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skazoo · 10 months

Text

hit me with your killshot.

↳ jeong yunho x f!reader

you trusted each other but now your words mean nothing and your actions speak the truth.

length. 1.6k

genre. angst until it's not..., fluff, secret au bc i can't spoil

warnings/tags. war language, weapons, non-explicit violence, betrayal, mention of death.

networks. @kflixnet k-labels

notes. oh, how i love writing this au it brings me sm joy you don't understand. hope you like it!

i'm desperate for feedback and i love comments with your opinion!

(cross-posted on ao3 only)

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all is fair in love and war.

your mother used to say it all the time when you and wooyoung were kids and fought constantly over the most stupid things. she always said it with an amused smile on her lips, like she knew something you were not yet privy to, and when you were younger the notion of being kept in the dark by the person you trusted the most angered you. scared you.

you couldn’t understand what those words really meant. what did love and war —irreconcilable antitheses, mortal enemies— have to do with each other? and why did it seem like everyone around you, your older brother included, had accepted the sad juxtaposition as truth?

years passed, you and wooyoung got used to one another, fought less, and the enigmatic phrase seldom left your mother’s mouth to the point that it started to fade away under the new memories of your teenage years.

just when it was about to get buried by your twenties, something happened that you hadn’t thought possible. something you’d skeptically deemed ‘not for you’. he happened. yunho happened.

and your mother’s words finally made sense.

all is fair in love and war because the rules of normal civility do not apply during war-making, and when one is desperately in love; because love and war have universally accepted limits but if one were to break those unwritten rules someone would still find a way to justify, to forgive and forget.

but something in the old proverb felt incomplete.

love and war are not the only gods that rule over the earth and you wonder how did the people that came before you not realize the looming force of the third: business.

what is fair in business?

what about your business? where it costs little to play dirty and it pays off handsomely? in which love is a mere distraction and war is a means to an end?

and now you’re the lonely bearer of the weight of this third secret factor. now that you’re at war and you’re running from love, you think back about the times you didn’t understand and wish to be brought back there. clueless but free.

it feels stupid to think about all this while you’re tiptoeing around the upper floor of the dark arena —battlefield of the ruthless game you all play— but it’s really all you can do, high off adrenaline and anticipation, waiting for someone to distract the unfortunate victim you have chosen for this round just so you can fix the red laser beam on its unsuspecting back and shoot your shot, granting your team one more chance at victory, at survival.

you crouch down, rifle in front of you and you scan the ground sector through your scope.

from up here you can see what goes on in the maze below. every movement, every noise has you drawing a mental map of the players.

you can see jongho’s head slowly but surely cornering a terrified choi san to the east wall of the arena, meaning that sooner than later you’ll have an advantage in numbers over the rival team. from the sound of his shotgun reloading almost faster than it shoots, seonghwa must be stalking down kim hongjoong —sworn enemy and skilled sniper— somewhere around the entrance gates. that leaves wooyoung staring at you from the ground, weapon in hand and eyebrows raised in a telling frown. one that shows you he’s ready to play his part in your minutely crafted plan.

the high wall of the maze is the only thing separating him and your target of choice. kang yeosang leans idly against the hard barrier that cages all of you in like he doesn’t know he’s being hunted for survival, as if he doesn’t realize your brother has been waiting for months to see him fail at your team’s hands.

he starts humming something under his breath too and it’s then that you realize that something– someone extremely dangerous is missing from your mind-map.

when jongho hit one of his teammates in the stomach, your personal and complicated enemy fled the north section before you could follow his movements and with the quick plan of taking out yeosang in full motion you forgot to look for him.

your head snaps to either side of the narrow platform you’re standing on. the thought of his dark eyes watching you this whole time sends chills down your back and makes a heavy weight drop to your stomach.

how did you end up like this?

before the arena, before you started to play this sick game for a chance at a happier life, everything was just as perfect as it could have been.

jeong yunho. same age and lifelong friend of your annoying brother. tall, built, and handsome, one of the most beautiful smiles you’ve ever seen and a laugh you still can’t get out of your head.

your mother was so happy when wooyoung grumpily let the fact that you were stealing his friend away from his group activities slip during a visit home from the city.

and oh, were you happy.

navigating the hardest periods of your young life, in a hostile environment with the sweetest words whispered into your ear every night before you went to sleep.

then the ragtag group of friends you found yourself spending most of your time with, made the cursed discovery. every and each one of you got sucked in before you could realize what it meant.

it stood at the core of the city, a dark monster of metal and neon, big enough just for the bloodshed it hosted. the arena with no physical public, just big screens that displayed what went on in hell.

it started as curiosity and now you face this nightmare every week, hoping to win the glory that you all adamantly desire for different reasons. wooyoung to finally end yeosang’s incredible luck. seonghwa to destroy hongjoon’s ego. jongho for fun. and you to escape the game of cat and mouse you play with the one you trusted with your life.

you shake from your trance and try to listen for any sign that the tall soldier is near.

amongst the noise of the ground floor, you fail to capture the clang of his boots on the metal grate but yunho doesn’t care to hide from you anymore.

from the crouched position you still have, he looms over you with sad coldness, staring you down like he’s trying to understand where you come from.

then he speaks. voice low, gelid. you can feel the anger through it. “did you take mingi out?”

“yunho–”

“he tried to warn me about you, you know. did you?”

you shake your head slightly. your teammate won’t care if you tell on him. your bloodthirsty sniper wants people to know what he’s capable of. “jongho…”

“it was your plan though.”

it’s the truth but it still hurts. “yunho, listen–”

“it’s always your plans that put me in the worst positions.” he aims his gun at your chest, his hands trembling slightly from the strong grip he has on the weapon; knuckles white.

your voice breaks when you speak. “yunho, please i know you don’t want to do this. please.”

“are you really begging right now?” he scoffs. “mingi was your friend, Y/N! you were going to shoot yeosang in the back!” he nods the gun to the ground floor where wooyoung is still waiting for your move. “i’m done with letting you win, i’m sorry. i can’t watch you do this anymore.”

your rifle is your only source of comfort right now and you grip it with all your might. even now you can’t seem to point it at the man that stands before you. even now you can’t bear that you’re on different sides of the same battle.

“you have to understand…” it sounds like he’s trying to justify himself more than anything.

“understand what, yunho?” you spat. “you’re standing over me telling me to understand but i really can’t because you’re doing the same thing! you’re going to kill me and call it justice!”

he flinches.

“look at me in the eyes and tell me you never loved me. tell me that i meant nothing to you, that it was all a lie and then maybe i will understand you.”

“Y/N–”

“i love you.” your eyes cloud with heartbreak and a single tear makes its way down your cheek.

everything is over. betrayed by your own lover. killed by love and war.

his finger moves to the trigger. time slows down. you close your eyes.

“i will always love you.” a whisper.

instead of the bang of the gun a loud siren that resonates throughout the entire arena.

“TIME’S OUT!” yeosang cheers followed by wooyoung’s groans.

mingi and san pop their heads from the exit door with small smiles on their lips. “it’s a draw but we all did great guys!”

the others find their way towards the exit, technical gear coming off while the lights of the arena switch back on.

“just– for next time maybe we should finally change teams so that those two up there don’t go full mr. and mrs. smith on us!” mingi’s loud voice reaches everyone.

“yes, please. it’s just laser tag you guys, no need to be that dramatic over it.” wooyoung’s clearly addressing you and everyone agrees with him with quiet grunts.

your boyfriend who still looms over you throws you an amused grin and offers you his hand to get up. when you’re back on your feet he dusts off your shirt and dries the cinematic tear off your cheek. big hands put your mussed hair behind your ears and cup your face.

“they think we’re too much.”

“they just can’t handle us, yuyu. let them cry.”

he chuckles loudly as you place a sweet kiss on his cheek.

“by the way, next week i’m finally taking you out.” you taunt.

“like, on a date or with a sniper?”

#yunho x reader #jeong yunho x reader #ateez x reader #k-labels #kflixnet #yunho #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #ateez angst #ateez x you #ateez #ateez fic

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fakesimp · 1 year

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"Sweets? I'm going to eat them right now.." , With Ver Vermilion

Warning !

Slight Nsfw ; Kissing ; Mentions of overworking ; Flustered ! Ver ; Established Relationship ; Comfort

A/n : Ver Vermilion anyone? Flirting but ended up getting flustered by his own words.

➶◜◝➴

Wait a minute,

How long has it been? These papers doesn't decrease at all! They're only increasing!

He slumped over the table in front of him, the paper files are not decreasing at all. Instead they're increasing every 30 minutes, when he thought he could get a rest, he couldn't. He already ate all the candies that he saved up in a jar, he's dying. He looked at the pile of paper in front of him, he sighed loudly. "I'm gonna die.." he said to himself, the student council room is empty. No one is there, he wished that you were here tho.

He immediately shot up from his chair and look for his phone, and it has been an hour and he hasn't found his phone yet. Now he's starting to panic, where did his phone go? He looked all over the place in the student council room. He knows his phone have to be around there, somewhere. He sits on the couch, devastated. Where did it go? Does he have to buy a new phone? No right? Right?

Just when he was about to give up, he heard his phone buzzing. He immediately tilt his head up, he followed the sound to find it buried under a the pile of papers he's working on. He grabbed his phone and look over at the screen to see who's calling, it's not you. He sighed. It was Zaion, oh how he wanted to reject the call, but in the end he didn't.

. . .

Another hour have passed, he stretched out. Letting out a satisfied groan, and then he heard a knock from the door. He stared at the door for a second, "Come in." He said, letting the person behind the door in. Already preparing himself for yet another pile of papers, but instead—

You peeked into the council room, the moment he sees you, his face brightens up. "Jagiya! You're a live savior.." He said making you laugh as you stepped into the room, "You're exaggerating, I came here to give you a slice of cake that I made." You said. The male blinked, you put down the box of cake on the table. "A slice? Or a whole cake." He asked as he eyeing the box that's on the table, "See for yourself." You said as you sat down telling him to sit next to you. And he did exactly that, he stood up from his chair and walk up to you and sat next to you on the couch.

"Go ahead.." you told Ver to get the box, but he just took a glance on it instead. He then look at you again, he frowned for a moment. He then look up at you again, "Hugs?" He said out of the blue. Made you widen up your eyes, it lasted for a few seconds tho. You immediately obliged to his request, you crawl up to his lap and hugged him.

He hugged you back, but tighter. He let out a sigh as he hugged you, he nuzzled his face at the crook of your neck. Basking into your scent and warmth, he missed this sensation. Even tho you both done this like at home, he always misses you. You gently run your fingers through his hair, earning a satisfied hum.

"How about the cake? I bought them for you, there's also more sweets in there for you to eat.." you said to him, gently patting his head.

"Sweets? I'm going to eat them right now.. what do you mean?" He replied trying to stay composed as he is, meanwhile you are confused for a moment.

. . .

Then it clicked, you push yourself away a bit. And he immediately pull you back to him, laughing. "Ver- Kaichou-! What in the world did u just say ??!" You asked him in disbelief, making him laugh a bit more. He nuzzled his face to your chest, slightly groaning in embarrassment.

"Shouldn't have said that."

"But you did."

"Shush.."

©fakesimp . 2023

A/n : Eyyy (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

I honestly don't know what I'm writing but I do hope you all enjoy this (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

Tags clarification !

Using Luxiem's tags incase some of you didn't follow the Xsoleil tags.

#nijisanji en x reader #nijisanji x reader #xsoleil x reader #xsoleil #ver vermillion x reader #ver vermillion #luxiem x reader #luxiem

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jungkwok · 4 months

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0102am | oneshot | jjk angst

⋘ 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡... ⋙

pairing: jungkook x reader

tags: angst!!, fluff ending and sprinkled throughout, husband!jungkook, wife!reader

word count: 715 words

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

0102am. I'm looking down at my BTS albums of the past, reminiscing about my childhood and remembering my days of youth. My newborn has finally fallen asleep and she will probably be awake again in 10 minutes or so. I'm honestly completely exhausted - drained out like a dead battery. But I'm happy. Adrenaline is the only thing keeping me going - it reminds me that I'm not alone anymore. I have a reason to keep going; my daughter and husband.

I remember the days when I would look at the night sky to fall asleep - thinking about how BTS and I will always be under the same sky, the same moon, and have the same respect for each other asserting that we had some connection beyond a screen. I remember the days when I would binge watch BTS videos all throughout the night, completely disregarding my piles of homework and assignments; laughing at the same video clips over and over and over again. I remember the days when I would have their posters all around the room - countless eyes smiling at me with influential empty happiness. But what I remember the most is loving them from the bottom of my heart.

I don't know when or how or why I fell for Jungkook out of the seven members. The first time I saw him was through the small screen of my phone - he was 17 and I was 9 years old. With his red hair, big nose, 'baby face', and in that awkward stage between a boy and a man. I chuckle writing this. He was so young, and so was I.

I remember trying to dream of him at night. I had read somewhere that people dream of their subconscious mind, so I would look at photos of him right before I went to sleep. And when I did dream of him, I would wake up smiling like a lunatic, bury my face into my pillow, and try to go back to sleep but with no avail. I remember printing and keeping a polaroid photo of him in my phone case, so that when I was crying alone in a bathroom cubicle at school, I would take out the image in futile hope that my pain would subside. I remember all of those fanfictions. Oh, those fanfictions. I need to stop laughing or my daughter will wake up again, but oh my lord. Wattpad was my home as a teenager. I would spend hours lying on my bed, reading those Jungkook x Reader fanfictions, the widest grin plastered onto my face. Looking back at it now, it was extremely cringey, but I understand that reading those stories were my way of zoning out of reality for a moment and taking a breather from the chaos that they classified as 'life'.

'Life' - so strange and so unpredictable. Sometimes I feel like there are several dimensions in this world, and which world you enter is based on what you truly wish for. Not a light wish like "I want to get full marks on this test," but a genuine, soulful wish: "All I want is to see him just once, that's all I want, that's what I need in the midst of tears and depression." And I remember making that desperate wish when I was younger - when I was fragile and sensitive, and wanting to disappear from the world. I made the same wish for years and years and years, to the point where my wish would naturally slip out of my mouth while blowing out the birthday candles. As these many years flew by, I felt like my wishes were pointless, that they were never going to be granted. But I made them anyway, because I deserved a life, I deserved to at least make a wish, to dream, to think. These albums that I hold in my hand, from over a decade ago, tell my story of suffering and pain and sadness, but they also remind me of my happiness, my hope, my reason to live all those years ago…my wish to see him just once

"Jagiya! She's woken up again and I can't get her back to sleep again! Come here quickly please!"

It was my husband.

"I'm coming Jungkook, I'll be right there!"

#bts #bts imagine #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook #jjk x y/n #bts fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #husband jungkook #bts oneshot #jungkook oneshot

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draco-dormiens · 1 year

Text

THE STRANGEST OF PLACES - Chapter Six

draco x fem!ravenclaw reader / postwar au series

warnings: nothing really :)

wc: 3068

masterlist

pls let me know if you want to be tagged!! tags below:

@slyth3rin-princess @lovesanimals0000 @cappgyuccino @lightning1ce @onlygetaway @honeyyypeach @namelesslosers @ghostyv @mikadorbs @redactedhimbo @morganadpl @scarecrowscaresthomas @camille-1019 @valkyrie418 @animeloverfreak310 @budugu @marplest

Chapter Six - Slughorn's Verdict

Platform 9 ¾ was as busy as ever, familiar faces and those you had never seen before bustling about. Your mother was beside you, going over and over the list of things you needed. Draco had told you not to worry about the potions, he would bring them along with his things if you took care of the notes, which were stashed away safety in your suitcase.

"Right, you have all your books, yes?" your mother asks for the umpteenth time, "I wouldn't like to buy them again, Y/N, they cost an arm and a leg."

You were listening, or maybe you were subconsciously listening, because your eyes were everywhere but your mother. Since your last visit to the manor, you hadn't heard a thing from Draco, but then again you weren't sure why you had expected to. Just because you had buried the hatchet and started to get along didn't mean he had to contact you, even if you did reach out. Suppose that somewhere deep down, you were just really hoping he would respond.

"Y/N?" your mother repeated, wafting her list in your face, and you blinked out of your trance.

"Oh, sorry, mum," you say, "yes, I have everything, I swear."

She gives you an unimpressed look, and then from the corner of your eye you spot him, both of his parents standing nearby. He seemed to be looking over the new timetable, which you had all received by owl a few days earlier. There didn't seem to be much conversation between them. Your mother follows to where you're looking, and clocked the white-haired boy, a smile curling at her lips.

"That's your potion partner, am I right?" she asks, looking back at you with a glint in her eye. You turn your attention back to her and start to feel exposed under her gaze.

"Yes, and?" you say, taking the list from her hand to distract yourself and cover the tinge on your cheeks. Your mother chuckles gleefully, which only makes you feel worse.

"And nothing," she said airily, but you could hear the teasing smile on her face, "I was just saying."

You lower the list to look back over at him. His mother was pressing a kiss to his cheek whilst his father stood sour faced beside her. He places a hand on Draco's arm, and Draco nods in return, before taking his suitcase and boarding the nearby carriage.

"I should probably get on," you suddenly say, and your mother snaps her head your direction, "don't want to miss a good spot."

"With your friend, you mean?" she looks at you knowingly.

"What? No, I just don't want to end up standing. Stop, mother. You're embarrassing."

She only laughs, pressing a kiss to your face before cupping your cheek softly.

"Have a good term, my love," she tells you, "Make sure to write."

The train was packed as usual, and with the extra seventh year students it was even more so. You boarded at the same carriage he did, hoping to casually walk past and have him spot you. Merlin, you felt like a child who wanted to sit by their crush on the school bus. It was almost embarrassing how much you wanted him to notice you. Searching the carriage, you eventually seek him out, sitting alone in an empty compartment and a book his hands. He seemed focused, and you hesitated in knocking on the window, but your hand reached out before you could think. Draco lifts his head at the sound, and upon seeing you waving through the glass, he smiles, shutting his book and gesturing for you to enter. Sliding the door open, you drag your suitcase in and stand before him.

"Hi," you say breathlessly, and he stands.

"Hi," he returns, reaching around you to grab your suitcase, "I'll put this up here for you."

He swings the suitcase up onto the top shelf above the seats, and then plonks back down, expecting you to follow. You sat opposite, thanking him, and took off your coat.

"How have you been?" you ask, and he shuffles in his seat to lean forwards.

"Fine," he says with a faint smile, "how about you? Good New Year?"

"It was alright," you shrug, swinging your legs slightly, "tad boring, but hey ho. What about yours?"

His mind flickers back to that night, how utterly miserable he felt as Pansy pulled him to the dance floor and swung her arms around his neck. He thought about the wine, and how it suddenly tasted bitter, and how Pansy's lips pressed against his cheek in farewell. Then lastly, how he confronted his mother about inviting Pansy with no notice, which only led to an argument before bed. He shudders.

"Uh, yeah," he says, scratching his neck again, "just the same as every year, really."

You nod and look down to your hands, fiddling fingers. There was so much you wanted to say, but now that he was in front of you it had all slipped away. He leans back in his seat and takes his book in his hands again, turning to the page he left off at. You take that as a signal he was done talking for now, so relax back into the cushioned seat and watch as the train pulls out of King Cross. The train speeds by fields of green, lines of trees becoming a blur and tunnels blocking out the beautiful countryside each time it passed through one. Draco peers up from his book to see you had fallen asleep, and a smile curls at the corner of his mouth. You looked peaceful, a ray of sun across your rested features and head resting against your hand. In fact, you looked rather sweet when you slept, long eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks and the little sigh each time you moved slightly. He found himself looking at you for some time, enough time to make himself feel weird about it, so he stopped and tried to go back to his book. You make a noise, and he looks over to see you've bought your knees up to your chest, so now you were curled up against the seat. He laughs through his nose at how unaware of your actions you were, comfortable enough in his presence to fall asleep without worry or hesitation. If it made his heart swell, he'd never tell you. Soon enough the sweets trolley rolled around, and even the woman's voice didn't wake you. Draco reaches into his pocket to buy a box of cauldron cakes, passing the money over and taking the treat, but not without noticing some rather delicious looking fudge flies. He looks back at your sleeping form and pulls some more change out of his pocket.

"And the fudge flies, please," he says, smiling thinly as the lady passes them over. He slides the door shut and pops the fudge flies into the pocket of your coat, before sitting down to enjoy the entire tray of cakes to himself.

—————————-

You were woken by a gentle nudge, opening your eyes to see Draco standing above you.

"We're at Hogsmeade," he tells you, "I already got your trunk down."

Stretching, you yawn into your hand and collect yourself, realising this was the second time you had fallen asleep in front of Draco.

"Sorry," you mumble sleepily, "thanks for that. What a boring carriage buddy, huh?"

He chuckles softly.

"Not at all," he smiles, and you share a long moment looking at one another when Hagrid's bellow from outside the window causes you to break it. Draco slides the door open as you gather your coat and trunk, wheeling it down the corridor and out onto the platform. Just as you step foot on the concrete, you hear someone calling your name from amongst the crowd. It was Hermione.

"Y/N!" She calls, and your face lights up at the sight of her, rushing towards you and abandoning her trunk to pull you into a hug, "it's so good to see you."

You embrace her back, swaying from side to side and smiling from ear to ear.

"It's so good to see you too," you tell her, pulling away, "seems like forever since I saw you last."

"I was going to sit with you on the train, but I couldn't find you," she says, picking up her suitcase and wheeling it alongside yours. Just up ahead, you spot a blond head of hair mixing in the crowd, and a sudden feeling of guilt sets in.

"So, how was your break?" Hermione asks as you walk together, your eyes searching but never finding him ahead. The frost is still fresh on the ground, the leaves and twigs crunching under your feet and the wheels of your suitcases. The forest air is fresh, icy, and you can feel it in your lungs when you breath in, along with the scent of pine tickling your noses.

"It was quite good," you laugh, "considering."

"Malfoy didn't cause you too much trouble then?" she laughed along with you, and you purse your lips together and shook your head.

"He wasn't anything like I imagined him to be," you say, looking across at Hermione and smiling, "I think we'll get a good grade."

She returns the smile, and then someone ahead announces the castle in the distance, and you both look ahead to see the magnificent building emerging through the trees. It was odd, but whenever Hogwarts was in sight it felt like coming home. Hermione seemed to feel that way too because her eyes began to sparkle upon seeing it. You put your hand in your coat pocket, feeling something inside, and pull it out to see the box of fudge flies. You bite your lower lip to avoid the grin that was threatening to spread across your face.

__________________________

Inside the Great Hall was warm, with the fire blazing and the sconces flickering. Professor McGonagall gave a speech to welcome the students back, as well as some announcements before the glorious feast appeared along the tables. A piping hot roast is just what you needed after such a cold walk there, and then a huge dollop of chocolate gateau for afterwards. Hermione was sitting with Ginny on the Gryffindor table, chatting, and giggling amongst themselves, whilst you sat with some familiar Ravenclaw students making small talk. Across the hall sat Draco, who had noticed you some time ago, but you were too interested in the gateau. As soon as Hermione caught your attention, he knew you'd much rather walk with her and took his leave. He was foolish to forget that you had a life here, unlike himself, and of course, that's where you would rather be. Like he normally does, he pokes around at the food on his plate, sitting at the farthest end of the table, alone.

Due to his reputation, the younger students avoided him, and those that he knew had decided against talking to him this year. Sometimes the sister of his old classmate Daphne Greengrass would speak to him, but only because she was a favourite of his mother's and a feature in her long list of suitable women. Astoria had the poise and grace of a queen, and she was undeniably beautiful, but Draco didn't have a romantic interest in her to his mother's utter displeasure. He glances down the table to see she's looking at him, and Astoria waves with a smile. Draco gives a small wave, before going back to pushing the peas around his plate and sparing glances to where you were sitting. If only he had the courage, he could go over and sit with you, but that would mean others would see and start talking. Draco hated people talking. It was all anyone ever did when it came to him, and then he saw Hermione plop down next to you and the look of pure happiness on your face upon her arrival. He takes his napkin and throws it on top of the uneaten food, taking a blueberry muffin from the centre for later and putting it in his pocket. He was calling it a night and left the hall before anyone else. From the corner of your eye, you see him leave, and your eyes stay on the door, even after he's long gone.

The next afternoon you had Slughorn, and it was time to hand in your winter break projects. It might have been a little sad, but all morning you had been looking forward to talking to Draco once again, as he hadn't said one word to you since the train pulled into Hogsmeade. You walked happily along the dungeon corridors with Hermione, turning into the potions classroom to see him sitting at the back as he usually does, and beside him is the little box he kept your concoctions in. Inside you feel elated to see him, even if he always looks like someone stole his lunch money. He happens to lookup as you enter, and he shares a small smile with you.

"Hey, 'Mione," you say as Hermione heads for your usual spot, "I think I'm going to sit with Malfoy, seeming as we have to present the potions today."

She looks surprised for a moment, but then agrees it's probably a good idea, and then makes her way to the seat beside her partner, Neville. You walk over and place your bag on the desk, grabbing his attention as you hop onto the stool next to him.

"Hey," you say cheerily, getting out the notes you were keeping safe, "I thought it was best for us to sit together today."

"Oh, right, yeah," he said, making some room for you as his stuff was spread out. No one ever sat near him, so he'd gotten used to using the whole desk, "how was your first night back?"

"Great," you beam, "the food was good, and I'd forgotten how much I miss some people."

He nods stiffly, and you realise that perhaps wasn't the best thing to say. You want to say something else, but Slughorn enters with his usual bellowing voice.

"Good afternoon returning seventh years," he says with open arms, "splendid to see you all here, I trust you all had a fantastic Christmas?"

There was a mixture of nods and unamused grunts, but Slughorn usually looks over any negativity and continues being the only excitement in the room.

"Stupendous," he exclaims happily, "now, today I shall be looking at the wonderful potions you have been brewing over the break. You will be called up pair by pair to present them. Let's begin."

Hermione and Neville were up first. Of course, with Hermione as a partner, they were bound to succeed. Slughorn takes each vial and places them close to his eye, and then proceeds to sniff each one and shake it vigorously. Hermione was eager to explain what each one was and did so despite Neville not speaking a word.

"Very good," Slughorn says, "an E for the both of you, Exceeds Expectations!"

Hermione didn't look overly pleased, but Neville sat down with a huge grin on his face. She went to argue the case, but Slughorn interrupts.

"Thank you, miss Granger, that'll be all," he announces, and Hermione takes her wounded pride back to her seat as Slughorn calls up the next pair. You offer her a thumbs up, but she just gives you a look like a kicked puppy. A few more pairs go up, a couple of them ending with a Poor and one getting a Troll before he finally calls you and Draco.

"Miss Y/L/N and Mr Malfoy," he gestures for you to join him, and you rush to gather your notes, Hermione giving you a reassuring smile as you pass by. Draco places the three vials before Slughorn, and he makes a rather pleased noise.

"Um, these are Amortentia, Felix Felicis and Draught of the Living Dead, sir," you tell him nervously, and Draco nudges you and mouths it's okay. Hermione notices.

"Marvellous," Slughorn mutters, sniffing, prodding, and shaking the vials, "simply marvellous. I say, miss Y/L/N, Mr Malfoy, this Draught of the Living Dead is very good. I reckon you could sleep through the next millennia if you were to take it."

You smile triumphantly, and Draco sees how happy you look from the corner of his eye. It makes him feel good, to see you so pleased. Slughorn places the three vials back down and looks up at you both.

"O, for Outstanding, to the both of you."

Your mouth drops open, and Draco begins to smile at your expression. Slughorn dismisses you back to your desk, Hermione clapping quietly as you pass by grinning. Back at the desk Draco leans in and whispers, "told you it was okay."

When the class is over, you immediately rush over to Hermione, who is ecstatic for you but miserable for herself. Draco watches as you go on and on about how amazed you were, and even though it made him happy to see you that way, he sort of wished you were celebrating with him. You catch a glimpse of him leaving, and excuse yourself from Hermione to chase after him down the corridor.

"Draco," you call, and he turns at the sound of your voice, "wait up."

You run over to him, and when you're close enough, you wrap your arms around his torso and squeeze. For a moment he was frozen, but then he's pulling you closer, and his heart starts racing as you nuzzle against him. His arms cross over your shoulders, and just like before, it feels like you fit against him.

"Thank you," you mumble into his uniform, "I've never gotten an O before," you pull away, but you're close, your arms still around his waist, "and the fudge flies were delicious."

He's looking down at you, his eyes flickering all over your features as you're smiling at him with such genuine joy. He chuckles quietly.

"You don't need to thank me," he tells you, moving backwards, "and so were the cauldron cakes."

He turns to walk away, but suddenly you don't want him to leave you there, and you go to call him back, maybe even run after him when Hermione's voice travels down the corridor.

"Y/N," she shouts, and you spin to see her outside the classroom, "come on, we'll be late for Transfiguration."

For a second you worry if she'd seen you hugging Draco with such enthusiasm, but when the bell rings, being late for McGonagall becomes your newest worry. Hermione rushes off, beckoning you to follow her, which you do after one more glance back.

He was long gone.

disclaimer: i do not own hp or any of the characters in this story

dividers from: @firefly-graphics & @happy-ash-edits

#draco malfoy #draco x female reader #draco x ravenclaw!reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco x reader #draco imagine #draco fanfiction #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #hpff #hp fanfic #hp au

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frickatives · 8 months

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[ch1] against better judgement: the blunder [f!reader bounty hunter x mando]

[read on AO3] [masterlist] [previous chapter] [next chapter]

[a/n] thank you so much for the love on the first part of this story!!! I haven't shared my writing in forever, it was really lovely to see people having fun reading it. Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out -- I was originally planning on updating every monday, but given that orchestra season is starting back up (and has already caused me to fall behind lol), I may only be able to aim for every other monday. This chapter is a lot of setup (and hardly any dialog, which is very odd for me) -- I promise chapter 2 will be packed with reader x mando interaction, but wanted to establish some things about our mc to start with 🌝

if you missed last week's post, you can find the intro/prologue here!

also, if you'd like to be added to the taglist please leave a comment saying so, I'll happily tag you when ch 2 is out (and thank you for your interest in my lil fic!!) ❤️

[warnings/tags] canon typical violence, gore, mentions of death and injury, use of drugs that cause loss of consciousness, stabbing, too many hours spent on wookiepedia, thirst for sweet vengeance, fem!reader, no use of y/n, the slowest burn, enemies to lovers, bounty hunter reader, comically hostile workplace

[wc] 3k

Chapter 1: The Blunder

When you look back over the rock, he's gone.

You take a deep, shaking breath, forcing air around the lump of rage lodged somewhere behind your tongue. You can take him. He doesn't have his little gang to back him up, this time. You have the element of surprise on your side, and it'll be one on one. Him versus you.

Well, technically, him versus you versus a bunker-full of unfriendly goons and the bounty, but they're inconsequential. You can handle goons and bounties in your sleep. This one was human, and some kind of smuggler – you hadn't read the details closely. Small payout for a small-time crook, not worth paying much attention. They all start to blur together, anyway; one bounty is as ill-tempered and violent as the next. You only hope this one won't talk too much on the transport back to Coruscant, after you dispatch the Mando and finish the hunt.

Tracking the bounty had been easy enough. He's sloppy with his long range comms, and you know he's here, in this particular bunker, to pick up some cargo. It's a popular spot for smugglers, and likely full to bursting with people who don't take kindly to a couple of bounty hunters conducting business and settling scores in their midst. Definitely a high likelihood of violence, even before you go head-to-head with your competition.

You tug your linen mask up over your mouth and nose, securing it to your helmet. No sense in flashing your face to a bunch of lowlifes, or in giving the Mandalorian the opportunity to recognize you – at least, not before you've got your knife buried in his heart.

You take another breath. Steadier, this time.

Your blaster is gassed-up and fully charged. Your blades are sharpened and freshly coated in your homebrewed millaflower concentrate. Your glaive – useless, probably, in a cramped bunker – is collapsed and strapped across your back. You have a respectable arsenal at your disposal. You can do this.

You're doing this.

Keeping low to the ground, you cover the distance between your temporary hideout and the door to the bunker. The metal is scorched, and there's a blasted-out hole where the locking mechanism should be. Completely inelegant. It hadn't even been a complicated lock – easy to pick, if he'd bothered to try.

Faint sounds of violence escape through the damaged hatch. Blaster fire, and shouts of pain and panic. You pry it open and let it fall aside, sending whorls of fine dust curling around your boots.

You kneel and swing yourself through the opening, down into the bunker. Muted sunlight collects in the small chamber below – not much more than a vestibule and a single door.

The air is significantly cooler and more damp even a few feet below the surface. Most of the walls are covered in formations of foul-smelling mold, painting the bunker with bright greens and pinks and yellows. You tug your mask a little tighter over your nose and grimace, heart pounding in your ears.

The noise is louder now. The door recessed into the wall bows in the middle, like it was recently forced open and struggled to close itself as programmed. Inelegant, you think again. Clearly, this Mandalorian's style is much less stealth-and-surprise, favoring the shock-and-awe approach to bounty hunting.

As if to punctuate that thought, something explodes in the next room, igniting a new series of frantic orders and blaster repeats. You suppose, if you were covered in mystical armor and strapped with muscle from a lifetime of training, you might be louder about your work, too.

As it is, though, you leverage your own skills to your advantage: an uncanny knack for tech that once carried you through one of the Core Worlds' top universities, and a commitment to discretion. Your former mentor once described you as having "a quiet step, a face people forgot the second they looked away, and an unchecked penchant for petty theft." You still don't know if it was a compliment. It's always hard to tell, with him.

The door leaps against its frame when something big slams against it from the opposite side. It groans like it wants to give up on being a door entirely.

You tuck yourself against the slick, rotting wall and draw your blaster, flicking the safety off with your thumb, eyes pinned to the door, waiting for more movement. The tracking fob clipped to your belt blinks patiently.

A long, quiet moment passes. Almost enough to convince you of the door's innocence.

Just in case, though, you activate the Knock protocol you built into your personal comlink. ("Comlink" is selling it short. At this point, the thing strapped to your wrist is a homunculus of ongoing pet projects.) As designed, it sends a wide-range ping and opens data-only connections to any nearby comlink receivers, displaying the results as flickering dots on the cheap, glitchy little display you attached to it.

Dozens of dots are down here with you, some moving and many sitting still, including one just on the other side of the door.

Finger easing towards blaster trigger, you elbow the door control and it reluctantly trundles open. Someone's body – a Mon Calamari with a significant blaster burn in the center of his chest – slumps through the doorway. One unmoving comlink dot accounted for.

You draw one of your twin knives and test the weight of it in your free hand.

If the student you were a decade ago saw you now – holding a sizable, serrated knife and a blaster pistol, creeping your way into an active bunker fight with a healthy case of bloodlust for a Mandalorian – she'd be horrified. You're nothing like the future she envisioned for herself. You don't live in the same galaxy she did – so much shifted in the intervening years, warping you into a person with far fewer compunctions about violence.

Speaking of violence: to business.

None of the excitement beyond is aimed in your direction, so you breach, stepping over the motionless Mon Calamari.

You don't see the Mandalorian. You don't see much of anything, at all. The air is thick with smoke and debris, and the low-ceilinged room is a labyrinth of crates and cargo. It's all illegal or stolen (or both) goods – bricks of spice plasti-wrapped together in massive bales, weapon crates decorated with Imperial designations, even a cage containing some kind of exotic and infuriated animal whose screeches underscore the chaos unfolding inside the bunker.

People are yelling in a variety of languages, most of which you don't understand. Even so, you can tell from their clumsy overlapping cadences that the smugglers have been caught off-guard, and that their response to the other hunter is severely lacking.

Something acrid stings at your eyes. You can hear your mentor's voice in your head, going off on one of his tangents about the "smell of a good fight – blood, bile, and bowels." Whatever it is, it's wretched enough to make you wish your mask was thicker. Maybe you'll steal the Mandalorian's helmet, when you're finished.

You jump when an alarm sounds – someone must have enough of their wits about them to call for help – and the room is bathed in red and yellow light, alternating in time with the klaxon. You need to move, before reinforcements arrive.

You focus on your comlink's display, taking the first corner nice and slow.

The wall mold is aggressive, covering large patches of floor and even some of the stashed goods in nasty, cheerfully-colored growth. It squelches underfoot.

In front of you, the corridor of contraband is littered with bodies and their corresponding comlink dots. Most are blatantly unconscious, maybe dead. One isn't – he snarls at you as you pass by, though he's too injured to do much else about you.

Still, it's bad form to leave threats un-neutralized. This one is kitted out in the livery of a local merc group – an expensive merc group, too. He's wearing several pieces of armor which, individually, cost more than your entire cobbled-together armorweave get-up. You're not going to leave the window open for him to show you why he and his ilk are worth so much coin.

You check up and down the corridor for more movement, and finding none, you crouch to meet the man on the floor. You catch his weakly-swatting arm in your blaster-holding hand and nick his exposed wrist with the tip of your knife. Then the millaflower does its part of the job: the merc's eyes droop and his head swoons, and then he slumps forward as his body slackens completely. All tucked in for a nice, long, drug-induced nap.

Dipping your knives in millaflower concentrate had been your idea, back in your early hunting days. Orys, your mentor, thought it was simultaneously lazy and overcomplicated in that way older people often think younger people are, but he couldn't deny that it at least compensated for your mediocre fighting ability. ("Scrappy," he'd once called you when he was feeling uncharacteristically generous – usually he trended towards comments like, "you're lucky you're smart, kid.")

It's true that the concentrate gives you an advantage in any fight. All you have to do is land a single blow, as shallow as a scratch, and your opponent is down for the count. You make sure your millaflower concoction is just shy of lethal; strong enough to force even a hutt-sized person under with a few cuts, but not likely to kill. It's not that you have reservations against ending a life (especially not with the promise of vengeance nipping at your heels), you simply prefer to avoid it, if possible. Deaths tend to spur people to come looking for the murderer, even if that murderer had a perfectly legal bounty contract. Plus, bodies are heavy, and they involve a lot of annoying paperwork when you need to move them cross-system to collect a bounty.

The fact remains: sometimes killing is unavoidable, in your line of work.

This is the first time you've been hungry for it.

Before leaving the slumbering merc, your hand slips into his pocket of its own accord and snatches his comlink. Theft is second nature to you, after relying upon it for survival post-Alderaan. You pry open the device with your knife and rip out the infochip, pocketing it. A fancy merc may have previous communication with his fancy bank stored on his comlink, you reason. Maybe you can misappropriate some data to your advantage.

You make quick work clearing the rest of the underground warehouse, knocking out any smugglers, mercs, and other various miscreants left conscious in the Mandalorian's wake. There aren't many. His technique may be as unsubtle as they come, but it's thorough.

You hope it's also wearing him out.

Several more overpriced mercs decorate the moldy ground, here and there. All out of commission. Certainly not worth whatever the smugglers paid to hire them.

As you move deeper into the facility, your focus narrows to a single point. The slime molds and alarm klaxons fade. Your eyes catch on every shiny surface, in search of your quarry. Each crumpled body, each twisted limb, each bloodied face cast in dizzying red-and-yellow light spurs your heart to beat faster in your throat. You can do this, you remind yourself. You can do this, you can do this, and more importantly, you want to do this. You want it so badly, your blood sings with it.

At the end of the maze you find another door, prised open. Your display shows you two comlinks in the next room, so close they're overlapping.

You hear voices. Not screaming, but arguing loudly.

"Get your hands off me, you chuff-sucking son of a bitch," one says.

"I gave you the option," another replies coolly. "You chose the hard way." This voice stops you in your tracks. It's grainy, modulated by a vocoder.

It's him.

You've caught up with him.

Moving as silently as you can, you pass through the ruined door and hover in the entryway of a dingy office. The Mandalorian has his back to you as he forces a man – your bounty, judging by the frenzied flashing of your tracking fob – head-down onto a desk, shoving his face into the wooden surface with a gloved hand. The bounty wrenches his head to the side, spitting more obscenities up at the wall of beskar.

You take aim at the pair with your blaster, but continue into the room instead of firing. Better to take the Mando down with the millaflower and then kill him, rather than risk a blaster shot ricocheting off all that armor. You'd worry about the bounty, later.

Your grip on your knife tightens like a snare.

Time to die, Mando.

The bounty manages to turn in the other hunter's hold, lurching upright and swinging at unforgiving metal with his fist. You take advantage, closing more distance while the Mandalorian is distracted.

Over the Mandalorian's shoulder, the bounty sees you, and he stops thrashing. His gaze slides down to your tracking fob. Disgust pinches his expression, and then, oddly enough, he smirks. His eyes land on something behind you.

"You should be keeping a closer eye on your friend," he sneers at the Mandalorian.

That stupid silver helmet whips around to look at you, and then several things happen very quickly.

First: you forget how to move.

It was one thing, seeing him at a distance. That distance left plenty of physical space for your anger to vine and branch and root in your body. Now, with only a few steps between you, it feels like that same anger has been forcibly uprooted, tearing itself up and out of your arms and legs, burning and ripping all the way. The pain of it blinds you – infuriatingly, it paralyzes you. You look at his helmet, but all you see is that demon with the sword on Nevarro, swinging his blade and ripping you in half as easy as paper.

You want to hurt him, hurt him like his people hurt you. End him like they tried to end you. Do it. Do it, damn it. But you can't move, not an inch, so you just stand there, staring numbly at the both of them, your mind screaming.

Which leaves a long and awkward pause wherein (secondly) the bounty makes a run for it. He lunges towards the exit, immediately drawing the Mandalorian's attention back to him.

You probably would have kept better track of their skirmish, if it weren't for the third thing that happens.

Someone grabs your other knife out of its sheath at your waist.

There's another merc standing behind you. One of the convincingly-unconscious brawlers in expensive armor you hadn't bothered to dose. Stupid. Sloppy. You don't know how you hadn't noticed him behind you sooner – no, that's a lie, you know exactly how you hadn't noticed him, and it's very shiny and currently elbowing your bounty in the throat – but it doesn't matter, because before you can react, the merc buries your own knife in your side up to the hilt.

Pain rams clear through you, striking deep, punching all the air from your lungs. Serrated metal shreds armorweave, muscle, and viscera alike.

If the stabbing doesn't kill you, the humiliation just might.

Stabbed with your own kriffing knife.

You stumble away from the impact, your blaster and non-traitorous knife clattering to the floor. You follow them a few seconds later -- your legs don’t seem to work anymore. You can't breathe. You can't kriffing breathe.

Worse, the millaflower is already working. Fast. Your head spins. Your eyelids are so, so heavy, already. It would be so easy to just sleep.

You're pulled in two directions. Violently jerked towards the pain in your side, towards the struggle to breathe, to live, to fight. Steadily pushed down, down, down, into a gaping maw that promises you serenity and smells just like the meadow outside the tiny cabin you keep on Batuu. Home. You swear you can feel summer sunlight warming your face. The nose-itching tang of blooming grasses tangles with the survival instinct clawing at your brainstem.

Your hand wraps itself around the protruding grip of the knife instinctively, and you whimper when the blade nudges against something soft and vital inside you. You will yourself to yank the dagger out, to use it on the bastard merc in front of you, but you can't. Your vision blurs with spots. Every nerve ending in your chest burns white-hot with pain, even as your thoughts drunkenly slur sleep, sleep, go to sleep.

You look up at the merc through fluttering lashes, and you know you've lost.

He looms over you, snarling down at you, his own blaster in-hand. You wait for the killing blow, or for the rushing wave of unconsciousness to sweep you away and drown you. Either way – oblivion.

All that borrowed time, since Nevarro, wasted on the floor of this moldy bunker.

And then something runs the man through.

A sword, but not -- it looks like the absence of a sword. A plane of darkness pierces his armor and sweeps an arc clean through his torso like it’s nothing.

The merc, probably even more surprised than you are, keels over beside you in pieces. Your nose fills with the stench of charred flesh, grasses and sunlight forgotten. You retch, and the agony in your side floods your eyes with tears.

Your lungs stutter and fail. No air is coming. Your mouth tastes like copper. The room around you is a dream.

The Mandalorian is standing before you, now, brandishing– well, brandishing something impossible. A black blade curves out of a baton in his hands. Its edges distort and vibrate, intensely enough that being this close to it feels like you've licked a battery. Such a shame he's going to murder you with it before you have a chance to steal it – it’s just like the energy weapons you heard about in fairytales as a kid, come to life.

Or maybe you imagined it entirely. One final absurd hurrah for your oxygen-starved, millaflower-coated synapses, because it’s at this moment that your brain gives up and you slip away, into the black.

[continue to next chapter]

[taglist] @orcasoul @djarins-cyare

thank you so much for reading!!! ❤️❤️❤️

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #mando x reader #mando x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #pedro pascal #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fic #mando fic #enemies to lovers #no use of y/n

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elvenbeard · 10 months

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Self-promotion fic-update-tag-post for "Love is Stored in the Olive Jar (working title)"

Okay, so, I am currently writing this post-Sun-ending fic that I think some of you started reading (currently the first 5 chapters are published, 6th is being edited as we speak).

I got a lot of very positive feedback on chapters 1-3, but not much/ nothing anymore on 4 and 5, and my perpetual self-doubt has been creeping in about my ideas and writing actually really sucking and people losing interest because I'm too long-winded, something about the content was extremely off-putting (or just downright boring), or I'm mischaracterizing Kerry, along with many other potential reasons and doubts.

But of course there's a million other possible reasons, like, people just not seeing it because text (especially long text) tends to get buried, they're too busy to keep up, or they're waiting til it's finished before reading. But yeah I'm in this thought-spiral now where I'm like "do I even wanna continue posting it, do people even care?" and I've come to the conclusion... there's a solution to my concerns the writeblr community taught me (that you should def also adapt for your fics!!)

REPLY to this post here (with anything, an emoji, a short "hi" or "here!" ) if you want to be tagged by me whenever I post a new chapter so you don't miss out (if you want to be tagged with a specific url that's different from the one you reply with, maybe put it there, too).

I have been kinda consistently posting a chapter each week now, usually Tuesdays, and I might not be able to keep that up forever, but would like to stay on my roll. And, knowing that there's maybe at least one person here who is actively reading this and wants to be notified, will maybe help me not lose steam like I did on so many other projects in the past that just got lost in the void somewhere along the way.

First chapter of the fic in question if you'd like a reminder - following chapters, if they exist already, are always linked at the end of the chapter. It is a rather angsty fic, given that it mostly follows CP2077 canon events, but I can promise that there will be a happy ending.

Feel free to like this post if you wanna, but I will only tag people in future fic updates that leave a reply. Reblogging is also appreciated, obviously, to help spread the word xD

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #kerry eurodyne x v #*fingers crossed this shuts up my inner critic*#and there's at least one person still reading this XD #cause I love writing it a lot at the moment and know where I need to go with it #and i hope I can finish writing it for myself even if it's not as interesting for most otheres #*others #even though I'd love love love to discuss the stuff I'm writing about #especially my theories concerning Mr. B and ways to save V's life etc etc that we'll likely never see in canon but which are hinted at #my writing #love is stored in the olive jar

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felikatze · 7 months

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got tagged by @fayesdiary for WIP wednesday and since i WAS writing today... I shall oblige. even if it's already thursday in my time. it's still wednesday somewhere in the world!

So, you get a snippet from chapter 7 of plusquam, which I worked on today. all of infinitiv proudly bears the draft name of "ACT 2 BABEY"

in exchange for me not injuring them this chapter morgan gets blackmailed instead cuz i will never let them rest <3

i respectfully tag @thanatophagency in case he wants an opportunity to show off but my usual "only do it if you wanna" applies

"Hah. And you know me so well?" As though Gerome had ever acted out of more than common courtesy - out of respect for his father's duty to the Exalt. "Morgan is dead."

"And Morgan will stay dead."

What? Lucina truly could not know of this. Of whatever game Gerome played now. He walked away from Minerva with his hands up and palms facing forward. Did he clean your blood off his axe?

"I have a preposition."

Your hand clenched around your knife. You could kill him. He's wide open. Instead, you said, "I'm listening."

"We are in the distant past, years before our time. Changing fate is what all of them want. But... it would not do to change too much."

You damn well knew that already, and it agonized you. How do you prune the bad and keep the good? How do you guarantee any of you will ever be born?

"Marth, Caeda, Michalis. All of these names, childish they may be, serve a purpose."

"What, making Owain happy?"

Gerome frowned. "Kris had a hand in this, I admit."

"Kris isn't a real hero."

"According to Kris, Kris is a 'heavily debated historical subject.'" You could hear the air-quotes on that one. Despite his nonsensical tales, both Owain and Lucina held deep passion for the past. Many an argument you snuck past in summer evenings, and you recalled, ever so distant, Gerome skulking around some of them.

"I'm not suprised," a smile crept into your voice, and you grimaced to push it back down.

"We must distance ourselves from the people of the past. We do not belong here."

"You just don't want me blabbing to your mother."

Gerome moved his hand, and you prepared to strike, but he merely massaged his temple. Much good it did him behind the mask. It's the gesture that counted. "The Cherche of this world is not my mother, and she never will be. But yes."

The Robin of this world was not your father, and never would be. Papa was long gone and Dad was buried under a mountain of flowers.

You blinked.

"And what do I gain in return? For not proclaiming your huge forehead to the high heavens?"

Where Gerome was a stick in the mud before, he truly has become even stiffer since you spoke last. And riling him up remained just as fun. You could never resist.

He scoffed. "I won't tell Marth of you."

Now it was your turn to scoff. "What should I care if she finds out?" Distant wingbeats, ever closer, beating over your heart. A grin split your face. "And what should I care if I dispose of you right here and now?"

The undead wyvern crashed into the clearing, snapping branches and bushes along the way. Its head lolled further than before, taking a loop around its neck before settling in your direction.

Gerome dodged back to evade the spray of plant matter and dirt. As you jumped atop the wyvern and readied your magic, so did he climb Minerva and take out his hand axe.

"Indeed. Perhaps I should be off to tell him now, that his dear sibling faked their death and joined the one who killed his parents."

He would not dare. "You insignificant wretched worm. You lot play at being heroes of justice, and yet you stoop to blackmailing me. Aren't you supposed to die for me?"

As a mage, you held the advantage in the air, especially since a wyvern's resistance was much meeker than a pegasus's. The two-faced wretch could count himself lucky you did not have a wind tome on hand, but thunder would fry him well enough.

"I never participated in your play acting. Marth became my only liege once you betrayed your kin." His voice rose to carry over Minerva's liftoff, not a step behind you.

Your kin. What a riot. And yet, it told you something very important - the fools had no clue of Master Grima's face, as he had ensured.

The two of you circled over the treetops, neither attacking, neither retreating.

Gerome continued, "I am no hero and I do not pretend to be, as you pretend to be the villain. If... if saving this fleeting dream is what brings him happiness, then it is my duty as his knight to keep dreaming."

#feli gets tagged #feli speaks #plusquam #pq time. eheheh. INCREDIBLY appropiately timed tag cuz i FINALLY got those two morons to duke it out #gerome why are you like this.#also finally settled on frederick!gerome cuz it fits best with the plot tbh #i forgot who brought up the idea. my apologies. my brain is soup <3 #frederick!gerome also means cordelia!cynthia so. that'll be VERY fun to play with later #and sumia!severa is just a RIOT to be honest it's very funny conceptually

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thesherrinfordfacility · 6 months

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the reading comprehension on this godforsaken website is genuinely insane. it's such shit ppl went after you for responding. fwiw you singlehandedly restored my faith in the GO fandom a little while back, some of the only well thought-out takes for miles (til i started clicking on the reblogs n found more). there was nothing wrong with defending yourself from people who didn't even read the meta. for something you put this much effort into, it'd be weirder not to be defensive

ive sat on the whole thing over the last dozen or so hours now, with a good mixture of upset, anger, some kind of numbness, and incredible amounts of anxiety. i posted that response out of the second; i was really angry, and i flew off the handle. whilst i don't appreciate being told by the other anon that i shouldn't be so attached/shouldn't have been so upset, they have a point, and were right to highlight (intentionally or not) at the very least that that is the root of the problem. i likened the fiasco to some secondary school bullshit, but i didn't realise - or want to acknowledge - that that applied to me too. the whole thing has reawakened ancient history that i thought i had gotten over years ago - more than a decade ago, even - and it very much turns out that that isn't the case, and was simply buried. the uncomfortable thing i also ran into is that the incident has made me re-examine myself with a little more, and definitely overdue, scrutiny - the post attacked at what i now think was my ego, and my over-confidence, and sense of entitlement. that's so uncomfortable to admit, but here we are.

i don't mind people disagreeing with me, but i still stand firm that i don't think sending an ask ridiculing someone, or adding tags that equally can be interpreted as being plain unkind, is a nice thing to do. it's shit - i felt humiliated, and self-conscious in a fandom that until this point, for all my controversial takes 😂 - had made me feel that i had a space to share them, and whilst may not be agreed with, would still be valued by nature of them belonging to a person. i have no doubt that everything on that post wasn't at all personal, but it still felt that what i had spent a lot of time, excitement, and joy writing was worthy of being laughed at, as if i were stupid for writing it (let me be clear - idc if people think the original post and the take within it is wrong, that's absolutely fair enough). it then called into question - what else have people been nice to me about, politely interacting with me about, and yet elsewhere those same people are being horrible about it?

that line of overthinking is entirely my issue, that's noone else's fault, but i do think that had these people just simply kept their opinion to a DM, or somewhere else where the original poster is unlikely/not going to see it, it might have all been avoided. people are entitled to share their opinion, i have no issues with that fact, but it can have consequences... just like the consequences of me rb'ing it once the anger had set in, and i ceased to think rationally. i am sorry that i reacted out of anger, without much - if any - rational thought; that it was bitchy as fuck, and - without the maelstrom of emotion attached to it, as it was from my perspective - it was objectively uncalled for. im embarrassed i reacted like that, and im aware that its only served to make me come across as even more ridiculous than the original post ever could 😂 but i want to settle in with what this has brought up, especially the shitty stuff that i thought i had long gotten over, and look at why i reacted the way i did - i think i was right to defend myself, but perhaps not in the way that i did.

as a separate note, and just really as a PSA to anyone waiting on me in my ask box or has sent me messages - im going to halt on posting any original posts/asks for a while (knowing me, because i can't help myself, a 'while' will probably be like a day). that's in part because im shitting bricks about posting anything in general (this ask response included), but also because - like i said before - i don't want to continue posting stuff when im now wondering how much is coming from a less-than-humble place - im worried that it's a lot more than i ever thought, which is vulnerable, but that's how it goes.

#ask #idk

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throwaway-yandere · 1 year

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Happy new year everyone!!! Admittedly I suck at expressing myself so you'll have to forgive me if this comes across as a raw and chaotic mess lol. I'm not tagging the names either cause I'm a coward

It was incredibly fun running this blog!!! I never thought it last this long– and if probably wouldn't have it weren't for leftdestiny-post/shiro commenting on a fic haha (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠). Then I met some wonderful people, starting with like crying anon and their beloved elf darling, poptartthings, thatanonthatabsolutelyroastedtighnari, 😋 anon, veni, 🐠 anon, my mom exiled and hoo my brain is seriously a mess rn i can't type properly but i swear yall mean everything to me it's just that my aunts and uncles are all using the karaoke rn I can't hear my own thoughts but I need to write these all down before i pass out hAHAHHA (⁠ꏿ⁠﹏⁠ꏿ⁠;⁠) they're singing victims of love rn, idk if it's my heartbeat or the speaker anymore send help–

each of yall make me always look forward to waking up the next morning! Ranging from Assistant ✾ & esther anon trying to survive, brosch and their wonderful designs (i often imagine brosch and capitano just drawing designs in silent honestly, couple goals), bakery wondering how to calm dottore, 🐠 and mochi's drawings– you're all wonderful people!! Seriously still can't believe I got noticed my romanticaa and zhongrin what. I still get so nervous when interacting with both help hAHAHAH.

2022 did not feel real for many reasons, pretty sure I'm already dead and Faceless!Ayato buried me somewhere. Y'all are fun af. 🌠 anon idk how you're doing, but shoutout to you too for somehow reading my first diluc fic and going "yeah might as well see where this writer's career will lead". I wonder how many of yall are in the same position as them cause wtf man how are tall tolerating my idiotic writings hAHAHAHHA

((Just wanna shoutout poptart again cause mom idk what I'm gonna do with that 4 dollar tip 😭))

🐠, exiled and veni were my real highlight for OCMC. The alhaitham slanders– the betrayal– lmao i was just cackling like the gremlin that i am when I read exiled's ask after the last chapter I uploaded lmao. And signora-fanboy's reblog tags were funny too lol

It was fun cooping with exiled!!! It was fun reblogging jokes with zhongrin (and making me brainrot mafia!dain dhshdjwj)!!! I was so happy T^T!!!

And this december i get to talk to riabef and watatsumii too and they're both wholesome and lowkey/highkey chaotic i love you both! Where the heck am I even going with this message my braincells are not working BUT yeah my point is that it's so awesome that even as the year's about to end I still end up meeting new blessings in life 😭😭😭

I'll just shorten this part: I used to be a major loner. It's just that since my elementary days I've just come to expect a pattern that I'm friends with someone for a year until they move out of the country. It's like I was cursed with that happening every time until I just always expect people to have an expiration date lmao. Hence, I just wanna thank my irl friends Purple and Orange Friend/a-dose-of-phitre for being my longest best friends. They gave me confidence and no I'm not crying rn shut up. Idk why yall stuck with me. Wait no I do know the answer it's cause you both want someone to bully 😭 but to bully me for 6 and now going 7 years??? Aren't you both tired???

With that in mind– i SERIOUSLY DON'T KNOW WHY YOU GUYS ARE SO NICE TO ME 😭😭😭I PROBABLY MENTIONED THAT A LOT BUT WHY ARE YOU GUYS NICE??? I DON'T DESERVE THAT WHEN I'M WRITING YOU ANONS TO SUFFER– IDK HOW TO PAY THOSE KINDNESS BACK YALL DON'T MAKE ANOTHER "gatorade milo rice discourse" SCENARIO 😭

Man i need to stop typing my body's last hurrah is fast approaching. Can't wait to read this tomorrow and go "there are so many grammar mistakes here not even grammarly would make an attempt to understand this mess" hAHAHAHAH

Okay, okay, yeahhh

Happy new year everyone!!! I'm gonna wait like 21 more minutes and wait till the world does a factory reset for 2023. Hope yall have a wonderful year!!! Enjoy the fireworks!!! Yoimiya worked hard for those 😤

#ansy-addendums #happy new year everyone!!!#ansy doesn't know where theyre going with this lol

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pluckyredhead · 2 years

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Hey no problem if you're not into it anymore/it's too much work, but I adore your writing (for DC and daredevil) and you seem to genuinely enjoy and read a lot of comics and have good taste. So I was wondering if you had any recs for daredevil comics? Thanks either way!!

Aw, thank you so much!

I do in fact have Daredevil recs! They are buried somewhere in my Daredevil tag, though, so here they are again, in chronological order:

Start with Frank Miller. I know he sucks as a human being, but this is where Daredevil really becomes the character he is today, so if you're looking for something that resembles the show, this is where to start. Miller started as the artist on the book with #158 (the 1964 series), then took over writing as well with #169, and stayed on the book through #191. This will take you through the introduction and death of Elektra and Matt and Frank's first meeting.

Then skip to Born Again, by Miller and David Mazzucchelli (#227-231). Some people will have you start here, but I think it works better if you've read some earlier DD for context. There's obviously a gap in between when Miller left and when he came back, but that's the Denny O'Neil run it sucks (I'm so sorry, Denny) so I advise skipping it. Born Again admittedly goes off the rails towards the end but the early issues are some of the best Daredevil comics ever (and certainly the most famous), and Mazzucchelli's art is breathtaking.

(Side note: many people will recommend Miller and John Romita, Jr.'s Man Without Fear. I do not. I do not recommend anything by Miller post-Born Again.)

Then jump to Brian Michael Bendis and Alex Maleev, starting with #16 (the 1998 series). Bendis sometimes irks me as a writer and the early 2000s sexism of both writing and art are infuriating, but the slow burn of this story, the characterization, the depiction of Matt in a disaster spiral of his own making that he is refusing to acknowledge...chef's kiss. This is another one where, if you like the show, you should read this run.

This is immediately followed by the Ed Brubaker and Michael Lark run. Only read the first arc, Devil in Cell Block D. It's one of my all-time favorite Daredevil stories. The book goes completely off the rails after that, don't bother.

Then we jump to THE WAID RUN!!! These comics are nothing like the show - they are MUCH lighter in tone - but they are absolute perfection, and actually deal with Matt's depression head-on. Plus, so much of the run is about how much he loves Foggy. And Kirsten!!! THE BEST!!! Also, the art - Paolo Rivera at first and then the incomparable Chris Samnee for the bulk of it - is sublime. You'll want to read the 2011 series in its entirety, followed by the 2014 series (Marvel canceled all of their books and restarted them in 2014 for dumb reasons, it's exactly the same book).

Finally, I've really been enjoying the current run, which started in 2018. Peak Disaster Matt, full marks.

I am a big proponent of reading in order, but if you can only pick one, I say go for Waid/Rivera/Samnee. My favorite Daredevil comics of all time, you will not be disappointed.

#daredevil #comics recs #i have so many asks for recs in my inbox #i'm working on it y'all #this list is just at my fingertips because i've rattled it off so many times

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fridayyy-13th · 4 months

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20 questions for fic writers

tysm @three-magpies-in-a-trenchcoat for the tag!!

How many works do you have on Ao3? 4

What's your total Ao3 word count? 13,296

What fandoms do you write for? i used to write for the Hermitcraft fandom, but i've discontinued the one fic i started for it and moved on to The Magnus Archives. i've got a couple story ideas for other fandoms, but idk if they'll go anywhere.

What are your top five fics by kudos? well, i've only got four! but from most- to least-kudosed, there's: - Double Trouble (Hermitcraft, rated G, incomplete multichapter) - Know What Can't Be Shown, Feel What Can't Be Known (TMA, rated T, oneshot) - Time Enough to Spend Some Time Alone (TMA, rated T, oneshot) - Here, Nowhere, Somewhere With You (TMA, rated G, oneshot) and i'm totally not salty my two most kudosed fics are an incomplete work and something i posted at 3am, respectively.

Do you respond to comments? hell yeah! i love answering comments <3

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? gotta say Time Enough, bc it's more refined than its predecessor, Know What Can't Be Shown (man i really need to stop giving my fics such long titles, i always end up shortening them when referring to them). but for reference, both are pre-Unknowing jmart kiss fics; it's a favored headcanon of mine. Time Enough also spends more time musing on how Jon and Martin are feeling—that is, they feel Bad. Absolutely Terrible. sad and scared, both for the Unknowing and for each other.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Here, Nowhere, Somewhere, absolutely. the ending itself is pretty open, but Jon and Martin have reunited post-MAG 200, admitted they still love each other after its events, and found themselves Somewhere Else. it's the most hopeful.

Do you get hate on fics? not yet, thankfully. i'm not a well-known enough author for that lol.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? i do not! and i doubt i ever will. props to everyone who does, though.

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? i don't really write crossovers, at least none i ever planned to publish, but i do have a couple fusion AUs in the works (that is, taking one story's premise and combining it w/the characters of another). and funnily enough, both are based on songs.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? i sure hope not.

Have you ever had a fic translated? no. though if someone offered to, i'd be honored!

Have you ever co-written a fic before? technically? a friend of mine and i made a couple AUs for a few different MCYT fandoms that never really went anywhere, but i've never co-authored something that's made it to publishing.

What's your all time favorite ship? probably jonmartin. i've read a ridiculous amount of fanfic for them, and i think pretty much all my WIPs feature it if both Jon and Martin are there (sometimes i'll make them queerplatonic, and sometimes they'll be part of a poly ship like jongerrymartin, but jmart tends to be pretty Do Not Separate in my mind lmao).

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? ages ago i was reading this one rom-com webcomic where two people wound up as roommates bc the landlord accidentally rented the single apartment to both of them, which i thought was a really cute premise, but then BAM there was some really awful transphobia in it. when called out in the comments, the author doubled down, so i snatched up the concept and decided "i'm gonna make this t4t out of SPITE." but uh i've found spite doesn't work very well as a fuel source for my work, and i can get the same awkward domesticity/mutual pining out of a safehouse fic, so it'll probably just stay buried in the WIPs folder.

What are your writing strengths? dialogue. or at least, making a character's dialogue sound like their voice. vocabulary, things like stammering or using filler words, cutting oneself off or pausing a bunch, that sort of thing. though sometimes the dialogue itself feels a little clunky. i also think i'm rather good at writing emotional scenes, especially once i'm in the editing stage of things.

What are your writing weaknesses? over-editing. my utter beloathed. i sometimes get really caught up in trying to make everything as clear as possible, when that just makes the work 5,000 words too long and takes way more time to do. i'm trying to be better about it.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? i think it's neat! but if you're monolingual you should read up on writing bilingual/multilingual characters beforehand, don't just wing it.

First fandom you wrote for? probably Pokémon? i'm not entirely sure.

Favorite fic you've written? Time Enough, hands-down. (though uh, hypothetically, if i wanted to make some small edits to it, would it be weird to do so? especially seven months after posting? there's a handful of lines i wish i'd phrased a bit differently.)

tags (no pressure!!): @radical-dadical-rafael @dramaticdads @winterswrandomness @ollieofthebeholder @ladydragonkiller @incandescentis @cornmazehater @jewishjon

#tag game #friday's fics #beloved mutuals #magpie tag #re: the edits for Time Enough—i noted them all down a couple months ago #some of them are probably too minor and i won't end up changing them #but others bug me every time i re-read the thing #but also yknow it's been seven whole months and i'm like ''ehhh that's a long time maybe i should just leave it''#so i figured i'd ask you guys & get some second opinions

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dual-domination · 9 months

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WIP tag game

I was tagged by @forerussake to post a snippet of a current WIP <3

My two current WIPs are Seawater is tears shed in the shores (to be posted once Vince has time to go back writing Shen Wei's parts - and it won't be so soon since he just moved to another continent and got married - hi there @victorian-pirate and @sagittariusdarkarrow ;D) And the love of my life Stars aligned in a perfect sky (yeah, that huge fic that makes people mad very often and is my main work - my baby). And I'm going for this one bc I'm working in the missing chapters in the middle just right now (Chapters 8 and 9. From 10 and on we have it almost all finished, we just don't have the last chapter and the epilogue finished).

(Somewhere in Chapter 9) Without a sound, Shen Wei slowly moved closer to Wu Xie, wishing he could comfort him somehow, but he knew the consequences and he knew how much he had already destroyed the other. The heart that didn't need to beat, however, was his enemy. Because Shen Wei had a heart and that heart fluttered before the one who had taught him that his heart was not just an empty piece of meat. In his will to let go of the self-imposed restraints just for an instant, Shen Wei raised his hand to touch the other's shoulder, but he didn't, remembering all the reasons at the last moment. Before it was too late. However, not in time enough. And Shen Wei was ecstatic as he felt the fingers that had reached his over the shoulder and gently pulled his hand closer to hold it there, beside the scar on Wu Xie's neck, between his two hands. “Don't worry, I'll forget about it again once you leave. I can't retain memory like before, you know that… you did this to me,” Wu Xie's voice was a gentle whisper and free of reproach, “I've been missing you even though I can't remember. Always miss you. And I miss him. Looks like I'm going to leave without knowing any of you this time. How have you been?" Shen Wei hesitated to answer, swallowing something that seemed to hurt his throat, “Let me go and forget about me.” “Don't be rude to me again. That was a long time ago.” Wu Xie ran his fingers over Shen Wei's injured palm, feeling the blood around the marks that were already closing. “I didn't mean to,” he breathed into Wu Xie's hair, trying not to bury his face in it. "He is fine?" “The way you know it's possible for him to 'be fine'…” It was the best answer Shen Wei could give about Zhao Yunlan. Wu Xie didn't know what name he had now, and he wasn't used to asking things that would lead nowhere. “I'm sorry I wasn't helpful this time, meri jaan…” Hearing the other's saddened voice and that way of addressing him, Shen Wei wanted back the tears he couldn't cry and ended up giving in, touching the other's waist with his free hand, sliding his face through his hair, until he put a brief kiss on the back of his neck, no more than a light brush of lips, “No… no, a-Xie. None of this is your fault.” I managed to stay away for so long… But you’ll go soon this time, regardless of where I am or what you remember… I just can't let it happen like it did before. “I only have one function here, Shen Wei. And having failed before, that happened to him... and it hurt you. And Da Qing…” “It wasn't your fault, a-Xie,” Shen Wei repeated firmly, hugging Wu Xie's waist completely, keeping him leaning against his chest, “It was my fault. You know it. From the start."

Present times? Past times? It can be anytime and anywhere in that work. How that is happening if Shen Wei is a deceased character from the beginning? Will I have to change the relationship tags in this fic? What is their fault - or not? Is this an 0T3 or mismatched and misfortune loves?

Tagging @tazzy-ace @soresus @meluci-fer @hils79 @fixaidea @merinnan @ohmyitsfaith

#guardian #dmbj #shen wei #wu xie #guardian x dmbj crossover #editing that fic means adding 5 more scenes every time I try to finish the unfinished parts...

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marshiestars · 1 year

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Tag 9 People You Want To Get To Know Better

thank you @scrawnytreedemon for tagging!! let’s begin, shall we? :3c

Three Ships: ughhhhh this is real hard because I JUST invented the most horrible, wonderful “why does it work” crackship a few weeks ago, but if I want to include it, I have to ignore one of my three big zelda ships :C

1. Ghiralink. because of course. I feel like it’s illegal to leave this one out or put it any lower. it’s the good food. it’s well-established. I can afford to be picky with my content. it’s great :D

2. Astlink! sorry Kohlink, but Astlink is less likely to scare half my audience away 😔.

tbh I’m still VERY surprised that Astor and Link aren’t paired together nearly as often as Zelast (Astor / Zelda). don’t get me wrong, both are rare pairs, but somehow Astlink is even *rarer* shksjhdjhsshs, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why. either way, it's 'moody goth bitch rejected by society (or maybe he rejected society first, it's a chicken or egg situation tbh) with the perfect golden person that everyone admires who secretly has their own issues'!! and it's about how they're on the complete opposite sides of this huge conflict and yet they find unexpected parallels in each other! and having everything fall apart but deciding to be a better person, even when the rest of the world says it's too late, because that one person believes in you and is willing to give you a chance! darkness and light! it's GOOD FOOD

(...man, I really gotta finish chapter 3 of swordsman and the seer.)

3. ...fuck it. scrawny, I hereby challenge you for the title of Weirdest Fucking Crossover Ship. Ghirahim x Godrick? Sephiroth x the Hollow Knight? I'm intrigued, but not crumbling to ash at the thought.

and so I give you this in place of gushing about Kohlink, which is unbelievably rare, but damn it, at least they're from the same source material! besides, I wasn't the first person to pair them by a long shot, no, no, no.

but there’s a special, lonely sort of pride in knowing you’re probably the first of 8 billion people in the world to ever even think of a pairing. ready? here it is:

R*x D*ng*rv*st x S*np*i from FNF.

(censored their names like that because if this shows up in the tags I’m gonna jump out a window)

yeah, man. I don't even know either.

I mean, I do know, somewhere, and my original train of thought is buried in the memory slush of a few months ago, gone forever. so now we're here. fuck. kill me. why am I writing shit for these two. girl what the hell is this

everyone who reads this post, I want a brick emoji in my inbox to simulate getting one through my window

First Ever Ship: ANYWAY, fuck, I don’t even remember at this point, I've been in greater fandom for so long. wait... oh, son of a bitch, nevermind, I do.

*sigh*

it was Billdip.

DO NOT COME AFTER ME, I DON’T SHIP IT ANYMORE. haven’t for years. I was 12. but I loved Bill Cipher (still do, he's my funny meow meow blorbo <3) and was very upset when the finale happened even though I knew that was how it had to be. but every time Billdip art came across my screen, I saw cool art where he: # 1. was still around and # 2. was more often than not a pretty human / humanoid (this was at the height of his sexymanification). hell, I didn't even give a shit about Dipper honestly, I just wanted more Bill content. and again, being literally 12, I didn’t really stop to think abt any moral implications. but yeah.

(also nowadays I hc Bill as ace sooo)

Last Song: 'She Had The World' by Panic! very nice to sing to, it's right in my range <3

Last Movie: does ‘My Little Pony: A Very Minty Christmas’ count? it’s a childhood film and practically tradition for me to watch it every year for christmas lol. although this year I’ve been replaying it for... research purposes. yeah. totally not for a lethally cursed fanfic, no sir.

if that doesn’t count, then ‘The Lego Movie’!

Currently Reading: nothing atm!! even as my 'to read' pile gets taller by the day, hhhh

Currently Watching: Minty Christmas, again, but definitely not so I can copy the dialogue verbatim to use as the base for a coked-up christmas crack fic

Currently Consuming: soup <3

Currently Craving: instant ramen, good god, especially if it’s spicy. they have cups for sale in vending machines around campus but they’re all beef and chicken flavour :C

I won't tag anyone else in this because nine people is a lot; far too many to bother with this wall of personal nonsense shdhdj but thanks anyway for tagging me scrawny, my beloved mutual!!! <3

#long post #ask game

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lunarsands · 1 year

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tw // mention of drug use

A genuine concern here, how am I supposed to moderate media that makes me uncomfortable if I don't know a sensitive subject is there in the first place? If I click on a modded Minecraft video from a PG channel where the title and description lead me to believe it's going to be about silly shenanigans with the modpack (also based on seeing those same events from another person's POV) and later in that vid I unexpectedly see someone be drugged, start hallucinating with special effects visuals to go along with it, and then have an animated pole dance while a song with verbally manipulative lyrics plays, and there is zero warning for that, am I supposed to not be bothered by it?

As someone who has written body horror and violence, I try to make sure I put enough warning tags on things, and there are times I hesitate about posting while I worry if I've even covered enough of the warnings. I won't take offense if someone who likes one genre of story I write doesn't want to read a different genre. If someone asks me to tag for something in the future, I'll make the effort.

In the case of this video, however, I don't know how to notify the creator that they should consider putting a content warning somewhere without me being, at best, buried under dislikes or, at worst, attacked for saying something that could be even remotely viewed as negative criticism. The last time I had concrit of video content, I got accused of "being mad about it." I stand by the phrase Don't like Don't view, but again, how am I supposed to avoid it and move along to watch something else instead if I don't know it’s there in the first place? People are really stretching the definition of "PG family-friendly" ratings these days.

#not maintagging this #because I don't need to be slapped with accusations again #but that was /extremely uncomfortable/ to watch #you can say 'oh it's just blockgame it's not real'#but the portrayal alone is uncomfortable #I unsubbed and won't be watching any more vids from them #but what if someone with worse past experience than me comes across that?#even this post I'm afraid to make #but this was keeping me awake last night so a vent post it is #there were even comments in the vid where one person went ''don't do drugs kids''#and another person replied ''but that looked fun!''#I tag for even the smallest angst bc I have a mutual who doesn't like angst!#and I'm fine with including that warning even if they already know ahead of time that I regularly write angst!

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kyofsonder · 2 years

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Find the Word

I was tagged by @on-noon to find a specific set of words in my WIPs, and tag others to keep the game going. Thank you for the tag, the more times I play this game the more fun I have and the more I enjoy the perspective it gives me on my own writing.

My Words: grow, worse, wind, snow, and wake.

I’ll tag @aohendo, @junypr-camus, @starlightscribe, @did-i-do-this-write, and @marinesocks this time. It's also an open tag for anyone else who wants to join, as always!

Your Words: voice, equal, second, purpose, and greed.

I found grow(s) in an original short story WIP, titled “Kiyo”:

Kiyo herself is pretty small, also like me, but her leaves are strong. They're bright red and her vines are a soft orange, so it's less that she grows like a regular plant and more that she spreads like a flame. She's a little wizened, with some crunchy edges of brown on some of her older leaves and a lot of black in her veins, but her roots keep pushing their way down through the soil. Reaching for water or more soil or whatever it is they find for her. The guy selling all those half-neglected plants hadn't acted like there was anything special about this one in particular, but I haven't heard of plants that look like Kiyo... pretty much anywhere.

I found worse in my novel WIP “To Be Honest”, although it does show up in a scene where there’s (magic-related) self-injury and mentions of blood:

The feeling from earlier is practically screaming at him now, rattling his bones until he thinks the vibration might knock him out. The way David had greeted him. The way his voice has been changing. The fact that Micah hasn't been able to see his face this whole time. The repeated circles when he'd tried to walk. Something is wrong. Micah can feel the magic in his own blood, warning him that if he takes too long to figure this out he'll end up trapped here. Not just here in the woods, but somewhere much worse. He can't control his breathing anymore and every spell he knows is gone from his mind. Alright. Fine. Screw patience, then. The witch takes as deep and steady of a breath as he can manage, wincing each time it catches on the way down to his lungs. Without sparing a second more to think, he brings the knife down on his arm at whatever angle fate decides. If he's lucky, it won't catch any major arteries and he'll be able to bandage himself up later.

I found wind in a draft of a Given oneshot fic “Present Tense”:

He steps toward the water, bracing himself against the wind. It isn't cold, somehow, but he still feels like he should be wearing a jacket of some kind. The sound of the ocean makes it feel like Winter, steady and calm. Rolling like the sand, only stronger. Moving steadily. Making itself known. White noise, washing away the feelings of early afternoon sunlight that had been so vivid just a few moments ago. He finds himself sinking into a crouch, closing his eyes again and holding his knees close to himself. He buries his face into his arms. Ah. He wants to sink into this sound. Let it wash him away, too. Out toward the sunset. The gradually darkening blue and fading light pink of nightfall. The warped yellow and orange of a sun saying its goodbyes for the night. He wants to fall into these soft colors like a fluffy bed and rest.

I found snow in a Sk8 the Infinity fic “True or False”, although it shows up in a scene where Langa is experiencing a type of unreality that might affect some readers:

It's quiet for a while, then Langa adjusts himself so he can speak -- still holding as tight as possible, "Sometimes... I have dreams. They aren't like normal dreams. When I wake up, I can't tell if they were real or not. If I was remembering things that really happened, or dreaming things that never did. It feels like I'm awake and just thinking about real memories, but it also feels like I'm asleep and dreaming. That doesn't make sense, but... the dreams don't make sense. They get... it happened for the first time after I got lost on a mountain as a kid. I was out in the snow all night. I kept thinking that I remembered the way back -- then I'd realize that it was the wrong way. The path I remembered was from a dream. No matter where I walked, it didn't get me home. It got... really confusing. Ever since then, I'll get that way again sometimes. Confused from dreams like that, I mean."

I found wake in my novel WIP “Apricots” when the main character is talking about how long it’s been since his girlfriend died:

Noah doesn't let him get away that easily, "The beginning is the day Jess died, whatever day or month or year it was when that happened. I think you know that much."

"Kade's lost track of time since then, too. More than usual. It feels like he started talking to her ghost months before she died, every time he was at her bedside, like he'd already known it was coming. I guess... when her condition... that's probably why you got mad at me. You knew she would die so much earlier than I did. I still don't think you should have blamed me for not knowing. I did the best I could to take care of her. It's been two months and I still wake up thinking I'll take the bus to her place to... I think I'm still not convinced that she's even gone at all."

Thank you again for the tag – there was a little more original content mixed in with the fanfiction this time! I'm learning to balance how much I write between original and fandom projects, which is encouraging to see when I play this game.

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