren’t close enough for him to consider that thought, but when he finds out a couple of months later, it will feel fitting in some broad, existentialist way ⁠— a way of thinking ash is admittedly highly prone to when it comes to music. the thing is that they’re both a challenge for him in different ways, but “do you love me” is well within his comfort zone and it comes into existence with ash less self-aware of its challenges. “do you love me” wouldn’t sound too off on his last album or among the other music he works on while the song sits unfinished with all of his other endless drafts of songs, but that doesn’t change how much he likes the song once he finishes it. he approaches all of his music with a self-critical eye, of course, but he can acknowledge when he likes something he’s made, even if he still sees all of the flaws he believes a better writer and producer would have improved on.

this time, the song’s concept and themes aren’t something passed down as a commission from bc’s a&r department, but are part of a personal project to better himself. he just wants to make a song he enjoys again and doesn’t doubts so much while making. it’s after the release of his “swim good” bc portal collab with sohee but before the release of “fantasy” and “lust” on candy’s mini-album that ash first creates his file for what will become “do you love me”.

it’s a cold late winter seoul day. the air from outside turns ash’s nose red and as soon as he’s inside the studio and sheds his coat, he curls in on himself in the studio chair. the bc studios aren’t the most comfortable places in the world with the knowledge that none of them are his in any true capacity beyond the hours he occupies them and other producers come in and out during the day, never leaving everything in quite the same place he’d left them even if he’d been there only the night before.

but that’s okay. he tells himself he’ll have a studio of his own soon. he’ll have earned it by then. all he has to do is keep working and he’ll have that studio of his own in a few months. he hopes. if no one in knight fucks up again. but their track record for not fucking up is admittedly not the best, his own in particular, so he never lets himself think on the realisstic odds of that for too long.

ash logs in to the computer and opens up cubase and his numerous files of unfinished and abandoned works. his phone is cradled in his lap as he consults old memos and notes to see if anything sparks inspiration in him today. there’s file after file of forgotten half-lyrics and messy, hummed melodies that had come to him at inconvenient times ⁠— on the van ride to a schedule or right before a meeting with management or on a water break in the middle of dance practice with the rest of the group. many of the clips fall short of pure genius, but he’d read many years ago, when he’d still been a novice in songwriting by most considerations, that he should save every idea he has because it was impossible to tell when one might be the exact snippet he needs. ever since, he’s done so dutifully, his dedication to this particular subset of his craft one of the few things he can confidently say he likes about himself.

there’s a few ideas he taps on through the touch screen and listens to that he mentally notes to come back to, but it’s when he lands on an older clip he remembers recording when his main focus had been on songs for his own album (causing other ideas to be thrown to the wayside until he could spare time for them) that he thinks he’s found something he can really work with. it’s not too long, the digits underneath the voice memo reading about fifteen seconds in total, but upon hearing himself sing the melody and lyrics he’d all but forgotten about, he starts to see and hear ideas for how it can be fleshed out and built upon, a surefire sign that this might be something good. or something promising, at the very least. it wasn’t enough to be good yet, so he shouldn’t get ahead of himself.

“do you love me? are you feeling me?” his own voice sings to him from his phone, the english beginning of the phrase sliding smoothly into the korean of the second half. the next line is vocalizations mixing actual korean words and unintelligible sounds. he clearly hadn’t had the time to come up with the rest of the lines to accompany the melody in his head when he’d recorded the voice memo, and that isn’t anything new. his brain has become more and more wired to being a twenty-four-seven songwriter, but that doesn’t mean perfect lyrics pop into his head to accompany any random melody that runs through it. life would be better if that was the case, but unfortunately, ash had yet to achieve the precision and reliability of a songwriting robot (though, he considers, bc would surely love it if he was so easily programmable to pump out pop perfection). your in korean is the only actual word he can make out in the second line, but the third line is much clearer. it’s an obvious spin off of the first line, even if he can tell he wasn’t sure about the ending at the time: “i’m feeling you,” there’s hesitation in his voice on the recording but ash likes the way the line flows anyway, “my babe.”

eager to get started with the gem he’s found, he moves to transpose the basic melodic line into cubase on the digital piano hooked up to the computer, then pulls out the pop filtered microphone to lay his own vocals over it to work with. he doesn’t get into full recording artist mode because he knows these won’t be the final vocals on the track, but he has a vision already of how the vocals and instrumental will intertwine in a close, intimate way and he doesn’t want to wait until later in the process to start to tie that in. he plays around with what could go in place of the previously unspecified middle line before he settles on something he feels sets the proper mood for the rest of this song. it ties the bookends of the first and third line together more naturally than any of the other ideas he comes up with. he’s decided he wants to turn this into a fully fledged track already and his brain has already switched over all of the concentration he can manage with that in mind.

he spends the rest of that night on the same song without bothering to even pull up any of the others he’s been working on (despite their impending deadlines), expanding the composition on either end of the tiny snippet he’d started with. it fits nicely into the category of the alternative r&b genr, and ash finds himself more sure of where the songs going once he discovers its fleshing out well within his area of past experience. it’s not too different from songs he’d already released like “dive” and “daydream”, and the trap beats underneath fall into place because of that, part conditioned instinct thanks to the fondness he’s grown to have for how accented punctuation can sound under smooth, silky synths and vocals.

it takes a few weeks for his work to form into a real song because he eventually has to focus on other work that has a deadline or that other producers are depending on him to contribute his time to. or, more accurately, tracks which he’s depending on them to let him contribute his time to. any of them could surely finish it on their own, but ash ghosting on them because of some track of his own becoming his white whale obsession wouldn’t be a good look if he wants to keep working with them.

the rest of the lyrics continue to form as the track becomes more full. he isn’t sure of the context of the original lines at first other than being a part of something romantic and tonally sensual, but after the usual trial and error, he settles into crafting a lyrical story befitting of the song. much like he wants the vocals to weave seamlessly with the instrumental, he wants to lyrics to match the atmosphere the song sets. like the music ebbs and flows, so does the tale the lyrics tell ⁠— an intimate push and pull that leads to the repetition of “do you love me?” and “tell me how you feel”. it’s an emotion ash is all too familiar with, the question of reciprocated feelings and the tension of reading into every word and every mood, so it comes easily as he forces himself to recall what it feels like.

he’s been on the side of elation to discover the object of his affections does love him just as he’s been on the side of dejectedness to realize they don’t feel the same. that need to know is what ash keeps in mind. he doesn’t really want to dwell on the latter emotion

it’s late in the process that ash gets the idea for the song to have two vocals, a more prominent voice that’s likely to be female and an accompanying one that’s likely to be male. he’s not married to the genders of them, but the song is too explicitly instrumental for ash to fool himself into thinking that if it ends up in someone’s hands for actual release one day, it’d be made into a same-sex duet in this industry.

ash brings in one of bc’s female producers to help him record the final demo track and he manages to find a buyer in the form of gold star media again. he doesn’t expect to hear from the company about the song so soon, or at all, but when he hears they’re planning to put it on cherry’s debut solo album, he can only hide his excitement for the sake of professionalism. once the real vocals are laid down, he’s put in charge of finalizing the production to be album ready before it’s sent off for final mixing and mastering and he pushes aside his other projects to focus on the track fully again. there’s something about the song that continues to demand his full attention when it’s in front of him, like a favored child.

there isn’t much he changes about the production now that it has artists on it who will be presenting it to the world, but he keeps in mind the intricacies of cherry’s voice and her delivery, uno’s too, and how they differ from his own and the female producers. he’s had some distance from the initial production now, so he alters small parts he’s had more time to think on, but not enough that he’ll be giving a different song back to gold star.

despite his hectic schedules, he puts the finishing touches of what he’s responsible for on the song ahead of schedule instead of pushing the deadline like he usually does, but some way part of the way through, this song had become easy for him. easy, but not boring, and it doesn’t make him any less satisfied with the final product.

[mrscitty]

What happens after death (Part 1); Detroit Become Human Reader Insert (Anon Request)

Anons said:  if you're still open for requests,, a character who was killed on duty, having to have their consiousness uploaded into an android would be neat. the aspects of transitioning into life like that, assisted by your coworker are interesting, i think., I’m not entirely sure that’s how they meant the request because I spun it way more than it probably needed to but I just couldn’t stop myself and write something a bit more elaborate bc this just gave me such a good idea. I’m on page 8 and still counting so I thought since it’s clearly becoming something bigger I’m just gonna post the first part to get some input while I’m writing on the next! I already started on it but it’s still just a draft so yeh

Also I’m sorry for not being active the last weeks. I had a lot to take care of before I could seriously sit down again to write but I’m not going into the details bc it’s honestly boring just so you know I’ve figured the most out and can get back to writing! So I would love some input on your part! Tips, request etc!

When you woke up  you noticed immediately that something was immensely wrong. For starters when you opened your eyes you were blinded by a bright light combined with a white environment. This was not your bedroom. At first you thought you were in a hospital but when you looked around you noticed that the room was too furnished to be a simple hospital room.

There were paintings and other kinds of fancy furniture all around. These art pieces that were scattered all around really gave you a feeling of familiarity but you couldn't put your finger on it. Mainly because you were too busy figuring some other things out.

Your body was different. To be more precise it felt different. You knew your arms and legs were outstretched under a beige blanket but your body felt numb. A slow panic was spreading through you.

Where the hell are you and what is happening to your body?

Sitting up you took your environment in a second time. The sense of familiarity still present. Now that you were sitting up you took a good look at your body but it seemed normal. The only thing not normal was when you were touching your own skin it felt like there was a blanket in between the touch and your skin. What happened?

You wanted to freak out but something in you kept you level headed which you were thankful for at the moment. First you needed to find out where you are. So you threw the blanket away and stood up. Only then did you notice that you were in some white and blue pajamas. Those were not your pajamas.

Feeling even more uncomfortable you took a few steps around the room. There was this weird strength to your movements. As you walked around you looked into a few drawers. The most were empty but in one you found a framed article from a newspaper. It was a fairly old interview with Elijah Kamski. In fact you remembered this article. You read that years ago. It was one of the first interviews Kamski ever did.

Now why would that be here? Seeing the furniture, the art, the color scheme of the room and then this interview, you had a pretty good idea where you were and it made you angry. But first you wanted to make sure your suspicions are right.

Opening the door to your room you walked out in an equally bright hallway. You knew this hallway. Now you pretty much ran towards a door at the end of the hallway knowing it will lead to the lounge where he would probably be.

You slammed the door open to see the one and only Elijah Kamski sitting on a couch, watching TV.

Truth be told you and Kamski knew each other since you both were children. You both even started the project that later turned to the Androids you see today. He took on the programming while you tried to figure a way to implement it into actual machines. You were always handy with engineering.

You even considered him family at some point.

But when your both mentor, an old and sweet man, died he started a new project. He called it the Transfer project. Goal was to basically upload the memories of one person into a machine. There were reasons why you tried to convince Elijah to stop. You knew your mentor didn't want this, he always considered this to be the big taboo.

But Elijah wouldn't listen so one day you grabbed your tools and blueprints and left him with his projects. You really tried to stay and make him stop but at one point he just referred to their mentor as a subject which was the final straw for you. Humans were not just experiments to play with to see how far technology could go.

Standing there in the door frame, Elijah just looked at you. He had big circles under his eyes. Said eyes were slowly closing and opening like he had trouble to stay awake.

“What's going on? Why am I here? What happened?” you finally asked.

Elijah just nodded slowly and then pointed at the couch he was sitting , signaling to you to sit down which you did. Elijah has turned into a prick over the years but you couldn't help but be a little worried about him.

“What do you remember before coming here?” Elijah asked you.

You put your hand against your chin “I think I was on duty. We were chasing someone. I think I got shot in the arm, then I passed out. That... why am I here then? How long was I out? No, what is going on?”

Elijah nodded “Yes, you got shot in the arm. The shooter managed to hit an artery of yours. When the paramedics arrived it was too late. You bled out in some alleyway.”

“That... That is impossible. I'm still here... how... wait.” your voice gave out, tears were involuntarily rolling down your cheeks. So much was going through your mind that you couldn't properly build a sentence. Then Elijah just pointed at his right temple.

Following his movements you touched your right temple. There was some sort of smooth ring.

“Elijah... how... how could you. I'm... I'm an Android? You made me into an Android?” you croaked out. There was a god damn LED at the side of your head.

“I couldn't let you die” he tried to defend himself.

Not knowing better you slapped him “You knew very well how I think about this! I'm...I'm just a copy of my true self now! Hell I bet you have another copy of me on some of your super computers! If I die again will you transfer my memory into another Android?”

Elijah put his hand over the place were you slapped him, not looking at you “You don't get it. I just couldn't let you die by an Android! It was my fault!”

You scoffed “Elijah, I need clothes and I want to go home. Also delete whatever copy of me you have and never talk to me again! I don't want to see you and hear you ever again.”

“You've been away for nine months. Everybody thinks you are dead.”

“I am dead! I should be dead!” you interrupted him.

Elijah ignored this comment and continued “Listen, you don't have a home anymore to go to.”

“Elijah, give me clothes and a way to go to my old precinct. After that I never want to talk to you again.”

He nodded and pointed at a Chloe to get over “You heard her. Help her out please.”

“Very well. Please follow me.” The Chloe spoke softly and walked off. You following her not even giving Elijah a second glance.

Chloe took you to the room were you woke up in and opened a drawer exposing some of your old clothes. Did Elijah get them? Did he expect you to stay here?

“Thanks.” you muttered out as you walked towards the drawer.

Chloe nodded and was about to leave but you stopped her “One question. What do you think of me? We are... We are Androids right? So do you have an opinion on what he did with...me?”

The other Android seemed a bit confused that you would ask her something like this “I cannot say. Though I do know that when Kamski first heard of your death he immediately took action because he saw you as family.”

You nodded and turned back around, grabbing clothes to put on. Chloe took this as the sign that she could go which she did.

He brought you back because he considered you family, eh? What did that leave you with? Were you still human enough? You had emotions otherwise you wouldn't have reacted how you did but this could just be emulated? Was this real?

It surprised you how calm you were right now. Was it because of you or because you are an Android?

You put on just some jeans, a big sweatshirt and a beanie that you found in between. Before you walked out of the room you made sure that the beanie was covering the LED on the side of your face. Of course you could get rid off the LED but something stopped you. Is it because it's a reminder that you are in fact not a human anymore?  You didn't know. Wait, where you considered a Deviant? You had to talk to someone. Your friends back at work would help you, right? Even though you changed? Even though you are not human anymore and should be dead?

Knowing your way through the mansion you walked towards the lobby of the place. Elijah was waiting for you. Ignoring him you stomped towards the door. As soon as your hand touched the actual door Elijah spoke “People will treat you differently now. You can always stay here (Y/N). I'm just saying that... be careful...”

“Thank you,  Elijah. Though I have to ask that you please shut up.”

Then you left. Outside stood a self driving car. Ready for you. You got in and drove off towards the precinct. The snow didn't feel the same. You missed it. Though at this point only memories were left of it and in a way there were only memories left of you either.

You were holding yourself together pretty well during the drive but once you managed to get back to the precinct it felt so unbelievable. You were afraid. Afraid that your friend will treat you differently. Think of you differently. How they will react. What will happen to you now?

Are you officially now just an Android? If so are you considered Deviant and therefore considered a threat?

Since you had no real plan on how to get into the precinct in order that you could talk with your friends, you decided to go somewhere else. You knew of a certain food truck a friend of yours frequented either in breaks or after work for a quick bite of some fast food.

It seemed fate finally decided to throw you a bone.

While walking towards the food truck you noticed a familiar car. A car you mostly involuntarily spent a lot of time in. The memories made you chuckle, and yet an uneasiness still spread throughout your body. Memories are such a precious thing but now they leave a bitter after taste. The memories you remembered were just copies of the real thing.

Standing on the other side of the street you looked over to the tables where your old partner in police force was enjoying his favorite meal. How should you go on? Just walk up to him and say “Hey! Surprise! I'm not dead! Kind of! I'm dead but also I'm here now as an Android!”

Hank hated Androids, everyone back in the precinct knew that so whatever you needed to do it needed to be a bit more tactful. Gathering your thoughts you begun formulating a plan in your head while leaning against the wall. As you pulled your beanie back down to make sure your LED was hidden an idea was forming in your head. Seems like the straight forwards way is probably the best course of action, you just needed to be slow and careful with your approach.

This whole situation was really nuts. To be honest you wouldn't have believed this was possible and that this was all real if you actually didn't work with Kamski back a few years ago and saw how he started the project.

You wanted to do good with what you were working on with that prick Kamski but after the whole ordeal with his Transfer Project you left and pursued a career in the police department where you met Hank Anderson. An old grizzly man who has been a delight to work with. Well not at first but after a few weeks Hank opened more up and you would now even consider Hank a close friend of yours.

That's exactly why you knew you just needed to take all the confidence you got and march on over to him. Admittedly you put a lot of trust in the friendship you and Hank shared hoping that this would save you from an ...immediate rejection at least.

Your legs almost moved on their own. This strength in your movement was weird. It was just not as you remembered how movement should feel. Do you feel though? As angry as this thought made you, you shoved the feeling into the back of your head. Not the right time to deal with it.

Before you fully realized it you stood a few feet in front of Hank who in return slowly put his burger back down in the carton the burger was previously put in. He was visibly confused that some random person was standing in front of him, looking down and not talking.

“Can I help you?” he finally asked. Annoyance was clear in his voice, after all you interrupted him eating his food. Also it was maybe a tad bit creepy how you just stood there.

Your plan to just slowly reintroduce yourself seemed suddenly really stupid. If you could you would take in a deep breath and finally look him in the eyes but since you don't need to breath anymore, which was a weird feeling in general but that was something for later to unpack, you just looked up and walked even more towards Hank so he could get a better look at you.

Honestly  you wanted to cry when you saw Hank staring mouth agape at you but you pulled yourself together.

“(Y/N)? How?” Hank croaked out.

'How?' he asked, eh? To show him 'how' you pulled your beanie off and showed him your now yellow LED ring. Though this probably offered the thought that you were either always an Android but considering he saw you bleed red blood this was off the table or the other question for him was now if you were the real you which you couldn't even answer yourself.

When Hank suddenly grabbed the edge of the table you talked again “Good morning, Lieutenant. I'm ready to solve some murder cases!”

This was the first thing you said in the first few weeks when you arrived to work after meeting Hank and it annoyed the ever living shit out of him so of course you had to continue this as long as you could.

“It's really you? I saw you dead on the ground in a pool of your own blood! Hell! I've been to your funeral! What the ever living fuck is going on (Y/N)!” he cried out.

“It's a long story so … Listen … I did … die. I really did. I remember being shot and falling unconscious and then I suddenly woke up as an Android.” you begun explaining everything to Hank. Absolute everthing. Telling him everything that happened back at Kamski's place and what you yourself knew of the Transfer Project and where it originated from.

After hearing all of that Hank took slow steps towards his car and pointed at it “I... need to sit. Come on, kid.”

He didn't even wait for affirmation on your part. Following Hank to his car you opened the door to the passenger seat and sat next to Hank down. A wave of nostalgia hitting you. You spent a lot of time in this car when you were on stake outs with Hank.

For you those nine months passed without you. It felt like you fell unconscious in that alley way and woke up maybe a few days later and yet you couldn't help yourself getting a little bit nostalgic.

The next minutes you both just sat silently in the car. Silence hung in the air like blanket making everything more awkward than it already was and yet there was nothing you could think of to say. You looked towards Hank who was deep in thought. Sometimes he would shake his head or look over at your for a brief moment.

You were desperately thinking of something to say. Something to take the tension away but nothing came to your mind instead Hank resolved it by turning on his car.

Surprised you looked over to Hank awaiting an explanation. Said explanation came after he drove off the parking space “I have someone you need to meet back in the precinct but he is... home already.” There was this bitterness in his voice you couldn't really decipher the origin of.  

“You don't have a place to stay so until we figure things out so you can stay with me.”

“Thank you, Hank” you blurted out.

“Of course, don't sound so surprised.”

“Honestly I thought you would somehow reject me? I guess? Seeing how I'm... I'm an Android now and all. I don't even know what I really am now. What this means for me.”

“I hope he will clear some things up maybe.” Hank muttered under his breath before answering you “If everything is true what you told me then that's enough for me. You are clearly still you. Your body might be different but honestly if you didn't have that damn LED on your temple I probably would've thought you straight up dug yourself out of your grave.”

Your grave. Right.

“Hank, before we drive to your place I need to see something.”

[qlmondmilk]

reflex

pjm x reader. last day of summer, falling for a boy with telekinetic abilities + science crack.

part 1 of ? words: 1619

note: the first part as written a year before, so this was untouched for long, sitting in my drafts and gathering cobwebs. the build-up is so long but i'm sorta writing it with the most detail so it would smoothly run in your imagination?? like a tv show hehe 

shitty title preview bc i know nothing about graphics

Jimin was pissed, to say the least.

The start of regular activity in San Fransokyo Institute of Technology was a sleep away, but no one in his university cared for a few more popsicles to consume and savor. Far too eager to start on their respective projects, almost everyone busied themselves with the sense of responsibility and the desire to create. This included Jimin's reasonable number of friends, leaving him to be the only one aching for the one day left for rest. Given that he'll celebrate the sunset alone, he declared that today would be somewhat peaceful.

Not.

Of all mornings to mess around with, Yoongi decided that Jimin would be a perfect lab rat for his seasonal crack project. Without any warning or whatsoever, Yoongi managed to wake up in the ungodly hours to set up a station and special headphones, testing if specific wavelengths and frequencies would easily influence an orgasm. On Jimin.

Jimin was happy to be greeted by a Daniel Caesar song, but not too keen on flushing red for having to cover and change his embarrassingly soaked sweats. He would've chased after Yoongi, who ran out of his room with a triumphant gummy smile after recording all of Jimin's stunned antics; but Yoongi wasn't to be fully blamed, for it was partially his doing as well, having entrusted his hyung the keys to his room. That, and for being a heavy sleeper.

If only all geniuses would dedicate their time to making good use of their aptitude, Min Yoongi wouldn’t have used ‘for the greater good of science’ as an excuse to obtain blackmail-worthy material, and Park Jimin wouldn't be hacking into Min Yoongi's database so damn early only to be hit with arbitrary urges. A generous sip of good booze could salvage his morning.

The only solution to silence the impulse was to give in, naturally — so it's 6 o' clock am and he's got his least favorite sweater on, set out for a bottle of vodka. Coming out in that dire time of the day means seeing little to no one at all, which is a relief, he wouldn’t have to encounter a crazed schoolmate eyeing him up as a potential lab rat.

This morning in San Fransokyo is quiet, save for the constant humming of the technology scattered all around. Matching the infrequent serenity, the city seems to bathe in the sun’s soft illumination, on the rare hope that when people step out, they’d appreciate its kind appearance reserved only for the last day of summer. Still, even without the harsh lighting, Jimin’s eyes remain weary, comfortable wearing them as crescents for a while.

He doesn’t notice that Yoongi’s not the only one who didn’t pay attention to the sun, and definitely not the only one who woke up extra early to work. The streets near his university were made of the asphalt with infused programming and coding tools, a special project of the seniors a few years back. Anyone was free to reach down, do their magic, and have their work plastered on the ground for 24 hours. Every midnight it reverts back to an empty canvas, so the serious programmers wouldn’t dare leave their code vulnerable to the public and have all versions of it gone by the next day.

The cobbled code path Jimin’s walking on turns out to be coded on already, resounding with his quick footsteps, imploring for him to look down and take note that he’s stepping on someone’s unfinished code art, and shit, his steps were precise accidents, but it looks like sabotage. But he doesn’t look down, and what used to be half a butterfly is now a muddled creature with its forewing absolutely wrecked, compound eye gone, antenna sticking out way too long - only the proboscis is intact.

Blessed are his feet, truly.

Damn Jeon Jungkook. Jimin is ill-equipped to be buying alcohol. 

Not that Jimin looked like a kid and he'd need verification to drown himself in liquor, no. The Christmas sweater that Jungkook gave wasn't enough to shelter Jimin from the coldness of the store and the icy stares from middle-aged ladies that were there for marked-down items. They didn't wake up early to see an abominable sweater being worn by a resting-bitch faced kid that looked like he'd lived through a thousand lifetimes.

Giving an ugly sweater is one thing, but to give a sweater with a gingerbread man flexing his icing abs is on an entirely different league.

Even the store is on a different league. It's close-set, aiming to provide as much as it could with the little area it has. What its span lack, the height of its shelves surely make up for it, reaching up to 7 rows. Not tall enough to be touching the ceiling, but it definitely towers over Jimin. So he sucks it up, cold, height difference, and all.  

Height is an issue, yet the store's strategy in product location is ludicrous. Who in the right mind would allow such a thing? Jimin thought San Fransokyo was a progressive city, however, precious liquor settled in the same aisle as laundry detergent says otherwise. Most importantly, Jimin's favorite brand of liquor sits at the sixth row, just a little bit beyond his reach when he jumps. The only staff present are the saleslady that could challenge Jimin's resting bitch face, the two cashiers from his university looking dead before the semester even started, and that one janitor being reprimanded by one of the early-comer middle-aged ladies for placing a wet-floor sign near the 35% off fish fillet.  

This aisle is more than a minefield.

There are two ways to complete his task. One is to arduously climb the shelf, grab a bottle or two, climb down, then go in peace. Two is to grab it in his mind and the bottle will come floating down to him, no climbing involved. Telekinesis worked like that, right? But his presumably telekinetic abilities (powers, whatever) came to him out of nowhere, and it could betray him for no reason. The shelf isn't made for occasional customer climbing. Both options are dangerous, and there are other variables to consider. The janitor reprimanding lady could happen to pass by the aisle to get to the rack of 50% off wet wipes and see Jimin - may the convenience store gods forbid it.   

He tries to will the bottle to descend from the shelf. He imagines a path and directs it to his open hand, but to no avail, from any onlooker he appears to be forcing to shit himself. 

He tries again. The entire shelf of laundry detergent and the whole sixth row of bottles float for a while and he panics. The detergents somehow spill themselves and join in the 'make Jimin panic more' party. All but the bottle that he wanted stops floating and blesses the store's floor by simultaneously breaking, along with Jimin's heart at the thought that he had to explain the mess. What would he even say? 'Sorry, I didn't want to disturb your staff to get the item I wanted so I took it upon myself to miraculously break all the bottles on the sixth shelf? Don't worry, I may have student loans to pay but I'm sure I'll compensate for this mess eventually!'  

Even worse, he would have to choose whether to take the second semester and survive with cup noodles or work full-time as Yoongi's lab rat. He still has a shred of dignity to keep, no thanks, Yoongi.

He already broke things anyway, so it's all or nothing. Better come home with a bottle than none at all. Jimin resorts to first original option, because climbing is obviously way more safer than 'grabbing the bottle with his mind.'

So he climbs. Bingo. Should've done that the first time.

It's not a big store, so the small amount of staff and patrons they had heard the crash and are silently watching Jimin elegantly climb down the shelf, avoid bits of glass on the floor, and tiptoe on the sea of unicorn vomit. On one end of the aisle, the saleslady seemed heartbroken for the janitor, who didn't spare a second look at whatever calamity swept through. He had already turned on his heels, heading for his mop and bucket. The fish fillet lady looked absolutely furious. Not good.

Jimin is stuck a very delicate place.

He continues to tiptoe on the unholy offspring of fabric conditioner and booze until—

"Oh hey dude, what ha—?" One of the cashiers suddenly appears sat the other end of the aisle with a concerned look on his face, which iss oddly familiar to Jimin. Could he be one of Taehyung's past flings? Or that dude that Hoseok drunkenly kissed one time. Probably both. 

Regardless of the cashier's identity, Jimin runs away.

Of course he fucking slips.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck." His palms and knees took most of the impact and earned scratches. Still all or nothing, he continues to run even though his limbs disagree with the spontaneous plan to exert energy, wobbling with the guilt and panic of evading responsibility.

"Sorry man, not my fault!" Jimin shouts. Immediately spotting a rack full of Hello Kitty bandages, he grabs a handful and speeds across the store as fast as his unwilling limbs could take it.   

A Jollibee statue is waiting for him at the exit, so with Jimin's last functioning brain cell he throws two 20 dollar bills somewhere and makes it out of the store, turning Jollibee into a casualty by knocking him down at the exact moment Jimin's legs give up.

"—ppened here?" the cashier says to Jollibee's decapitated body.

[thekillingmoonmoon]

i'm sure it's entertaining to watch me bob ross my way through the workday... if you're used to me. there's a new person sitting in my area and they don't seem to know what to make of me. my coworker says it's because my personality is completely different from my work-voice and work-face ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ oop.

lollll i can definitely agree that rindou always gets something on his clothes. i mean, dude did the splits on the ground in preparation for a fight. i'll bet there were a few times he misjudged how much pantleg he had and *rrrrrip* buttcheek XD. and yes, 100% agree that ran is the type of person who removes and neatly folds his jacket before a fight. mitsuya would be a jabber! and you know he'll hide his smug little grin by holding the pins on that side of his mouth. actually, wait... backtrack. what i said about rindou and misjudging his pantlegs. that is how mitsuya gets his revenge. he knows precisely how much material to pull in, and exactly which types of material are more prone to rippage. there's always a draft pattern, right? so maybe instead he makes a draft item of clothing, and squirrels the real article away until he has to "fix it, as usual" and swaps out the draft for the genuine, thereby maintaining his image as master seamster. haha these are the fruits of my workdays.

sanzu would pester the haitanis with that question! and he'd be even more of pest because he would ask one brother, get stonewalled, and then immediately ask the other, as though it wasn't the same girl he was inquiring about. a manace. my favourite <3

koko, oh koko. you know he's got the items categorized, with totals tallied in a meticulously organized spreadsheet that he just busts out to show everyone in his continued path of heartbreak. "she preferred dangly earrings in the summer," he'll lament, "and layered necklaces in the winter..."

so sad. and all for our amusement. (i still like you, koko, despite how it appears)

xmas is a bit of a mixed bag for me. we celebrate it but i get overwhelmed by everything and the need to get together with everyone. i would love for it to be summer during the xmas season, if only for a little while. snow is great and all when it's freshly fallen and undisturbed (like i looooove how it sparkles and glitters in the sun), but driving through it and seeing it get browny-grey and slushy kinda ruins it for me. and the short days 😣 getting up in the dark and driving home in the dark bc the sun sets at 4:30pm is so depressing.

i looked up coconut biscuits and if google-fu results are accurate they look deliiiciouuusss tell me more! are they on the crispier side, or chewier side like a macaroon? lol i'm sitting here thinking of a little recipe card with only ingredients, no quantity or instruction, and it makes me think of the way my mom tried to tell me how she cooks things...

"you put (ingredients) into it. sometimes. i don't always use (thing), you can do whatever you like. i don't measure (seasoning), do like this" *pinch pinch scatter*

me, with a pen and paper in hand: ^_^???? "this was lovely, thank you."

baking i can do, because it has to be precise and it's sciencey and there isn't a lot of wiggle room. i can't freestyle a recipe to cook, it doesn't make sense to me. i also leave the cooking to my partner and focus on the cleaning (i am v e r y specific about washing dishes) so go us! does your partner have a set repertoire of dishes he likes to make, or is he a freestyling 'anything and everything on hand' kinda cook?

ahh do you have a lot of playlists then? i'm not good at separating them into themes, i usually just have songs i already know, songs i find in other peoples' playlists that i like, and songs spotify suggests. and they all go into.... the 'liked songs' tab. mostly i use other peoples' playlists for themes (haha lofi definitely. i have ~6 different ones saved depending on their vibe). would you ever include like... a suggested song or playlist with a piece you've written? or, hmm maybe not. music is pretty personal. i get flustered if i have to play any of my music and someone else is present.

how has your week been? i've been slowly typing up this entire thing bit by bit when i'm able to but i wondered if it's more convenient for you if i did answer piece by piece. let me know, i can adjust accordingly 😊

for your ask game... hmm... 8 bc it's your favourite, 15, and 48!

okay bye haha 💐

Hihi, I hope you had a good week - not too busy/stressful?

let's start with the ask game hehe

8) Do you collect anything? If so, what?

I seem to collect washi tape? It was never planned really - I started journalling when I started uni and it just snowballed from there.. now I own over 50 rolls of washi tape (my parents keep asking if i plan to wallpaper my apartment with the stuff)

Other than that, I consciously collect records and books, especially the collins classic series (it just looks very pleasing when they're all lined up for me)

what do you collect?

15) Do you have any houseplants? Do any of them have names?

I have several houseplants! I have two flowerboxes that I had to bring in for winter. One has dianthus, geranium and a mystery flower >_< the other has mint, basil, and lemon verbena. then I have a japanese lily and a philodendron (my partner has taken ownership of the philodendron, but doesn't remember to water it) and a few stray succulents

I dont name them because I'm scared they'll die x_x

48) Do you have a favorite plate or bowl?

not really, but I do have some favourite mugs - one is very large and pitch black and says "black is my happy colour", the other is turquoise with flowers all over it that my partner got me

and believe me, I totally get the whole work-persona vs. reality disjunction. apparently my voice goes up half an octave if I'm speaking 'professionally'. I'm sure your new co-worker is just in awe of your presence, and your bob ross skills <3

I'm so behind Mitsuya having 'dud' pairs of pants for Rindou in this little AU we have - but this leads me to another question, do you think Rindou asks for his uniforms to be made of a specific material? so that he can play court jester without the fear of untimely ripping and possible exposure? In contrast, why do i feel like Ran crackles like an old man? it's like all the stress Rindou puts on his bones transfers to Ran, who sounds like a bag of popcorn whenever he gets out of bed.. hmm..

Sanzu is just an agent of petty chaos - you think that Koko has finally gotten over Reader leaving? think again, Sanzu just found her socials and is sending Koko screenshots of all your posts. The Haitani's have finally reached some sort of peace? no! not allowed! Sanzu casually remarks that Ran smells like the perfume you wear. Ofc, he never bothers Mikey, and he generally stays out of the way of the 'seniors' - Neither Mochi or Takeomi will hesitate to knock him out with the butt of their guns when he gets too riled up.

a summer christmas is a lot of fun (and a lot of sunburn), especially if you have access to the beach or a pool. SA also has a strong love for barbeque (which we call a braai) and I think many Christmas lunches/dinners have become braais instead. I have never really seen or touched snow, so I hope to experience a white winter one day >_<

Your description of the recipe? Spot on. it was originally a very worn piece of card with incredibly faded handwriting that is just the ingredients (all in ounces/pounds) and the instruction "mix". Quite a few of my grandmother's recipes arre like that, but this is the one im the most confident in making.

Strangely enough, I am incrredibly unscientific when it comes to baking. I 'bake with my heart' as I describe it. If I think something needs more coconut, in it goes - less milk, alrighty! I haven't created anything too terrible yet, so maybe my method works with these very old recipes.

My partner tends to use a repertoire of dishes, and shops for those dishes specifically, so we never do the whole 'make a meal with what we have" - he's making pizza dough as we speak, actually!

My week was alright, I'm still exhausted, and playing catch up hasn't been successful, but next week will be better!

I have SO many playlists, it's a bit ridiculous. All of my JJK pieces from before are based on specific songs, but I never linked them because I am very tumblr inept x_x but I will definitely return to song-specific fics next year, as those are usually the easiest and most fun to write!

I am the exact opposite when it comes to music - no shame! I listen to a wide variety of genres, so if I'm playing music for someone I'm sure they'll find something they like in amongst the chaos, lol.

lots of love

🐰🌙

[blu3yes]

       [ ooc ] this post has been sitting in my drafts for a while now so heres smth short and not exactly eloquent concerning the dds and my kaibas magic

The DDS is partially controlled by magic. though it works best with dimensional magic it can tap into other types of magic and focus that enough to allow for dimensional travel-- Other types of magic users would have a harder time controlling where they go, though. At the same time people with a weak connection to magic would find the DDS is very unreliable and near randomized at times. My Kaiba uses dimensional magic so when he uses the DDS it taps into that and is pretty accurate in smacking him down near where, exactly, he wants to be. 

My Kaiba can use his magic w/o using the DDS, though, the DDS is just sort of.. like a kid using a table to learn how to stand, I guess? The DDS makes his magic more precise and allows him to tap into voluntarily. He can use it on his own, but he has little control over where he goes- at least that’s how it is now. His magic is mostly out of control partially because he doesn’t have any practice in using it outside of what i guess counts as a very controlled environment, but also bc he still isn’t really using it voluntarily. When he uses his magic he isn’t thinking about where he’s going or anything ( for the most part ) because it’s. Triggered very easily and very suddenly and by some really weird things ( and sometimes for seemingly no reason ). Triggers I can think of off the top of my head would be falling, or anything that puts his body in harms way in general? Sometimes just quick movements in general, but it becomes a lot easier to trigger if hes. scared or upset or generally Feeling Threatened ^ TM.