#this was written long ago so the style is very different

[jesterjaxx]

Halloween AU lore dump!!!

❗️WARNING❗️

so much infodumping world buidling and headcannons

DJ- Robot

Originally built to be a robo cop type deal. But when given free will refused to hurt anyone and got scrapped

Was found and repurposed by "Momma" to be a son

Really fuckin loves animals. Nature in general but mostly animals.

They get spooked by him a lot though

Hes kinda sad about this but gets it.

Momma is a scraper/engineer and outfitted him with everything a "good human boy" would need, like touch receptors and an ability to taste

Nothing to be done about majorly changing how he looks tho

The ability to feel is a bit too much sometimes

Sometimes all he can feel is cold

Goes to Duncan to see if he can do something about helping communicate to animals that he is a friend. Ala magic.

Machinery and Magic don't mix well typically, you gotta be crazy specific, which isn't really Duncan's styel

Duncan likes DJ tho, and proceeds to steal some of Harolds spellbooks

Side plot of them being wayyyy to hard for him to read, in both way too high level and shitty handwritten chickenscratch that fucks with his dyslexia, so he has to ask Harold for help

Maybe they learn to better understand eachother idk

Maybe they kill eachother

Harold and Duncan team up 6 dead 9 injured every single person is fucking baffled

Anyways DJ is like iron giant up in this bitch

His Momma is kinda worried that one day he'll learn enough mechanics to fix himself up and wont need her anymore

Tyler - Harpy

Ok the chicken fear makes sense now

He gets the uncanny valley feeling looking at chickens

I would too

He would fly into a window

Can he fly?

Hes like a turkey

Or a seagull

Wait im an idiot hes a chicken

Duh

Eva - Gargoyle

Her carver loved buff women thank god almighty for that

Punches like a brick wall

Living Stone

lion paws for feet

Did you guys know sound resonates the best through solids??

Her music listening experience is legit i just know it

Noah - The Blob/ slime monster

Oh god that poor guy

Hes gonna get slime all over his books

Harold - Witch

He's the type of witch to have seperate waters for different kinds of spells

A pretty dorky Witch, even by witch standards

Wears proper witch PPE (robes and hat)

Has his sheldon Big Bang Theory style shirts on underneath tho

Uses incantations and written spells in magical languages mainly

Uses the starlight, paper, ink, historical artifacts and an assortment of magical ingredients as fuels

Has a large collection of quality spellbooks for references

Not those shitty amazon spellbooks that are just a list of pre written spells, these ones were written by some old hag 80 years ago and through flowery rambleing language tell you how write spells yourself. They go into spell syntax.

Harolds books for writing incantations and spells are spiral notebooks

If he uses smbols will typically craft a custom sygil for it

Uses alot of number magic and latin

Uses his confidence in his skills with writing spells to harness magic

Is better at doing spells for other people, when doing spells for himself he tends to overcomplicate things

Actually went to magic camps and magic summer schools

"I was trained for this!" and it's Mostly true

Can make the most specific fucking spell work for him

I cannot stress he is good at this type of casting.

Duncan's way of doing magic pisses him off. Both are convinced their way is better

Harold to Duncan ->"What the fuck do you mean you increased your strength with a posca marker, bare knuckles and a dream. How are you not dead yet >:[ "

He has a lot of respect for magic itself, Duncan's almost disrespectful way of using magic makes him mad.

Whats worse is that it works.

How Harold casts a spell

Writes down a goal -> outlines different methods to achieve it (incantations, scrolls, potions) -> writes out the spelleork with alot of detail accounting for almost every outcome -> it takes very long -> outwardly or inwardly recites writes spell to activate it -> profit

Alejandro - Siren

(I give up with organization here no more bullet points)

Mermaids and Sirens are almost identical, with few overt physical differences

Sirens will typically have colored iris', 2 finned gills, longer tounges, boned ears and uniformly sharp teeth

Mermaids have colored scalera, 3 smooth gills, finned ears and sharp canines

This isn't a rule, and in modern times there are few families of sirens or mermaids that havent mixed with other monsters at some point

Both species have shape-shifting abilities.

Mermaids have two forms, and can switch between them at will, though the process takes hours and the mermaid will have to stay in either aquatic or land form for a couple weeks before changing again. though this wait time can be speed up with tailsmen, it's can cause health problems.

Siren can shift their features at will, including shifting from aquatic to non aquatic with no wait time, some families of Siren encourage "good breeding" and fostering shifting abilities to the point of shifting bone structure, hair, colors and gender at will. This level of shifting controll is a very desirable trait, and cannot be learned.

Alejandro is one of these few families who try to stay purely Siren

Hes a 100% Siren, but unlike his brothers he lacks any shape-shifting abilities, a flaw that has brought him great shame (this is just a genetic fluke, it's like a birth defect)

but he has both a very powerful ability to enchant his words and natural charisma. Dangerous combo.

Because of the well known knowledge that Sirens can manipulate people with ease, Alejandro semi pretends that he is a Mermaid, using his long hair to obscure his gills

He more just lets people assume hes a Mermaid and does not correct them rather than actually lying

He lies about many things but outright lying about species is a bit much

Siren Speech doesn't work as good if someone's also using magic at the same time or knows what's up about it

It doesn't work that great on Heather, Duncan or Harold point blank, or Lindsay, Beth Trent and Justin if they're shifting or shifted

Good thing hes manipulative on his own!

Beth - Mermaid

Yeah sure why not

I don't know enough about Beth yet i need a moot whose obsessed with her

Ezekiel - Ghost

Lmao hes invisible

Poor dude probably gets looked over all the time

Hes just clothes and a transparent person

Justin - Werewolf

The twilight girls would go crazy over him i know it

Cody - Puppet

Oh poor dude

Itll look cool tho

Hed make knock on wood jokes all the time

Trent - Werecat

The trustin girls would go crazy over this i know it

But real like hes chillin

Would use claws as a pick

Geoff - Frankenstein

A man of the people

Literally

Looses limbs easily

Wakes up after a party like "wheres my leg lmao"

Heather - Zombie

Oh this is good

Shes vegan

Would insult people like "i can tell you have a brain why the hell don't you use it"

Very concerned over phsyical appearance

Uses so so many products

Pretty alive looking for a zombie cuz of it

It's kinda creepy

Her eyes got no eyeshine tho

Like a shark.

Gwen - Skeleton/Ghost

Ok this was an accidental double Gwen got both Skeleton and ghost

Since Ezekiel is already a ghost i'm Gonna lean into the Skeleton bit more but throw a transparent silhouette over all of her for the ghost bit

Ghost vs Zombie rivalry

She'd do all sorts of cool drawings and markings on her bones

Gwen, drawing a bat on her femur with sharpie: tattoo moment

Her eyeliner is also sharpie

Who the fuck cares about skincare when you don't have skin

Lindsay: you shouldn't put permanent marker on your face! It can hurt you 🥺

Gwen, floating bones:

LeShawna - Chimera

YES I LOVE MONSTER COMBOS

LIKE COMBINATIONS OF MULTIPLE ANIMALS

lets do classic chimera but with one head

Lean into the Lioness bit cuz Leshawna is a boss bitch and Lionesses are so fucking cool

I might give her a scorpion tail

Duncan - Witch

Another double whoops lol

He's a "fuck it we ball" typa witch

lmao he and Harold are beefing like crazy i know it Harold has 12 spellbooks hes memorized with their specific ways of casting and Duncan is writing runes on his knuckles with sharpie

Duncan to Harold ->"Why are you using 2 pages of latin for a fire spell??"

"Because i need only this bit of wood to light on fire a little bit and nothing else and if i dont i could loose control of it or blow it up or it might not even start"

*stares in did finger guns at a branch and cremated it for fun*

Harold to Duncan ->"Why are you writing runes on your nailpolish??"

"i'm tired of being the only scary bitch here without claws"

*stares in once accidentally rubbed spell notes off of his spellbook and onto his face while passed out on his desk and gave himself acid burns for 3 weeks"

They go crazy they go stupid

Hes self taught

The Duncan and Harold bullying arc turned Street smart vs actually Smart but make it witches

Mostly just picking shit up as he goes

"Stole" (it was free) a pamphlet on different types of magical symbols and has managed to make the symbols illustrated in it work for almost every spell he wants

Fueled by raw unrelenting audacity

Real lore tho- magic is created with belief and harnessed with confidence, you can either go the intellectual route and control every variable and have trust in your control of those variables to harness the magic like Harold, or like Duncan, have enough semi-unearned confidence in yourself to harness magic with little need for more than a few variables.

Basically as a general rule, it has as much meaning as you truthfully believe it does

Doesn't explain what hes casting or how hes doing it

"Where'd you learn how to do that?"

"what are you a cop?"

(learned from illustrations, word of mouth, and other witches on the street)

Has a couple stick n poke magical symbols, several other scribbled on symbols that are temporary

Biggest one is a glyph for fire on his hand, he doens most of his spells using it

Has burns around his glyph tattoos from spells backfiring cuz he got distracted

Uses sharpies, spraypaint, eyeliner and the insides of firecrackers for drawing symbols

If he needs a magical material he'll typically substitute whatever he has on him, belief goes a long way.

"Pure Holy Silver?... this earring looks silver enough

This doesn't work for potions cuz potions are only a little left to normal chemistry.

Has alot of talisman he wears

Carries extra ingredients on him ala accessories cuz fuck it it looks cool

Mains his spells with symbols, uses potions or material fuels if he cant make a good connection between what he wants and one of 10 symbols he remembers at any given time

Uses moonlight, bones, rocks, and personal artifacts as fuels

How duncan casts a spell

Draws glyph -> creates a mental connection between what the glyph means and what he wants to do (this is mostly subconscious with Duncan he doenst know what hes doing he just knows he does it well)-> activates glyph physically (ie hitting, tapping, lighting, punching, tracing with finger)

Example: draws fire glyph on Chris's camper -> wants to set it on fire but not the surrounding grass and trees -> smacks the side of the camper that has the glyph on it -> profit

Duncan, to Harold: You make magic math, i make magic my bitch

Bridgette - Alien

Aww she could be so cute

Surfer girl from planet nine

Owen - Plant Monster

This could visually look really cool

Big carnivorous plant

Izzy - Angel

kaleidoscope = biblically accurate form, cuz she "Looks like a kaleidoscope! Duh!"

Lindsay - Selkie

If you steal her coat ill fucking kill you

Sadie - Vampire

Ough thats cute

I'm Gonna make her pigtails batwings

Katie - Zombie

undead girlfriends

Sadie thinks Katie is so pretty it doesn't matter her eye just fell out

Courtney - Demon

Oh this bitch looooves contracts

Is also upset about Duncan but she just doesn't like witches in general

Whats the point of making deals with humans for magical powers of some humans give themselves magical powers

Demon of what?? Pride maybe?? Or envy??

Shes a sweetheart tho

[ashintheairlikesnow]

To the Depths of the Sea

Bones in the Ocean Masterlist

CW: I don’t know, man. Siren commits a murder? This is out of order, timewise, but it's what wanted to be written, so...

-

His name was different, then.

It was not a clumsy tongue against the roof of a small mouth, flat teeth and full lips mouthing animal grunts without melody. Back then, his name was a lyric, a new line in the sirens' endless, ancient song. 

His very being was a scale of perfect pitch. Sirens sang together, notes dancing up and down that mortal mouths and lungs could never recreate. He and his mother and his sisters sang in harmonies, children of the goddess of moon and tides, the wild water-woman who could turn a calm sea to turbulent waves in an instant. 

He was born, at some point long ago. Borne by his mother, with his sisters huddled around her to be a dozen midwives, while the moon shone on the rock and the goddess watched. Born, yes, but he did not age, his wounds healed, he did not die.

Time shifted around him, like it did for all of the gods’ children.

The waves slapped the sand, sirens sang on rocks, and ships came and brought the men who heard their song. The men who steered their ships, unseeing and smiling, into the reefs to shred them apart, so that their bodies could be given to the sirens, and after that to the sea.

The ships changed, with time. The clothing the sailors they tore into wore changed, the style of shoe, the weight or shape of a sword and finally of the strange rifles. All these things changed.

The sirens didn’t.

They remained the same.

The siren boy had been sunbathing on the beach that day, eyes closed. The heat of the day lay over his brown skin like the humans’ heavy blankets, lulling him into a dreamless doze. Somewhere nearby, his sisters sang for their supper, having seen a ship hovering at the horizon.

But the siren boy was not alone. He was not the only one on the island to hear the song.

His eyes snapped open when he heard the softest crush of footsteps on underbrush. An animal, he told himself, even as he pushed himself up on his elbows, turned to see, half-hidden in the shadows just back from the beach, a human man staring back at him.

The human man’s hair was tangled and dirtied, hanging in clumps over his face. Mud had dried on his face and his shirt was worn nearly to shreds. He must have survived a past wreck, somehow slipped through the sirens’ fingers. Been here since then, wandering the island. He must have somehow held out against the siren song’s pull.

The man’s mouth moved.

He was whispering, but the siren was too far to hear him, leaning against a palm tree’s heavy, narrow trunk to stay upright. There was something wrong with one of his legs, the pants were torn but nothing was there beneath the tear.

The siren got slowly to his feet, tipping his head to one side. His curly black hair shifted, shadowing his own eyes as he moved soundlessly over the burning sand, where driftwood bits of broken ships lay in dried, bleached lines around him, their companions the scattered bones of the sirens’ meals.

Human voices, so flat and featureless, disgusted him.

But the eating would be good, and then the man's foul flat voice would stop interrupting the melodies.

“Monsters,” The man was whispering, but the siren didn’t know this word. He didn’t know any of their words. He knew what those throats tasted like, though, beneath his teeth. “Th-this island is made of monsters… You’re not a boy-... y-you’re not-”

The siren took one step, and then another. Each step sank his foot slightly into sand, brushed against shell and stick, rock, bone, and wood. Each movement a hypnotic sway, and he licked at his dry lips as his mouth watered for the meal.

His sisters’ song was all around them, and yet the man didn’t fall to it.

Their eyes met, then. The man’s were a faded blue, like the sky when the sun nearly bleached out all its colors with no clouds to subdue its power. His skin was like dried animal hides, wrinkled and tough. All bones and sinew, no real meat for the eating.

It didn’t matter.

All men were meals.

“They-... they said there was gold here.” The human’s whining voice, like a child, grated on the siren. Some foul mockery of the beautiful way the sirens spoke to each other, all out of tune, off-key. Not a song at all. This man’s name would be like the harsh screech of the birds the sirens ate during starving times, when there was nothing else. 

There was no song in this man.

“There… isn’t any gold, is there?” The man’s voice tipped upwards, but the siren ignored it. He was so close he could smell the man, human odor of sweat and blood and something rotten where his leg used to be. The man was trembling, voice and body shaking together. He closed his eyes, slowly, and lifted his chin as if offering himself for the taking. Even so, his lips still moved in pointless speech. “It was a-a trick, a lie-... there was no gold here…”

The siren was on him.

He took him down onto his back, the underbrush soft beneath them. A flock of birds took flight with their cries an echo of the siren’s own triumphant song, one that buried itself in blood. A hundred teeth sharper than a shark’s tore out his throat, devoured skin and muscle, picked clean bones. The siren’s melody as it rejoiced in the meal was a sharp thing, rending apart the man’s soul and sending it to be held by the ocean, like all men who died to sirens and the sea.

His prey never fought him.

But it whispered, once more, with dead sightless eyes and unmoving lips, monster.

The siren woke.

He was not in the sun-warmed sand or roaming the island he had always known, his sisters and mother beside him. He was in a cool pool of pointless water hemmed in on all sides by stone, the high windows mocking him with the world he could not escape. The dream was already fading, and the memories of who he had been, more than a century ago, faded with it.

He lost himself, every time he woke.

He found himself only in sleep.

Areyto rolled aimlessly onto his back, staring up at the ceiling whie he floated in the water. He could feel the tingle of the power in the marks the magicians made, each decade, that kept him captive to his master’s whims. He could feel how the marks drained his memories away, the ones he could see in dreams but that were lost to him after. He floated there feeling his sisters fade to little more than shadows, a thought he'd had once. Maybe never real at all.

Moonlight shone, diffused by the windows so much his goddess could not have heard him, no matter how he cried to her. Areyto had long since stopped crying, anyway.

What use was pleading if no one could hear you, and those who could would only mock you and take yet another part of you away?

Like his name.

The magic made sure he couldn’t remember it.

Come.

His master’s command came like an oil slick in the water, slithering slime over his bared skin and pushing him from the water. He shook himself and went, step by step, to the door that was already being unlocked to allow him to leave - but only to go where he was ordered, only to do whatever vile thing his master demanded. The butler on the other side looked through him, saw something else. Saw whatever the master wanted him to see.

As the siren moved through this endless hell, the moon that had shone on him where he slept in the pool shifted behind a cloud. The goddess left him, and his half-formed prayers. It was all lost, everything that did not belong to Guilford Wentworth was gone.

Come, Areyto.

Not his name.

But the name he had been given, and must answer to. The name layered over the song, the lyric he had once been. The piece of the harmony that had belonged to him, just on the tip of his tongue, never coming together.

The melody of his identity had been stolen, replaced with the flat human syllables he went by now. A shrieking off note, a sharp staccato. His master had stolen his name, as surely as he had stolen Areyto’s life.

As surely as Areyto would steal it back.

However small his master had made him, his teeth were still sharp, and his claws were still keen to tear human skin apart. The marks would fade, if he could only keep them from being remade yet again. The power that held him here would crack apart beneath his fury, if the human magician would help him. Her voice held the edge of a song even in flat human words.

Areyto didn’t understand it, yet, but he knew what the song meant even if he didn’t know the melodies.

Hope.

-

Taglist: @grizzlie70 @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @theelvishcowgirl @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump  @bloodinkandashes @squishablesunbeam @mj-or-say10 @apokolyps @wildfaewhump @shrimpwritings @there-will-always-be-blood @latenightcupsofcoffee @angelsproject

[skzoologist]

I'm glad you enjoyed the pieces I wrote 😭💕

I had to give her a somewhat happy ending for at least one of the ideas 😭 I love angst but only doing angst and no fluff hurts too much 😓

I think the single paragraph of dialogue in 3b was probably my favorite line out of all the stuff I ended writing last night just because of the impact it made as the only dialogue in the piece ^^

Also, ORV OC doc? I'm interested 👀👀

-🐹

Ofc, they were good, my dear 🐹 anonnie!

Ah, see? That is where we differ, I don't hesitate writing pure angst lol But I get you, truly.

Yes, it was really good! A very important part in the whole thing :D

Uh, hm, lemme see. You can have this lil part, as a treat:

Nevertheless, they stuck together like glue even after the inevitable catastrophe happened. The older one protected the younger, while the younger one felt incapable. He thought he could finally be worth something, he could become someone, especially with how things have been going thanks to his ‘The ways of survival' copy. So the fighting kicked up a notch, to such a degree that even the other party members became worried and involved.

What he didn’t notice was that he was already someone. A precious younger brother, a family, a friend. The reason for Kyu’s life, why he hadn’t given up yet.

After that fateful fight, they split apart.

The younger doing his own work with his team, the older going on his own way, now alone. Abandoned.

But he only smiled as he left, as he was saying his goodbyes. Such a beautiful, yet fragile expression, his eyes losing their usual bright light.

Dokja would only regret this decision later on, how he didn’t stop his beloved brother even though he noticed his dimmed eyes and the smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Because the next time their paths would meet would be the last -for a long time-. The older one of course, kept an eye on his beloved brother, even after all this. He protected him from afar, sometimes even getting caught in the act by a team member, never mentioning it to Dokja, knowing what happened between the two. Kyu was on good terms with the others after all, being the big brother of the group. They all loved him, grew attached to him too soon, too deep.

The older brother even met Joonghyuk a few times, maybe even too much to be considered a coincidence. Especially since the man saw something in him ever since their first meeting and desperately wanted to recruit him into his own team. He considered it, but knowing he wouldn’t be able to protect his little brother if he were to join, he declined politely every time.

But he couldn’t run from that fateful day that way. Maybe if he was in the sun fish's team, but not like this.

When he saw Dokja in a hopeless situation, his body acted on its own. Even if anybody was near him, they couldn’t stop him. With his powers activated, he made his way to his younger brother like rushing water released from its dam, only to take a deadly blow in his place.

Organs destroyed, blood flowing, his eyes met identical abyssal ones.

His lips drew on a gentle smile, his slowly numbing, rigid fingers twitched, then made their way to a shocked face, caressing the pale skin underneath wide eyes.

The world around them blurred together, the loud noises stopped reaching his ears. Sometime, while he was lost in those obsidian orbs, the weight in his chest lightened, making way for the crimson painted waterworks to escape.

“Dokja, you haven’t changed a bit in my eyes. You’re still my cute little brother who covered behind my legs at the sight of strangers-He groaned a bit, hacking up the liquid that prevented him from breathing properly. -Even as a grown up you remained just as dear to me. So please, believe me when I tell you that you are important- A desperate wheeze ripped from his lungs- You have people who care about you. They see you for who you are. You are enough, Dokja… Now I know what you are thinking, how you are. But don’t– He had to stop for a second to catch his breath, his eyes unfocusing every few seconds. -… Don’t ever sacrifice yourself for others, like some hero. That is not what this world or the others need… You might save their lives, their bodies, but you’ll only leave anguish behind... How ironic, me telling you this in such a situation.. Cough ”

“Wait no, Hyung s-stop talking! I can–” “Sshhhh, it’s okay. Big brother is here. They can’t hurt you anymore.” - he made sushing motions, his hands sloppily caressing Dokja’s hair, as if they were kids again.

His head fell onto the younger one’s -when did they get to the ground?-, their identical midnight locks intertwining seamlessly into one bundle of hair, soaking up the dripping droplets from the murky sky. His hands had no more power in them to support themselves anymore, so they uselessly fell onto the ground.

He could hear sounds still, but as if a wad of cotton was stuck in his ears, he couldn’t make any sense of it no matter how hard he tried. His face felt wet; was he or the heavens the cause of it? His eyes could not make anything out of the world anymore, so he found it easier to just close them.

He was tired anyway.

So tired.

He worked so hard all his life, he could get a little rest, no? Just this once.

He was so cold, but now, a gentle warmth spread all over his body.

The harrowing ache left his chest as well, along with the agonizing headache.

His wheezing slowly stopped as he found no energy to try and take air into his vermillion covered lungs, his airways filled with thick liquid.

His time has come, and with the last cognitive power of his mind, he understood it.

He smiled.

[homunculus-argument]

One of the most fun character concepts that I've had that I've never been able to fit into anything is The Most Appropriate Socialite Lady. Nobody dislikes her, but she is, indeed, very Appropriate, always seeming to do everything precisely to social etiquette, even according to social rules that nobody else knew were a thing. If there is a protocol to how to behave or respond in any given situation, no matter how obscure or how long ago it was that this was written down in some Refined Society Etiquette Book, she'll know it. So she is a bit old-fashioned sometimes, but not in a regressive way.

Every time there's a situation where nobody actually knows what the right way to respond would be, they quietly glance at her, because either she knows exactly how to handle this, or if the situation truly is without precedent, her educated guess of what should be done must be the right one. Someone might even write it down for a future etiquette book, of how This Most Polite Well-Mannered Lady responded to this awkward situation.

She doesn't judge people, and is never rude about people breaking Good Manner Rules on purpose (as pointing out someone doing so would be impolite), but the way she seems genuinely surprised and confused whenever someone breaks the protocol that nobody else might even been aware of makes people feel self-conscious or awkward sometimes. And she politely pretends to not notice that. She is very kind, very sweet, but also extremely Appropriate.

So even if this isn't a Victorian style gentlemanly "fine ladies are fragile and must be sheltered from the world"-style society by default, people still feel the need to behave well and be on their best formal behaviour around her, not out of fear of judgement but because she genuinely is that way and nobody wants to upset her. And if someone who doesn't give a shit about protocols upsets her on purpose by deliberately doing something that's fucking rude, they'll be discreetly moved to a different location before getting the shit beat out of them because fuck you for upsetting her.

The thing is, she's actually just autistic as hell. She originally started reading up on social etiquette as a way of masking, but it became a special interest for her, and she isn't just thrilled to teach you how to properly fold a napkin to help you better fit in to the Refined Society, but because she fucking loves infodumping. She's not trying to set herself apart, gatekeep, judge others or show off how she's better than you (like many others of her background would), she just genuinely enjoys having explicitly and clearly written rules and instructions on how to behave in society.

Also the tactful and graceful way in which she doesn't pay notice to veiled insults, or people accidentally saying something insulting to her, isn't always an act. A lot of the time she genuinely just does not notice.

[kitscutie]

august (conrad fisher x reader)

𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗋𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗂ꜱ𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀ꜱ: ᖯ𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝗄𝗂ꜱꜱ𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗆𝖺𝖽 ᖯ𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗒, ꜱ𝖾𝗑𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗋𝖺𝖽

𝗉.ꜱ: 𝗂'𝗆 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗉𝖺𝖽 ꜱ𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗂𝗇ꜱ𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 ᖯ𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂ꜱ 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 - 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗒𝗅𝖺𝗇, 𝗂𝗍'ꜱ 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗃𝗎ꜱ𝗍 𝗒𝖾𝗍 ᖯ𝗎𝗍 ꜱ𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗎𝗇𝖾𝖽!

ꜱ𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗋𝖺𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 ᖯ𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 ꜱ𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 ꜱ𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗄-𝗎𝗉ꜱ 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺ꜱ𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋ꜱ, 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗈 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗒ꜱ, 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 ᖯ𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗒 ꜱ𝗁𝗈𝗐ꜱ 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 ᖯ𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖼𝖾𝖽.

a/n: been wanting to write this for a while so BOOM here it is, sooo excited for season two, also im in a deep dylan obrien depression i need help :p ALSO sorry like all my fics are in different styles at the start i'm experimenting atm!

You and Conrad Fisher had known each other since you had popped out of the womb nineteen years ago in the same hospital, only a floor and two hours keeping you apart.

Your moms had been friends since rooming at college and so your friendship, some might say, had been written in the stars quite literally. Fate.

Things had started to change on your sixteenth birthday. It was just before the annual summer reunion, and of course, you and your mom had gone down just one week earlier in order to have a joint birthday celebration with the Fishers and stayed until the Conklin's arrived.

You had hit puberty and he hadn't seen you since the big change but when he did, his eyes could've fell from his skull. It was almost comedic. Of course at the time his stares meant little to you. He was your best friend after all.

Until last year. It was the start of summer bonfire and all was normal. Belly was at home, Jeremiah was off talking to girls with Steven which left you and Conrad. You found it strange he didn't have the same interest in girls as Steven and Jeremiah but who were you to say anything. You wanted him to stay.

Long story short he finally made a move and a kiss began in the abandoned life-guard tower a couple feet away from the main event, it was all going well, almost too well. And you were proven correct when Steven and Jeremiah came down the beach looking for you and found you in that very compromising position.

Seeing as they weren't exactly in a place to talk they agreed to keep it a secret and so it became the new norm for them, seeing the two of you together while your mom, Susannah, Laurel and Belly were non the wiser.

The bonfire was in full-swing, Summer had officially begun and what better way to start it than in the lap of Conrad Fisher on Cousins Beach.

He was sat cross legged on the blanket you'd brought from the house, while you sat atop him, legs either side of his own.

"I just think we should be nicer to her, I mean that was us three years ago." You sighed, you'd had a beer or two and were feeling increasingly guilty about the disallowance of Belly to come tonight.

"None of us were allowed out at sixteen, it's only fair." Conrad replied, voice low and relaxed. Something you appreciated about him, he was a very soothing person.

"Yeah, but that's different! We all had each other and now-" You began but he cut you off with a groan.

"Can we please not talk about Belly when your sat on me?" He said, smile gracing his lips.

You began to 'ew' and berate him but were soon cut off by his lips on yours, one of his hands holding your jaw in place while the other sat comfortably on the upper part of your thigh.

It didn't take much for you to open up, his tongue instantly hitting against yours as he deepened the kiss. When your mouths disconnected, it made a sound which made your head go light and airy.

"Do you still feel bad?" He whispered. Hand moving up to put a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"No." You answered, shooting forward to connect your lips once more. He chuckled into the kiss, teeth clashing together but you didn't care you just wanted him.

His spare hand slowly and nonchalantly drifted to the hem of your shorts, groping your ass gently, you were still in public after all and Conrad wanted to be able to say he had an ounce of class and respect. Even if it was a lie.

A disruption to the left of you and Conrad caught your attention and you went to turn your head, lips still interlocked but he denied that, hand on your jaw tightening and turning your head back to look at him.

The final straw was a resounding 'Ooh' from the crowd and you decided no matter what he did you were going to see what was happening.

Finally turning your head you found Belly. On the floor. And looking directly at you. A lot was wrong with that.

"Shit, Conrad." You said, which finally got his face away from placing delicate kisses across your jaw and to see the same thing as you. His face also dropping.

"Belly?" He said, unable to stop himself in disbelief.

Really this would've been the right time to get out of his lap but you were frozen in fear, forgetting you were sat there in the first place.

"I thought me and Y/N were like your sisters." She said, anger painted on her face. You didn't like confrontation in the first place and so saying something was hard but you couldn't let Belly think badly of you or Conrad.

"Belly look- it's different-" You defended, but she once again cut you off in anger and while your throat tightened in anxiety, you felt Conrad's hand soothe over your back. Reassuring and subtle.

"Different? I know him just as well as you do. It's not different." She seethed. Stepping closer to the two of you.

"Belly, c'mon you know what I mean." You whispered unintentionally. Your eyes were going glassy, feeling looks from all around you. Some in agreeance with you, some with her but none knew the full story.

"We've been together since last year. It was after you left to take Steven to look at Colleges." Conrad stepped in while Belly processed. Preventing another dig at you.

"I thought you weren't ready for a relationship and that, may I remind you again, we're like sisters to you?" Belly replied.

"I didn't-" Conrad started though a hurt look from you cut him off. "Look I said that like two years ago, it isn't even relevant anymore. Clearly." He said. Eyes connecting with you to reassure you, not her.

"You're such a brat." He added, seeing the affect her words had on you.

"Well you're an asshole." Belly yelled back, all while you sat stunned and quiet.

"Belly! You came, great, we can all hang out." Jeremiah said enthusiastically running over. You appreciated his intervention, as obvious as it was that he was trying to distract her.

"I'm about to take her home." Steven cut him off.

"What?" Jeremiah said, confused. Though the situation was bad she was old enough to be out past ten pm. Whether Steven liked it or not.

"Yeah, we're leaving, are you kidding me?" Steven replied as if it was obvious. Grabbing her hand.

"Ok, Steven come on. Go hang out with Shayla or something." Jeremiah answered and you couldn't help but admire the boy and his love for Belly.

You tore your eyes away from the conversation above you as they dispersed, looking back at Conrad who was sighing and pushing hair from his face.

"It'll be okay." You said, knowing what he needed without having to ask.

"I know." He smiled gently, though his eyes didn't fully match. He was worried, and you couldn't blame him.

Belly knew, and worst of all, just five months ago she had confided in you about her crush on Conrad and so it was unclear if she would ever even speak to you again.

Guilt was swallowing you whole.

[ineffable-suffering]

Why Aziraphale is an unreliable narrator

Part 1: The Story of Job

I'm absolutely not the first one to talk about this on here and I probably shan't be the last either. Alas, here's my take on why all of the minisodes in Season 2 should be enjoyed with great care – and taken with a grain of angelic salt.

I'm gonna split this into 3 parts, aka the three minisodes we are shown, since I tend to get a bit waffley in my posts and want to still be able to include all the little details. Once I've written them, I'll link Part 2 & Part 3 here as well!

Alright, let's get into it under the cut of doom.

Episode 2 opens with the Story of Job. Right off the bat, I noticed that it sort of looks like an old film playing. At first I didn't read that much into it, but once we see the cut-away to Aziraphale at the bookshop, currently reading that part of the Bible (presumably), I immediately thought: "Oh! It's because it's his memory. He's remembering how it went down and therefore it plays like a figurative film in his head."

This, I then came to realize, is a very crucial difference to all the flashbacks of S1, which were exclusively told and narrated by God. May her intensions be as ineffable as they are: She did tell us all of these stories from an objective outsider's point of view. Now, however, it's Aziraphale who's re-telling those stories to us from memory.

And if there's one thing that's for certain, it's that a memory is something entirely different to an objective narration of a story. Just think about how you yourself remember things. Especially things that happened years, maybe even decades (or, in an angel's case, millenia) ago. What is it, that you really remember? Can you know for sure, that a conversation was held with those exact words? Are you 100% certain that the clothes someone wore weren't different? Had it really been snowing or would that make very little sense given what you're remembering happened in May? And did it even happen in May? Or does that just happen to be your favourite month, the current weather, your preferred style of clothing and what it was that you would imagine someone would have said to you?

What I'm trying to say is: The further away it is that something happened, the more your brain has to fill in the gaps. This is why, for example, your parents will remember the family summer holiday entirely different when you ask them about it 20 years later.

"No, it was Sarah who puked on the car ride home!" "Nonsense, Sarah never puked as a child. Bobby had that gone-off pizza, he's the one that was sick the whole ride long!"

We've all been there. Bobby made it out alive. Don't buy gas station pizza.

Alright, back to the plot: Naturally, Aziraphale is not actually human, so it is a pure assumption on my part that the way his memory works is similar to ours. However, the whole topic of "memory" is actually quite a recurring one on Good Omens.

Crowley seems to have lost his in the Fall, yet somehow managed to get most of it back. Not all of it, though, he clearly has some major gaps ("You used to jump on me back, little monkey in the waistcoat!"). Beelzebub helps Gabriel store all his memories in their little fly container before they get wiped entirely too, by the Metatron and/or Saraqael. Crowley and Aziraphale (and possibly Jimbriel) perform a miracle together that makes everyone in Heaven and Hell forget who Garbiel is or what he looks like. And we know that the Book of Life apparently has the ability to completely erase someone from existence – ergo also erasing them from everyone's memory and making it is as though the person had never been in them at all.

So, clearly, angels and demons being able to remember, forget, reconstruct and, if you're the Metadork, wipe memories, is very much canon. Apart from that very last one, it does make them quite human-like in a way. We too can forget or (wrongfully and incompletely) reconstruct memories, due to things like trauma, illness or simply a lot of time having passed.

So, just like Crowley remembers going into battle but doesn't remember Furfur being there, or just like Jimbriel has entierly forgotten who he is but still remembers the tune and lyrics to Buddy Holly's song Everyday, and just like archangel Michael was miraculously made to forget Gabriel and yet says "Don't I know you?" when seeing him again – just like that, Aziraphale's memories of the story of Job, the story of wee Morag and the story of the magic show in 1941, might not actually be the whole truth.

So, time to look at where the furniture isn't.

Now, it could very well be that the costume designers of S2 thought: "Fuck it, let's go crazy" – but given that this show has a track record of meticulously making sure to stick to accurate and cohesive character design, doesn't it strike you as odd that Crowley would go from this look at the Flood in Mesopotamia, 3004 BC:

... to the (very iconic, don't get me wrong) Bildad the Shuhuite drip in 2500 BC:

... back to this at the crucifixion of Jesus Christ in 33 AD:

I mean ... I mean– come on, that seems like a bit of a far stretch, even for someone as enthusiastically experimental with fashion as Crowley.

And it's not just that: Where did the sunglasses come from, all of a sudden? And why do they look like some sort of obscure, ancient optometrist's device? It's a known historical fact that the Romans were the ones to have invented sunglasses, somewhere around 50-ish AD. Which actually matches perfectly with when Crowley and Aziraphale meet again in Rome 8 years after the crucifixion (51 AD).

So, where do the weird spectacles come from, over 2000 years too early? Maybe from Aziraphale's brain filling in some gaps? Hasn't Crowley always worn those ridiculous sunglasses? Was it Rome? Or Golgotha? Wessex? Oh, blimey, what does it matter!

And it's not just Crowley: Aziraphale's own clothes, as well as the other angels', seem to be very different from the rather plain linen we see him wear before and after the story of Job.

They're laced with golden embroidery along the neckline and sleeves. The remind almost of the clothes angels are depicted wearing in biblical and historical drawings. Ornate and decadent. Not at all like we see Aziraphale in the other flashbacks of S1.

Even Bildad the Shuhite's hair within the minisode keeps changing, going from all pouffy and voluminous to rather deflated and straight-looking:

The costume department either had to fix up two seperate wigs or manually straighten out the volume of the one again to give it a more sleek look. I'm not a professional in this field, but if there's anything I've learned from watching hours of behind-the-scenes material of movies and shows, it's that very little about costume, character, prop and set design is purely coincidental.

You know what it could be, though? An accurate representation of how memories aren't linear, historically correct and objective representations of a certain event, but rather an ever-changing, jumbled mess of impressions, emotions and exaggerations.

More specifically: Aziraphale's impression, emotions and exaggerations.

Like "remembering" Crowley with sunglasses because he's been wearing them for so long.

Like "remembering" himself wearing more luxurious, angelic clothes because that's how he thinks of the difference between Heaven and Hell.

Like "remembering" the permit as a ridiculously long scroll that folded out over an entire valley.

Like "remembering" Job's children to be weirdly sassy in an almost Aziraphale-esque way (Enon: "Don't be silly!") for the fact that Job would have probably taught them to be more humble and obedient in the presence of a literal angel.

Like "remembering" eating an entire fucking Ox after having just one bite of it while Crowley watched him lustfully, sipping on his wine.

Like "remembering" Crowley calling him 'angel', despite them having barely known each other back then.

There's a reason why the flashbacks in S2 seem so much more alive, quirky and, at many points, confusing and all over the place. Because they're not objective stories being told by a third party. They're Aziraphale's. So much of his own thoughts and feelings at the time get projected onto them because that's simply how memory works!

It's subjective. It's unrealiable.

It's not that I'm calling Aziraphale a liar. He's no more a liar than your parents are, mixing up Sarah and Bobby. Or you, remembering snow instead of sunshine. Memories aren't lies. They can simply be faulty, focus on things that you thought were more important and leaving out or changing things that weren't, to you.

The real challenge in all of this, is trying to filter through Aziraphale's stories to see what it actually is they're telling us. Where it is that the furniture isn't. And I think in this case, that's 6 main things (eff you, God, I know you like sevens, but I don't care):

God and Satan (still) talk to each other We see that Aziraphale is quite surprised when Muriel mentions that the whole Job thing is God's bet with Satan. But clearly, despite having made him and the rest fall, God still converses with Her number one traitor about whether or not the humans simply love Her because she gives them nice things or because they truly believe in Her.

God and Satan (and Heaven and Hell) can and do collaborate with each other when they feel like it So much for choosing sides, huh? Truthfully, this is not the first time this is shown to us, but still. It's another piece of evidence on the growing pile.

Aziraphale understands the World and humans way better than any of the other angels "Well, you see ... Citis is 58 ..."

Aziraphale, despite having troubles voicing it, absolutely disagrees and even condemns God's plan of destroying Job's children (and goats and camels and––)

Aziraphale is willing to lie and thwart the will of God Also not the first time we're being shown this but again, piiiile of evidence.

Angels don't automatically Fall simply by doing the above To me, this is one of the most important take aways. It's already hinted in S1 as well that 'Falling' seems to have been a one time even back when the first war broke out in Heaven. And I actually believe that ever since then, no other angels have Fallen again. Aziraphale is the best example for this. He has gone against God's plan numerous times and even lied to her very face (voice?) about it. And yet, nothing ever happened to him. Why exactly that is the case remains a topic for another meta (that I might or might not be working on already, teehee).

Alright, that concludes this first look at the Job minisode! If there's anything I missed, feel free to share it with me. I'll try and add Part 2 (the story of wee Morag) and Part 3 (the magic show of 1941) soon.

Update: Part 2 and Part 3 have officially been written, you can find it them right here:

Part 2: The Story of wee Morag

Part 3: The Story of the Magic Show in 1941

Hugs and kisses, (God)!

[seren1tyhaze]

poison in my mind

PAIRING: idol!jisung x afab older stylist reader

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

SUMMARY: he has been your poison for years - Jisung with his innocent looking face, steely gaze, and wicked tongue. you do your best to keep a professional relationship with him during your work as a stylist for NCT Dream but his calls of "Noona" on set continue to test your patience.

AUTHOR NOTE: A VERY belated happy birthday to Andy Park and a big thank you to SM for letting us have that Poison live performance at the end of the year. This has been half written ever since the Poison track video behind vlog went up a million years ago but fueled even more by the dance intro at MMA. His more recent lives may have also served as inspiration. I hope you all enjoy this very self indulgent fic made especially for all my friends who also love Jisung <3

WARNINGS: explicit smut, idolverse, pet names (including Noona kink I'm so sorry)

PLAYLIST: Poison by NCT Dream, Quiet Down by NCT Dream, OK! by NCT U

dreaming 'bout you, dreaming 'bout you

~~ The set is buzzing with nervous energy in the dimly lit space, dark blue light cascading over the stage area dressed with large floral arrangements that almost make it look like the ocean floor. Renjun is talking to the camera filming their behind vlog footage and you look up from the shirt you are steaming when you hear his voice. 

“Dream will try for the sexy vibe for the first time,” with a sly smirk.

You can’t help but chuckle as the makeup artist next to you elbows your side and you tut at her, waving the steamer to quiet her. It wasn’t a secret that the Poison track video was going to be beloved by fans because of the concept and the way the members were styled. You had been tasked with pulling some of the key looks for the video, taking an opportunity to incorporate different textures like the metal grommets and fringe on the leather jacket Renjun currently was wearing. You watch proudly as he stretches his arms over his head in the center of the flowers, torso muscles rippling under the sheer mesh shirt.

You hadn’t been on staff for very long, a couple years of working under the main stylist under your belt. They had been hesitant to give you bigger opportunities due to your young age and lack of experience, but your boss saw that you had a great eye. It didn’t hurt that you were always the first one to volunteer for less than desirable tasks and always arrived early to shoots and stayed late.

“Sorry, this one’s a little too small, did you have others?” comes a voice behind you and you turn to see Mark, holding out one of the large metal rings you had laid out for him in his dressing room.

“Oh sorry, yes, of course,” you reply, smiling softly at him before kneeling down to dig in your bag for the small pouch holding the extra accessories. He was always so polite to the staff, greeting everyone and even when he was clearly exhausted, doing as many takes as the director needed.

“This one might work better and it’s adjustable,” you reply, taking his hand and sliding the ring on his pointer finger. You squeeze his hand gently before he inspects the rings, holding it out in front of him.

“Noona,” comes a harsh and low voice suddenly, causing you to move your head to the side of Mark’s leather clad legs to see an annoyed looking Jisung with crossed arms, shirtless and barefoot.

“Jisung, where is your shirt?” Mark replies, half laughing as he turns to face him, scratching at the back of his neck.

Ignoring him, Jisung returns his gaze to you and glares at your crouched position on the floor in front of Mark. A curious Renjun walks up at this moment, peeling a tangerine and flicking narrowed eyes between the three of you. Mark shrugs at him before walking away, answering a message on his phone.

“You tailored the crotch of these pants wrong, it feels weird,” Jisung continues, voice even and tinged with frustration.

Your face flushes at this, dropping the pouch back in your bag and grabbing your pins, suddenly on your feet and in front of Jisung.

“How do you know it’s wrong?” you ask, knitting your brows together as you look up at him. 

He looks good and you know he knows it. Something has shifted in Jisung in the past year - especially since they returned from tour. He carries himself differently, with a different level of confidence and wears it well. Today is no different and the fact that he just barged onto set without a shirt on is evidence. His dark blue hair is styled perfectly, long strands dangling in his eyes and contrasting beautifully with his sharp jawline.

“Here, feel,” he tells you simply, pulling your hand to his crotch and you almost let yourself palm him through the tight denim until you snap back to reality and pull your arm back. His eyes hold no emotion, dark and still, long eyelashes blinking at you temptingly. His lips are soft and plump and you want nothing more than to close the distance between the two of you and taste the glossy lip mask.

And there it is, your poison, Park Jisung. When you had graduated early from your program a few years ago, you had been focused on your career and hadn’t spent much time dating. You had some people you went out on dates with every once and a while and had your fair share of waking up in a stranger’s bed after a long night out. But Jisung had caught you by surprise. Something about the way he was so forward and aggressive with you made your brain turn to mush around him. Your heartbeat would quicken, palms sweat, and filthy thoughts would swirl in your mind until you could indulge in them with your hand pressed between your thighs later that night.

A heavy sigh comes from Renjun, accompanied by a shake of his head, as he walks out a nearby door muttering something about not wanting to see Jisung’s dick.

You flush violently, grabbing at Jisung’s bicep harshly and pulling him to his dressing room, leaving the door propped open intentionally as you take the layered black tank off the hanger and hold it out to him.

“Please put the rest of your outfit on, I think they are going to be ready for you soon,” you sigh as soon as you’re alone, reaching for the box that holds the platform boots you were reusing from a shoot with Haechan a couple months prior.

You both move silently as he pulls the shirt over his head, staring at the long leather cords before lifting his head back up to you. You move behind him, reaching over his broad shoulders to pull the leather cords around his neck and then letting the ends dangle in front of his toned chest. You try to avoid brushing your hands against his bare shoulders as he steps into the boots and ignore that his ass brushes against your stomach when he bends down slightly to zip them up.

“I just don’t know about these pants, are they the right length?” he asks, tugging at the material at his thighs. His tone is whining and defiant, lighter than how he was in front of everyone, but still slightly combative. He knows you’re weak for this very tone, as he can usually get you to do whatever he wants if he just adds it into whatever he says.

You sigh and move around him, dropping to your knees at his feet, slapping his hand away from pulling at the fabric. You pull the pants leg out of his left boot, pulling lightly and examining the hemline. You’re about to correct him when you suddenly feel his hand soft on your hair.

“You look so good from this angle,” he murmurs, voice low and sultry, causing you to jerk your head up and look at him from the floor.

Your lower lip is instantly caught in your teeth, sinking into the flesh deeply as you try to control your breathing, unable to stop yourself from blinking up at him. You feel drawn into his dark eyes and his hand in your hair is almost overwhelming.

He lets out a groan, tightening his fingertips on your scalp, exhaling audibly and clenching his other hand into a fist at his side.

“What am I going to do with you,” he tuts, dropping his hand to your chin and gripping it gently.

You rise from your knees, glancing at the open door just as Jaemin bounces by, screaming at something Haechan is doing. Suddenly aware of where you are, you step forward, adjusting the cords aimlessly.

“What happened to my sweet, innocent Jisung?” you whisper, staring at the soft skin of his collarbone and wishing you could press your lips against it forever.

“Don’t act surprised. You created this monster, Noona, dressing me in all these sexy outfits. How could you think I would stay your bright eyed baby Sungie forever?” he asks back, tucking loose strands of your hair behind your ear. His words are biting, even if they do hold some truth.

Memories of him dozing off on your shoulder during long bus rides and hastily helping him into heavy jackets and necklaces during quick changes on tour come flooding in, mixed with the heavy, lustful stares you feel on you when you wear a low cut shirt or on hot summer days in Thailand when you wore thin athletic shorts in the airport.

He had kissed your lips gently a year ago after many bottles of soju and when the rest of the members were preoccupied by endless rounds of karaoke. You had stopped him then, told him that as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. Ever since that moment, he had made every effort to get you alone when he could, using every excuse under the sun, today’s outburst nothing new. You still remember how soft his lips felt on yours and the fire under your arm as he held you close after you rejected him.

Back on set, you’re packing up your bag again when you’re called over to check something on the computer from Jeno’s scenes. You give your feedback and suddenly your eyes are drawn up to where Jisung is filming, camera close to his face, light illuminating his beautiful features perfectly.

“Dreaming ‘bout you, dreaming ‘bout you,” echoes across the large soundstage and your heart is pounding in your chest as he plays with the cords at his neck, just as you had earlier, chests pressed up against each other in the dressing room. He makes eye contact with you briefly when the take ends and you look away quickly, embarrassed.

While you had been released to go for the day, you take your time packing the rest of your stuff, helping the makeup artists clean their station and even rearranging some chairs that barely needed adjustment. You watch the way he moves confidently, take after take, adjusting the jacket so his shoulders show boldly against the dark material. His fingers brush through the cords, pulling them up to his teeth at times before dropping them, leaving plump lips open before cracking a large smile at the reaction of the staff. In between takes he shakes his dark hair, casting his gaze down to the floor until someone asks him a question. You watch as he smiles and winks at the makeup artist powdering his cheek and you feel nervous energy stir in your stomach. You can’t bear to watch much more, so you slip out when he isn’t looking in your direction.

When you finally are home, feet pushed into fluffy slippers and sipping on steaming green tea you had just prepared, you peel the sheet mask off and rub the remaining serum into your cheeks and forehead. You are flipping through a magazine your coworker had given you on set, paying attention to the tabbed pages they had flagged for inspiration when your phone buzzes on the table next to you. A message from the head stylist fills your screen as you tap into it.

Jisung left his street shoes at set, did you take them home? He said he “needs them” for tomorrow. 

You sigh and go to the shoebox by your door to find his Nike sneakers tucked neatly, laces wrapped nicely. You quickly reply to your boss, saying you don’t mind bringing them to the dorm since you know the managers had a late night meeting tonight. Running a brush through your hair, you dot some perfume on your wrists and behind your ear before grabbing your keys.

You fiddle with the edge of your oversized sweater in the elevator as you climb the floors to his dorm, feeling a nervous pit grow in your stomach. Finally outside, you knock quickly before dropping it down to hold the box with both hands.

The door swings open and Jisung is standing tall in front of you, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, hair damp. A dark zip-up hoodie covers his chest and it’s unzipped just enough that you can tell he isn’t wearing a shirt underneath. You can’t help but let your mind wander back to shirtless Jisung pulling your hand to his crotch earlier and wonder if he was just lounging in his room in the sweatpants. Or worse, just his boxers.

“Hi baby,” he slurs out, lips curving up at the edge into a mischievous smile as he props his arm up on the door, leaning down as if he might kiss you. His sweatshirt hikes up on his waist when he does this, revealing a large swath of skin.

You shove the box at him, pushing him back into the room with it, letting it drop into his hands. You fling your bag on the table near the door and step out of your shoes.

“Don’t hi baby me, Park Jisung. I know you left these there so you could see me tonight. Did it really take you multiple hours to realize you weren’t wearing the shoes you came in?” you reply with a huff, picking up a sealed water bottle on the kitchen counter and taking a long sip.

Sweat is pricking at your hairline and you are starting to regret not texting one of the assistant managers or drivers to come get the shoes instead.

Jisung chuckles and sets the shoebox on a chair, reaching out to take the water bottle from you and gulping down the rest.

“Don’t be mad, baby,” he replies, leaving heavy emphasis on the pet name, stepping closer to you and wrapping strong arms around your waist, thumbs instantly finding the hem of your sweater and travelling across your lower back.

You can’t help how your body reacts to his touch, feeling your chest meet his, nipples hardening under the knit fabric now tugged down and exposing your cleavage. Your breath catches in your throat as you try to speak, looking up at him through your eyelashes for the second time today.

“Come on, I’m catching up on our show,” he says softly, lips grazing across your cheek gently. You had been watching the same show for the past few months, texting each other during episodes here and there, and chatting about it whenever you saw each other. He had complained none of the other members would watch it with him and while you would never let him know this, you had lied and said you were also planning to watch it.

Against your better judgement, you let him guide you to his small room, where his large tv is paused on the latest episode of the space docuseries.

“Oh, I haven’t watched this one yet,” you admit, dropping down to sit at the edge of his bed.

He clicks to restart the episode and unzips the sweatshirt, moving to remove it and reveal his bare chest.

“Jisung,” you say sternly and he chuckles, zipping it back up halfway, and plopping down on the bed next to you. He pulls the hood up over his dark hair for good measure before propping himself up against the pillows he has leaned against the wall. You settle back, leaving some space between the two of you and pulling a hamster plushie into your lap to nervously fiddle with.

While your eyes had started to get heavy back at your apartment, you are now wired, your body coursing with electricity and hypersensitive to every movement from the man next to you. He reaches for his phone occasionally, letting out light chuckles at messages from Chenle and even daring to post a couple Bubble messages. You thank whatever higher power exists that your phone was still tucked in your bag at the door, so he didn’t see yours light up when he sent the message. It was a drunken guilty pleasure you had indulged in and ever since receiving the first message tailored with your name, you couldn’t stop yourself from renewing the subscription.

His legs keep brushing against yours when he readjusts his position on the bed and somehow has gotten so close that his shoulder is now brushing against yours. You try to shift away, but he only closes the distance again when you do so. Your heart is pounding in your chest and you’re having a difficult time focusing on the show.

Suddenly the screen is filled with bright colors as they depict beautiful graphics of what scientists imagine the birth of a star looks like and a gasp falls from your lips as you lean forward, eyes flickering across the screen to take in the beautiful scene.

“You’re so pretty when you nerd out over this stuff,” comes his low voice, suddenly close to your ear, hand resting in the middle of your back.

You lean back in reaction, trapping his arm between you and the pillow, turning slightly to face him.

“Coming from NASA’s number one stan, please,” you reply lightly, shoving the plushie at him playfully. You let a chuckle fall from your lips and shake your head lightly, causing your hair to cascade over your shoulders.

He grabs at it and throws it off the edge of the bed, hands suddenly tight on your hips and pulling you into his lap, possessively gripping your ass as you straddle his legs. 

Your lips drop open in surprise, both of you breathing heavy at the sudden movement. You feel your responsible self tapping your shoulder but finally decide to let the years of desire bubble to the surface and propel your lips to close the gap with his.

You move your lips across his gently, resisting the urge to push your tongue out immediately or bite down on his lower lip. He tightens his grip on you in response, pushing his crotch up to meet yours. You swear you can feel him through his pants which only makes you want him more.

He pulls away, taking your cheek in his other hand and looking between your eyes as if searching for some sort of silent answer to a silent question. You can almost see his own voice of reason forcing him to pause, if only for a moment.

“You ready to deal with the consequences of that monster you created, Noona?” he asks in a devastatingly low tone before moving his lips down to mouth at your chest, pushing the knit fabric to the side to bite at your shoulder.

A sigh falls from your lips as you let your head roll back, entire body on fire as he marks the skin at your neck, teeth sharp on your skin. You can’t help as your hands slide over the zipper of his hoodie and unzip it slowly, pushing the fabric down his shoulders to expose his toned chest. Running your hands over his hard muscles, you dig your fingernails gently, eliciting a deep groan from Jisung.

“Babyyy,” he sighs out, sliding his hand up to your throat and applying pressure there, pulling you forward to meet your lips again. The kiss is more urgent this time, tongue pressing deep into your mouth and hand gripping you tighter as he continues.

You let your hands slide down his torso, running over his abs and sliding them to his back to pull yourself closer to him. Before you can pull yourself fully flush against his chest, you are being flipped over, head falling back into the pillowy surface.

“Are you sure about this,” you ask, voice wavering despite every intention you had to form a confident question. Your eyes are flicking between his dark ones, as they had many times before, but suddenly holding so much more meaning in this intimate space.

“Are you not?” he asks back, head cocking lightly to the side, thumbs never stopping the circles they are rubbing into your hip bones.

“That’s not an answer,” you quip back, grabbing onto his hands to force him to focus. Unfortunately for you, it did the exact opposite.

You pull your eyes away from his, looking at your hands now pressed up against each other against the comforter. Your hand looks tiny next to his, his fingers could almost wrap fully around the tops of yours and that makes your mind fuzzy. You pulse your fingers, stretching them along his, feeling the length of them and how hot they are to the touch.

“Noona,” he calls, not as harsh and biting as on set, but still drawing you back to reality quickly.

His voice finally softens as he sees your watery blinking eyes, overstimulation creeping up on you before you’ve done much more than make out. He drops his thumb down the side of your face, caressing the space between your ear lobe and jaw tenderly. You want to look away, you want to push up and capture his lips in yours, you want to pull that stupid hamster plushie over your face and hide your burning cheeks.

“You know, I want it, I like,” he states, as if that is a full sentence other than in the context of the song they were filming with all day. His lips turn up in a small, shy smile at the end, showing a glimpse of that quiet boy you’ve always known and your heart settles a little in your chest. You nod rapidly a few times, sinking your nails into the palm of his hand and letting your eyes flutter shut.

His lips are on yours again quickly and that wicked hand that was just caressing your skin is now tightening around your neck again, which forces you up into an arch on the bed, pressing your lower body against his hardening cock. His tongue feels hot and wet in your mouth and you can’t help the moans that are escaping every time you have to pull back for air.

He sits up, straddling either side of your legs, tugging at your shirt and you manage to sit halfway up on your elbows, almost tearing the delicate fabric of your sweater as you rip it off, fumbling with the clasp of your bra as Jisung’s mouth is suddenly latched onto your neck, dropping heated kisses down your collarbone.

He sees you struggling and simply presses a strong thumb to the clasp, letting the cotton fabric slide off your arms and he tosses it clear across the room. This draws your attention to the door, which you realize now is cracked and you pray to every higher power that Renjun isn’t home.

“Hey, eyes on me,” comes the low voice above you again and you’re drawn back in, tuning out the distractions around you. He seems more amused than annoyed, which you have to appreciate given how long you’ve both waited for this exact moment.

Jisung makes quick work of removing his pants and boxers, reaching for a condom from his nightstand as you push down your own sweats, pausing at the thin band of your underwear. He sees you, dropping the foil packet to the bed and dips his head down, teeth dragging the elastic quickly, causing you to jump and let out a giggle.

“SUNG!” you yell weakly, trying to push his dark blue locks away as he continues to drag the dampened fabric down your legs.

He somehow manages to do it pretty easily, without getting too caught up on your knees or thighs, only struggling once he’s at your ankles and ripping them off with his hand, letting them drop to the floor with your bra.

He simply shrugs at you, a smile tugging at his mouth as he smooths those huge hands over your thighs, kneading the flesh there, eyes transfixed on your naked body. Your whole body is on fire and you silently beg for him to get on with it, even as it looks like he is about to swallow you whole.

A creeping monster your in your brain tells you you should feel more self conscious with him seeing you like this, despite both being equally exposed, realizing how many times you’ve seen him half clothed or even less. His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he reaches up, covering your breast easily with his hand, thumb teasing your nipple absently. Your breath hitches in your throat and you can’t help but hold your breath as pleasure begins to flood through your body. 

You beg your own gaze not to lower, not ready to see the size of him fully hard. You’ve unfortunately seen almost all the members’ dicks but usually in quick, embarrassed, accidental glimpses. Well, except for that one time Jaemin was literally helicopter swinging it around in the dressing room when you walked in with a tray of iced americanos. Both him and Jeno couldn’t speak to you for two weeks while Chenle continued to bring it up every chance he could, even mimicking the motion during sound check at their next stop.

You are startled at the sound of him tearing the condom wrapper, rolling it quickly on and leaning back down, face inches from yours as he cups the side of your face again. You instinctively nuzzle lightly into his hand at the contact, letting your eyes flutter shut as you draw your lips to his hand, smelling faintly of the lube from the condom. You kiss in between his thumb and forefinger lightly and before you know it, he’s slipping his thumb in between your spit covered lips, pad of his finger gently pressing against your tongue.

You gasp but drag your eyes lazily to meet his, knowing your own hunger is visible now not only in your gaze but also in the eager sucking of your lips.

He groans, taking the chance to push into you and you swear you see stars. Your eyes widen but pull his thumb further into your mouth, teeth grazing across the tip of his finger erratically as your hips buck up to pull him impossibly close.

Jisung’s eyes are fluttering shut, thumb dropping from your lips, now flushed red with teeth marks and slick with spit, sliding down to clutch your throat once again. Your own hand flies to your chest, groping at yourself, desperate for something to hold onto as he picks up the pace of his thrusts.

He’s quiet, but with deep and passionate groans tumbling from his lips every once and a while. You watch as sweat begins to form at his hairline, perfect face beautiful in the dim light of his room, quiet music floating from his tv’s speakers as the episode is long forgotten and scrolling through the credits screen endlessly. Each noise that bubbles up from his chest equally soothes and paralyzes you, your own personal brand of poison seeping coldly through your veins. Your lips are perpetually hung open, mouth becoming so dry you can barely squeak out your own moans.

You feel your orgasm building suddenly after a particularly strong thrust and you swallow harshly, moving to speak to alert him. He doesn’t need any warning, reaching down to throw your leg over his shoulder and angle his lower body to perfectly hit that same spot over and over.

In seconds the poison is washing over you, lapping first at your feet like waves at the shore, nearly knocking you out as you float high above yourself, almost feeling like you’re having an out of body experience. Your chest is heaving as he slows his movements, as if he’s going to pull out. 

A confused look forms on your face, head cocking to the side as you grip his arm, shaking your head wildly. Your hair is sticking to the back of your neck and you feel too hot on his plush bedding, but that isn’t reason to stop.

“Wait…what about…” you ask, confused, knowing he hasn’t come. Your eyes flick to the door again, wondering if he’s heard something while you were swimming a galaxy of bliss post orgasm.

He smiles at you, sliding out slowly and disposing of the condom quickly. He walks back over and takes your hand, bringing you to rise on shaky legs, standing naked beside his bed as he takes both your cheeks in his hands and kisses you deeply on the lips.

“I was thinking it would be better to continue what we started on set,” he purrs against you when he finishes ravaging your swollen lips.

A mischievous look forms in your eyes and you drop your hand to his stiff cock, giving it a few experimental pumps with the mix of lube and pre cum.

“Oh yeah?” is all you can reply, sinking slowly to your knees, still managing to tease him at this moment. You drop your hands to let them rest at your thighs, pressed together in an attempt to cool the burning heat still there.

He hisses out as soon as he can see you below him, bicep flexing as he runs his hand through his hair, shaking his head in feigned annoyance. His lids are heavy and all you can see are the whites of his eyes as they roll up in ecstasy.

You run your hands up your body, fingering the side of your neck and then tangling your fingers in your own hair seductively, never looking away from the man standing above you.

“Show me how good you can be for me, Noona,” he grunts out suddenly, gripping your chin way tighter than he had in the dressing room earlier. You grit your teeth but try to keep your face even as he tilts your head lightly, as if studying your face.

You gulp audibly and take him in your hands, finally faced with what you already knew was going to be stretching your cheeks as you were definitely going to struggle fitting him in your small mouth.

You tongue at his slit teasing it gently before sucking at the tip, letting it rest in your open mouth, eyes flicked up at him menacingly. You can tell from the look in Jisung’s eyes that he is dying to ram his cock down your throat but is trying so hard to let you set the pace.

Without any warning, you're sliding him further and further into your mouth, hands massaging his smooth calves to ground you. He’s getting louder now and one of his hands is playing in your hair, every once and a while gripping it tighter.

It only takes a few gentle thrusts till his voice becomes more strained and he’s tapping you on the head as a poor attempt of warning you he’s close. You resolve to let him spill into your mouth, but as soon as he comes the sudden movement causes most of the mess to land on your cheek and shoulder.

His loud exclamation of his pet name for you still ringing in the air, his hand loosens in your hair and you’re on your feet, hands settling on his broad chest, a hazy look of satisfaction on your face.

He seems mesmerised by you covered in his cum and draws a thumb up to that same spot between your ear and jaw, sliding it down and through the mess he made on your face. It’s as if everything’s moving in slow motion as your bottom lip drops open without a word and he slides his thumb into welcoming lips. You taste him, all of him, as he watches you suckle on the digit and blush form on your cheeks under the shine of your skin.

“Fucking filthy baby,” he whispers out, yanking you towards him as he sits on the edge of his bed and lifts you into his lap. 

You can feel him harden under you and feel yourself warm up as his cock brushes against your core. You grind down on his lap which is met by him only gripping your waist tighter and landing a light smack on your ass. You grin at this and lean forward to kiss him, pushing your tongue greedily into his mouth.

“Already wanting more?” he asks with a mild mocking tone when you pull back, breathless and red in the face. He’s fully groping your ass at this point, massaging your cheeks with his fingers and pressing his palms into the thick flesh there.

You nod aggressively as you grind down on his cock again, spreading your thighs a bit more for better leverage. You want nothing more than for him to slide his bare cock into you right here and let you ride him through multiple orgasms, your tits bouncing right at eye level as he groans into your mouth through open mouthed kisses.

He merely laughs, pulling you out of your fantasy and reaches awkwardly for another condom, hand firmly keeping you in place.

“As much as I want what you want right now baby, let’s make sure there’s no-“ he starts out, rolling the condom on with shaky hands.

“SUNG, PLEASE!” you yell, clasping a hand over his mouth in embarrassment.

Even in the midst of it all, all the lustful years leading up to this moment, all the hidden glances and late night drunken thoughts, he is still your poison. Something that worms its way into your mind, into your heart. Normally, you wouldn’t even imagine being this close to someone without protection but somehow, Jisung does something to you that makes you want to be reckless. You want to be reckless with your heart, let it be swallowed whole by him. You want to throw your body on him, let him tear you down and degrade you and use you. You want to give him everything and every bit of love you can offer. You think you can see the two of you growing old together, sitting quietly in a park watching your grandchildren play together in the distance.

But you see, that’s the problem with poison. It gets in your veins, in your lungs, in your heart and slowly sweeps and finally, finally tears you down. You float high above yourself again, seeing stars as Jisung releases into the condom and his head falls against your chest. You are both quiet and unsure of what comes next. The poison of this night will wear off soon and reality will set in, leaving you only the memories of this night to return to in your dreams.

~~

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

My Top 10 Fics Of 2023

So, because it is the 'wrapped' time of year where everyone looks back on their year through playlists and other types of stats - I thought that I would look back on my year through something completely nonobjective and based on exactly 0 data - my favourite fics I have written this year that are based completely on my personal enjoyment of them.

Last year, I did something similar to this where I counted down the top ten fics based completely on data - how many notes each fic had gotten on tumblr. But most of the posts were shorter fics that I hadn't spent a lot of time working on that I wasn't very proud of. (Like the fact that my current most popular fanfic on my sideblog for fanfiction is the shortest in word count.) So I have decided to go over the fics that are the most popular in my heart - countdown style.

This year I have written 39 different fics and I have written over 395,000 words, and these are my favourite fics that I have written.

Honorable Mentions:

Black Suit - Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader (2,900 words). One of the most well-rounded fics I have written in such a short word count. And just - look at her.

My Bleeding Heart - Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader (3,400 words). I have never used Death Eaters as the basis for angst in a fic and I had so much fun with it. Plus the kidfic fluff at the end was really fun too.

IFHY (I Fucking Hate You) - Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader (8,100 words). So @holy-minseok made a post about how there isn't enough fics with reader characters that aren't nice and sweet and I haven't stopped thinking about it since. Because I have so many fics with rude, toxic readers and this is absolutely one of them. This reader is a Grade A Bitch and that's a huge reason why I had so much fun writing it.

Better Than Sleeping - Jason Todd x Fem!Reader (5,300 words). This is some of the best quality smut I have written this year, hands down.

The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (8,200 words). I love writing fics based on specific episodes of a show, and this definitely helped to fulfil my whump quota for the year.

Sweet Revenge - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader (16,200 words). This is a fic that definitely converted me from a hardcore Abby girl into an Ellie girl. I am very proud of it. (And eventually I became an EllAbs girl, as god intended.)

Free Use Day - Poly!OG!Titans x Fem!Reader (14,300 words). This is probably my most epic and honorable of the honorable mentions. This is the first time in years that I have written such a long pwp, and it's written about some of my ult favs. So I fucking love it. (It came so, so close to making the top ten.)

(Now, onto the top ten.)

The Top Ten:

10. Dreaming Of You - Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Reader (31,300 words)

You and Gar have been best friends for a long time. Nothing could disrupt the harmony of such a perfect friendship. Nothing except maybe… your usually predictable powers going haywire and somehow showing you all of his heated daydreams about you. But he couldn’t possibly have romantic feelings for you. He couldn’t possibly want anything more than your close platonic friendship and the occasional steamy fantasy. Right? Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Powered!Reader. Best Friends to Lovers. Smut and (Slight) Angst. Set during Season 2.

At first I wasn't even sure if I should put this one on the list, because it's technically a re-post, but I was like fuck it, I make the rules here. And the reason it's at 10 is because technically I wrote most of this in 2021 originally (though it feels like longer ago than that omg), but this year I heavily updated the fic, including writing some new scenes for it that flesh it out very nicely. To me, this is everything a good re-post should be. It cleans up what was already there and amazing about the fic and it enhances it so much.

I loved the concept of this fic from its core, and now I get to be so, so proud of the way I have enhanced it years later. To me, this will always be my core Gar fic (as much as I will always write more for him) - and it is something I am truly, genuinely proud of. If you love Gar and you love smutty fantasies involving him, I highly recommend checking this fic out.

9. No Brainer - Derek Cho x Fem!Reader x Melanie Cross (Mayhem (2017)) (7,100 words)

When the ID-7 Virus, aka the Red Eye Virus hits Towers and Smythe Consulting, it throws the entire office building into chaos. With a mandatory quarantine from the CDC in action, that chaos builds in on itself, and somehow, you, Derek, and Melanie get everything that you want. aka You have something Derek and Melanie need. Derek and Melanie have something you want. You all agree to make an exchange, and everyone ends up more than happy. Derek Cho (Steven Yeun) x Fem!Reader x Melanie Cross (Samara Weaving). Co-Works to Lovers. Smut. Based on the film Mayhem from 2017.

This is one of my personal favourite fics of mine that I believe very few people following me have ever read. I absolutely love writing fics based on random one-off horror movies - I have way more in my drafts, and one of my goals for 2024 is to complete and post more of them. But one night I was laying in bed and I randomly watched this film because I knew Steven Yeun was in it. I had seen a lot of clips of him covered in blood and yelling, and I found him really hot in those clips, so I knew that I would enjoy the film. And I absolutely fucking did. Not just based on his hotness, but just - the entire film was so, so enjoyable.

Also, the ID-7 Virus, a fictional sickness that lowers your inhibitions (something that is shown in the film to work like sex pollen) is the perfect basis for a fic. So I literally started writing this on my phone before I had even finished watching the film. And I posted it a few days later. I think it's just pure fun. One of my favourite things to write about is a healthy combination of horror and sex, and this is definitely toeing the line perfectly in my opinion. If you haven't seen the film, I highly recommend it - watch it, and then come back and read this fic.

8. My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader (9,600 words)

Ellie confronts your abuser, and after years of torment, you finally feel free. Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader. Strangers to Lovers. Hurt and Comfort.

This is a fic that is very close to my heart. Not only is named after a tragically underrated Fall Out Boy B-Side, one of my favourite songs ever, but it is a fic about conquering the abuse of a family member - and when I wrote this, it was coming from a place of the utmost sincerity.

I am someone who has experienced abuse from a family member, and it felt so entirely empowering to write this - to write about someone coming to your rescue so honestly. Someone rescuing you out of pure want, not because it's an obligation or a burden. But because they are compelled by their own morals and they feel that your abuse is a cruel injustice against the world. This and the companion fic I wrote for Abby with a similar storyline are two of the most important fics that I have written this year.

7. Ghosting - Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader (3,700 words)

Mike has been in love with you for as long as he can remember. For about as long as the two of you have been best friends. He always thought he would have more time to work up to confessing those big, dangerous feelings for you - until something more dangerous swooped in and stole any time he had left with you. Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader. Star-Crossed Lovers. Pure Angst. Set during the events of the movie (and features spoilers for the plot).

I feel like this list would be incomplete if I didn't pick at least one of the FNAF fics that I wrote (and two of them ended up on here). With how much it was delayed, it was actually wild to see the FNAF Movie actually come to life before our very eyes, and it was amazing to actually write some fics about it. This is the first time (in a very long time) that I have written pure angst with no sense of fluff at the ending, and it was actually so much fun - it's fun to give into the darker side of a fic, and to write about the most torturous human emotions with absolutely no relief.

Also, I think dying in someone's arms (especially holding your lover or your would-be lover) is such a compelling trope and I loved writing about it. This was so much fun for me to write, and it was something so interesting to explore aside from the usual smut that I write.

6. From Your Lips - Jennifer Jareau x GN!Reader (3,000 words)

After JJ is attacked by dogs on the Hankle farm, everyone is busy worrying about Reid’s missing status, but you take the time to check on JJ and try your best to calm her flustered mind. Jennifer Jareau x Gender Neutral Reader. Friends with Benefits. Smut and Angst. Set during Season 2, Episode 15.

This year, I had another large foray into the Criminal Minds fandom, and I wrote a JJ fic for the first time. And just in general, I am so proud of this fic. I think even for a short fic, it has such a great essence - again, I love setting fics during specific episodes, and I found it so fun to play around with the religious imagery and the religious themes already in this episode, as well as the imagery of rabid dogs.

To me, this is what truly makes fanfiction great - taking details of the canon, chewing them up like bubblegum and then adding something else in to make them your own. I had so much fun writing this fic, 10/10.

5. Love From The Other Side (aka The Golf Club Fic) - Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader (5,600 words)

Abby kills the man that has been haunting your nightmares for years. You find it only fitting to give her a proper reward. Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut. Set during The Last of Us Part II. (aka - the fic where Abby fucks the reader's pussy with the golf club that she used to kill Joel.)

So, as you will notice with this fic and the next one, 2023 was the year I truly said fuck it. There used to be a time when I was afraid to admit my weirder kinks and fantasies (like, I used to be afraid to even say that I read A/B/O), but then I realized that this is the freak-nasty website. And way too many people are shy. So I must be the one to provide the freak-nasty fics.

This is a fic I had in mind since the very first time I watched TLOU2 gameplay. And originally, it was going to be a simple, purely pornopraphic fic about Abby fucking the reader with the golf club - but as I was writing it, it turned into something that I find oddly beautiful. And (again, just like with the next fic) I find that writing about kinks in long-term relationships, especially the kind of relationships that have come to be co-dependent - it's like writing this toxic, cathartic poetry.

It's writing about two people who need each other but can be so horrible for each other - and it is one of my favourite things to write about because it's so damn interesting. This was a slay, and generally awesome because it was getting out an idea that's been in my head for years.

4. Damn The Man, Save The Empire - Vanessa Shelly x GN!Reader (6,100 words)

Vanessa has always taken care of you. Since the two of you were kids, she has put her neck on the line for you, and you rarely knew how to return that epic kindness. One night, while both of you are raw and on-edge, the dark cloud of your strange past looming over both of you nearly swallows both of you whole - and once again, Vanessa is right there, taking care of you. (Dark)Dom!Vanessa Shelly x Sub!Gender Neutral Reader. Toxic Co-Dependent Relationship. Smut and Angst. Takes place before the main timeline of the film (features spoilers for the movie).

Again, like I said with the previous fic - this was one of my favourite fics to write because it is so delightfully unhinged. I really enjoy exploring toxic relationships through fiction because - for one, writing healthy, functioning relationships is not always interesting. And there is something so beautifully dark and poetic about writing two people who have grown into each other like twisted tree branches and need each other, but are so bad for each other.

And this year I have been exploring gender neutral smut a lot more. I used to always write fem reader smut as my default, but I have been having a lot of fun with the creativity of writing smut without describing the reader's body in detail. I love coming up with metaphors and describing around the body parts. I find it to be a fun creative challenge. Anyway - this was a lot of fun to write, and I highly recommend it if you enjoy reading darker fics.

3. Lessons For A Genius (Lesson One) - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (17,200 words)

What could a certified genius possibly have to learn from someone like you? Turns out - a hell of a lot.  And the real ‘teaching’ started when your graphic explanations of slang toward Spencer for the sheer shock value of it turned into something a lot more… hands on.  Sub!Spencer Reid x (BAU)Dom!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Friends with Benefits. Smut. Set during early Season 2.

I feel like it would be a miss to make this list without mentioning a fic that I obsessed over for two weeks straight - a fic that drove me insane in the best way. Of course, there is also the sequel, but I personally prefer the first lesson. This fic has been brewing in my mind for a very long time, because it is painfully obvious to me that Spencer (in the early seasons) is an awkward virgin, and I have always wanted to ruin him.

This fic is a lot of my fantasies brought to life, and I feel like it's a really masterful painting of those fantasies - for once, without overly focusing on the murder mystery aspect of Criminal Minds fanfiction (which I have a tendency to get distracted by). I am really, really proud of this fic, and I know you guys enjoyed it. It is definitely a highlight of my writing this year.

2. Emergency Contact - Jason Todd x GN!Reader (10,500 words)

After Jason miraculously comes home from his brush with Deathstroke, you’re both feeling it in very different ways. You have an unexpected physical wound from the battle, and he has many (very expected) emotional wounds. You help each other heal. Even if it’s very stubborn on both your parts. Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Enemies/FWB to Lovers. Angst and Hurt/Comfort. (Slight Smut). Set during Season 2, Episode 5.

This is a fic I have talked about a lot recently, because I have been working on the sequel. (I was hoping to get the sequel finished and posted before the end of December, but it's gonna be a longer fic, so it's looking like it's gonna be one of the first fics of January instead.) Anyway - to me, this is by far one of my best fics and one of my most important fics of 2023. This was battling for the top spot.

But even if it's second place, I am so incredibly proud of this fic. I think it's beautifully written, I am incredibly proud of the literary references I worked in with The Great Gatsby - especially because I feel like Jason would be the type to read Gatsby and compare himself to someone tragic and doomed like Gatsby (he would soo compare himself to Gatsby, especially because he was also a poor kid who was randomly sponsored by a rich man who saw potential in him). Overall, I just had a very distinct vision when writing the fic, and that vision came to life. And I really, really hope that my vision comes to life in the sequel too.

1. King For A Day - Poly!Golden Trio x Fem!Reader (22,400 words) 

You have always had a special relationship with Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and the one and only Harry Potter. When you set out to help them find and destroy Lord Voldemort’s Horcruxes, it seems that your intimate knowledge of them is the one thing keeping them together - until the unique dynamic shifts, thanks to one of those pesky pieces of dark magic. Angry voices carry, and it turns out - moans of pleasure do too. Poly!Golden Trio x Fem!Reader (Fem!Reader x Harry Potter x Ron Weasley x Hermione Granger). FWB to Poly Lovers. Smut (with a slight bit of Angst). Set during Deathly Hallows.

And finally, we get to my favourite fic of the year!!

So, I'm gonna be honest, a huge reason that this fic gets the top slot is because of my nostalgia for Harry Potter. This year was the first time in a long time that I have written Harry Potter fanfiction, and it felt like a reawakening of my soul. I was genuinely happy, and I was spending time enjoying concepts and characters that I have not thought about for a long time.

This fic in particular, I feel like I have been working on it for years in my mind. This fic is a culmination of all my thoughts about these characters, all my time in the Harry Potter fandom, and generally, I am so, so proud of it. I am proud that my love for Harry Potter has come to fruition in this form - a poly smut fic, something that is just so me.

Overall - I had such a great year chasing fic ideas that make me happy, despite the popularity of the characters or the fandoms, and I encourage you guys to spend 2024 doing the same. Cheers!

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Eddie Munson's family dinner

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 23

Prompt: Uncle Wayne adopts Steve

Rated: M

CW: nudity

Tags: Modern AU; Rockstar Eddie; Royal Steve; Established relationship

Notes: Continued from days 11 and 14. I can't get this AU outta my head, halp!

Eddie can't recall the first time he saw Steve. 

In all likelihood, he was two years old and Steve a tiny, wrinkly baby. His face was all over the news in the days and weeks following his birth, after all. Cradled in his mother's arms, staring bleary-eyed into the world as newborns tend to do - only that in his case, the entire world was staring back. The birth of the King's and Queen's first child had been long-awaited after all, a once-in-a-generation event. 

In the years that followed, Steve was always just … kind of there. A strange-but-familiar boy who kept popping up on TV and the front pages of magazines, living a life so different they may as well have been from different planets. 

Eddie still remembers fixing dinner in the trailer's tiny kitchen one night, news droning in the background. 

"Poor kid," Wayne grumbled. 

Eddie, sixteen and a giant shithead at the time, paused in putting the plates down on the table and glanced up to follow his uncle's gaze to the TV. 

"Oh yeah, woe is him. Must be so fucking hard, living in a palace. Having an army of servants to wipe your ass and shit." 

On the TV, the Prince sat between his parents at some sports event or other, a tiny carbon copy of his father with his Italian suit and carefully styled hair. Clapping at all the right times, face a polite, empty mask of a smile.

Wayne huffed. "Ain't no kid deserve that kinda shit. Always under scrutiny, paraded around like some trained dog." 

Eddie rolled his eyes and changed the topic and they didn't talk about it any further. 

*

Wayne's plates are still the same ones that Eddie was putting on the table all those years ago. Eddie has offered time and again to buy something new, but the stubborn old shit won't have it. Insists that Eddie already bought him a whole-ass house with the money from that first record deal, a car after the second, he won't die of a chipped plate or ten, thank you very much. He'll just have to get him new ones for Christmas, he guesses.

"This is delicious, Mr Munson," Steve is saying. He's sitting next to Eddie, back ramrod straight, elbows at a perfect angle, dissecting the meatloaf with careful precision. 

Like some trained dog. 

"My mom's recipe," Wayne hums, but then he sets down his own cutlery, expression serious. "Now … what are your intentions with my nephew?" 

Eddie flushes about twenty shades of crimson. Incidentally, so does Steve. 

"I …" he sputters, all traces of composure suddenly gone. "Well, I like Eddie a lot." 

"I figured …" Behind Wayne's beard, his mouth twitches. "Seeing how you're wearing his clothes and all." 

Steve blinks down at himself. They make sure to keep it low-profile when they're together. The paparazzi never sleep, after all, and they've both had their fair share of run-ins with the fuckers in the past. Which is why he's wearing a red-and-black flannel he stole from Eddie, faded and soft from too many cycles in the wash. Eddie wants to burn all the Italian suits in the world, wrap him up in soft and comfy clothes always. 

"Um …" Steve says. 

Wayne smiles. 

"Relax, son, I'm pulling your leg." If he notices how Steve tenses at the word son, he graciously ignores it. "Now are ya gonna take my boy's hand, or what?" 

Steve gapes. 

"Might as well," Eddie winks, takes the knife from Steve’s limp fingers and entwines their hands. "He'll just keep nagging until he gets what he wants." 

Their gazes lock and Steve smiles. Not a mask. The real one. The one where his eyes light up and he looks five years younger. The one that Eddie is rapidly becoming addicted to. 

He turns back to eating his dinner one-handed and remembers another boy, a boy from a very different planet, getting coaxed out of his shell over the same plates, the same meatloaf. 

Fuck the plates, he decides. Wayne is getting a whole damn kitchen for Christmas, whether he likes it or not. 

*

"He's a great guy, your uncle," Steve mutters into Eddie’s chest later that night. They're all curled up in Eddie’s bed and he's naked except for the flannel. He claims it's to ward off the cold air seeping in through the open window, and Eddie isn't about to argue. Not when the sight does things to him. 

"Sort of thought he was gonna hate me," Steve continues, and Eddie hums quizzically. 

"Why's that?" 

"Hm, let's see …" Steve's brow crinkles in mock-thought. "He raised the guy who wrote two top-ten songs about how much the monarchy sucks, that could've been a hint." 

"Nah," Eddie chuckles. "Guy would've adopted you as a kid, if he could've. He's always loved you, way-" 

Large hazel eyes blink up at him and the words get stuck in his throat. 

Because he hasn't said it yet, even though he's rapidly coming to accept that it's true. 

Way before I did.

"And apart from that," he says instead, "if you marry me, I'll be a princess. What parent doesn't want that for their kid?" 

"Hold your horses," Steve grumbles, but his eyes are sparkling again. "We can't get married if your uncle adopts me." 

"Shame," Eddie quips and presses him down into the pillows. "Would've loved to wear a tiara on stage, that sounds like a killer look."

Eddie doesn’t recall the first time he saw Steve, but he doesn’t really think it matters. Not when he gets to see the real him now, with no-one else watching. Blushing and naked, lips kissed pink, glowing with happiness.

It's an image he's sure he won't forget.

All my holiday drabbles

[am-i-interrupting]

The Interview | Vox x Alastor’s Child— OATSH

Summary: Being the daughter of both a famous radio show host and a serial killer lead to you being interviewed a lot throughout your life. This interview was different though. The host had something the others didn’t, charisma.

Warnings: none

You remember being shoved into the radio booth that was your fathers and being forced to answer all these questions about him, his life, and how you felt about police speculating your father was a murderer and whether or not you knew if that was true.

You were thirteen. You were grieving. You were forced to go from news station to news station to answer the same questions that you never knew the correct answers to.

Now you were in your early twenties. You wrote a book about what it was like to live with a murderer, dumbed down for the public and without all the things they’d find controversial. Like how you never saw anything wrong with what your father did, all those sentimental moments that piled up when you thought of him, how you slipped some poison in the drink of the man who killed him when you “interviewed” him for your book. No, none of that made it in.

You adjusted your skirt and looked at yourself in the window, making sure you looked the part of a sweet innocent girl.

A man walked into the room, demanding the attention of everyone with his perfectly styled hair, pressed suit, and loud footsteps. He looked around the room and when his eyes landed on you he broke out into a wide smile.

“Hello, my dear,” he said reaching for your hands. He cupped both of his around yours as he introduced himself.

“We’re about to go live in two minutes. I’m going to introduce you. You come in from the right, sit down right here, and then we’re just going to go through some of the questions I sent you. Although, we may stray from that to keep conversations flowing. Sound good?” He didn’t give you the time to answer as he nearly sprinted to set. “Places, everyone. Places.”

The cameras started rolling and you got to sit back for a moment and simply watch the man in his element.

“And welcome back!” he said. “Tonight, we have a very special guest. A girl born into a single parent home after the death of her mother and turned orphan after the death of her father, if you’ve been around as long as I have you’ve surely heard of her before and if you haven’t? Well, you shouldn’t be here. This is the night show, after all!

“Normally, I’d say welcome to our guest but just for tonight, I’ll take a lesson from the old radio and welcome our guest the way her father welcomed his. Dearly beloved, for your entertainment, it’s my pleasure to introduce to you the book world’s latest author,” he said your name as he walked towards the edge of the set, cameras following him.

He extended his hand for you to take as you walked up the steps. He led you to your seat.

When the pleasantries were done, the questions began. “So, tell me, what was it like being raised by a serial killer?”

“Well, I wish I could give you a simple answer but I’ve written a whole book about it. To spare you the long story, I’ll put it simply,” you began. “My father was good at pretending that nothing was wrong, that everything was normal and I believed it. He homeschooled me like he was. I did school work in his office and when he was done for the day we’d go home. I didn’t really have friends my age to tell me different.

“He had a friend. When I was a child, he’d take me to her house for us to have ‘girls days’ since my mother died during childbirth neither of us questioned it. Missing persons reports would be filed days after.”

“And this friend, did she ever suspect anything?” the show host asked.

“I wouldn’t know. I never got the chance to ask. She died in the 20s,” you told him.

“That must have been hard for you.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“I can’t help but wonder, do you think your father killed her as well?” he asked.

You tensed. Your back now straight as a board and your hands itching to clench into fists at the mere thought. You took a slow breath.

“My father had a type. She was not his type,” you said, voice a bit hard just a bit too defensive. Your true accent coming out just the slightest instead of the polished voice your father taught you from such a young age.

“And what was his type?”

“It was mostly men. Sometimes women, but mostly men. Especially men who didn’t respect those of fairer means,” you said. “He thought himself chivalrous.”

“And what did you think?”

“I thought he was good intentioned,” you said, words practiced long ago. “My father was always very protective of people he viewed as defenseless.”

“Do you know what triggered this specific brand of protection?”

“I never got to meet my grandmother. His father made sure of that. You see, she was a black woman and he was a white man. It was bad for his image to have a child with her so eventually he made sure she would never tell anyone and my father made sure I would never have to meet him,” you explained. “I believe that through the killings he committed, he was making sure that no other person would have to face the wrath of an angry man without reason.”

“That is very insightful information,” he said before he continued on with the interview.

You were pulling on your jacket to leave when the interviewer came up to you.

“Allow me to walk you home,” he said.

“I’m simply here for advertisement,” you told him. “I don’t have a home here.”

“Then let me walk you to your hotel. It’s late, I’d hate for something to happen to you,” he insisted.

You turned towards him finally. “As the child of a serial killer, I can’t say those words comfort me.”

You spun around and walked out the door of the building but he still followed you. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

“Your interview time is over,” you told him.

“I’m not trying to interview you,” he said. “I’m trying to understand you.”

“And why would you want to do that if not for some information to spin about me in your next news report?” you asked.

“I remember your father’s radio show,” he said. “I remember one day he was gone and the next day you were there. Thirteen years old, not even that much younger than I was, answering all these same questions.”

“Then you know how long I’ve answered them. That’s why I wrote the book,” you told him.

He shook his head and jogged a bit in front of you. “I remember thinking of how brave you had to have been and I just want to know the woman that brave girl has turned into.”

You stared at him for a moment, taking in everything about him. He was handsome, that much was for sure. You definitely understood why he was a show host. He had the looks for television and the charisma needed to hook an audience to go with it.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m pretty sure that’s a line my father used on his victims is all,” you said walking past him.

“Really? All that back and forth just for such a simple answer?” he asked.

“Call me careful,” you said with a wave over your shoulder.

“Paranoid is the word I’d choose.”

“Maybe you should be more cautious,” you told him, taking a moment to spin around and walk backwards to look at him.

When you faced forwards once more you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe radio is what you grew up with but the television was beginning to amuse you as well.

[sunflowervoltwentyeight]

Hello! This is a fic rec of my all-time favorite fics. These fics have really stuck with me over the years, and I've read many of them multiple times. This is an ongoing fic rec, that I will continue to update. These fics are organized by word count from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Of Mates and Men by bananaheathen / @bananaheathen (630k)

In which, Louis and Harry meet as best men for their best friends' wedding... well... sort of.

Or, the one where Harry's just moved back from New York and Louis doesn't believe in romance.

Or, I guess... the one where Zayn and Liam are getting married.

Hiding Place by orphan_account (365k)

Louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. Enter Harry Styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. With one fateful meeting in an X Factor bathroom, Louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because Harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.

From the X Factor house to Madison Square Garden, from the Fountain Studios stage to stadiums across the world, Louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace Louis as the center of his universe. Meanwhile, Harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. All he has to do now is convince Louis to give them a chance.

Or, the canon compliant Harry and Louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

You Can Hear It In The Silence by imogenelee / @imogenleefic (234k)

When Harry Styles was accepted into a post-grad degree, he knew he could no longer afford his flat, leaving him with three options: 1) Move back into student halls. 2) Become homeless. 3) Move in with his best (and only) friend, Niall, and three of Niall's other mates. He went with the third option. But it was a close race. Shame one of his roommates reminded him why he only has one friend. If there is one thing Louis Tomlinson can't stand, it's pretentious tossers, having grown up around enough of them. If there is one thing he can't live without, it would be his friends. So he was proper thrilled to move in with his best mates and a couple of other lads. That was until he discovered one of them was the archetype for a pretentious tosser.

In the interest of seeing out the twelve-month lease without killing each other, they both try (debatable) to get along despite believing they are opposite in almost every conceivable way, each having the communication skills of a cucumber, and secrets that have no business be kept secret.

One More Time Again by orphan_account (232k)

Harry looks down to where Louis is cradling his hand between his own. Louis' hands are slender, the bones delicate, the nails bitten short. The 2-8 on the backs of his fingers is gone, but the faded scar from a skateboarding mishap in Year 7 is still there.

Harry's hand is awkward, knobby-boned and naked, no rings, no tattoos. It's too big for his wrist and his wrist too big for his arm. Yet it still somehow fits in Louis' in the painfully perfect way it always did.

He blinks back the sting in his eyes.

On the morning of his second sold-out performance at Madison Square Garden, Harry wakes up to find that he's sixteen years old, on The X Factor, and that he has a chance to make things right.

A canon-compliant fix-it fic (sort of).

Stranger Stars by shaylea (212k)

Five years ago, Africa offered a grieving Louis Tomlinson an escape from an England he couldn't tolerate. Now it's become home as he leads overland tours across the continent with his best friend and driver Zayn Malik. What's meant to be just another ordinary six-week trip from Cape Town to Nairobi turns into anything but, when future lawyer/current photographer and songwriter Harry Styles and his friends join Louis' latest set of passengers.

Given A Chance by fabby / @fabby1d (173k)

Five years after One Direction took their last tour, the last thing Louis Tomlinson ever expected to happen while on a tea run at the local Piggly Wiggly was to run into his ex-boyfriend and ex-bandmate Harry Styles.

The odds of them ever running into each other again had to be super slim, right?

Wrong.

What happens when you mix ex-boyfriends with a large serving of Small Town America? Will Louis and Harry be able to set aside their differences, or will Louis be able to stay breezy as fuck in the wake of Harry’s arrival?

(or, the one where Louis and Harry run into each other five years after One Direction ends and learn how to love each other again. Featuring: Reggie as the overweight labrador, Niall as Louis’ last grip on reality, and Nowheresville, North Carolina as the setting for Louis’ worst nightmare to come true.)

The Wonderlands by stylinsoncity /  @aliensingucci (150k)

"Somewhere between chaos and control — these are the wonderlands."

Harry's daughter, Andy, is signed to Louis' girl band. Her path to success is marked by competition, chaos, and for Harry, a love affair.

As You Are by Zarah5 (139k)

AU. Five years after The X Factor launched his career as a radio host and songwriter, Louis Tomlinson returns as a judge. Falling for a contestant is the last thing he needs. It's also against his contract.

The only reason Harry auditions for The X Factor is because his best mate signed the two of them up as some kind of joke. Harry doesn't get the big deal—not until he's faced with this season's judges and realises that one of them used to be his desperate, impossible teenage crush.

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry / @isthatyoularry (136k)

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

Empty Skies  by green_feelings / @greenfeelings (134k)

For three years, Harry has been running from his past. Now, he is moving to London and pledges to fulfil his only dream – making it big in the music industry. Not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. As is his past catching up on him.Louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there had meant a lot of hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. He’s still happy. Maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?

Let's Fall in Love in a Place You Want to Stay by embro (134k)

A George of the Jungle / Tarzan AU where Louis is a model who meets Wild Man Harry in the Congo. He was raised by apes and barely speaks a word of English and turns Louis' life upside down.

Love Is A Rebellious Bird by 100percentsassy, Gloria_Andrews / @gloriaandrews (134k)

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

Wild Love bypurpledaisy / @harrydaisy (130k)

“Good,” Julia says, clearly pleased to have them both uncomfortable and unable to look at each other. “Now, I only have one more question before you can go. What are you planning to do when this experiment ruins your friendship?”

“We said we’d stay friends no matter what,” Harry says smoothly, his chin lifting in defense.

“That was our one thing going into it,” Louis agrees. “Stay friends no matter what.”

Julia raises a perfectly manicured brow, “That’s all fine and good. But I hope you realize your emotions aren’t going to realize this is an experiment in the end. If one of you falls for the other and finds out those feelings are not reciprocated, you’re not going to be able to laugh it off as a social experiment. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do this, I’m just hoping you’ve considered all of the possible outcomes.”

- AU: Two best friends try to date each other for forty days. It’s supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated.

After All These Years byLifeInAColorWheel (127k)

It’s been seven years since One Direction went on hiatus and it’s been eight years since Louis and Harry broke up. They’ve been strangers to one another since then.

But, over the course of a weeklong boys’ trip, history between Harry and Louis resurfaces.

Or,

The one when Louis and Harry don’t talk, connect again years later, and reflect on why their love collapsed.

Wild and Unruly by 100percentsassy, Gloria_Andrews / @gloriaandrews (123k)

Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

I'll Fly Away by juliusschmidt / @juliusschmidt (122k)

Harry and Louis grew up together in Lake County, Harry with his mom and stepdad in a tiny cottage on Edward’s Lake and Louis in his family’s farmhouse a few minutes down the road. But after high school, Louis stuck around and Harry did not; Harry went to Chicago where he found a boyfriend and couple of college degrees. Six years later, Harry ends up back in Edwardsville for the summer and he and Louis fall into old patterns and discover new ones.

ft. One Direction, the local boyband; Horan’s Bar and Grill; families, most especially children and babies; Officer Liam Payne; many local festivals and fireworks displays; and Anne Cox, PFLAG President.

Bitter Tangerine by purpledaisy / @daisyharry (119k)

Maybe it’s Niall, he reasons to calm his storming heart. Maybe he’s not actually gone for the holidays yet, maybe Harry got the dates confused. Slowly, he holds his breath and pushes the kitchen door open. The first thing he sees make him jump, a wooden spoon held out like a sword. Once his brain processes the sight in front of him, it’s less the sword that gets him than who is attached to the wooden spoon.

“Harry,” the swordsmen speaks before Harry can, his voice low and steady though confusion laces each word.

Harry’s breath catches. Every string around his heart, all the protection he spent nine months building, rips out and tears open all at once as he says, “Hi Louis.”

-

AU: Nine months after they break up, a twist of fate brings Harry and Louis back together at Christmas.

Never Be by cherrystreet / @cherrystreet (117k)

Monica: You've got to see her again.Ross: And why do you care so much?Monica: Because! You could get to live out my fantasy!Ross: You had fantasies about Emily?Monica: No! Y’know, the fantasy! Meet someone from a strange land, fall madly in love, and spend the rest of your lives together.  

The one where Harry Styles moves to Connecticut from England for nine months as a part of a study abroad program, and he just so happens to move in with Louis Tomlinson and family.

Burn to Ash by bethaboo (116k)

Harry is sitting there, so fucking casual, and Louis realizes in a split second he was not ready. When Harry walked out in Detroit and never looked back, he was a boy verging on a man, still only twenty years old, but there's a man in his place now. Hard and resolute, yes, but still, for the first time in a long time, Louis can kind of see the old Harry in him. The soft, directness of his gaze, the hesitant smile he gives to Lou, the way he wrings his ridiculously large hands in his lap.

He's a little bit the eager sixteen year old puppy dog again, his innocence and sweetness resurrected miraculously, and Louis freezes in place. He was prepared to face the asshole Harry. He was prepared to meet a whole new Harry.

Louis is not prepared to meet one of the old incarnations of Harry, and it absolutely tears him up.

Or the fic where Harry spirals out of control, the band breaks up, and then he shows back up, five years later.

Mine Would Be You by crinkle-eyed-boo / @crinkle-eyed-boo (114k)

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn’t intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

Tired Tired Sea by mediawhore / @mediawhorefics (113k)

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

Babydoll Blues by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain (111k)

Louis is a high profile, filthy rich label executive who has the world at his feet - a music god.. Harry is the sugar baby trying to make a name for himself singing in shady bars and hanging off the arm of Louis' biggest rival. What Louis wants, Louis gets. But what if the game gets too hot and hits a little too close to the heart?

Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose by certainsadness (103k)

“There’s something so great about watching you interact with art,” Harry said quietly. “Like, when you were giving the tour, you were just so you, and so happy and excited and funny and engrossing. But then when you’re looking at the art, when it’s, like, just for you, you get so quiet and observant.” He pressed a kiss to Louis’s shoulder. “But you still seem so you, and so happy. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you as happy as you’ve been tonight.” He kissed his shoulder again. “As you are right now.” A shiver went up Louis’s back. “I’m happy when I’m with you,” he said.

Or, Louis loved art and Harry was a masterpiece.

Emperor's New Clothes by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships (92K)

The fact that Louis’s most precious belonging was a cat with a face like thunder and an uncanny ability to cover every single inch of Louis’s clothing with cat hair was something that Louis chose not to think about too much.

or: Harry’s a pop star and Louis isn’t, and there’s a non-disclosure agreement where there used to be a relationship.

Behavioural Ecology by turtlekz / @turtlekz (81k)

Louis Tomlinson is a primatologist working with the Jane Goodall Institute for primate conservation; and Harry Styles is the photojournalist sent from National Geographic to write a piece promoting awareness about the endangered species. They meet, and love is never, ever simple, as we know.

Featuring Eli the chimpanzee, bickering humans, storytelling, and five men who come to gain an understanding of what it means to be human; all stationed in the Republic of the Congo.

Do Not Go Gentle by afirethatcannotdie / @afirethatcannotdie (70k)

“This is all a game to you, isn’t it? Well, it’s not for me. This is a real life or death situation,” Louis says, spitting the words at him. “And I just don’t think you’re cut out for it.”

For a moment, they stare at each other in complete silence. Harry can feel his blood thrumming between his ears, can see Louis glaring at him, feels red-hot anger. And then all he feels, oppressively and desperately, is lust.

Suddenly Louis is surging up to him to press his lips against Harry’s. Harry walks the two of them backwards, pressing Louis back against the door. Louis oomphs in surprise and brings his hands under Harry’s scrub top, scratching at his lower back.

“Lock — oh — lock the… fucking door,” Louis mutters.

When Harry Styles starts his first day as a surgical intern, he expects a lot of things: to treat patients, to observe a surgery, to feel a bit overwhelmed. What he definitely doesn't expect, however, is that the handsome guy he kicked out of his bed this morning is also an intern.

A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they?

To the Ends of the Earth by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (68k)

During a yearlong hiatus, Louis visits Harry at his cabin in Idaho, where long-buried feelings ignite like the fire keeping them warm.

A Yuzu Grows in Brooklyn by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (66k)

Harry is a recent implant in new york and a young chef opening a restaurant called yuzu. louis, a music teacher and broadway lover, has been around the block for a while. in a city that's so fast-paced, they're slow to catch on to each other.

The Dark and the Dentist by sunshiner / @theprizeofcoolness (66k)

“I know this song,” Louis whispers, and Harry has to lean his ear toward him to pick up what he’s saying. “It was written for people to dance to it. We should be dancing.” We can’t, Harry almost spits, but it’d be stupid of him. Louis knows they can’t. Even if he looks like any regular Parisian in their twenties, and Harry looks like any hipster Parisian in their twenties, they can’t anyway. To be fair, they probably wouldn’t do it even if they were out. But if they were two uni students, both in Paris for an exchange, meeting over fallen books at the library, or because of mutual friends, or watching Monet’s Water Lilies? “How would we dance?” Harry murmurs, mouth almost pressed to Louis’ cheek, so close he can feel his warmth. What a picture they must make, two millionaires freezing in a park and dreaming of a different life.

An account of the events of November 2014. Canon-compliant.

Time Passed by coffinofachimera (66k)

Louis struggles with their relationship as Harry grows into his identity.

Outwit, Outplay, Outlast by dancesongsoul, lookatyourchoices (60k)

“Tommo and Harry are gonna do it. I don’t know when, but they’re gonna do it. They’ve got the mattress, the pillows, everything’s in place, and they’re gonna do it. I really wish those two the best of luck.” –Taylor Swift, "Chapera"

Or a Survivor All-Stars AU in which Harry and Louis are just in this game to win the million dollars, but they end up with something better.

Featuring Harry's yellow swim shorts, Louis in snapbacks, and OT5 shenanigans.

No One Does It Better by nodibs (49k)

Harry’s an alcoholic and Louis is a bartender. The first time they meet isn’t the first time they’ve met.

Sail Away With Me by star_henderson / @star-henderson (47k)

“It’s inhumane putting four blokes in one cabin.” Louis stripped off and climbed up into his top bunk. “And why did we get the smelliest twat on the whole ship and bore of the century?”

Harry shrugged. “We clearly pissed someone off along the way.”

Louis snorted softly. “Who do I have to bend over for to get us an upgrade?”

Harry barked out a laugh. “If only it were that simple.” He rolled his eyes wistfully at Louis.

“The only way I’m going to get a two berth is to throw Payno overboard and be next in line for the deputy cruise director's job.” Louis leaned up on one elbow to look over at Harry. “Would you help me weigh his body down so I don’t go to jail?”

“Only If I can share your cabin.” Harry shuffled about, tucking the duvet between his legs, sweeping his hair up into a bun and securing it in a band. “I’m not being an accessory to murder and then still having to share with them two, no fucking way.”

Or

Louis and Harry are part of the entertainment team on board a luxury cruise liner. They hate sharing their four berth cabin with two other guys and would do anything to get a cabin of their own. One drunken night the solution was simple. They'd just get married...

Be My Little Good Luck Charm by 100percentsassy (34k)

In which Harry is a promising amateur golfer making his debut at the PGA Championship, and Louis is a Sky Sports anchor who would really rather be commentating on footie.

The other boys are around too: caddy!Niall provides victory pints, Liam is Louis's Very Serious co-anchor, and poor Zayn just gets his face drawn on.

Have You Coming Back Again by whoknows (31k)

It’s five o’clock in the morning. Louis has a lecture at half eight. He could be using this time to study or to do his readings or to go to the gym, but - well. He doesn’t have any exams coming up, he’s not going to his seminar today anyway and he hates the gym.

Instead he’s using this time to fuck with Harry Styles’ poor little brain.

Louis jogs across the street and jabs the key into the car door. It opens easily, not that he was expecting anything else. He copied the key for a reason, after all.

He’s got Harry’s schedule memorized, more because the guy keeps following him around than anything, so he doesn’t bother looking around before climbing behind the wheel and setting his bag on the passenger seat. It’s a Monday, which means that Harry doesn’t even get out of bed before noon unless he’s planning on harassing Louis.

Loved By Your Mother by superglass / @gaymoustache (31k)

Harry stretches out like Venus with her lover, growing sleepy in the late afternoon light with a baby growing inside her. Perhaps not literally, not physically. Not exactly.

or

Harry struggles to come to terms with wanting to have children, and what that means for their relationship. Canon compliant, set a few years into the future

[albonify]

Two Ghosts - Oscar Piastri

Summery: Y/N and Oscar see each other again after months but they’re both a lot different than they were before.

Warnings: angst, none

based off of Two Ghosts by Harry Styles

Same lips red, same eyes blue

Same white shirt, couple more tattoos

But it's not you and it's not me

Tastes so sweet, looks so real

Sounds like something that I used to feel

But I can't touch what I see

Oscar was just looking for a nice night in after his rookie season ended, but Lando had dragged him to this bar near the hotel and track. Almost the whole grid was there and Oscar just wanted to go back to the hotel. It was a very nice bar, it had lots of space to dance and a huge bar, but Oscar just didn’t like going out. He would much rather be sleeping right now.

He had been with Lando and had a few drinks with him before Lando had went off to dance with a girl that had dragged him away. As soon as Lando left, Oscar had gotten up from the booth he was at and sat down at the bar. Oscar ordered another drink and immediately shrunk. As he waited for his drink he looked around bored, he wanted to be anywhere but here.

The bartender handed him his drink, Oscar thanked him and was about to take a sip when something or rather someone familiar caught his eye. He did a double take, not believing his eyes the first time. He looked more closely this time just to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks. And they weren’t. Out on the dance floor was Y/N, his childhood best friend he hadn’t seen in months. There she stood, with her red lips and blue eyes, her hair flowing as she moved. She hadn’t changed a bit since he last saw her.

Y/N’s eyes locked onto his. She was shocked to see him again after their falling out months ago. He had randomly stopped answering her messages, leaving her alone. She was upset for a long time afterwards but decided she needed to move on. She had stopped watching F1 and had unfollowed him on all socials. But something she couldn’t forget were their memories, or the tattoos she had gotten for him as a surprise but never got to show him.

As she looked at his outfit she realized he was wearing the same white shirt he had worn when she last saw him. They were at her apartment, watching a movie in her room. This was normal for them, having been friends since they were kids. She looks at him again. He hadn’t changed one bit since she last saw him. Still tall, broad, muscular and awkward. And no matter how much pain he put her through by randomly leaving, she couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him.

Oscar decided he had stared at her long enough and went to go talk to her, when her dress rode up a bit allowing Oscar to see a tattoo he had never seen before. He walked towards her to get a closer look. It was a butterfly with the words ‘everything happens for a reason’ written underneath it. It was then he realized she had a lot of tattoos now. The girl having none the last time he saw her.

He tried to see all of her tattoos, the thigh butterfly, the ‘777’ on her wrist, and the ‘16’ on her pinky. He remembers her telling him about those numbers as a kid, her lucky number having been 16 and her lucky number and her favorite number being the 777 angel number. As she moved her hair he saw a small tattoo behind her ear but couldn’t get a good look at it.

He had finally built the courage to go up to her. As he got closer he noticed how different she actually had been. She didn’t have the same glitter in her eyes anymore and her smile wasn’t as bright anymore.

Y/N watched as Oscar got closer. The more steps he took the more she noticed the subtle changes he had. His eyes showed a little bit more distance and his mouth closed a little bit tighter.

They had both changed so much since they last saw each other. But weather it shows or not, neither of them are the same anymore.

“Hi” Oscar said breathlessly as he looked at the girl he hadn’t seen in months. Though it was all his fault and he regrets it terribly. After watching a movie at her apartment he had realized that his feelings for her were deeper than friendship. He had decided to run from her as to not get his feelings hurt, unknowingly hurting hers in the process.

“Hello Oscar” Oscar watched her face as she spoke, her eyes had clouded slightly as she said his name and he felt guilt take over his body knowing it was his fault she was like this. “How have you been?”

Oscar takes a moment to reply to her, wondering if he should tell her the truth ‘i’ve been awful, im sorry i left its because i was in love with you and i had a feeling you felt the same and i didn’t want to make things awkward’

“Fine” He had replied to her question “How have you been?” Y/N doesn’t want to answer, not because she doesn’t want to talk to Oscar again, but because she truly doesn’t know.

“I’ve been fine aswell” Y/N says instead of asking the questions roaming her head, ‘why did you leave me?’ ‘did you know i loved you?’ ‘were you gonna come back?’ ‘when did you decided to leave’. She shook her head to rid the questions.

The space between them had become awkward. Oscar clears his throat to speak. “I saw you got some tattoos” he said, pointing to her wrist.

“Oh yeah!” Y/N smiles brightly at the mention of her tattoos. “I have 5 now!” 5? Oscar asks himself, he had only seen 3?. But his thought were cut short by Y/N speaking again.

“The ‘777’ on my wrist, the ‘16’ on my pinky, the butterfly on my thigh, the…” Y/N hesitates as she thinks of the other two tattoos. Does she really want to show them to the guy she got them for as a surprise but never got to show him? So she compromises.

“And then I have one behind my ear and one on my back” she had finished the list, purposefully not telling him what they were. This made Oscar curious as to what they were. Why would she not tell him what they were like she did the other 3? Were they regretful ones, ones that didn’t turn out well? Y/N could tell he had questions but was grateful he didn’t ask them.

The air between them was tense and awkward as they just looked at each other. Neither of them speaking because they didn’t know what to say. Y/N looked at the ground and Oscar looked at Y/N.

“OP81 and a race car” Y/N had said quietly, still looking at the floor. Oscar was confused, having not heard what she said. “What?”

“My tattoos, behind my ear is ‘OP81’ and on my back is a race car.” Y/N said taking a breath “I had gotten them as a surprise but never got to show them to you”. Y/N said, more clearly this time.

Oscar looks at her shocked, she had gotten tattoos for him? and he had left her? He felt like the biggest idiot ever.

Oscar just looked at her “I- I didn’t know” he stuttered as he grabbed her hand.

Y/N looked up at him “Of course not” and she removed her hand from his.

As they stood there, looking at each other Oscar knew she was no longer in love with him and Y/N knew that Oscar no longer knew her.

They knew there was no way they could ever be friends anymore, let alone more than friends, They knew this was goodbye. They weren’t the people they were a few months ago. They were just strangers, trying to remember how it was before each other.

We're not who we used to be

We're not who we used to be

We're just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me

Trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat

[randomfoggytiger]

I started watching X-Files a couple of months ago and finally finished the whole show, plus the movies and revival. Jesus. I started looking at fanfic but am totally intimidated by HOW MUCH OF IT there is. Like. 30 years worth of it? Where do I even start? Do I read old stuff or new stuff? Are there any authors that have been writing since the 90’s? Who’s stuff should I be reading? What should I be reading? There are so many different kinds! (Okay, but not fluff, because The Ick.) (and only the shippy stuff because I am not a monster.) Where does one even start in this fandom?

Thanks for coming here, Anon-- I'll do my best~. ;)))

TLDR: If you want to read the classics-- the multi-chapter beasts hailed across The X-Files fandom-- I'd go to @lilydalexf's page and sort through her pinned Masterpost of recs; if you want my personal favorites, I've got my own complied Masterlist pinned, as well. If you want author suggestions, I listed a few below (but not all-- even of my personal favorites.) Older fics have a more "walled-off" approach to Scully and an edgier, distant approach to Mulder; newer fics have a more open approach to their exchange and dynamic. I prefer the latter, but that's likely because I was able to watch the show as a whole rather than episode by episode with a lot of guesswork in-between.

It's hard to pinpoint where to recommend you since I don't know your preferences; but here's a very loose attempt to do so:

I'm more of a short fic reader, but I'd recommend @melforbes, @slippinmickeys, @cecilysass, and @wexleresque for long chapters; @teethnbone, @leiascully, @aloysiavirgata, @enigmaticdrblockhead, @dreamingofscully, and @sarie-fairy for "atmospheric" writing; @baronessblixen, @welsharcher, @agent-troi, @television-overload, @invidiosa, @swinging-stars-from-satellites, @thescullyphile, @msrafterdark, and @edierone for well-balanced fluff/angst/humor/comfort fic/etc.; @o6666666, @ghostbustermelanieking, @mappingthexfiles/Apostrophic, and Lapsed_Scholar for their wonderful shorts (but especially Lapsed's Requiem AU compilations); @settle-down-frohike, @suitablyaggrieved, @amplifyme, @wtfmulder, @freckleslikestars, @lyndsaybones, @numinousmysteries, and Jenna Tooms/misslucyjane for their focus on Mulder and Scully as a "mature"-- for lack of a better word-- couple (no matter when their fics are set); @xxsksxxx and @writingwell write long-chaptered casefiles (my writingwell fic recs here might help?-- sorry for the codes, I was rushing out those notes); and if you want the authors everyone recommends, then @mashnotesofthemythopoeic/Penumbra (Masterlist) and prufrock’s love/plenilune (@lilydalexf links/descriptions here) are two of the many that fit the bill.

Other fic recs you might be interested in: @cecilysass's write more of these and Milagro recs, @enigmaticxbee mytharc and Scully family recs, @pennyserenade's reading recs, @two-microscopes shorter fic rec list, @nachosncheezies's slightly psychic Scully recs (describes three of the big x-files fics), etc. You want beautifully short poeticesque ficlets written and recced by @leiascully? Boom. You want Deadalive fic reccs? Kachow. You want opinions from the OGs? The aforementioned aloysiavirgata, amplifyme, baronessblixen, leiascully, suitablyaggrieved, cecilysass, settle-down-frohike, dreamingofscully, msrafterdark, as well as @iconicscullyoutfits and @myassbrokethefall (who write amazing meta, btw.)

Are you interested in AUs that write in Gillian Anderson's pregnancy? That have a storyline sans baby all together? That stick to canon all the way through the Revival? That stick to canon mostly, except for a bit of branching off here and there? Multiple Monday fics? Post Pine Bluff Variant processing? Mulder or Scully PTSD or panic attacks or hurt comfort? The many different flavors of Mulder's abduction or return? Casefiles (admittedly I stink at those)? My own fics (also in my pinned masterpost)? An author whose style you're interested in but would like a description of their work before making a long-term commitment? Lemme know~! :DDDD

Gotta run! Hope you like! (And sorry for any spelling errors~.)

[youremyheaven]

Guessing BTS Rising Signs

hello besties. I made this post a long time ago and since then, we've had TWO Bts members reveal their birth times so I thought it would be interesting to look at the rest of the members in this context. Here's my old post if you're curious.

I'll mention the members with confirmed birth times so that we can get that out of the way:

Jungkook- Mula Rising

His birth time was confirmed to be 3:23 PM which makes him a Mula Rising and tbh I've always seen him as hella Ketuvian (he also has Magha Moon) and this just fits. Mula's dog yoni does give him that puppyish charm, kind of androgynous style and a very endearing, silly personality. Plus like I mentioned in my post about Nodal people and how child stars often have Nodal placements + often tend to be heavily tattooed/pierced, Jungkook joined Bighit when he was 13yrs old and made his debut at 15yrs and has a tattoo sleeve and hella piercings<33

He is Purvaphalguni Sun, Magha Moon & Mula Rising

Jimin- Pushya Rising

His birth time is confirmed to be 11:58pm. Although he did not specify AM or PM, he did say he was born around "dawn" and im assuming that means the dawn of a new day because 11:58 am is most definitely not the dawn of anything. I've always suspected that he had Cancer Rising because of his appearance, full lips, round cheeks and all that 🥺and also just how sweet and soft his demeanor is 🫶🏼

He is Chitra Sun, Rohini Moon & Pushya Rising

Now here are my speculations for the other members:

Jin- Shravana Rising/Purvashada Rising

purely based on his appearance i believe he has Moon influence because he's Jyeshta Sun & UBP Moon and i dont really see much of either (Jyeshta's rabbit yoni does come thru a little bit but I feel like his appearance is majorly influenced by something else??) He could also be Purvashada Rising and him being Venusian also makes sense to me but his no nonsense attitude, refusal to submit to anyone, how he acts as though he's better than others (most of the time, its just a joke and he is funny ngl) all comes down to Moon influence for me tbh and I def don't think he's Rohini or Hasta, his energy is harsher and more direct which makes me think Shravana

Yoongi- Ashlesha Rising

i def think he has a cat yoni (he is PBP Sun which gives him lion yoni/feline influence but there has to be more to it than just that) i used to see him as Punarvasu but now I lean more towards Ashlesha tbh, he does seem to have a rakshasa gana nak in his big 3, he's very discriminate about who he gives his time and energy to and that's very sidereal cancer of him. also im convinced that him and Namjoon have outcaste naks in their rising because of the kind of journey they've had from the underground rap scene to the biggest band in the world

Hobi- Ashwini/Bharani Rising

i think Hobi is an Aries Rising, like there's nooo way he does not have Aries influence (i know he's Krittika Moon) i think Bharani because its also an outcaste nak and BTS faced a lot of discrimination in so many different ways

Namjoon- Vishaka Rising

i used to be torn between swati and vishaka but now im pretty convinced he's Vishaka Rising lol, first of all he has Jupiter influence, just trust me on that

this is the cover of his first mixtape and he said his face is painted half-black because he feels that he's "half positive and half negative". if you've read anything ive written about Jupiter or watched Claire's vids on Jupiter you know that duality is a major Jupiter theme specifically the battle between good and evil. namjoon's lyricism also oscillates between opposites a lot. in seoul he sings about how "love and hate sound just the same to me" and all of these are extensions of his Jupiter influence. i know he has Venus & Jupiter in Swati but i dont think he has a Swati stellium because he's too balanced to have that much Rahu influence lol and even though he talks about struggling to maintain balance i think that's the Jupiter in him coming thruuu, Vishaka is also an outcaste nak and Namjoon has been the scapegoat for all kinds of hate for his whole career

Taehyung- Rohini Rising

i think he has a serpent yoni ngl and if he's Rohini rising then it will be conjunct Jimin's moon which makes sense tbh and he also seems Moon influenced because of how emotional he is.

A major reason why I've assigned Outcaste naks to majority of the members is because of how they were the outcasts/underdogs in the industry for so long and if the shoe fits...yk I dont think those themes would manifest for them as a collective if the majority of them did not have those placements

[theogonies]

HOW THEY LOVE ft. genshin boys

includes: diluc, kaeya, childe, ayato, and thoma

word count: 1.8k

content warnings: diluc's gets very mildly yandere-ish, with some references to injury and death. he just has an anxious attachment style really. slight implication of disordered eating in thoma's but it's very blink and you'll miss it. aside from that, all fluff <3

written with a gender neutral reader in mind, but there are some mentions of perfume, jewelry, etc. and kaeya's refers to them as beautiful.

THOMA: ACTS OF SERVICE.

He speaks the language of anticipation. Fresh sheets and dinner in the oven at the end of a long day. A hand knitted scarf every winter and fresh bouquets of wildflowers on your table in the spring. His love and attention aren’t abstract things; he weaves them into the fabric of the world itself until you can feel his presence all around you, as clearly as the clean air that follows a storm.

More often than not, being with Thoma feels like hanging out with a friend. He’s charming and talkative, but reserved in his affection, like there’s some hidden boundary he’s afraid to cross.

It’s not just that he’s beholden by the rules of propriety as a representative of the Kamisatos (although that is a part of it)–he’s also just a bit too empathetic for his own good. Thoma never wants you to feel pressured by him and by his political authority, physically or emotionally, and so in most cases, he leaves it to you to make the first move.

But quiet acts of service are a different matter. He learned a long time ago to recognize people’s needs without being told, and what’s the harm in cooking you a fresh meal when he notices you aren’t eating enough? Or lending a hand on household chores when he notices you’ve been stressed?

He tells himself that you don’t need to know it’s him; he can ease the pressures of your life from the shadows, let you think that your clothes folded themselves by magic and that the new scarf that arrived on your doorstep after your old one grew threadbare was a gift from a secret admirer.

But really, it’s obvious. It’s obvious in the polish of everything he does and in the prideful way he carries himself when he notices you seem less tired and stressed.

It’s most obvious of all in the way that Thoma loves you; he doesn’t need to lead the way, only to see you happy and content in your life, for you to understand how ready he is to support you on the path to your own dreams.

KAEYA: WORDS OF AFFIRMATION.

He’s a liar and a sweet talker–that’s what they all say. Maybe if they hadn’t, you would’ve become used to his shyness sooner. The way he avoids your gaze when his words come out too sincere, how a brush of your fingertips is enough to leave him stammering. It’s as if his heart moves faster than his mind, leaving his words to spill out half-coherent and all too tender.

Kaeya is a bit of a conundrum as a lover; while he’s always verbally affectionate and full of praise, when he truly cares about someone, it’s like he can go from his usual smooth-talking personality to shy and stuttering in an instant.

He is, unsurprisingly, a huge tease. There’s nothing he loves more than getting you flustered when you’re out in public together–whether that means loudly talking you up in front of all your friends, or secret words of praise and admiration whispered so only you can hear them. Give him time, and he’ll learn exactly what it takes to leave you flustered.

It’s when you get him talking about himself that Kaeya loses his composure. While he’s become used to lies and deflecting, it’s important to him that you understand he wants to trust you, wants you to know the true self that lies beneath his lazy and irreverent public persona.

He’s been so lonely for so long that sometimes his heart spills over with longing and affection for you. But he’s not used to expressing his feelings genuinely, and so his words become clumsy, less self-assured than usual.

As charming as his flirting may be, there’s something equally endearing in his stammered confessions.

They become more, not less, frequent the more time you spend together, too, until you find yourselves together every morning, Kaeya’s lips falling half-open as he searches for a way to express how beautiful you are to him with your hair tangled on the bedsheets and your eyes still heavy with sleep.

CHILDE: QUALITY TIME.

He loves with his whole body, hands and lips and eyes and ears. Not a sensual lover so much as a sensuous one, like you’re a vessel made to be filled with his boundless energy and adoration. Even when you fall asleep, he lies awake, drinking in your image and the sound of your breathing like wine: so precious that it leaves him lightheaded. Even when he travels, he carries the memory of your presence with him like a locket around his neck: so familiar that no matter how far he goes, it brings him peace.

No matter how much Childe wishes he could spend every waking moment with you, the Fatui always show up again with some new assignment to drag him halfway around the world.

It can be lonely loving him, sometimes, when it seems that you spend more time apart from each other than together. He writes you the sweetest letters, sends you souvenirs and photographs from lands you could only dream of, yet still, it’s nothing like it is when you’re together.

In most things, Childe is the most distractible person you’ve ever met. He’s so enthusiastic about everything that it does, but it’s like his high energy betrays him, dragging his attention away as quickly as it comes.

You’re different, though. From the day you met, his attention was all yours. Even in a crowded room, it was like the two of you were the only ones around. He was all questions, desperate to learn everything about you.

The tone of his antics changes around you, too; while Childe feels an intrinsic, personal sense of pleasure in the strength of his own body, he becomes much more of a show-off around you. He wants your eyes on him at all times, the same way his linger on you, completely unashamed to be caught staring.

Childe is very much a physically affectionate lover, but it’s not so much that he needs to be touching you at all times as it is that he’s content to go wherever his moods lead him. Sometimes that means holding you close; others it’s as simple as running, dancing, or even sitting quietly listening to you speak, his eyes full of worship.

No matter how much time you spend apart from one another, it’s like all that distance is forgotten the moment you see each other again. He gives himself to you fully: a playful, genuine kind of lover, present in every moment.

AYATO: GIFTS.

He’s an old fashioned lover: not bashful, just patient. When you’re together, he sometimes moves so slow that it’s hard to believe he likes you as much as you like him. But it’s the moments that come between where he reminds you what you truly mean to him: bouquets of your favorite flowers quietly delivered to your doorstep, kimonos cut from silks softer and more delicate than you knew possible. Let love come as it will and someday, he promises, all the good and beautiful things in this world will be yours.

It’s no secret that the Kamisatos have more money than they know what to do with. Even if they weren’t one of the wealthiest families in Inazuma, Ayato doesn’t exactly get many opportunities to go out or spend on frivolous things for himself.

And that’s not to mention the gifts they accumulate as thanks for Ayato’s hard work. They have entire rooms in their home filled to the brim with fine art, expensive liquor, furniture and clothing crafted by Inazuma’s best artisans. Someday, he promises himself again and again, he’ll figure out the best way to put them to use.

He finds his answer when he meets you.

Ayato moves very slowly in relationships. Considering how sensitive his work is, it’s difficult for him to find someone he can trust, and he prefers to take his time putting you at ease while confirming your loyalty.

Even if that weren’t the case, Ayato is a busy man. It’s not that he doesn’t want to spend every waking moment with you–he just can’t.

But what he can do is have little gifts delivered to your door: bouquets, bottles of perfume, the expensive jewelry he saw you eyeing last time you walked through the marketplace together. Proof that he’s thinking of you, even when his mind ought to be busy with other, more responsible things.

He’s not an easy man to love (or so he tells himself)–but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make you feel like the precious, treasured thing you are.

DILUC: PHYSICAL TOUCH.

His chin, resting on the crown of your head. Your face, buried in the collar of his coat. His fingers, skimming your cheekbones, running down your arms: desperate, needy, afraid. The only time he’s fully at ease is at night, with your body folded against his chest. His every breath is a whispered prayer to you, his home and his place of worship.

Diluc is all too aware of how easy it is to lose the people you care about. Between his father’s death and his falling out with Kaeya, he’s extremely anxious in his affections, even though he does everything he can to hide that side of himself from you.

He doesn’t want to come across as possessive, or for you to feel stifled, but still, he can’t keep his mind from racing when you’re apart from one another.

Every time you’re reunited–whether it’s been weeks or mere hours apart–he greets you as if you've been separated for years. The embrace of a long lost lover, the kind of kiss that poets write ballads about and that generals go to war for. He's a romantic to the bone, and it shows.

Things are different when he returns to you as the Darknight Hero, though. Hunting the Fatui is an emotional high to him, so intense that he can forget himself. It’s only once he’s home, safe with you, that he’s able to come back down to earth. It’s at these moments when he’s the most desperate and unreserved in his affection for you.

On more than one occasion, he’s come home a wreck, terrified of finding you missing, hurt, or worse. He spends those nights carefully inspecting every inch of your skin for injuries, kissing even the smallest bruises and cat scratches until he’s absolutely sure that you’re safe. The whole time, he whispers small reassurances, although it’s not always clear whether they’re directed towards you or to himself.

Over time, though, even those old wounds close as his trust in you grows. Every time he comes home to you, holds you safe and secure in his arms, his faith grows stronger. Your presence alone is all he could ever ask for.

[autistic-duck]

(Very long post, sorry.)

I had an experience with a college professor last semester that really got me thinking about academics and ableism, specifically in college writing.

A few months ago, my class was having an open discussion, and I brought up an opinion that had been on my mind for a while.

I basically said, "There's a gap between college-level writing and the average person's reading level that we need to fill. Nobody should need to look up words every three seconds to understand a study that could affect their life, so we either need more people to rewrite these studies for the general public to understand, or these studies, in general, should be published with language that isn't so complicated."

My professor responded by saying something like, "Sure, that's a good goal. However, wouldn't a better goal be to raise the average person's reading level so that everyone can understand college-level writing?"

I (in my frantic and confused way) tried to bring up the fact that there are people born at a disadvantage in life. In fact, getting everyone to a perfect college reading level isn't a realistic goal. It certainly isn't for me, and I don't want it to have to be for other people. In fact, the professor who told me this also struggled to understand the chapters we were assigned to read in that class.

Really, it all comes down to this: college-level language is inaccessible.

Even more importantly, many people will never be able to understand most of the huge words thrown around in college writing.

At school, I am constantly told my writing style is "simple" and "easy to understand." This is something my classmates have told me isn't "bad" but just "different." However, I'm still insecure whenever someone mentions it because it is always pointed out. I use a smaller vocabulary, they seem to say, but don't worry. It's just a preferred writing style, they reassure me. They think the simple language is a choice I could stop at any time.

Well, what if it isn't just a "style"? What if I struggle to expand my vocabulary? Learning one new word takes me ages because I need to see it in all kinds of contexts. Even then, oftentimes "context clues" are no help, and I completely misinterpret the meaning of a word for years because it seems like every other native English speaker knew what it meant without needing to say it. A lot of the time I'll read the definition of a new word and instantly forget it after finishing the sentence it was in.

So yeah, I'll say it with pride: Simple words are powerful. Simple words are beautiful. And most importantly, simple words are not inferior in any way to words like "quintessential" or "expedient." (I have no idea what either of those words mean even though I've looked them up plenty of times and used them accurately in essays before.)

Simplicity is why I like shows meant for all ages better than shows meant only for adults. Because in shows that are written with children in mind, there aren't confusing messages you have to spend energy untangling. There aren't unnecessary analogies or feelings that are "implied" but never said. The characters' facial expressions and emotions are easy to read and the moments where I am confused are rare.

Now, this is all coming from an autistic person with low support needs. My reading comprehension score is considered slightly above average, and so is my problem-solving abilities which means I am lucky and I can understand a lot of what I read in college. The main point of this little "essay" was to point out a common conversation I despise hearing in college, the one about simple language and its implied inferiority.

Because guess what? Language is not accessible to everybody. Many of us, even those with high reading comprehension, struggle.

Our goal should never be to make everyone capable of reading college-level books and studies. That is asking for those who need accommodations to accommodate themselves, something I'm sure other disabled people are tired of having to do. Instead, the goal should be making college language more accessible, making knowledge accessible. After all, the reader is only a fragment of the conversation. The writer is the majority of it.

TLDR; Everyone deserves access to language and knowledge that makes sense, and bigger words never mean they are better.