#this is what I brainstormed the most so far tonight

[sakura-code]

I actually have this really cool idea that I am experimenting with, and debating on whether I should put in the Misfits AU or not, where Yuma actually once worked for the Peacekeepers as someone known as the “Death Detective.”

Yuma was taken in by Amaterasu after his parents died during a war from outsiders that cost his parents’ life. He’s basically brainwashed there to pretty much devote his life to the Peacekeepers.

He and Shinigami didn’t get into a contract, but rather Yuma’s family have a connection with the supernatural and occults, including the ability to work with Shinigami. Shinigami came to Yuma after his parents’ passing and their pleads to look after him and help him. She and Yuma would then work together in solving cases, which includes offing the culprits of the Mystery Labyrinth. This leads to Yuma being known as the “Death Detective” among the public and the Peacekeepers (and possibly a bit of rivalry/hatred from a certain director).

However, as he becomes a young adult, Yuma begins to discover how most of the culprits only seem to commit crimes because of the actions of both the Peacekeepers and Amaterasu. He tries to convince them to try to do better, but he’s pretty much threatened to silence and continue his work. So having enough and finally listening to Shinigami, Yuma runs away from the Peacekeepers and hides away into Kanai Ward.

Until he is found and recruited by the Nocturnal Detective Agency.

[rubyarrows]

A New Perspective

I sat at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee, while YN flipped through a magazine. We had been best friends for years, and now we were roommates. Our bond was unbreakable, and living together had only strengthened our connection.

As a detective in the Chicago PD, my days were filled with chaos, crime scenes, and the weight of the city's troubles. But when I returned home, I found solace in YN's presence. She was my anchor, always there to listen, support, and offer a shoulder to lean on.

Tonight, however, I had something on my mind that I couldn't shake off. Watching the sunset cast its warm glow through the windows, I took a deep breath and turned to YN. "Can you help me?"

She glanced up from her magazine, concern etched on her face. "Of course, Jay. You know I'm always here for you. What's on your mind?"

I hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. "It's about this case I've been working on. It's been haunting me, keeping me up at night. I can't seem to find the answers I need, and it's eating me up inside."

YN placed the magazine aside, her eyes filled with empathy. "Tell me about it, Jay. Maybe I can offer a fresh perspective or help you brainstorm."

I recounted the details of the case, the missing pieces that eluded me, and the frustration that came with it. YN listened attentively, her unwavering support giving me the strength to confront my own doubts and uncertainties.

After I finished speaking, there was a brief silence as we both processed the weight of the situation. YN reached out and placed a comforting hand on mine. "Jay, you're an incredible detective. I've seen you solve countless cases, overcome obstacles that seemed impossible. Don't let this one case define your capabilities."

Her words resonated deep within me, and a spark of determination ignited in my heart. YN had a way of grounding me, reminding me of my own strength when I needed it the most. With her unwavering belief in me, I knew I could face any challenge that came my way.

"Thank you, YN," I said, my voice filled with gratitude. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

A warm smile graced her lips. "We're in this together, Jay. No matter what happens, I'll always be here to support you. We'll find a way to crack this case, I promise."

YN and I sat in our makeshift "war room," surrounded by maps, photographs, and scattered notes. With her background as a private investigator, YN had a unique set of skills that complemented my work as a detective. I knew that tapping into her expertise would be invaluable in cracking this case.

"So, YN," I began, leaning forward, "What do you think? Any ideas on where we should focus our attention?"

She studied the evidence board, her eyes scanning every detail. "Well, Jay, based on what you've told me and what I've gathered so far, it seems like this killer is targeting a specific demographic. The victims share similarities in their profiles, which suggests a pattern."

I nodded, impressed by her keen observation. "You're right. There must be a connection between them, something we're missing. We've been looking at it from an investigative standpoint, but maybe we need a fresh perspective."

YN reached for a stack of files and flipped through them, pulling out a few key documents. "I've been doing some digging on my own, cross-referencing the victims' backgrounds, social circles, and recent activities. I think it's worth exploring if they had any common acquaintances or frequented the same places."

Her words sparked a glimmer of hope within me. "That's a great lead, YN. Let's dive deeper into their personal lives and see if we can uncover any connections. Maybe someone close to them knows more than they're letting on."

Over the next few days, YN tirelessly conducted interviews, gathering information from friends, family members, and co-workers of the victims. Her natural charisma and ability to put people at ease proved invaluable in coaxing out hidden details.

As she returned from yet another interview, her eyes gleamed with excitement. "Jay, I think I may have found something. It turns out one of the victims had recently broken up with her boyfriend, but she never mentioned it to anyone. He's been acting strange since then, avoiding questions and changing his routine."

My heart raced with anticipation. "Do we have a name? Can we bring him in for questioning?"

YN nodded, handing me a file. "His name is Mark Thompson. I've already passed this information onto Intelligence, and they're running a background check. If he has a criminal history or any connections to similar cases, we might be onto something."

Sure enough, within hours, our suspicions were confirmed. Mark Thompson had a history of violent behavior and had been implicated in a similar unsolved case a few years ago. With the evidence piling up, it was time to make a move.

We gathered the team, including Intelligence and the tactical units, to plan our next steps. YN's presence in the room brought a fresh perspective, and her ability to connect the dots was invaluable to our strategy.

As we prepared to apprehend Mark Thompson, I turned to YN, gratitude filling my voice. "None of this would have been possible without you, YN. Your investigative skills have been instrumental in bringing us closer to catching this killer."

She smiled, a mix of pride and determination shining in her eyes. "We make a great team, Jay. I'm here to support you, always."

Together, we stormed Thompson's location, ensuring that justice would be served for the victims and their families. YN's expertise combined with our collective efforts brought us one step closer to closing this case.

As we wrapped up the operation, I couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for YN. Her unwavering support, dedication, and the skills she brought to the table had made all the difference. We were more than just best friends; we were a formidable force, unyielding in our pursuit of justice.

After the intense operation that led to the apprehension of Mark Thompson, YN and I returned to our apartment, both physically and emotionally drained. We collapsed onto the couch, relishing in a moment of silence.

Just as we were beginning to catch our breath, there was a knock on the door. We exchanged curious glances before I got up to answer it. To my surprise, when I swung open the door, there stood Sergeant Hank Voight, the head of Intelligence.

"Detective Halstead, YN," Voight greeted us with a nod. "May I come in?"

I stepped aside, allowing him entry, and YN quickly straightened herself, ready to face our superior. "Of course, Sergeant Voight. Please, have a seat."

Voight took a moment to observe our humble abode before settling into one of the chairs. "I wanted to personally thank you, YN," he said, his voice carrying a mix of respect and appreciation.

YN's eyes widened in surprise. "Thank me, Sergeant? But it was a team effort. We couldn't have done it without everyone's contribution."

Voight nodded, acknowledging her words. "That may be true, but your skills as a private investigator were instrumental in cracking this case wide open. You brought a fresh perspective and an invaluable set of tools to the table. Your dedication and unwavering support for Jay and the team did not go unnoticed."

YN's cheeks flushed with a mixture of pride and humility. "Thank you, Sergeant. I'm honored to have been able to assist."

Voight turned his attention to me. "Jay, it's clear that having YN by your side has had a positive impact on your work. You complement each other's strengths and make a formidable team. I expect great things from both of you."

I felt a surge of gratitude towards Voight for recognizing YN's contribution. "Thank you, Sergeant. YN has been an incredible asset, not just in this case, but in every aspect of my life. I couldn't have asked for a better partner."

Voight nodded, his expression softening. "Remember, the job we do can be tough, but having someone you trust and rely on can make all the difference. Take care of each other, because trust me, those bonds are hard to come by."

As Voight rose to leave, YN and I exchanged a knowing glance. We understood the weight of his words and the value of the connection we shared. Our friendship had evolved into something deeper, a partnership built on trust, understanding, and unwavering support.

"Thank you again, Sergeant," YN said, her voice filled with sincerity.

Voight offered a small smile before heading towards the door. "Keep up the good work, both of you. We've got a city to protect."

With that, he left, leaving YN and me with a renewed sense of purpose and determination. As we settled back onto the couch, I couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for the journey we had embarked on together.

"YN," I began, my voice filled with emotion, "I am so grateful to have you in my life. Thank you for always being there, not just as my best friend, but as my partner."

She reached out, intertwining her fingers with mine. "Jay, I feel the same way. We make an incredible team, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Together, we can face anything that comes our way."As we sat there, basking in the warmth of our shared bond, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, YN and I would always be there for each other, both on and off the job. Our unbreakable friendship would continue to guide us through the darkest of times, ensuring that justice would prevail.

[pandorasfavorite]

Saw your post abt being idealess and I am trying to brainstorm for you lol

Okay so first thought, hear me out, a bratty sub dominik x reader (smut ofc) or one where he finds out how much the reader likes him speaking Spanish

Or a story where dom and reader are childhood friends and decide to 🍃 together and one of the confesses (fluff)

I've got a few more ideas but idk if you like these so far or not lol

Love you 💕💕💕

Resuscitate

AN: I love you. I hope you don't mind but I'm going to try and use this opportunity to explore Dominik's point of view. (Please don't kill me, I swear if it is not popular I will never do this again). I just whipped this up yo....kinda impressing myself

Dominik's expectations for tonight were much different than yours. He always felt so drawn to you, and that feeling only grew as you both grew up together. Of course, as children Dominik wasn't in love with you; he didn't even really know what that was. But when he started to understand the concept, it took a short time to find out that's exactly how he felt about you.

For the past few years, Dominik felt absolute calm with you, anytime you made a presence he felt contained, relaxed, and most of all trapped. Trapped by your essence, trapped by the look in your eyes, trapped by the wit in your voice, and his favorite trapped by the way you yelled his name each time you saw him.

"DOMINIK!", you screech and sprint into his arms; acting as if you hadn't seen him in years. Dominik would be taken aback by your excitement to see him, eachtime it happened. And his heart would regularly race, so much so that he once had to step away and remind himself that he was not dying. You gave him a grin and pulled him along with you everywhere you went. Dominik had no complaints when it came to following you, he'd go to the ends of the earth if it meant being by your side.

Now that you both are 25 with too much time on your hands, you took it as your personal responsibility to be the red devil on Dominik's shoulder. He sat with you on the dingy couch you had for years now in the center of your small living room. He felt so comfortable in the familiar area, but sitting next to you with his leg pressed to yours was all he could think about. The moment you both sat down, your mischievous grin rose up and you reached into a drawer and pulled out a tin.

Dominik looked at you with suspicion, but he felt settled being beside you, as you felt being beside him. "What you up to Hermosa?", Dominik asked and moved his head into your space to look at your moving hands. He had been calling you Hermosa from the ripe age of 13, he heard it from his dad at first, and it seemed to apply to you perfectly. You open the tin and pull out the preroll, "Dom it's time", you say like it has been a weight on your chest. "Corazón...", he seems unsure. Dominik has never done this before, and he is 100% positive you have never done it either. He was less worried about the action and more worried about how it would make him act around you.

However, you looked at Dominik with pleading eyes; and without any words, you scathed by and convinced Dominik to smoke with you. "Ok", he drops his protective act and reaches for the lighter also in the tin. If he was going to do this, he would be the first to try it, to warn you, also it seemed more polite to light it for you. If Dominik is anything it is polite. He puts the preroll in his mouth and spares you a quick glance, you smile so cute that he is less nervous to do it. He lights up and takes a deep inhale; a really deep inhale. The smoke hits the back of his throat and the mild burn makes him cough it up.

You smack a hand over your mouth, stifling your laughs as Dominik hacks up a lung. After the initial pain of a gut-wrenching cough, the weed hits instantly. Considering he hasn't done it before it was easy for him to get high. The preroll is dangling from his fingers and you look at him with expectation. He jumps in realization and brings the preroll to your lips for you. You inhale much gentler than Dominik, but the thick smoke hits you just the same. Luckily for you, the coughing fit wasn't nearly as bad as Dominiks.

After another few less apprehensive hits, the high really set in. Dominik's eyes went low and glossy with a light hue of red. His goofy smile instantly graced his features and he turned his head to look at you quickly, though in his point of view, it was like slow motion. When Dominik looked at you his breathing came to a stuttering halt, he felt good; but you looked good. Truly perfect and the low eyes and that pretty smile would've brought him to his knees (if he wasn't on the couch). "How do you feel?", you say and somehow manage to lean closer to him as you speak.

Your words knock Dominik out of a haze and he has to inhale a breath before being able to talk to you. He breathes; his eyes staring into yours without care, he looks you over and answers, "I feel as good as you look". His eyes widen as soon as the words slip from his lips, he is about to speak but your giggle cuts him off. Your cheeks are a light tiny of pink and you put a hand on him as you laugh. If you were to look up 'What does a man in love look like?', a picture of Dominik staring at you with his lips parted in astonishment would pop up.

You sit up and your eyes go comically wide, "I want to do something" you declare and you somehow peel yourself from the couch. Of course Dominik got up just as you had. You both stand and look at each other without a clue of what to do and then you mutter a intrusive thought. "Hm?", Dominik asks you to repeat yourself in a small hum. You look up with those big glossy eyes, and his heart rate seems to beat back to life, "Give me a piggyback ride". Didn't have to tell him twice. He crouches down, "Get on then Hermosa".

You climb on his back and you lay your cheek on his shoulder when he stands up completely. "I like when you call me that", you mumbled against his shoulder, your arms barely hanging onto him. Yet you trust Dominik enough to know he would never let you fall. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much and so largely. He swallows and his mouth has gone dry; sure it was probably from the weed; but in his hazy state Dominik was convinced you have begun to affect him more physically than he anticipated. He walked into the kitchen with you slung on his back and his hands under your thighs keep you on him completely. He whispers that he is going to sit you down on the counter. Afterward, he pours a glass of water for you both to share, handing you the cup to get the first drink.

You moan in contempt as the cool liquid slides down your throat and you feel much better now that your mouth also isn't dry. Dominik eyes shoot to your lips at the sound that came from them. But he shook the thoughts from his head; he will not be that guy. You pull Dominik to you by the collar of his shirt (he curses under his breath at the proximity). "I really want some fucking chocolate", you say with wide eyes that are utmost serious. Dominik's eyebrows pull together in seriousness and he raids the cabinets for you. He finds a candy bar in the bottom cabinets and he pops up when he finds it; he smacks his head "ow". He says under his breath.

You jump off the counter and move to crouch down beside of him, your lips plant on his head before he can anticipate it. "There. Feel better?", you ask and snatch the candy bar from him. Dominik's mouth went dry again; this time, he thought he'd fall from the tingles that shot through his body. He nodded and his glazed-over eyes blinked at you twice. He watches you break off pieces of chocolate, he has the intense urge to pull you into his arms and kiss the chocolate off your lips. He thought, "god I'm in love".

Your head whips to him but Dominik doesn't acknowledge it as he slips a piece of chocolate into his mouth, "This is really good". He talked around the chocolate and then he finally looked up to your surprised look. He looked at you, just nearly as confused.

"Wait what?", you put the chocolate down.

"This chocolate is really good", he says again; rubbing the back of his neck.

"No Dominik what did you say before that- you said that you were..you know". His eyes fly the fuck open and his heart has surely fallen to the pit of his stomach. "What did I say?!", this was his worst fear. You waste no time repeating the words that were now inked into your mind, "You said, god, I'm in love". If his heart was in the pit of his stomach, his lungs were probably in the same spot. His breathing stops and his mouth is opening and closing like a fish out of water. Now that you are looking at him, telling you the truth seems so much harder. The way you were staring at him, with a heartbroken look; he couldn't take it. "I'm sorry Corazón, I should've told you sooner", his glazed-over eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips without the intention. "Me?", you asked in utter surprise, he liked you back, after so many years, he was just in love with you as you were with him.

"Who else?", a breathless laugh escaped from my mouth. You gasp at the complete confession, you fall into him heavily; wrapping your arms around him and holding Dominik tight. "Me too", you say into his chest, Dominik heard it and he felt as if he was floating. He pushes you back to see your face but you stay close, "You too?", he asked just to confirm. You nod and tears begin to well in your eyes at the finality and long-awaited desire coming to life. He smiles and breaks into a quick laugh at his luck, he tilts your body down and gives you a long kiss, pulling back to attach to your lips again; over and over again until his lungs recicitate and until his heart gives out.

[papercupids]

living w svt; headcanons ('96 line version)

pairings -> junhui x reader, hoshi x reader, wonwoo x reader, woozi x reader.

warnings -> concepts of overworking (pls take rest ok <3) , arguments in woozi's part, metions of killing someone in junhui's part but very jokingly.

word count -> 1927

a/n -> i love writing these scenarios so much bcs i love domesticity and my own home life is pretty shit lmao but writing these gives me an outlet about the kind of life i would wanna live w someone so haha

also big, big shoutout to lacey (@haet-sal) for brainstorming jun's part w me and just being there overall ily &lt;3

-> read the maknae line version here -> read the 97 line version here.

☆ junhui. 

the sky has already quietly settled in the darkness when you leave your office, and you sigh as you look at the time, 10:30 pm and junhui’s text that you couldn’t answer until almost 2 hours later, courtesy of your boss assigning you work at the last minute on the presentation you gave him. 

the same route was the one you took in the morning, humming to yourself about the fact tht tonight would just be you and junhui, he was going to be home after so long, and this had to be the exact day it happened.

you’d texted him back as soon as you could. “i’ll be a little late,” little? you wanted to laugh at yourself, you’d planned on getting out at 7:30 almost. the message you sent was still delivered, so you figured junhui was already asleep. but even if he was asleep, the aspect of having him home was enough to make you giddy. 

when you open the door, you peek your head in, trying to check where he is, the home is already smelling like the new cologne he’s trying. 

“jun?” you call out in a low tone, not sure if he’s awake or not, and wanting him to sty asleep if he is. 

and sure enough, he’s sprawled out on the sofa, the television still on, and his phone in his hand, it sure is a cute sight but it almost brings you to tears, you missed him so much. the house that felt so empty, and the silence that seemed to be killing you was just gone, in the matter of hours. you resist the urge to hug him and instead check for something to eat, and clean up, all so quickly because you can’t miss even a minute more of being curled up next to your boyfriend. 

and you do so, snuggling up yourself close to his chest and spreading a comforter you borrowed from the bedroom, you’re afraid of waking him up but he shows absolutely no signs of being disturbed, and as you sleep next to him, you drift off as well, with his presence unknowingly taking away all your stress. 

-

you can swear you had the curtains drawn when you fell asleep last night but you were so tired and happy at the same time that some things were bound to be missed. 

so you wake up to the sunlight harshly pouring in from the windows, thankfully, junhui’s face is away from it. 

you stroke his face, admiring the features and then, unable to resist, press a kiss to his lips and then lie on his side again, this time with a huge grin on your face. 

as expected, his eyes flutter open, “good morning to you too,”

“you’re up,” you can’t help but squeal as you wrap yourself around him tightly, he chuckles. 

“i missed you so much, angel,” he says. 

“i’m sorry for missing dinner last night,” you apologise, “boss made me work late,”

“should i just go kill him?” jun teases, but when you give him a horrified look, he quickly takes it back, “just kidding, baby,”

you decide it’s time to wake up when you realize that you’re hungry, “what do you want to eat?”

jun sits beside you. “i’m gonna make you something, sit back down, just tell me what you want,”

“jun, it’s my turn!”

“it’s mine actually, i want to cook, please let me cook for you,”

☆ hoshi. 

one of the most endearing things about hoshi is probably the fact that he practically has a sixth sense when it comes to the people he loves, it could even be deduced as intuition. 

because when you’re working for far too long, sitting on your chair, craning your neck that is sure to be painful when you finally rest, tensed jaw and all, hoshi presents a bottle of water and doesn’t leave until you’ve assured him of the fact that you’re actually not a robot and do depend on hydration. 

today’s one of those days, when you’re so focused on work, and now hoshi knows its because the deadline of this project is fast approaching but you shouldn’t be so harsh on yourself, so every once in 2 hours almost, he sits beside you on your table and forces you to move around, drink something, eat something, look at something that’s not your screen (him, yes,). but just not push yourself unhealthily.

you turn your chair around, and face him. “i really need to finish-“

“and you will,” he completes your sentence. sometimes you were surprised about the amount of faith he had in you, even you didn’t trust yourself like that. 

“i will,” you repeat after him. and you did admit, it helped so much with these little breaks because otherwise your brain tired you out with thoughts like, “will i even be able to finish this at all,?” “will they like it?” “what if they don’t like it?” so it was nice to just not think about the situation at hand and instead realize that there was a lot to life even without your work. 

hoshi gives you a smile, and he glances at his watch, “okay,” he bows, “i’ll go now but i’ll be back by 4,” you stop him by holding his hand, and reach up to him to kiss his lips. 

he’s sweetly surprised by your gesture, but he smiles against your lips. “hey, what’s up?” he whispers. 

“i feel like i can’t express it very well , so i just want you to know i love you,” 

“i know, baby,” he kisses your forehead, his hand on the nape of your neck. 

☆ wonwoo.

you were tired of the day, it was already about 8 pm as you looked at your watch and sigh, it had been such a long week. the train was full of people like you, exhausted as their faces betrayed but they did their best to distract themselves. there was a lot you'd got done this week but the thought of another week was dreadful, the mere idea that you'd be here at the same time next week thinking about almost the same things as today.

entering the password slowly, you remove your shoes and place them neatly in the rack. 

there’s little liveliness in the home, but you can hear the sound of dishes and drawers, and the presence of someone moving around. but you hated the fact that you were too tired to even talk to him for now, so you rest yourself on the couch, spreading yourself to sit as comfortably as possible.

and you don't know when you doze off, all you remember is gentle hands taking away the bag you had in your hands and stroking your face.

“i didn't realize you were home, i'm sorry,” wonwoo's voice is so soothing, you wish you could just listen to him speak as you sleep.

“i made dinner, do you want to have a bit or do you want to continue sleeping?”

the smell was too goo to give up on and you nod.

“should i help you with this?” he gestures to your face. 

you shake your head, the power nap had energized you enough to get up and get dressed in your night clothes.

and when you come into the kitchen after changing, you feel a smile making its way on your face as you look at wonwoo, passionately setting up the table, he's way too much into it. 

he gives you a smile too, before enveloping you in a hug, “long day?” you nod into his chest.

he has his fingers running through your hair. “come eat, you'll feel better,” he whispers quietly.

and the sudden existential crisis that hit you on the bus is slowly evaporating - one day at a time, and at least you had about two days to relax, you can think of monday on monday. maybe quit the job, find something new. you were convinced you could do just about anything if you had this at the end of the day, wonwoo with you, by your side. 

later, when your eyes are fluttering shut almost, after you've told him all about your stressful day, he's telling you little anecdotes about his, small incidents he knows you would be interested and you nod, registering and smiling a bit when he mentions hoshi and woozi's bickering, or the members bullying mingyu once again.

you drift off again, safely snuggled up in his arms. and he smiles to himself, he's sleepy himself so it doesn't take much convincing for him to shut his eyes himself

☆ woozi. 

something not a lot of people know about him is the fact that woozi’s very glad to be home. there were times when he thought that he would never ever have something that he could ever priortise over his work. 

but when he locks the door on his way in, he sees it, lying on the couch, drool escaping your lips, and the tv is playing something you were definitely not watching. you’re hunched over the armrest for a make-shift pillow as you sleep and on the table beside the sofa is your empty dinner plate. 

while normally woozi would be disappointed that you’re not taking better care of yourself if you get this exhausted throughout the day, today he was in a particularly good mood, because he, after the last few arguments you’ve had with him, has begun to put himself in your shoes, because you were right. 

sometimes he did get a little too arrogant during arguments and refused to acknowledge his own mistake. when he looked at it from your perspective, he understood. and all these days, instead of trying to make it up to you, what he’d been doing was running from confrontation, running to work in the morning and right now, running right to go to sleep. but he’d thought about it, if it went on like this, you were sure to leave and just the thought was miserable enough to send his whole behavior into an entire change. 

so today, instead of his usual routine of dumping the dinner plate in the sink and heading off to change into his bed-clothes (don’t blame him, he’s too tired to shower), he walks over to the living room, his heart slightly melting over looking at you sleep, and he gently brushes your hair away from your face. 

“darling,”

you wake up slowly, mentally groaning over the fact that you slept on the sofa again, but you couldn’t see the sunshine seeping in through the curtains, what time was it?

“come sleep on the bed,” he sits on the edge of the sofa. 

how has he changed? it wasn’t the expression you’d expect from the man who’d been avoiding you all week. 

he looks down to his hands when you look at him, ouzzled. 

“i know i messed up, i’m sorry,” 

and then he turns to you. “i just.. thought about how i could end up losing you over this petty thing and i can’t imagine that. so i’m sorry i was a jerk to you, but i promise i’ll try my best to work on my flaws.”

“it’s okay, you’re here, it’s okay.” you throw your arms around him at that. “you weren’t going to lose me or anything, jihoon, by the way. we’re way in too deep for me to just leave because of that, but i’m glad you realized your mistake,”

“let’s go to bed now?” 

[lannasroleplaymemes]

Roleplay Tips: "Actionable Responses"

We have all experienced, or will at some point in the future, a thread that feels like it is going nowhere. It's that feeling of reluctance to pull up the draft, of realizing it's the third or so time of experiencing dread when you see that other person respond.

You're bored with the thread. That, or you want to continue and just can't seem to think of what to do next!

There are a number of reasons why this can happen, but one of the most common ones is a lack of an actionable response from your partner. In most cases, deciding to wrap up the thread is the best thing to suggest...but most of us are just too "polite" to do that, huh? 😉But that's a post for another time.

So, what is an actionable response? Simply put, it's a reply to a thread that manages to give direction to your partner. This has NOTHING to do with matching length of post! It's just a matter of being aware that this is a collaborative effort.

Here's an example:

Character A: "I think we should invite our friends out to a party." Character B: "That's a great idea!" Character A: "It'll be a formal party. I'm going to work on the invitations tonight. I'll really go all out and make it fancy!" Character B: "Oh, I can't wait to see what you come up with! I'll be sure to wear the red dress I got over the weekend." Character A: "I'm sure it looks stunning on you. I don't know what I'm going to wear yet. I think I need to figure out the venue and the details first." Character B: "You are going to knock it out of the park! You're always so good at organizing everything!"

So, what happened? The conversation above isn't bad! However, there was "burden" placed on the writer of Character A each time. The writer of B has responded each time in similar length, but gives A little to no idea how to continue the conversation. Each reply made it the responsibility of the writer of A to come up with the direction for the conversation. Here's the breakdown:

A: Starts with the opening prompt (the party)

B: Agrees with idea

A: Elaborates on prompt

B: Enthuses about prompt, brings up new subject (dress)

A: Compliments B, brings up new subject (uncertainty)

B: Reassures A

Sometimes your character requires noncommittal responses, and this is OK to do once in awhile! But think about this in real life: If you met someone who was only this reactive to your comments and never really asked about you or your actions... Wouldn't it get a bit exhausting to talk with them? At the very least, they would appear polite but uninterested, and interactions would tend to be short.

Here's a better example for the above, one with actionable responses from B.

Character A: "I think we should invite our friends out to a party." Character B: "That's a great idea! Which friends, though? The ones from work or school?" Character A: "Why not both? I think it'd be cool to combine our social groups. Unless you think they wouldn't get along…?" Character B: "Well, you know how wild I get around Stacy on the dance floor. I wouldn't want it to reflect bad on my performance review …" Character A: "That's true, you two can get pretty unhinged. But I was thinking of theming it up to be more of a formal party. Like, make fancy invitations and everything!" Character B: "Oh, that sounds amazing! And less likely I'll start twerking, although the possibility isn't zero. Do you need any help with the invitations? Or anything else?" Character A: "I should have the invitations under control, but I'd love it if you could brainstorm the decorations. I want to go for a vintage 1950's vibe." Character B: "I am already making a Pinterest. This is going to be great! Oh, and I just bought the cutest red dress that'll work perfectly for the theme! Do you know what you want to wear? We can go window shopping later if you want!" Character A: "That would be great! Do you have pics of the dress?"

The above interaction isn't just more equal in engagement, its flow and dialogue is far more natural and prompts more detailed responses! Here's the breakdown for this one:

A: Starts with the opening prompt (the party)

B: Responds asking for more details, prompting a new subject (guest list)

A: Answers, asks for B's opinion

B: Answers, brings up a third party that A can comment on

A: Makes a comment, but chooses not to pursue subject at length; brings up new point of discussion (formal party)

B: Gives opinion, offers help

A: Accepts help, provides further prompt details (party theme)

B: Gives opinion, offers up another subject of clothing, offers up potential next direction/goal of thread (shopping)

There is a lot more "work" involved on both sides in the above example. And this is just with dialogue alone -- using descriptors and physical actions (i.e B could pull up their phone and show A the photos of their dress, or A could have started to playfully mock imitate B's dancing) also gives the other character something to respond to. This works great for Muses who canonically don't say much or are generally quiet in certain scenarios!

The ultimate goal of writing Actionable Responses is to share the responsibility of the scene, so that one writer doesn't feel burdened with directing everything and eventually associate your threads with fatigue, even subconsciously. Communication also plays a big part, too! Your responses may be actionable, but if the other writer isn't picking up any of them, it's time to pause the thread and communicate ooc and see what's up!

"Oh no! I realized I don't write a lot of Actionable Responses! Does that mean I'm a bad writer/horrible person? Do all my partners secretly hate me? Is this why I don't get any responses?"

NO. Realizing the above only means you're learning something new right now, and it is up to you if you want to employ the above suggestions or not. This thread is not meant to shame people -- it is meant to educate, and maybe even put into words what other writers feel, so that they can share and point to it when they feel responsibility is unbalanced in a thread.

[smolwritingchick]

She Is The Cause Of My Euphoria

Author's Note: Old but cute one shot from my documents as I'm going through it all. I saved so much info on brainstorms and ideas, it's overwhelming lol. This is to hold you as I edit Bangtan Gal! :) also did they get rid of line break? Jeesh things changed on here. I'm readjusting.

Oneshot Summary: Jennie (OC) gets a surprise while watching her boyfriend on stage performing Euphoria. (Jungkook x OC fluff)

Words: 600+

-----------

The Love Yourself tour has been a success so far as they were now here in the States, where Jen was the most excited. The concert was underway in Fort Worth and she chose this day to DJ for the concert.

She sat at the booth, getting a front-row seat to the members performing unless she had to perform or go change. Currently, she was seated, watching Jungkook perform Euphoria. She couldn’t figure out why but he just looked happier than usual tonight as he danced in that white outfit of his. He looked like a prince tonight.

Her prince.

Every time she watched him perform, she was in awe at how stable his vocals were while dancing.

‘I love this man, so much…’ she happily thought.

The fancams were surely enjoying Jen’s bright smile as she watched him, being the proud girlfriend that she was. ARMY gushed over how cute she looked tonight as they found her adorable reactions to his performance very relatable.

Being in a playful mood, she decided to use Snapchat and film him performing with a funny filter around him to get back at him for pranking her earlier.

With Jungkook, since the song started, he had begun to constantly glance over to where she was seated. Every time he sang this song, he thought of her. All that they have been through and how happy she made him. Despite everything that happened with the dating scandal during their last comeback, things were going to be all right. With her on his mind, he decided to switch up the lyrics for the chorus.

Take my hands now

Jen is the cause of my euphoria

It took nearly seconds for ARMY to confirm what he had just said to begin screaming as a smile came across his face. Meanwhile, Jen’s stomach dropped as soon as she heard her name and she quickly looked up to make sure she heard him correctly.

Take my hands now

She is the cause of my euphoria

Her heart skipped a beat as she looked down, struggling to keep that smile off her face.

Was this planned? Got her over here all in her feelings. Fansites were having a field day filming her looking a bit shy and giddy at his lyrics.

Close the door now

When I’m with her, I’m in utopia

‘This guy…’ she thought as she let out a giggle.

As the song went on, she looked down at her phone to check out the photos she had taken of him so far. But then she heard the crowd’s screams get louder than usual for his performance. Confused, she sets her phone down and looks up to see what the commotion is. And then she saw that Jungkook was walking towards her.

Wide-eyed, she was curious and a bit nervous about what he was about to do. First, it was the lyrics change, now what did he have planned?

As soon as he approached her, he smiled lovingly and gently held her hands as she stood up. He then began to sing to her instead and her face was on fire from his sudden actions.

jeogi meolliseo badaga deullyeo

kkumeul geonneoseo supul neomeoro

“Jungkook…” she laughed softly as tears developed in her eyes. “Oh my gosh…”

Take my hands now

You are the cause of my euphoria

Once he hit his angelic high note while gazing right at her, it brought her to tears. A chorus of awwwws was heard from ARMY when they noticed that she was crying. After wiping her tears with his thumb, he placed one of her hands over his heart while he resumed serenading her.

And I love you

You are the cause of my euphoria

He never ceased to make her feel so special, even in front of ARMY after they went public.

When I’m with you, I’m in utopia

After singing the last note, he couldn’t help himself as he gently lifted her chin, leaning down to kiss her softly. Drowning out those thunderous screams from the crowd, all that he focused on was her as the lights went out.

[professorthaddeus]

butterfly effects

The air has been saturated with a sharp, tangy sense of urgency ever since the freeway collapsed, but here in the back alleys by Conrad’s home, the cobbled streets are cold as ever, the walls dark and damp from the recent brainstorm. Justin pads along by his side, a comforting presence at his feet, and Conrad could almost pretend it’s just another day on the job, on the way to his paper route.

Except for one thing. The Fix’s hulking form lumbers ahead of him, his shoulders barely squeezing through the alleyways. In the shadows, he practically looks like a wall himself—solid, unyielding stone, brought to life to eliminate any obstacles ahead of him. No, ahead of all three of them. 

It’s been a long, long time since any grownup took an interest in Conrad. Now, there are five grownups looking out for him. Trying to save him. 

It’s a lot. 

Well, maybe that’s not fair. Mister F—the owner of Sugah’s has always paid attention to him. Even if their interactions weren’t the most pleasant on Conrad’s end, the club owner always remembered his name and cared where he was. Well. Cared if he was too close to Sugah’s, at least.

The Fix keeps glancing back at him to make sure he’s following. It’s funny—one look from someone so intimidating would usually send Conrad scrambling into corners to hide, but he doesn’t feel that itch under his skin tonight. That gaze, concerned and watchful, those giant hands swinging by The Fix’s sides, capable of so much violence but so much care, too… they’re so familiar. Echoes of bright points in a dark, forgotten place.

The next time The Fix looks back, Conrad clears his throat and tries to project his voice far enough to reach the henchman’s ears above. “Um, Mister The Fix?”

“Just The Fix is fine, kid.”

Conrad swallows. “Oh, okay. Um. Earlier, you wanted to know why I trusted you so quickly, right? I didn’t really know myself, then, but I think I’ve figured it out.” He scuffs his feet, the words faltering on his tongue as the memories come into focus.

“Oh?” The Fix is giving him an encouraging nod.

“I… I think I know you. From before we met recently, I mean. You used to come to Madame Loathing’s, didn’t you?”

The Fix blinks. “Yes, I did. I still do. But I don’t remember seeing you there.”

Conrad shrugs. “I usually kept to myself when I lived there. But you… you were impossible to miss.”  

The other children would always get so excited when their benefactor came to visit. Conrad stayed back, but he still caught the man’s endless patience as he listened to Ronnie ramble about snakes, as he watched Matilda practice her magic tricks. Still felt the draw of a grownup who really cared, a grownup who was kind.

“You used to nurture the wayward interests, didn’t you? You wanted to protect them so that they could grow.” Now that Conrad remembers, it seems so odd that he ever forgot. Then again, it’s been a long time since he ran away. And The Fix’s visits had gotten less and less frequent over the years. Conrad frowns. “But now… you just do whatever the DA tells you to do, and the DA only cares about the big guy’s job. What happened?”

“Hey now, nothing happened.” The Fix’s brow furrows. “I do what I do for the big guy, same as any other worker here, and after a while, he began to value ambition the most.”

“But you’re so strong. You could do so much good if you just—”

The Fix’s mouth twists into a grimace as he rolls a shoulder. It’s probably just in discomfort, and he doesn’t move forward, but Conrad still flinches back reflexively, and Justin rumbles a low growl in warning. The Fix’s eyes soften, the irritation vanishing from his face.

“People come after you a lot, don’t they?”

“Well… yeah. I get it, though. People don’t like a little kid telling them what they should do. Like I just did with you.” Conrad winces. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” The Fix shakes his head. “I’ll be honest, I’m not very comfortable with your mission to change the big guy’s mind. But you’re a part of the mind, too, and that’s your purpose. Maybe you have a point.”

“No, you don’t have to say that, I shouldn’t have—look, I’m not trying to blame you," Conrad stammers. "I can’t really talk, anyway. I know I’m kind of failing as the big guy’s moral conscience here—oh sorry, not that I’m saying you’re failing, but…” He sighs, shifting his weight. “Most people’s consciences talk to them a lot, and actually make a difference. I mean, even Justin’s always telling me I need to do more.”

“Wha—no, I told you one time that maybe we could be doing a little more than just switching the front page of the newspaper.”

“Oh, right.”

Justin nudges Conrad’s leg. “I know you do the best you can, and sometimes that’s all we can do,” he justifies.

Conrad’s eyes well up with a familiar emotion. He’s so lucky to have this dog by his side. “Justin, you’re my best friend.”

“You’re my best friend.”

The Fix kneels, interrupting Conrad’s move to give Justin a hug. Conrad is suddenly struck with an image of this mountain of a man crouching down in the entryway at Madame Loathing’s to let Jimmy the prospective gymnast clamber all over him. “I’m glad the two of you have each other; you’re both really good friends. But you don’t have to do this by yourselves anymore. I’d like to be your friend, too.”

Conrad flushes. “I… I appreciate that, Mister—I mean, The Fix.” He looks down, fiddling with the fraying strap of his bag. “But I still don’t know if I can do more, even with help. I’d like to, but the one time I tried and it actually worked, I—I got the big guy hurt real bad, and…” An innocent kid died. Ichabod. Conrad shudders, his shoulders curling in on himself. Things have been crazy, and it’s all his fault. The collapsed highway, the darkened switchboard, the eyes being closed… he might’ve gotten the big guy hurt again.

The Fix tilts his head, considering him intently in a way that makes Conrad want to squirm away. The Fix hums awkwardly. “You know, back in the 70s, there was this man named Edward Norton Lorenz who developed a hypothesis that contributed a lot to chaos theory. He theorized that Earth’s weather patterns are pretty much impossible to predict perfectly because, for example, the smallest changes in atmospheric pressure can build into storms, or a gust of wind can send clouds on a completely different path.”

Conrad looks to Justin for help, but his friend looks just as bewildered as he feels.

“What?”

The Fix sighs. “What I’m trying to say is, I think I was right. You’re important, Conrad—you’re the butterfly. And it’s okay if you feel like you can’t do too much right now.” He ventures a smile. Conrad gets a feeling The Fix doesn’t do that much. The smile’s a little lopsided, but it’s gentle. “Even the tiniest butterfly can make a big change with just a flap of its wings.”

Conrad’s eyes widen. His first instinct is to protest—history has shown him that he can’t affect anything. He doesn’t deserve to, anyway, after the harm he’s caused. But maybe that’s not exactly true. After all, because of Conrad—or at least, because The Fix saw Conrad, he went from blindly following the DA’s orders without considering the consequences to actively lying to his boss, giving voice to his old desire to protect.

It’s too much. Justin presses against his legs, and Conrad worries at his lip, resisting the urge to curl up into a ball on the ground. There’s something fluttering inside him, an unfamiliar warmth settling tentatively alongside the ever-present whirlpool of guilt. It’s weird. It’s kind of nice.

The Fix stands, turning to face the industrial lights of Occipital Park in the distance. “Come on, we should probably get going to meet up with the others.” Conrad adjusts his bag and takes a deep breath, straightening his spine.

“Okay.”

The Fix is reaching out to offer him a hand. He takes it.

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also on ao3 (if you'd like to give your local fic writer some contraband dopamine kudos :p)

[0809sysblings]

you know... Amane's answer to Q19... "My mother should have kept her faith to the very end"... it really makes me think.

(read more because this got long. also this is very rambly and probably doesn't flow well lol sorry about that. I'm mostly just thinking to myself here)

the first assumption one would probably make is to connect it to her having broken a cult rule, leading to Amane murdering her. which yeah could still be that. but I started thinking about alternative explanations as to how her mother could have not "kept her faith to the very end". because I just like to brainstorm about every single possibility for things no matter how plausible they are to see if there's anything there.

and so I was trying to think. how could that altercation have played out? do you think Amane incapacitated her (but still conscious) and tried to question her before actually doing anything? what if she did? what would her mother have said to try to explain why she killed the cat? I can't see why Amane's mother wouldn't be able to defend her decision. obviously it wouldn't really matter in the end if she could or not, because that's not really why Amane killed her.

so what her mother would say doesn't matter. just what if she did say something. Amane doesn't listen however. she doesn't care. it doesn't matter. her mom needs to die. her mother realizes that "logic" is not going to get her out of this.

Amane's answer is basically one of the cult's doctrines, isn't it? "’Tis ordained, thou shall stay thine course, then perish". the "then perish" bit can make it a little misleading, but what it's literally saying is to just stay on your course (continue acting for the faith and continue believing, basically) until you die. or in other words, until the very end. Amane's mother seems to have broken this doctrine based on her answer.

and so that obviously got me thinking about how her mother could have broken this doctrine. I mean, she was literally torturing her daughter for this cult. she's as dedicated as it gets (whether that dedication is genuine or out of survival is another question... but that's not important for this). but when you're scared and emotional enough, you can do some pretty out of character things. fear of dying I think would do the trick lol.

then I started thinking about some lyrics to a song I really like, "Hey, ain't it funny, you can't bear the same sort of agony you forced me to emulate?". the song is about a child getting revenge on their abuser(s), just to give relevant context. so you can see why it came to mind.

Amane (most likely) tased her mom to incapacitate her. her mom tased her as her first punishment for helping the cat upon getting home. she was using the same tactics used on her but for punishing and killing her mother.

I think it would have REALLY pissed Amane off and just fueled her determination to hear her mom attempting to plead for her life and to apologize to get Amane to stop. this sounds a lot like some lyrics from Purge March...

After you cry, repent, and kneel, it’s now your turn to say that hopeless “I’m sorry”

maybe Amane was describing her mom's actions during the murder with this...? her mom was trying to plead for her life. maybe she went even as far as bargaining with Amane, saying she'd treat her better and not punish her again. but punishment is part of what you must do as a believer!!! you must punish the wrongdoers! to say you wouldn't would be simply going against the cult. maybe this is how she broke that doctrine? she went back on the word of the cult to try to save her own life. she did not keep her faith to the very end.

and that concludes tonight's 5am Amane ramble. thank you for coming.

[generalkenobi22]

Fic: I’ve Got Phil! - Chapter One

SUMMARY: Or five times Claire realized her husband was a thirst trap — well, more accurately, her particular brand of duck swaddling, magic loving, realtor swaggering "me likey.”

I'm super late to the Modern Family train, but I'm here now, nine seasons deep. Imagine my shock at the complete lack of Claire/Phil fic, as their dynamic is one of my favorite things in the series. So rather than work on any of my other in-progress fics, I brainstormed this in a Ty Burrell crush-infused haze. The idea  is that this will be a multi-chapter effort, and each chapter takes place during a certain number of years into their marriage. 

Join me in my three-years-too-late sitcom ship obsession!

Can also be found on AO3.

——————

i. 16 years

The bake sale is a huge hit, but no one—and Claire means no one—is going anywhere near her brownies. Brenda Sherman's no-bake cheesecake squares, though, people can't seem to get enough of those. At one point, the line was wrapped around as far as the restrooms, back near the face painting station, where she's currently stuck.

And, sure, Claire's brownies were a secret recipe (the secret? She picked them up from Ralph's on her way over), but so what? She's just a woman who gave up a lucrative marketing career to basically be a full-time chauffer to three mostly ungrateful kids she loves very much. She barely has time to put on clean clothes, let alone make homemade baked goods for some dumb middle school carnival put on by the PTA.

The only reason she's here in the first place (and not at home taking care of a grotesquely sick Luke) is because Cynthia Williams—Anthony's mom—sent out an email blast saying anyone who volunteered for the carnival wouldn't need to sell wrapping paper for the winter fundraiser in a few months. So, one less thing Claire has to commit to? Like music to her ears.

What's not music to her ears is the way Brenda Sherman sidles up beside her—in her pearls and immaculately pressed slacks—to say, "Thanks so much for coming out to help tonight, Claire!"

Claire takes in Brenda's cardigan and complete lack of undereye circles (seriously: how?) with total suspicion. Much like her daughter, Annabella (at least from what Alex has told them), Brenda is usually a complete kiss-ass. She'd definitely fall under that 'lawful good' category from that game thing Phil and Mitch sometimes play—at least on the surface, anyway. Claire's still not entirely convinced she's not some kind of undercover lizard person.

Her instincts are right on when, before she can get a word in, Brenda adds innocently, "Every little bit counts, you know. And, gosh, Claire—you're so consistent in being a minimalist in so many areas of your life, especially your wardrobe. It's what I admire most about you. The fact that you never let your vanity get in the way of how you present yourself."

Claire thinks about the way her own hair is unceremoniously piled up on her head with a butterfly clip, the way her shirt probably—wait, yup, definitely—has a small vomit stain on it from Luke's antics earlier in the day. She thinks she might snap a crown, the way she grinds down on her teeth and forces a smile. "And that's what I love about you, Brenda. You're always so lavish with your compliments."

It's like one of the old westerns her dad used to make her watch, the way they stand off, but it's in a PTA mom world, so instead of a six-shooter, Claire just draws her most winning smile and forces her attention back on the kid whose face she's painting. Only when the sound of Brenda's footsteps fades under the din of the rest of the carnival does Claire allow herself to grumble.

Gruffly, she holds up a mirror to the kid. "There. You're done."

The kid pouts. "What is it?"

"It's a... pinecone. Or something."

"It looks like poop."

"Just go." She all but pushes the kid out of the stool.

It's not until her own stomach growls that she realizes she hasn't eaten anything since breakfast (one measly slice of toast). Mind made up, she places an "ON BREAK" sign on the recently vacated stool—much to the chagrin of the considerable line of parents and students waiting their turn—and makes her way over to the bake sale table.

When the coast is clear, she snatches one of Brenda's no-bake cheesecake squares and—holy mother of God is it good. She allows herself a muffled moan of pure delight before wallowing in the unfairness of it all.

"Did you see Kevin Peralta's father?"

Immediately, her ears perk up. A group of moms is huddled together (including Brenda) nearby. It's a school-wide known fact that Kevin Peralta's dad is otherworldly fine. Claire casually hangs around trying to listen in. The group is made up of notorious gossip hounds, but sometimes the intel is good.

One of the moms—Tara Perez's mom, Claire thinks—pipes up: "The man's a contractor. There's no way he should look that good."

"I'm not saying it was me," Cynthia Williams insists, "but as soon as someone mentioned a dunk tank fundraiser at the last board meeting, he was voluntold for the position."

Another mom: "Those arms, though... mmm, mmm."

Brenda sighs. "I would gladly let that man stake claim to my construction zone any time."

Claire follows their line of sight over to Kevin Peralta's dad, who is glistening like some kind of Adonis from his throne in the dunk tank. He does, in fact, have great arms, one of which he's lifting to run his fingers through his recently drenched hair. As Claire watches a bead of water travel from his glistening smile, along the column of his throat, down, down his flat stomach into the waistband of his swim shorts, which are slung low on his hips, she allows herself to briefly fantasize...

Claire, I called the plumber. I recognize my limitations, and I think it would be best to let a professional fix the dishwasher. Claire, it's not you. The remote is a faulty piece of junk. Claire, I did something for the kids without you having to ask. Claire, I finally fixed that step. Let me use my big, strong arms to lift you onto the kitchen counter, and—

"Phil Dunphy on the other hand..."

At the mention of her husband, Claire's ripped from her fantasies (equal parts guilty and grudgingly). She listens in more intently.

"Oh, my God!" This from Cynthia Williams. "He's such a goober."

"I don't know," Maybe Tara Cruz's Mom says, "I think he's cuter in real life than on those cheesy bench ads. What he's doing with Claire, though, I'll never know. Even for someone as embarrassing as him, it's a step down."

Okay. Claire's fists clench at her sides, crushing her no-bake cheesecake square paper plate. Maybe Tara Cruz's Mom is dead.

She takes a moment to briefly glance over at Phil, who insisted on volunteering even though no one asked him to. He has on a magician's top hat and a cape, white gloves and all, and is currently trying to dazzle a group of sixth graders with some card tricks. Only she can tell his enthusiasm isn't all the way up at one hundred percent because he was really counting on Luke to be his sidekick for the night.

The fact that he loves Luke that much... Something about the sight makes her heart feel incredibly full, until—

"Could you imagine? I bet he does magic tricks in bed." Brenda laughs at her contribution, while the other women snicker. "God," she adds, "what a loser."

That's the moment Claire goes absolutely postal. She marches over to the group.

"Hi. Hey." She squeezes inside the circle and takes in everyone's suddenly slack jaws with total delight. "Yeah, it's me, Claire. The step down? Just wanted to come over here and say you all are mean ladies. I can't imagine why it's hard to find volunteers, Cynthia, when they can look forward to being insulted behind their backs. Have a wonderful rest of your evening."

She waggles her fingers at all of them before walking away, head held high. Her heart is pounding, but what a rush! In her adrenaline/anger-fueled rage, something occurs to her. She stalks back to the group, who is still stunned into silence, and focuses all of her attention on Brenda.

"Oh, and, Brenda?" She waits until she has the woman's full attention. "Phil does do close up magic in bed, and when he says, 'for my next trick, I'm going to make your clothes disappear,' it's... it's hot as hell!"

And then with as much dignity as she can muster, Claire makes a beeline straight for Phil.

His face lights up when he sees her. He bows with a flourish to his audience, then lightly jogs to meet her about a quarter of the way. "Hey, Hon—!"

Before he can get the full word out, Claire grabs him by the cape on both sides and pulls him in for a, frankly, completely inappropriate kiss for a PTA-run middle school carnival. When she pulls back, Phil fixes his hat and looks equal parts stunned and totally into it.

"Claire! What—?"

"Let's get out of here."

Phil looks torn. "I-I can't. I'm just about to start the Serpant's Kiss. It involves a straightjacket, but I can't go into more detail because I'm already on thin ice with the guild as it is, and—"

"Phil, I have an act I've been working on, and I'd really like to try it out."

Somehow, Phil's eyes darken even more. "You do?"

Claire sidles up to him and whispers in his ear, "I do. It's a trick where I make your pants disappear."

"Technically," he corrects, voice barely above a whisper, "that's a vanishing illusion—"

"Oh, my God, Phil," Claire breaks the spell a moment out of frustration, but she shakes it off and tries again. "I don't think you're quite getting this. I want. To make. Your pants. Vanish."

She can feel him shudder, and when she pulls away, she watches as his throat works through a swallow.

"Houdini's haunches," he says in complete reverence, his gaze never wavering from hers. "What did I do to deserve such perfection? Martin!" he shouts, eyes still riveted on hers.

A pudgy seventh grader makes his way over to them. Phil shucks off his top hat, cape, and gloves and practically shoves them at the kid.

"Martin," Phil instructs, still not taking his eyes off Claire. "At last, the apprentice becomes the master. You must take over and finish the show." Phil grabs Claire's hand and starts pulling her toward the exit. Over his shoulder, he cries, "Remember your training!"

"What the hell are you talking about, man?" Martin calls after them.

But Claire doesn't care. Phil has already started working on his belt by the time they reach the double doors that lead out to the parking lot. Before they leave fully, Claire turns around and manages to find Brenda over at the face painting station. She flashes Brenda a triumphant grin before she laces her fingers with Phil's.

In the end, they both end up making each other's pants and dignity disappear when a school security guard taps on their fogged-up car windows and catches them mid-act. After an excruciatingly humiliating conversation about appropriate school grounds behavior, they Rock, Paper, Scissors for it. Phil is the one who has to tell Alex why she has to take the bus to school for the next week.

[insecateur]

I call this the bathroom hookup universe inspired me and I am too ashamed to send this off anon, yes I HC professor Rowans first name is Oskar

Friday night in Sandgem. Usually Professor Oskar Rowan would still be busy or would be winding down by reading stories from his personal secret stash. Lucas was out of town on vacation, and the silence of the lab was only occasionally by the soft sound of Kricketot.

Oskar was already bored out of his mind.

'Maybe I can talk to Charon' before remembering he broke off with him, joined a terrorist organization, and was now in jail. So he was probably not willing to talk.

'Maybe text Samuel or Magnolia' as his brain quickly shut down that idea, no he did not, and he has never thought about them.

Maybe talk to one of his previous flings who had all somehow gotten his phone number? Although most of them did not even live in his same time zone, they might be having gym duties, or school or tending a garden.

As he opened Swablutter he got an ad for a bar in Jubilife. 'LAST FRIDAY MADNESS, GET 4 DRINKS FOR THE PRICE OF TWO, SPECIAL OF THE DAY IS THE MUZZARELLA COCK WAFFLE, COME ON DOWN TO THE URSARING CAVE'

Maybe he could have something sweet and fruity for tonight.

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

Oskar arrived at the Ursaring Cave pretty soon, and sat down on the bar, asking for a Blue Margarita.

From across the bar he heard a voice "Alone on a Friday night?"

He turned to look. A young man with blue hair, a white flat cap and a V-Neck Liepard print shirt looked at him and gave a little smirk.

"Maybe I'm just here for business" Oskar said as the young man moved closer.

"What business would a renowned Pokemon professor have at a gay bar?" The twink said as he took a long, uninterrupted sip from his cocktail until he finished the drink, never taking his eyes off Oskar.

"Hmm… Let's see… I used to be a regular here a long time ago, I needed to make sure the quality was still good"

"Does it still hold up?" The young man said inching closer.

"Maybe I need help determining that" Oskar said as his hand brushed against the young man's.

"We should discuss this somewhere private Professor" He practically purred as he got up.

"My name is Proton. Care to come with me?"

anon thank you for this gift. proton should get to fuck that old man

(oskar is a good name! when i was brainstorming names for him i settled on sven bc nana (like nanakamado) can mean seven lol. never had any occasion to use it so far tho. i like knowing people's name headcanons, it's nice)

[moraxsthrone]

Orchid and Lotus for the flower asks ♥

ooooh two of my fave flowers! these are good ones!

orchid— when you're being extremely quiet, what are you typically thinking of?

oh gosh, two things i do often: be quiet and think lol. i can cover about 10 different topics in as many minutes it seems. i'd say i'm most likely brainstorming a fic/fleshing out an idea. i like to create AUs in my head and i go deep sometimes. i spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about my genshin husbandos skskssksksss. i think about my friends and things i might be able to say or do to make them smile/laugh/feel happy. i often wonder what the hell is wrong w humanity and why we can't seem to understand that we make things hard on ourselves and each other, and we can make so many things better just by changing our minds and priorities, and developing new habits. i'm also a mom so i think a lot about my son...from big things like "will he still be living w me when he's 40?" (lmao, he's only 11) to little things like "what am i making him for dinner tonight?"

lotus— what is your favorite color and in what shade? e.g. sage green, navy blue, etc.

midnight blue is far and away my fave. so pretty and ethereal, calming and healing.

[seoness]

Pending Requests

Last updated: 2022-12-02

Instead of filling my page with answers to requests, this post will serve as a list of all requests sent my way. If you've sent a request, I'll add it to the list. Please know that I am so happy and flattered that there is anyone out here on the internet that wants to read my writing and I'll get to your request in time❣️There is such kindness in my messages and requests and AAAAAH it is just amazing to hear such positivity. Know that I read each one! 🤗

To signal the progress of the works, since I figure that can be fun for you who send request, I'll use emojis. Brainstorming stage = 💡Sketching out the story = 📝 Revising/Editing = 💯

Pending series: A Stranger to Whom: Fem!Reader x Sandor Clegane - The reader is from Lys. Westeros and their customs are foreign and the Hound is a far cry from the men of Lys.💡📝

To Your Satisfaction: Fem!Reader x Sandor Clegane - The reader is insecure about her weight, looks, and sexual inexperience. 💡📝

In Heat: Fem!Reader x Sandor Clegane - The reader has a high sex drive and wants to see how many times she can get the Hound off before returning to his duties. 💡

Forget for Tonight - Fem!Reader x Sandor Clegane - The reader is a handmaiden/lady-in-waiting to Cersei Lannister and has a long-standing crush on the Hound. Is saved during a riot and goes to offer thanks. 💡

The Best of Bargains - Fem!Reader x Sandor Clegane - The reader wakes up before Sandor. Admiring him and later trying their best to keep him in bed as duties call him elsewhere. (Fluff)

Wicked Wanton - Fem!Reader x Sandor Clegane- The reader engages in some semi-public sex with the Hound. A kinkfest of breeding, dirty talk, and size difference.

Respectfully, fuck off - Fem!Reader x Sandor Clegane - Not all days are one of bliss with the Hound. After a long day you both take out your frustrations on one another, but along the way, curses turn to moans.

Warmth in the Darkest of Nights - Fem!Reader x Sandor Clegane - The mission north of the wall goes south, and the reader is trapped with the Hound in a cavern. In the biting cold, there's no room for modesty. Building warmth together, one thing leads to another. (cockwarming)

Take a Hint - Fem!Reader x Sandor Clegane - Beauty comes with its perks as much as it does its pitfalls. The Hound is not one for sharing. Unable to throw your pursuers from the walls, his bottled-up emotions are for you to deal with come nightfall.

Milk of the Poppy - Fem!Reader x Sandor Clegane - The Hound returns one night wounded and the reader tasks themself with tending to his wounds. (Fluff)

Pending 4-part-series: Of True Faith and Sacrifice - Fem!Reader x Sandor Clegane - The reader is the only trueborn daughter between Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister and the firstborn child. The reader is sent away at an early age by her Queen Mother to be raised in the Westerlands. Returned to court by Robert to be wed, but a forbidden romance grows between the reader and the Hound. The seed that has quickened in the readers stomach is caught too late and moon tea cannot be used. What will the reader do to ensure their own survival and the safety of their unborn child?

Remain in Your Eyes - TransM!Reader x Sandor Clegane - Gold might have taken you to Westeros, but the Hound kept you from setting sail back east. The tales you heard of the savages of the west had their morsels of truth. Love is so strict one could doubt it existence, but one grew between you and the sworn sword to the Crown Prince. Sandor is a reasonable man. You tell yourself that. After all, he reasoned his love for another man quick enough. He's made his wants known, his hunger clear, but you fear that when he sheds the last layers he'll no longer see you for who you are. If his disappointment or relief would hurt you the most is something you pray to never find out. (Heavy Angst)

Pending series: Mother's Mercy - female oc (Tully) x Sandor Clegane (show). Joffrey Baratheon is a fickle king, unpredictable whims that suddenly are carved into stone that none can alter. Jeyne Tully will come to learn this intimately. (Forced marriage, slow burn, fluff, mild smut) 💡

(Some will be worked into Kinktober)

Back to Masterlist

[bitletsanddrabbles]

WIP Wednesday: Upcoming Group Think

As I mentioned in the tags of an earlier reblog, I’m working on the Thomas as Heir fic again. This is for two reasons: first being that I really do want to finish at least part one of this thing before I die of old age. Second being that the most recent similar fic has almost the exact same title as my working title, is part of a series with almost the exact same name as I was going to use, and has some details that are creeping much closer to what I have than anything I’ve seen before.

No, I’m not calling Fandom Copyright Infringement. I’ve not posted that info before, so there’s no way the other author could have copied me. Similarly, I was unaware of that project until it went up. This isn’t even a matter of great minds thinking alike, it’s more like two grade school kids being handed pictures of the sun to colour and reaching for the yellow crayon. Seriously, naming a story about a stolen kid after a Yeats poem is kind of a no brainer.

I do want to get this done before someone else accidentally writes the exact same story, though. I mean, there are only so many ways to do this thing. It’s bound to happen eventually.

(And no, I am not changing my titles. I’ve as much right to the yellow crayon as anyone else.)

Anyway, since I’m hitting the part of the narrative that was shot all to heck with my last brainstorming session and am basically back to the ‘throwing pasta at the wall and seeing what sticks’ stage, I will probably put a thing up in the next couple of days asking for thoughts and feedback, because that was kinda insanely helpful last time.

In the meantime - I WROTE EDITH’S POV AND I’M REALLY PROUD OF MYSELF FOR THAT!

-

“I don’t understand.” Edith frowned into the mouthpiece of the telephone. “Is something wrong with the baby?”

“No, there’s nothing wrong there,” her mother’s voice assured her, “or with Mary. They’re both in perfect health.”

There was a small noise behind her and she turned to find Bertie crossing the room, an anxious look on his face. He must have heard her last question. “Well it’s a relief.” She gave her husband a reassuring smile and he visibly relaxed. “But what else is so important that you can’t just tell me over the telephone?”

“We’ve a mystery on our hands,” the older woman replied, her tone both serious and coaxing. “And it involves the whole family. It’s quite complicated, so we’d like to only go over the details once. Your Grandmother is seeing if Rosamund can come, and I’ve already asked the Mertons. They’re free all week.”

“Well we can’t come down tonight.” Edith frowned, mentally reviewing her calendar. “We’re having the archbishop over to dinner, but we might be available tomorrow. One moment, let me ask Bertie.” Lowering the mouthpiece she said, “It’s Mama. She wants to know if we can come down for a day or two this week.”

“As far as I know.” It was Bertie’s turn to frown. “I’m tied up in meetings with several of the farmers in the morning, but I don’t see why we couldn’t be down there by about tea time. We’ve no other commitments that I know of until Monday, at least nothing we can’t reschedule.”

With a nod, Edith turned her attention back to the telephone. “We could be there for dinner tomorrow night and make a Friday to Monday out of it.”

“Wonderful, thank you, Dear.” The relief in her mother’s voice was palpable.

“What if Aunt Rosamund can’t make it?”

“We’ll tell you anyway,” was the promise. “And you’ll get to see us all, so it won’t be a wasted trip.”

“It’s never a wasted trip when we’re visiting you,” Edith laughed, despite the strange, mysterious circumstances. “If nothing else, it will be good to see Mary, before the baby’s born.”

“Who knows? Maybe the baby will be born while you’re here.”

“That would certainly be convenient.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Dear. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” The line went dead and Edith hung up. She felt utterly befuddled.

“What’s going on, Darling?” Bertie asked, his own expression as curious as she felt.

“I don’t know for certain,” she confessed. “Apparently there’s some sort of mystery going on and it’s all a big fuss. Mama didn’t want to tell me over the telephone.” She shook her head. “She was being very mysterious, which isn’t like Mama at all.”

“But the baby’s fine,” he confirmed, “and Mary?”

Edith sighed, unable to deny she was relieved that all was well in that quarter. Much as she and Mary had never gotten on, she wasn’t ready to bury a second sister. “She says so, yes, and she wouldn’t lie about that. Whatever it is, it’s something different.”

They looked at each other for a moment, then Bertie shrugged. “I suppose we’ll find out tomorrow, then, won’t we?”

“I suppose  we will.”

[borahae-777]

The Truth Untold -- Chapter 11: There's No Name You Can Call Me

Pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook, Yoongi x Jimin

Word Count: Fic in progress, 145k so far. 3k-5k per chapter

Chapter Summary:

Yoongi queues up the song and Taehyung’s voice melts through the speakers with soft piano accompaniment. Everyone is listening closely, but Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat as he hears the lyrics.

You know that I can’t Show you me Give you me I can’t show you a ruined part of myself Once again I put a mask on and go to see you But I still want you

Warnings: Eventual Smut, BDSM, 18+, MxM

Jungkook is the first to show up in the living room at the dorm for their brainstorming meeting. Namjoon had sent out a group text last night about a meeting to discuss band business: tours, new songs, interview schedules, etc. Now that they’re well into September, they have concert dates coming up in several countries as well as three days at Gocheok Sky Dome. Things are calmer now, if still tense. Jungkook knows Taehyung and Yoongi spend most of their time together and he feels bad that he’s probably been hogging Jimin, but Taehyung is still distant from him months later so what else was he supposed to do?

He hears voices coming down the hall and smiles at Jimin and Hobi walking into the room. They sit on the couch next to him with Jimin wedged in the middle. Jungkook reaches over and runs a hand through Jimin’s hair.

“Are you ready to show everyone your song tonight, hyung?”

“I’m so nervous, Kook. Namjoon and I have been working on this for months. What if it doesn’t go over well?”

“It’s going to be a SMASH, Jiminie!” Hobi interjects enthusiastically.

Before Jimin can say anything else, the other four members come walking down the hallway together. Jungkook’s eyes zero in on Taehyung the way they always do, but as usual his gaze isn’t returned. Tae is looking down as he walks and sits on the floor on the opposite side of the circle everyone is forming as they sit. Jungkook feels that familiar empty feeling in his gut that shows up every time he looks at Taehyung now.

“Okay everyone! Let’s start with new songs. Does anyone have something they want to play for us? I can go first if no one else wants to,” Namjoon gets everyone’s attention with a commanding voice and a smile.

“We have something,” Yoongi speaks up, looking at Taehyung. Jungkook feels a twinge of jealousy thinking about Yoongi getting to create something with Tae. Maybe that’s what they’ve been spending all of their time doing.

“Go ahead!”

“Well, Taehyung looks like he’s too nervous to talk so I’ll do it. I know everyone has noticed that we haven’t been around the dorm much. I know Namjoon in particular has been concerned about how late Taehyung gets home. This is what we’ve been doing. We wanted to get each part of this song perfect before we brought it to the group. It’s a vocal line song with four parts, but obviously it’s just Tae on the guide track for now. We haven't named it yet, but we busted our asses on this. Be gentle.”

Yoongi queues up the song and Taehyung’s voice melts through the speakers with soft piano accompaniment. Everyone is listening closely, but Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat as he hears the lyrics.

You know that I can’t Show you me Give you me I can’t show you a ruined part of myself Once again I put a mask on and go to see you But I still want you

Jungkook’s head starts to spin.

I am afraid I am shattered I’m so afraid That you will leave me again in the end Once again I put on a mask and go to see you

Jungkook looks up and Taehyung is staring directly at him, eyes shining with tears. How long has he been looking?

Maybe back then A little Just this much If I had the courage to stand before you Would everything be different now

Tears have started to drip down Taehyung’s cheeks and Jungkook can feel his own burning behind his eyes.

I'm crying That’s disappeared That’s fallen Left alone in this sandcastle Looking at this broken mask

As the dam breaks and tears crest Jungkook’s eyelids, he looks around the room. Everyone is looking at either him or Taehyung. He thinks he should feel embarrassed or shy, but the end of the song plays and it echoes in Jungkook’s head over and over.

I still want you. I still want you. I still want you.

The only sound in the room now is an occasional sniffle. It seems no one wants to break the silence. He stops looking at everyone else and focuses directly on Taehyung. The look on his face is enough to bring Jungkook to his knees. He stands up, crosses the circle, and kneels in front of a crying Taehyung. He leans forward and tentatively wraps his arms around his best friend. Tae tenses up for a second, but then melts into Jungkook and they both let out audible sobs.

“That was so beautiful, Tae. Was that for me?”

Taehyung silently nods against Jungkook’s chest.

“I loved it. I missed you. I missed my best friend.”

“I missed you too, Kookie,” Taehyung pulls back and grins. Jungkook moves from his knees to opt for sitting next to Taehyung instead, keeping one arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“Thank god you guys are friends again. The tension has been killing the rest of us!” Jin suddenly exclaims, making everyone burst out laughing at his blunt delivery.

“Okay, okay. The maknaes are friends again, let’s get back to the important stuff. What did you all think of the song?” Yoongi is focused on music as always.

The circle finally explodes with excited voices, everyone praising the pair and brainstorming names for the song. Jimin and Jin are vying for specific parts they want to sing. Namjoon and Hoseok are trying to decide if they want to tweak anything, much to Yoongi’s irritation.

Jungkook just sits silently next to Taehyung, finally breathing again for the first time in months. He has his best friend back. They can finally put all that drama behind them and be themselves again. He looks over and Tae is smiling at him warmly, looking the most relaxed he has since the summer.

Things can finally go back to normal.

********

Jimin is far more nervous than he was at the start of the meeting. Taehyung and Yoongi’s song was so beautiful. He could feel Tae’s artistry in those lyrics. He could feel Yoongi’s passion in that melody. He wasn’t expecting them to also present a song, let alone one that’s so powerful. After considering asking Namjoon to save the song for another time, he decides that what’s done is done.

Looking across the circle, he sees Jungkook and Taehyung excitedly chattering and he can’t help but grin. He’s hated seeing his two closest friends avoiding each other. They’re happier together. He knows that things can’t be fixed that easily, but this is a huge step. He wonders what they’ll say and do when Namjoon makes his big announcement. Jimin has been helping him come up with the right words all week. But first, he hears Namjoon ask if there are any other songs and everyone shakes their heads.

“Okay then, Jiminie and I have one for you. We’ve similarly been working very hard and it’s also a vocal line song, but this one is designed specifically with Jimin in mind.”

The entire group whoops as Namjoon finishes speaking and finds the song to play. Jimin even sees Yoongi crack a smile. He takes several deep breaths as the beginning notes of the song spread throughout the room. It’s now or never.

When you called me I became your flower As if we were waiting We bloom until we ache

Jimin watches Yoongi’s face.

As much as my heart flutters, I'm worried The destiny is jealous of us Just like you I'm so scared

He sees the elder’s brow furrow.

Love me now, touch me now. Just let me love you.

The song peters out and again the room is silent, but this time it doesn’t last very long. Yoongi’s entire face has turned red and he looks like he may vomit. He throws his phone to the floor and storms out of the room looking absolutely livid. Jimin feels his lip start to quiver and his eyes start to fill with tears.

“Oh Jiminie, it’s okay,” Hobi whispers softly as he wraps him in a tight hug. Jimin looks up at Namjoon and shakes his head at the leader, telling him silently to skip their announcement.

“Let’s hear it. What did everyone think of our song? I think Jimin and I killed it, personally,” Namjoon clears his throat as he tries to get everyone back on track.

The room fills with overlapping voices again discussing song titles and trying to be productive while pretending that Yoongi didn’t leave in a huff.

“Okay, okay! Thank you for all the suggestions, guys. We can work together to come up with names for both of these songs and they’ll go on the new album. Onto our October, November, and December schedules…”

Jimin tries to listen to Namjoon, but his mind is down the hall retracing Yoongi’s footsteps. He thought that he could express himself through music since he can never seem to find the words to say to fix things, to repair the friendship.

Maybe they just can’t be fixed.

********

Yoongi is on the floor of the bathroom hyperventilating. He feels like the universe is purposely screwing him over. Jimin stared at him the entire time that song was playing. He must have written that song for Yoongi. Why would Namjoon help him do that? Namjoon was the one to rip them apart, and for good reason! He’s been telling himself that he’s grateful to the leader for cutting that impending affair off at the knees. The problem is that he can’t seem to lie to himself very well.

Months. Months of trying to get Jimin out of his mind, off his skin, away from his heart. All gone to waste. He feels like someone has scraped the skin from his body and his face is on fire.

Just let me love you.

Yeah, right. Who does Jimin think he’s kidding? He must be delusional. They kissed once and then were separated. Love? Pfft. Even if Jimin does feel that way, they can’t go anywhere near each other.

Yoongi starts to feel lightheaded and puts his head between his knees. When he feels his palms start to tingle he knows exactly what’s coming. The room around him starts to spin and slowly go black.

********

Taehyung is happy that his song managed to patch things up with Jungkook. Regardless of their few ill-advised kisses, he hopes that Kook could feel what he was trying to convey with those lyrics. They can’t ever be more than friends, but Taehyung will never stop wanting him. He will always love him with duality, as family and as the other half of his heart.

He reaches up and grabs Jungkook’s hand where it’s resting on his shoulder. He gives it a quick squeeze and shoots a smile when the maknae looks at him. He unhooks Jungkook’s arm for his shoulder and gets up to go check on Yoongi. Ever since Jimin’s song ended, he’s been very worried about his hyung’s outburst.

He and Yoongi have bonded deeply over the last few months of creating together. He helped Yoongi clean up his act a bit and Yoongi helped him pen the ultimate love letter to Jungkook. They were able to grow so much closer as the emotion in the song ramped up. He knows that Yoongi probably thought of Jimin with every note. While he’s drinking less and actually sleeping at night, Yoongi continues to be tormented over the question of his sexuality and over Jimin’s mere existence.

Taehyung knew that Jimin and Namjoon were working on a song, but that was not at all what he expected them to play. He watched Jimin stare at Yoongi and immediately he wondered what was going on in Yoongi’s head. He thinks about what the right thing to say is as he pokes his head in and out of doors looking for the elder down the hallway. He pushes open the door to the bathroom and it feels as if something is blocking it.

“Hyung?” he calls into the room, listening to the echo bounce off the walls. He pushes a little harder and the door starts to budge. He peeks through the widening crack of the doorway and sees a limp, pale hand laying still against the tile. His heart starts to pound as he curses under his breath. He pushes the door harder, trying to clear enough space to squeeze himself into the room without disturbing Yoongi’s unconscious body too much.

Not again. Not like this. Shit, Jimin’s song was a setback that he didn’t need right now.

Taehyung finally manages to get himself into the bathroom and locks the door behind him. As much as he wants to call out for help, he knows that Yoongi doesn’t want anyone to know how much worse these panic attacks are getting. He reaches down and lightly pats the other man’s face, calling his name. When he doesn’t stir, he gets up and wets his hands at the sink. He unzips the heavy hoodie that Yoongi’s wearing, placing his cold hand against his neck and waits. Slowly, he feels him start to stir and he coaxes him back to a place of consciousness.

“Are you okay, hyung?”

“I’m okay, Tae. Thank you. I couldn’t catch my breath. That song. Jimin’s face. It was all too much. I’m sad and angry and frustrated and confused.”

“I know, I wasn’t expecting that either. Even separate, you guys had the same general instinct to pour your pent up emotions into music.”

“What am I going to do, Taehyung?”

“For right now, you’re going to go to bed and rest. I’ll make excuses for you with the group. You know you need to lie down right after your attacks. Come on, I’ll help you.”

Taehyung pulls him up by two hands and holds out an arm to offer some stability. They slowly make their way out of the bathroom and down the hall to Yoongi and Jin’s room. He sits Yoongi down on the edge of his bed and starts going through the closet to grab more comfortable clothes for him to wear to bed.

“Taehyung?”

“Yeah, hyung?”

“After you make excuses for me…do you think you could come back to the room and sleep with me?”

“Of course. Give me fifteen minutes,” Taehyung smiles as he hands the clothes over and exits the room. With all the late nights and early mornings working on the song, Tae and Yoongi have taken to napping together on the couch in the studio. It started out with Yoongi grumbling about having to snuggle, but as his panic attacks worsened the elder started to take comfort in being held as he recovered. Taehyung is still surprised every time Yoongi asks to sleep together, but just as thrilled as the first time that there’s something he can actually do to help.

“Hey guys. Yoongi-hyung isn’t feeling very well, maybe food poisoning or something. I just helped him get into bed to rest. Jin, do you mind swapping rooms with me tonight? I want to stay close by and help him when he needs it.”

“Of course, Tae. Let me just go get the things I’ll need for the night.”

Jin hurried out of the room and now the other five men are looking at him with perplexed looks.

“What? Yoongi-hyung and I have gotten a lot closer while writing the song and I want to be there for him.”

“I think that’s great, Taehyung. We’re mostly just surprised that hyung accepts the help,” Namjoon jokes.

“Me too, honestly. Every single time.”

The others chuckle a little and Taehyung turns to leave when he meets Jimin’s eyes. He sees so many questions and broken emotions in his soulmate’s eyes and knows that they need to have a talk about everything that has happened tonight. For now though, Yoongi needs his help first. He walks over and gives Jimin a kiss on the forehead, hoping that he understands. As he heads down the hall to his room to get what he needs for the night, the look on Jimin’s face as he watched Yoongi listen to his song dances in his head.

He looked like his life was depending on the reaction to that song.

********

Namjoon is sitting on his bed trying to read a book as Jin gets settled in Taehyung’s bed across the room. Tonight was a bizarre mix of success and failure. Most of the general discussions went well, even without Yoongi’s presence. He’s genuinely thrilled that Jungkook and Taehyung seem to have taken a step in the right direction. Nothing has felt right without their mixed laughter constantly ringing through a room.

Jimin…oh, Jimin. They’ve been working so hard on that song and Jimin wanted it to be absolutely perfect before they presented it. It is finally perfect, but it made Yoongi storm out of the room. There’s no chance that he left because he was suddenly sick. Namjoon is worried about them both and he’s so distracted that he knows he just read the same sentence again for the third time.

Taehyung is taking care of Yoongi and I’m sure Jimin and Jungkook have gravitated towards each other. There’s nothing you can do. They’re okay for now.

When he first approached Jimin at the end of the summer, he was so nervous that he wasn’t going to forgive him for his role in separating him and Yoongi. He apologized profusely and told Jimin that he’d do whatever was needed to make up for the mistake. In typical fashion, he immediately forgave him and gave him a bear hug. When Jimin approached him later that week and asked if he’d help him write a song for Yoongi, Namjoon jumped at the chance. If there’s anything his hyung understands, it’s music. A musical gesture seemed perfect.

When Jimin nixed their additional announcement for the night, Namjoon was surprised. He was supposed to tell everyone that separating the couples had been a mistake and that he would go to bat for all of them if they wanted to try and make being together work. But once Yoongi ran out, Jimin had changed his mind and Namjoon kept his mouth shut.

He needs to find Jimin tomorrow and find out what the plan is now. He hates that the song didn’t go over well, but this particular announcement can’t wait. Namjoon needs to apologize first and foremost, but additionally this could impact Taehyung and Jungkook. While Jimin has helped him arrive at this point, he and Yoongi aren’t the only people involved.

As Jin turns out his bedside lamp, Namjoon puts down his book and does the same. He lays there in the dark with his mind scrolling through all the possible outcomes of him telling the boys to go for it. He feels more determined than ever. This is his family, he was wrong to ever rip happiness away from him. He’ll never make that mistake again. If BigHit wants to cause issues, let them.

They don’t realize who they’re dealing with.

[dungeonmastergeneral]

Kill this Lich!

I’ve been wanting to run this D&D session for a few years, and I think I’m going to have the chance to do it in a few weeks. I’m posting what I have so far in hope that some of you will have some ideas of your own to contribute. If you think of anything, please let me know!

The basic concept is from Strahd Must Die Tonight, a hack for running Castle Ravenloft in a single session. I don’t feel comfortable enough with the character of Strahd or the gothic horror tone, so I’m using a Lich in his necropolis and going for more of a pulpy vibe. 

The adventure will be for 5–6 adventurers of the 6th level. The session with start at 8:00 sharp, and the party will have four hours to do as much as they can to weaken the lich. At midnight, the lich attacks, regardless of how prepared the party is.

(I realize that canonically liches are way too powerful for a 6th-level party, but that’s the range where I and some of my players are most experienced, so I’m deviating from the canon to make this work.)

At the start of the adventure, the lich will be CR11. The party will have five objectives to depower him; the following is a tentative list that I will probably change as I plan this out:

Find the lich’s spellbook and destroy it, preventing him from using any spells above the 4th level.

Find a magic weapon, which prevents the lich from regenerating and maybe shuts down his magic resistance.

Find a holy symbol, which can be activated to give nearby heroes a bonus so saving throws.

Destroy his phylactery to prevent him from using legendary/lair actions.

Break his crown to reduce all of his undead minions to 1 hit point.

My goal is that if the party fails to achieve any of these objections, they will be steamrolled; if they get three, it will be a tough but winnable fight; if they really hustle and get all five, it will be fairly easy.

That’s the core concept. Some other ideas I have so far include:

Lightning traps around the complex; a flesh golem patrols the corridors, and will use the lightning traps to heal.

Each party member will have three action points that can be used in the boss fight. Every time they die in the dungeon, they lose a point respawn (maybe too gamey, but the real-time pressure already does that).

An ominous bell rings every hour to remind the party of the passage of time. Maybe a curse affects the party with gets worse each hour, ratcheting up the tension as they approach the final fight.

That’s what I have so far, just based on an hour of brainstorming tonight. If anyone else has ideas to contribute, I’d love to hear them.

[jennygraham]

10-23-2023

3:55 pm

I sat down to write for a few hours before class. I started writing today around 1:00 pm. The total time was only about an hour and a half. I wrote 1005 words. Not my best day and not my worst either. 1000 words is pretty good for one sitting (for me at least).

I wrote the beginning of the 3rd chapter, which is Emily’s second. In this part, she meets Rod for the first time when she has to go take something to her dad at work. There isn’t as much flirting or chemistry as I would have liked. But that will certainly come soon enough, so I’m not worried.

Another big win for me was socializing. I actually talked to my classmates a little. I did more listening, but still. For the first time, I felt included and not like a total outsider. Although I did begin to have an internal freakout over my future and life after college. I feel unprepared and worried that I won’t be able to get into my field.

My brain is not in full gear today. It sucks and I’ve been trying to push myself to keep at it anyway. I’ve kept the page open. I’ve done a lot of turning the timer on and off. I will focus on what I did today, not what I didn’t do.

With Halloween approaching, I want to write something witchy. But I need to keep my focus on my WIP. I will not start anything new yet. I need more in my novel. I did get encouragement from a classmate about not being super far into my novel as I would like to be. We all go at our own pace. We also talked about what writing means. It isn’t just putting words on the page. It’s brainstorming, writing nonsensical notes. Researching. She helped remind me of that and I hope I did the same for her.

I will do as much as possible tonight and tomorrow night. That’s all I can do. However, my goal for Wednesday is to get into my office and actually do substantial writing. I need to get up early and be productive and get the most out of my day.

Write on.