#hope this doesn’t awaken anything in anybody

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 36 part one

(Masterpost) (Pinboard)  (whole thing on AO3)

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!  

Lan Wangji’s alcohol tolerance has improved considerably since the last time he got drunk with Wei Wuxian; this time he does not face plant onto the table. He’s still totally hammered after a single drink, though. Lan Wangji doesn’t do anything halfway. 

Wei Wuxian maneuvers him into their inn room (which does appear to have a second bed, alas) making the same vocalization that people in cdrama seem to use to settle skittish horses, and puts him into bed.

...Fully clothed, because the hair & costume department ain’t got time to be re-doing anybody’s outfit, we’ve got a schedule to keep here, people, let’s move!

The last time Wei Wuxian put a drunk Lan Wangji to bed, they were kids and he laid him down like a sack of potatoes. 

This time he cradles his head, holds his hands, tucks him in, and comes within a censor’s breath of kissing him. 

He’s obviously got a lot of feelings for Lan Wangji at this point, and I think he’s sort of aware of the nature of those feelings, but he is still not clear about what’s going on in Lan Wangji’s head and heart. So he continues to slap a veneer of playfulness over the deeper stuff that’s going on underneath...mostly.

(more behind the cut!)

Old Friends (Sat on the Park Bench Like Bookends)

While Lan Wanji sleeps, Wei Wuxian goes outside to find Wen Ning. Wen Ning shuffles up wearing comically huge chains and a deeply strung-out expression. 

He’s so blank of expression, in fact, that the editor uses this exact same shot three times in the course of his interaction with Wei Wuxian, rather than bothering to film a longer take. 

Wei Wuxian is delighted to see him; the only survivor, or sorta-survivor, that he’s seen from their little refugee village. He’s not delighted to see that Wen Ning barely recognizes him--although he recognizes him enough to come whenever he hears his flute playing, even though it’s a new flute, which is really very sweet. This kid got a sincere compliment from a beautiful upperclassman when he was a freshman and promptly signed his entire self over to that guy for the rest of eternity, and he’s not going to let death or mind control keep him away. 

Wei Wuxian can tell something is wrong because of the heap of chains that Wen Ning is wearing, which weren’t part of his look in the old days. Critical Role fans like me are probably thinking of ways to sell these to a blacksmith. 

After a little provocative hair pulling, Wei Wuxian extracts the control nails from Wen Ning’s skull. 

Wen Ning: I hope this doesn’t awaken anything in me

Unlike the next time Wei Wuxian encounters this exact same technology, he doesn’t stop with one nail, but keeps poking around until he finds and removes the second one, which fully restores Wen Ning’s consciousness. 

Wen Ning promptly feels bad about having killed Jin Zixuan, and kneels to apologize.

Wei Wuxian is like “dude, I’m so over it” and tries to get him to stand back up. When he won’t, Wei Wuxian kneels down too.

This is a gesture so important and powerful that he does it from two different camera angles, for emphasis. 

It’s interesting, when you watch a mix of CDrama genres like I do, to see how kneeling is so often a huge deal in Wuxia, Xianxia, and whatever genre Dao Mu Bi Ji and Guardian are (Sci-fi? Fantasy? Ghostpunk? Gravepunk?), and then to watch a palace drama where non-emperor people spend endless time on their knees without appearing to have any feelings about it at all.  I’m not saying these things are in conflict; kneeling is governed by a bunch of hierarchical stuff and in a palace drama, the hierarchy is all-pervasive, whereas in a Wuxia, it’s more nuanced. 

Here, Wen Ning kneels to apologize to Wei Wuxian for killing his family member. Wei Wuxian, however, has come to a different understanding of that death; as Wen Qing told him long ago, Wen Ning is a knife. Wei Wuxian is the knife’s creator and wielder, which makes Wen Ning’s violence Wei Wuxian’s responsibility. By kneeling himself, he forces Wen Ning to get up and to start moving past that event.

Next, Wei Wuxian wants to cut Wen Ning’s chains off, but he needs a spiritual sword to do it so he plans to borrow Bichen. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, though, Lan Wangji appears, still drunk, and now also jealous.

Wen Ning wisely makes himself scarce, after a few obvious “scram” gestures from Wei Wuxian.

Shenanigans

After Wen Ning leaves, Wei Wuxian attempts to guide Lan Wangji back to their inn, and manages to get lost in this town with exactly four shooting locations, if you count the Inn’s dining room and bedroom as two locations.

Lan Wangji enjoys being lost and immediately gets busy stealing and tagging. 

First, he steals a couple of chickens and gifts them to Wei Wuxian. 

Much has been made of the “betrothal gift” aspect of this chicken situation, but I’m more interested in the “penis slang” aspect of the scene. 

So, in English, the word “cock” can mean a male chicken, a.k.a. a rooster, and is also popular slang for a penis, as anyone ctrl-F’ing an AO3 page to get to the spicy bits knows. 

Naturally this made me curious if the same association exists in Chinese. I’m not any kind of Chinese speaker, but Google Translate tells me that 雞 (jī) means “chicken,” 公雞 (gōngjī) means “rooster” or “male chicken”, 母雞 (mǔ jī) means “hen” or “mother chicken.” 

...and 雞雞 (jī jī) means “dick.”  

Google image search confirms that this isn’t some other type of “dick,” either. So, with that in mind...let’s look at what happens in the scene. 

1. Lan Wangji gives Wei Wuxian one chicken.  Wei Wuxian is confused. Lan Wangji gives him a second chicken.

2. Lan Wangji asks Wei Wuxian to evaluate his chicken(s), asking is it “肥‘ (féi), which Viki subtitles as “fat” but google translate tells me can also mean “fertile.”

3. Wei Wuxian says it’s fat and pets it, then gives it a thumbs up.

4. Lan Wangji wanders off while Wei Wuxian speculatively knocks their...chickens together..

Given that Chinese and wordplay go together like rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong, I’m going to go out on a limb and say I think there is possibly some sexual subtext hidden in this scene. 

Sword Grafitti

Next, Drunkji decides to carve his name on a post, so that everyone will know he’s a chicken thief, I guess.  Wei Wuxian reflects on how Lan Wangj, due to his repressed upbringing, is an even crazier drunk than Wei Wuxian is. 

Book and/or Manhua readers are aware that these mild on-screen antics are not nearly the extent of their uncensored drunken craziness. Tags include: hand jobs, biting, pinching, dubious consent, improper use of the gusu lan forehead ribbon, under-negotiated everything, major injury to a bathtub. 

Lan Wangji spends some time looking at Wei Wuxian’s suprasternal notch, and eventually allows himself to be dragged away from the farmyard.

Wei Wuxian puts his Lil-Apple dragging experience to good use here. 

Having convinced Lan Wangji to stop vandalizing things, Wei Wuxian’s natural sense of mischief instantly recovers, and he runs back to carve his own name in the post next to Lan Wangji’s.

He also takes the opportunity to try out Lan Wangji’s signature move: cuddling his beloved under the guise of keeping him from falling over, while gazing at him yearningly.

Drunken Master

Back at the Inn, Drunkji looks at Wei Wuxian with 100% bedroom eyes, but unfortunately Su She in a mask has shown up to cockblock him. 

Lan Wangji promptly sobers up the swordfighting part of his brain so he can bust a move. 

Not for the first time in this show, we’re treated to a fight scene with beautifully executed fight choreography paired with weird camera framing and rapid, choppy editing.

Wei Wuxian stands back and carefully watches the swordfighting, analyzing the fight moves to try to figure out the identity of the masked dude. Then he throws a talisman at him to chain him up. 

Fanfic writers, I feel like I should have read more stories featuring this particular talisman.

Anyway, with the virtue of hindsight, we know that this masked dude is ex-Gusu-Lan weasel Su She. How did Su She ever get to be such a strong cultivator? He holds his own in a sword fight with Hanguang-Jun, breaks a Yiling Laozu binding talisman, and teleports.

He still sucks, given that he’s not able to hang on to one little bag of corpse parts, but he’s definitely not the guy who couldn’t get his sword out of the lack back in their Gusu days. Maybe he’s getting regular doses of qi from Jin Guangyao, if you know what I mean. 

Oh He May Get Weary

After the remarkably proficient fighting, Lan Wangji goes right back to being extremely drunk, so much so that he briefly irritates Wei Wuxian with how bad he is at drinking.

But the dynamic shifts very quickly as Wei Wuxian sees Lan Wangji’s vulnerability, and allows himself to treat him with tenderness.

It's not just sentimental no, no, no She has her grief and care, yeah, yeah, yeah But the soft words they are spoke so gentle, yeah It makes it easier, easier to bear, yeah

We’re seeing a new side of Wei Wuxian in these moments. We have seen his devotion, his easy affection and his playfulness with his friends and loved ones. But tenderness is something he’s mainly reserved for Jiang Yanli.

Of course, he quickly moves along to mischief, asking Lan Wangji a series of questions about rulebreaking and rabbits. (Gifsets here and here)

Then he moves along to the serious question that’s been on his mind since their reunion: why are you helping me? In Wei Wuxian’s mind, he and Lan Wangji parted as enemies or perhaps frenemies; certainly not as allies. He doesn’t know about Lan Wangji’s grief or his true thoughts.

Lan Wangji gives him a serious answer, that he’s totally not prepared for: Lan Wangji regrets not being by Wei Wuxian’s side in the final battle.

Hearing this, Wei Wuxian comes a little unglued; he’s felt himself to be all alone, even while traveling together with Lan Wangji, and hearing that Lan Wangji has held him in his mind, possibly even in his heart, is overwhelming for him.

Wei Wuxian tries to tell him that he shouldn’t feel responsible for Wei Wuxian’s choices, but Lan Wangji refuses to acknowledge what he’s said, and drunkenly toddles off to bed.

Soundtrack: 1. Old Friends by Simon and Garfunkel 2. We Go Together, from Grease 3. Try a Little Tenderness by Otis Redding (but the version that is in my head forever is by that drunk Irish dude in The Committments, thanks VH1 circa 1991)

#the untamed #restless rewatch the untamed #wangxian #drunkji #canary3d-original #ep36

[daimyosprincess]

EX LIBRIS FICLET

WHEN I THINK ABOUT YOU

—PAIRING: Professor!Boba Fett x F!Librarian!Reader

—SUMMARY: Being alone never bothered Professor Fett, that is, before you came along.

—WORD COUNT: 866

—SERIES RATING: Explicit, 18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

—TAGS & WARNINGS: second person narration, Boba POV, no use of y/n, sexual content, YEARNING

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: This was inspired by a song prompt from the wonderful @dukeoftheblackstar in this ask! I loved this cover of "I Touch Myself," when I listened it just screamed Professor Boba pining over our librarian reader before he finally asks her out on a date! Enjoy a little Ex Libris Boba POV besties 💖

Read on AO3 — Series Masterlist — Taglist

<Part I — Part 2>

Boba never minded solitude before, the state of being alone now natural to him after so long on his own. Years passed this way, first as a bounty hunter then as a university student and professor, stretches of time where his only company was his own. There were the occasional exceptions, of course, like the odd job as part of a team or the two hunters he’d come to call friends dropping in on their way to the next gig. He was often alone, yes, but never lonely. If the mood struck, he never had a problem with finding a willing partner to warm his bed or suck his cock. Hell, some even stuck around for a while.

He’s a difficult man, and Boba knows this. He’s rough around the edges and his scars run far deeper than just his skin. He doesn’t fill the air with pointless chatter or pass out mindless flattery to placate others; he doesn’t talk much at all, in fact, content to be left to his books and papers. That’s not to say he didn’t enjoy interacting with his students, answering their questions and listening to discussions in class once he began teaching. More than once he found his office hours overrun with students wanting to learn more or seeking his feedback on their work. He might be difficult but he is at home in his body, at peace with the man that he has become.

You blew all that to pieces, however, the moment you opened your mouth that fateful day in the library, sending him tumbling down into the abyss like the island of Mandalore itself. Cunning, quick, and ravishing, you spelled the end of his contentment with solitude through your teasing wit and undeniable spark. Suddenly, his world became made for two and being alone, being without you, was unthinkable. He would do anything, overcome any obstacle to make you happy, he’d swear it on his father’s life. His existence always had a purpose, Boba never doubted that, but now it had a meaning, too.

It’s the words he has to say if he wants you by his side that make him hesitant; it always has been the karking words that make him stumble. How does he tell you he hopes you love him or that he wants to feel you above him? Or that when he searches the depths of his deepest desires, there’s only you, reminding him of what happiness could be? Why couldn’t he just take you somewhere private, show you how much you mean to him, how your laughter warmed his cold bones, or how you’re the first person since his father to make him feel safe. Why does there have to be so many words, Boba wonders, when he doesn’t want anybody else but you?

The weeks go by and your face fills his dreams, your plush, rosy lips, your sparkling eyes, the way your laugh wrinkles your nose. Your voice beckons him from the corners of his mind, leaving an unanswered ache in his chest when he awakens in the morning. Try as he may, Boba can’t resist when he’s alone in bed after another day of you dressed in a pretty sundress on his office couch, smiling and wicked as ever. He gives in. He knows he should feel guilty that when he touches his flushed, leaking cock when he’s all alone, he’s thinking about you. He thinks about the way you shine so bright and how he flourishes in your sun, about how he’s never laughed more in his entire life than in the past few weeks. Most of all, however, Boba thinks about how he wishes you were his and he was yours.

He supposes there’s some solace in his seclusion now that every time he closes his eyes you’re there, slipping in and out of his thoughts like silk through his fingers. You’re in every breath takes, every beat of his malcontent heart; your happiness is his own and without you, he would rather take to the grave than go back to his own solitary company. Shand tells him a fool could see just how much he adores you inside and out, but you’re no fool. You’re insightful, intelligent, and self-aware to a fault; you know what you want and you’re not ashamed of that fact. But do you know that he’d get down on his knees for you, that he’d do anything you asked of him no matter the cost?

Boba doesn’t want anyone else and he certainly doesn’t want to be alone in his own darkness now that you’ve lit a fire in his soul—a blaze tended by your kindness and fanned by your thinly veiled desire for his body on yours. He’d happily fulfill your every carnal wish if you asked, to be the balance a force of nature like you needed in order to ascend to the height of your pleasure. When he thinks about you, he can’t help the need that builds inside him that has to be released to ensure his continuing sanity. But mostly, when he thinks about you, he just hopes against all odds that you’re thinking about him too.

<Part I — Part 2>

#i cannot leave this fic alone i love them so much 🥹 #i promise i am working on some more stuff for y'all though #zwei writes #fanfic #ex libris fic #boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x you #boba fett fanfic #boba fett smut #boba fett fanfiction #professor!boba fett #professor boba fett #professor au #star wars fanfiction

[glacierbash]

Endwalker spoilers, iverelle lore musings

Specifically: my newest idea is that Lacionne is ALSO a warrior of light, and how that works. I don’t think it’s bc they’re both like pieces of Azem. I fully think Lacionne’s ancient soul is entirely disconnected from Azem, not related or anything, it just happened to be recycled at the same time. after finding out that she’s a warrior of light too (my current idea is that she managed to avoid the echo awakening by sheer accident), I think Iverelle and Lacionne both wonder if it should’ve been Lacionne who was THE WoL, not Iverelle. Of course, ardbert’s existence makes it pretty hard to deny that she’s supposed to be the WoL, but Iverelle’s complex:tm: makes her think it should’ve been Lacionne, not her.

But even beyond ardbert, it couldn’t have been anybody but Iverelle. In Elpis, when Venat asks Iverelle if her journey was worth it, the conversation ends with Iverelle demanding a promise from Venat: if she can avert the final days, then do so. The shards have suffered so very much. But, if there is no hope, then Venat must ensure Azem is sundered, so that Iverelle will continue to exist, so that she can continue to fight. Iverelle’s existence is only because she made Venat promise to make her exist, if that makes sense.

Lacionne could never be the warrior of light, because when Venat became Hydaelyn, she ensured Iverelle would be the one. However long it took, she knew Iverelle would be the one to stand during the final days, to stand as champion of Etheirys. But Lacionne doesn’t want, nor care, about being THE Warrior. She’s content just being A Warrior of Light. If that makes sense. Were Iverelle to ever fall, she could fill in her capacity (and during the dark future where the WoL dies during the 8th umbral calamity, Lacionne does take up a similar mantle by being the one to spread stories about her sister), she doesn’t want to.

That’s Iverelle’s role. That’s her story.

#just. thinking a Lot About the sisters now. #they have a bond I do NOT explore enough. #oc: Iverelle Vauvenelle #oc: Lacionne Vauvenelle

[ashes-writing]

Headcanons on being Billy Loomis's girlfriend and becoming a killer with him?

This was a greatly appreciated challenge, okay? I literally jumped at this one. Having said this, I preface with a strong word of caution.. I took a darker and more realistic approach. I hope that's alright. I thank you for the ask because this... it helped me step outside of my lil comfort zone of smut, angst and romance only and I've been trying to work up the nerve for some time now.

Fun fact... as I wrote the last bit of this headcanon list out, Runnin Up That Hill came on Spotify and I feel like it fit with reader's mindset all things considered.

Tag List ; @schizoauthoress - be warned.. this is dark. do not read if you feel like you're not up to it, bb. This goes for anyone, tagged or stumbled upon by chance.. Read all the warnings. Please. I don't wanna do any sort of harm or anything. the above person is the only one present on my horror movie tags, btw. If you'd like to be added, the link is below.

Other Stuff ; tag list doc || my rules - fandoms and some of the characters I write for || requests open, any and all fandoms / characters listed are fair game just not pro wrestling at the moment.

I do not consent to having my work reposted elsewhere. Or having it reworded and reposted here.

Minors, dni. Absofuckinlutely not. This one is not sexual in nature but.. It's a dead dove / don't eat type thing. The actions detailed vaguely within this are not suitable for you and I do not endorse or agree with them.. If you've a strong aversion to blood mentions, kissing,  violence and murder mentions, death of a character , killing sprees, an attempt at writing realistic reprecussions for violent crimes by someone who is not in the field of law enforcement, psychiatry or anything of that nature so yeah.. might be a shade inaccurate and for that i'm also sorry. I tried... It's just a good idea all around to skip this is the darkness and anything other than a happy ending by normal terms is less than appealing, alright? Because there are consequences for actions and those are heavily implied here.

✯ It happened by accident. You didn’t set out to kill the person you had to kill and you damn sure didn’t plan to have Billy Loomis somehow stumble upon the entire thing as it unfolded, either… You had your back against a wall literally. The only way out of the situation was outcrazy the other person. The last person you expected to help you was Billy Loomis. But he did. And the help you got in ridding yourself of a long running problem in your life came with the small price of having Billy bound to you. Billy Loomis holding something over your head other than the crush he knew you had on him and taunted you with the very night he helped you burn the body after sneaking into the crematorium in town. But he promised that the person he’d helped you get rid of wouldn’t ever hurt you again and he meant it, sealing it with a kiss and a blood pact. His word was his bond.

✯ You thought you’d feel remorse. You did at first, but then the euphoria took over. The sheer relief at having finally handled a long running problem in your life awakened something dark inside you. The way it felt to know someone absolutely fucking vile took their last breath at your hand. A horrible person was gone and couldn’t hurt anybody anymore because of you. Billy killed for the hell of it. For you, it’s more of a ridding society of it’s disgusting blights. You tend to go after the people who hurt others, who do unspeakable things and yet somehow continue to dodge proper punishment. And this makes Billy so goddamn hot. There’s just something about your righteous indignation and the way you handle it that makes him fall and he falls hard.

✯ It doesn’t take long for you to get antsy. There’s so much more to be done. The desire to do something, to right abhorrent wrongs.. And Billy just wants another kill and he’ll take it any way he can get it. You’re his girl now and you have been for a while by this point so.., if you want something, he’ll move mountains to give it to you. If this means the waters run red with somebody’s blood or walls are painted with it, so be it. The two of you think you’re in the clear and the search begins for another target, somebody, anybody to sate your combined bloodlust but just as you’re closing in on one, law enforcement closes in on him. They believe you’re just a hostage, collateral damage from the murder of the person you actually murdered. Not Billy, you.

✯ You discuss it and you agree that somewhere south of the border. Or somewhere far outside of the US with very lengthy extradition laws and a lot of red tape is your best bet and on your way to escape, a cross country killing spree begins. It’s tricky at first because you have to change your MO completely and this is when Billy, a heat of the moment, stone cold crazy blitz killer truly shines. And you’re there, by his side, helping him dispose of the aftermath every step of the way.

✯ The end is bloody. Violent. And you’re ripped apart from him with such brutal finality. Watching him die in front of your eyes shatters you. You pick up the gun he dropped and you unload it. Round after round and your mind just goes black. When you come around a little later, you find yourself in a cell. With a straight jacket your only company. But you know there’s one surefire way to reunite so maybe that’s why when the public defender shows up to appeal to you to take an insanity plea on the grounds of Stockholm Syndrome, you adamantly refuse. You go even further and you do the one thing you can do for the man you loved in clearing his name of at least one wrong he’d been accused of. You give a confession, in full. The insanity plea you were offered disappears and now it’s down to the choice between life in prison or the death sentence. And maybe, to an extent, they’re right, you are insane. But as soon as you pick the death sentence and seal your own fate, you can hear him. “Atta girl. Come home to daddy, sweetheart.” and you smile the entire long walk down to the execution chamber. You take your last breath knowing that Billy’s waiting for you. Probably impatient, probably bitching because it took too long and the plan was never for the truth to come out in the first place, but… He’s waiting. And soon you’ll be reunited.

#billy loomis #billy loomis x fem!reader #billy loomis x fem! reader fanfiction #billy loomis fanfiction #// minors dni #// dark themes ahead. please for the love of god read the warnings below the big flashing gif loves. #// bc tumblr won't allow me to post with them done out in the hashtags this time I've tried twice.

[jmrothwell]

Heya. I decided to revisit an old original work of mine and decided to share a few bits of it, from several different points in the story.

.

She awakens to find that she’s surrounded by darkness. No, it's not dark, there's just something covering her eyes. 

She attempts to move her hand but it won't move. Something is holding her arms down. 

In a feeble effort she tries to kick but that doesn't work either. 

What's going on? Why is this happening? 

She continues to struggle against the restraints when she hears the murmur of  voices from nearby. She cries out to them. 

Demands to know what is happening. Begs for their help  and her freedom. Instead they go silent again. 

“No. Don't leave me here alone.”  The struggle to break free resumes. Screams and please are shouted into the void. 

Somebody please help.

-     -      -

Elise sat on her bed, her breathing heavy. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears. She tried to remember what had frightened her so much that it woke her, but she can't recall anything more than fleeting memories of black.

“It was just a dream” She whispered aloud as she looked around her own dark room, her breathing slowing back down to normal. 

Then she noticed how raw her throat was. She hoped she wasn't getting sick as she got up and went to the kitchen to fetch some water.  The cold ground sent chills through her bare feet and up her legs.  

It'd been a while since she’d woken from a nightmare like that. Dr. Zeidler had assured her at the time it was because she was in such confined quarters, shortly afterward she had been moved to this apartment and received more regular visits from Dr. Zeidler. 

She stopped short of her cupboard. What sort of treatment would cause her to have to be confined like this in the first place?

Her thoughts were interrupted by what sounded like someone tapping against a hard surface behind her. 

Elise turned slowly, her heartbeat picking up again, however she didn't see anybody. She was about to pass it off as her imagination when she heard the tapping grew louder and more insistent. 

She looked around for the source and noticed it grew louder the closer she got to her mirrored door.

She stepped in front of the mirror unsure as to why she was disappointed to see herself in her gray nightgown staring back at her. 

“Hello?” she asked, her voice coming out quieter than she had hoped. 

The tapping stopped, had she just imagined the whole thing? She shrugged it off and turned back towards the kitchen when she felt something brush past her foot accompanied by a metallic sound scrape across her floor.

Elise looked down to see a key with a small note attached by a string laying on her floor. Cautiously she picked it up, it easily fit in the palm of her hand and the metal was slightly warm like someone had recently been grasping tight to it. 

She admired the key a bit longer; it didn't look anything like the brass keys Dr. Zeidler had. This one's metal work was completely different. One end had been fashioned in the shape similar to that of a heart, the other end looked like jagged teeth, almost like the key was trying to smile.

Elise finally picked up the paper note attached to it and let out a small gasp. She saw her own name written in bold clear print facing up at her. Below it was written #2701-1832-AC.

 Elise briefly wondered what the numbers could mean before she turned the paper over to see in red messy thin lines written, Try it now.

Try it now? 

Elise wondered what was meant by that. Did whoever gave her this expect her to use it on her own door? Elise looked from the key to the keyhole in her mirror. 

She had always wondered what was on the other side, this could be her chance to get all the answers she had hoped for. 

This couldn’t possibly work, could it? For one thing it clearly wasn't the same key that was used to get out of her apartment by others, still she felt her feet inch their way closer towards the mirror.

Her mind kept racing, and before she knew it her hand was mere centimeters away from the keyhole. She let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as she slid the key in with no resistance. She closed her eyes and bit her lip hoping she wasn't out of her mind for even trying, and slowly she turned the key.

The small click echoed loud around her.

Her eyes opened wide as she heard the familiar sound and felt the door begin to ease open. 

It'd worked. She couldn't believe it. She could feel light laughter building up in her chest as she quickly went and put on a random sweater from her wardrobe over her nightgown and slipped the key into one of its pockets. She was sliding on her slippers as she began to step out of her apartment for the first time she could remember.

.

.

Lights which precariously hung from a barely held together ceiling flickered, each  flicker managed to illuminate a different stain on the walls or floor of the hall. Ofira’s heels clicked as she avoided the fresher looking stains. She grimaced as she felt shivers run down her spine that were unrelated to the crop top she was wearing. She always hated coming here. 

Thank the gods she had her knives strapped to her thigh beneath her shorts.

It didn’t take her long to reach the apartment halfway down the hall, the number 44 barely visible against the door. She adjusted the folder under her arm and unceremoniously began to pound on the door. She could hear someone shuffling within, soon she was greeted by a pale man who could be in his late 20’s covered in an overabundance of scars, tattoos, piercings and even a few fresh cuts. 

“Shadows below, woman, can’t you,” the man scratched what little of his black hair he hadn’t shaved from the top of his head. 

“Can it, Griff.” Ofira cut him off. She slapped the folder at a section of chest without any fresh blood on it as she walked past him into the apartment. “We’ve got a new job.”

“Please make yourself at home.” Griff sneered with a roll of his eyes as he slammed his door and began to rifle through the folder.

Ofira looked around, the only clear spaces were a square of empty kitchen counter and the mattress on the floor. She sure as hell was not about to sit where Griff slept and did who knows what else. Counter it was, she perched herself there and picked up a nearby container of takeout, smelled fresh. 

Griff practically growled as he snatched the container from Ofira and threw the folder back in her lap. Ofira twirled a strand of golden hair in her fingers as she watched Griff take a bite of food. 

What was this idiot doing? “Umm shouldn’t you be going and getting ready? I just told you we’ve got a job. Put on a shirt at least.”

“You kidding?” Griff scoffed between mouthfuls as he flopped himself on the mattress, “that looks like nothing more than a grab and bag, a ridiculously easy grab and bag at that. Come get me when there’s something more interesting.”

“I can’t keep covering for your ass.” Ofira spat back “They’re gonna find out you’ve been slacking.”

“Right and what are they gonna do, send you to come snap me up?” Griff could barely hide the laugh from his voice. 

“Ugh I would love to rip you a new one sometimes, except you’d get off on that.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Griff snorted and returned to his takeout. “If that’s all you came here about feel free to leave at any time. You know where the door is.”

“Why do I even bother?” Ofira let out an exasperated sigh and jumped off the counter.

It didn’t take her long to be back in the stained hallway from before. She just needed to get this job done. She’d get it done, get her-more than likely ridiculously meager-check and then go back to getting freebies from guys at the club. 

She flipped the folder open to look at the picture of the tanned, teal eyed girl there. “Time to find you, Ms. Dodgson.”

#writing #I am tired and felt like sharing some old stufff #did some basic refomartting and changed a couple of lines but otherwise untouched since 2020

[friendzonefrog]

Word Find Tag

Thanks for the tags @fearofahumanplanet and @calicojackofficial! (sorry it took me a bit!) I've seen this game going around so I'm excited to finally do it :)

My words are: alone, consideration, convenience, dance, friend, glory, profession, sick, somewhere, and split.

[notes:

*Dialogue in parentheses is an indication of a voiceover or a thought bubble.

*Some of these characters haven't been officially introduced yet? jkdjkdjk I'll get around to it eventually]

--

Alone - from Shreds of Integrity

DEWEY: Don’t think they could ever put her away for anything, let alone this. Her name's probably in the dictionary under “immunity.” (“See: privilege.”)

---

Consideration - from The Fall of Strömberg

(which is still in its conceptualization stage. Haven't settled on a final format yet, but here's sth from my notes.)

"Madam, such matters are above your understanding, and are to be left to the lords," continued the guard. "Serfs as you have no business in such affairs."

The woman's voice stammered, and her expression turned sour. "Perish, anyhow!" she blurted. "And if you awaken and find yourself to be more than a heap of ash come dawn, you will kindly tell His Lordship of my resignation." With that she marched off, without even the slightest consideration that she could be executed for taking such a brash tone.

--

Convenience - from Ms. Praline & the Evening Star

Oh, suppose one day every family might have their own zeppelin, just as they would a carriage? How splendid would that be? Imagine the convenience: upon receiving an urgent telephone call, a doctor could arrive briskly, albeit dramatically, to the patient’s lawn-- just in a matter of minutes!

---

Dance - from ERR0R!

DMITRY: I hate it when people cheer louder for me than they normally would for anybody else. It felt nice back when I was first learning to dance again, but... it doesn’t feel triumphant anymore. It just feels like people have permanently lowered their expectations for me, and they’re astonished I can even do the bare minimum.

---

Friend - from Shreds of Integrity

[tw: divorce]

STEPH: I think we were so worried about trying to save things… We didn’t even realize that the harder thing is letting go. 

DEWEY: Come on. I’ve been around you long enough to know when you're just copy-pasting the advice you give to patients who need to leave toxic friendships. 

STEPH: And it still applies to a toxic marriage.

---

Glory

---

Profession - from Shreds of Integrity

MADELEINE: Shh. I can’t be getting noise complaints at my own damn hotel. That’s just tacky and unprofessional.

---

Sick - from Shreds of Integrity

[tw: separation / divorce is kind of implied? ]

STEPH: This is… pathetic.

DEWEY: I know, I know, I… I’m sorry.

STEPH: Why didn’t you call a Lyft, or--

DEWEY: I was going to. My phone died. I just… I don’t know, I thought I’d sneak in and give it a quick charge, that’s all.

STEPH: Right, so "quick" that you had to take a nap while you waited.

DEWEY: I didn't mean to fall asleep. I’m sorry.

STEPH: You broke in, Dewey. I could press charges.

DEWEY: I know. I guess I was banking on the hope that you… wouldn’t.

STEPH: I’m sick of this. You can’t even hold up your end of one agreement?

---

Somewhere - from Shreds of Integrity

WES: You thought I was dead in a ditch somewhere, huh.

---

Split

---

Tagging: @antihell @luckadelic and @memento-morri-writes (no pressure, and sorry if yall don't do tag games!)

Your words are: free, kitchen, leave, sleep, and without.

WIP taglists below cut

Taglists: (ask to be added/removed!)

Shreds of Integrity- @goldenzingy46

ERR0R!- @writeouswriter

[you guys can also do the game if u want!]

#tag game #shreds of integrity #oc: dewey #oc: steph #oc: wes #wip: err0r! #oc: dmitry #the fall of strömberg #ms. praline & the evening star #oc: praline #tw divorce

[dozydawn]

Martha Stewart attends the Costume Institute Gala, 1998. Photographed by Ron Galella.

#hope this doesn’t awaken anything in anybody #martha stewart #ron galella #1998 #1990s #80s #fashion #mine

[omegansamurai]

You know what ticks me off about what Bryke did to Aang?

They basically didn’t let him interact with the other characters to make him grow into a better person. It was always about Katara.

Like there was when Zuko and Aang went with each other to the Sun Warrior Island, but all of a sudden in TSR, “Zuko’s bad, and we have to make him bad to let the audience know that he’s not a right match for Katara!”

...Like, didn’t Zuko have a redemption arc? And now he’s bad again? ...Clearly I’m missing something here.

I mean, what about other characters? This show is about character growth, so why not let Aang grow into a better person. I’m not saying he isn’t, but he’s clearly a child with a child-like view. Unless the person LIVED through the whole trauma of a genocide, then you don’t listen to what that person preaches about forgiveness and not kill and whatnot. He hasn’t seen or DONE anything like that. Like he could’ve talked about fighting with Sokka, even Suki. They would tell him how they’d strike first and whatnot and make sure the enemy is down. That would make him question his morals a little bit. I mean, he could just knock them out, not really kill them(kind of like Batman, you know?).

Oh, and Toph...come on, Aang, she’s your age, at least talk to her a little bit! She’d even gone through some tough crap that you can probably ask her about....(and maybe develop a little crush on later) 

But it was always Katara...it’s like, dude, you got other friends, ask for their advice that isn’t LOVE advice. You’re freaking twelve, your mind isn’t that advanced yet to think about actual true love. But of course, romance(!), because Bryke can’t think of anything else interesting.

Honestly, I’m really seeing the flaws with Canon Aang now. We tend to forget that he’s portrayed as a 12-year-old boy in ATLA, when we really think he’s this all-knowing kid that...ran away, got frozen in an iceberg for 100 years, and the next thing he thinks after being awakened is penguin sledding with a cute older girl that he, for the first time, sees after being released in the iceberg? Not only that, but he really didn’t fully control his Avatar State. He didn’t even mention it to anybody else, BUT Katara. And he mentioned it just two times, TWO TIMES, to her in season 3(I think). 

Man, the writing quality on season 3 of ATLA is jarring, and it’s sad that nobody notices it. They automatically say it’s the perfect show. I’m sorry, but from all the flaws in the writing of s3(and believe me, there are FLAWS, not only in Aang) and wasted character interactions that Aang could’ve had with the other characters, BESIDES Katara? You’re just gonna ignore that? Granted, you don’t think about it the first time you watch it, but when you watch it again...and a third time...and maybe a fourth time...you can see the flaws.

And while on the topic of Bryke, apparently, they think the show is about romance. And honestly, I’m starting to believe Aang is a self insert of Mike. He doesn’t even hide it in ATLA and LOK(which I will never watch), without the tattoo on his head, his facial structure is there. As you may know, I hold no high regards to Bryke, especially Mike, but Aang is really becoming evident that he’s nothing more than Mike’s super 13-year-old fantasy self-insert of being the hero who gets the girl. Believe me, I had that phase happened to me too...when I was 13. I mean, granted I wasn’t winning a girl at the time, but I watched a lot of Dragonball Z...yeah, take that to account. X( 

Either way, this fandom has gotten so toxic now on how they think Aang was right and is such a hero, when...they just forgot about HOW his genocide was started(him running away), that he’s just 12 in a war-torn world that only held on to his simple child-like belief that everything would be a-okay if we just forgive and hug and hopefully they won’t stab us in the back, and on how his obsessive feelings with Katara is so unhealthy. And it really is, people. He has a world to save, he doesn’t have time to score a girl, especially at his age. 

And as for him finding someone else who isn’t Katara down the road in life...well, hey, Toph’s right there! And I’m sure she would grow up too to be an even better person in life! I mean, kids mature and age, people! You think Aang is really gonna focus on ONE girl? Come on, Aang is clearly a guy, he’ll grow up and find other women attractive. I mean, look at Suki! XP 

It’s just...s3′s writing later on and maybe in the middle of it is so contrived and unrealistic, it needs to be questioned. 

Oh, and don’t tell me that the Air Nomads didn’t fight back against the Fire Nation Army when they attacked their temples, which three things on that: 

1. When the Fire Nation attacked, what do you think the Air Nomads were gonna do; sit down, drink tea, and negotiate a bit? 

2. I honestly think there had to been MORE Air Nomads laying low in the Avatar world, but that wasn’t explored...thanks Bryke. -_-x 

3. And saying that the Air Nomads were a ‘pure race’ is such a pile of bullcrap. If that’s the case, then Aang escaping from his duties as Avatar the first time around wasn’t so ‘pure’, was it? Since, you know, doing this caused an Air Nomad GENOCIDE. And again, the temples where the skeletons of the dead Air Nomads indicated that they FOUGHT the Fire Nation to the death, which skeletons of FIRE NATION SOLDIERS were littered across the floor!? Gee...sounds kind of pure, doesn’t it?

Okay, well, this is a long rant, so I’ll stop here. But I hope you all get what I’m saying with all of this. Aang needed to grow. He needed to be challenged. He needed his morals and beliefs questioned. It makes him more of an interesting character. Yet Bryke...chose the lazy, uninspiring, and quite frankly, cowardly way out of telling Aang is right and no one questions him on it. He didn’t have guidance from his other friends, just his love for Katara to guide him. Which is NOT good enough, I’m sorry. It’s just selfish. Plain and simple as that. 

Bryke(or Mike to be precise) wanted to be the Hero...but at what cost?

#anti-bryke #atla #atla fandom #aang #anti-kataang #s3 flaws #aang-critical #aang's flaws #bryke's self-insertion #I do like aang #I just want aang to be the character that he is meant to be #Not bryke's view of what aang should be #and honestly #it's not about the romance #I just want aang to grow #and really #I'm gonna say it #aang loving katara stunts that growth #I'm sorry to say that but it does #so with that said #comics are trash #lok is trash #anything else that bryke makes at avatar studios #will #be #TRASH #zuko #toph #sokka #suki

[scribblingfangirl]

WITH LOVE, THE GOSTS | Julie and The Phantoms - Part Three

.•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

Author’s Note: I decided that this fic trilogy occurs a year after the season one final, making Julie and Y/N almost (or already) 17. Also… this part turned out waaay longer than expected. Which is why there is going to be a fourth part because I have one last idea but didn’t want to rush to write it. And to think this all started because of a rushed (haha) 1k Oneshot. I should really start to write more spontaneously, it seems like good things come out of it. Anyway, Enjoy! :D

Songs mentioned in this chapter (in this order): Now or Never & Wake Up by JaTP | Don't Stop Me Now by Queen | Rude by MAGIC! | Don’t Laugh At Me by Mark Wills | Don’t You Worry ’Bout a Thing by Tori Kelly | Still Learning by Halsey | Ayo Technology by 50 Cent | My version of My Name Is Luke by Trevor Wilson | Let’s Forget About It by Lisa Loeb | Let's Just Get Naked Lyrics by Joan Osborne | Hey by Pixies

word count: ~ 3.9k

summary: Even after meeting the boys they still aren’t tired of helping you out and they each have their own little ways to do it.

warnings:  // (english is not my first language, not beta-read)

| PART ONE | PART TWO |

.•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

Knowing that ghosts existed was an absurd feeling (even though you had always believed or hoped that there was more out there than just this world, especially with all those planets that had been discovered by NASA), but knowing that there were three certain ghosts that liked you enough to kindly haunt you, well… that was just plain unimaginable somehow. Yet, still less anxiety awakening than you expected. 

After Julie let you meet the guys for the first time you thought you were prepared to accept that you would not be able to talk to them unless they played something (after all, you had Flynn to groan about that), but the occasional giggle from Julie and her glances into nothing still sent chills down your spine.

So you started to always look around very suspiciously whenever you were over at her house and make obscene hand movements just to be sure that the boys would move before you walked somewhere or sat down (which just earned chuckles from Flynn and annoyed sighs from Julie - “Just because you can’t see them, doesn’t mean they can’t see you. They know where you are, so please stop, or else my dad will call your parents and send you to Dr Turner as well.” The boys found it hilarious and liked to imitate you whenever they came too close to you.) 

The boys also still kept doing little things for you, just not so in secret anymore (though… Reggie was never one for subtlety). Whenever you seemed to have had a bad day (or whenever they just wanted to make you smile) you knew you could count on them having something prepared for you. 

You soon discovered that anything related to food (which sometimes were extremely odd and bizarre combinations) was Luke’s doing (except for pizza and meatballs, according to Julie that was always Reggie). And you knew it was Alex whenever it was something more calm and soothing, yet sometimes a little bit clumsy. And whenever it was blatantly obvious and/or slightly weird (in a good way!) it was Reggie. 

Well, no. Not always in a good way. One time you came back from school and your whole room was filled with glitter and butterflies and a small note with a little ‘Sorry!’ on it was pinned to your desk - cleaning that had been a pain in the a-. But you couldn’t be angry at Reggie, even though you weren’t quite sure what his ultimate goal would have been. 

Speaking of REGGIE...

All those helpful little deeds and nice gestures were always done within the limits of your house (mostly room) or Julie’s house and the studio, which is why you almost let out a loud yelp when suddenly during a math test your pen started to move on his own, filling out the empty space (because yes, you hadn’t been doing very much other than staring helplessly at the paper in front of you). Quickly you grabbed the pen as well (loosely and while trying to ignore the fact that you were practically holding hands with one of the guys) so that nobody would see a floating pen as you did a few weeks ago at Christmas.

From the corners of your eyes, you saw Julie slightly move her head towards you, as if she was listening to you - or rather someone right beside or behind you. ‘Of course. I can’t see them, so the only way to help me is by physically grabbing the pen, but Julie can hear and see them, so they (whoever this is - because let’s be honest, none of the guys really looks like a math genius) only have to tell her the corrects solutions and how to get there. My money’s on Alex.’

You were kind of shocked, and weirdly proud when Julie came up to you after class and said: “Reggie’s not so questionable after all, huh?” (Though… you should’ve guessed it, you did say subtlety wasn’t Reggie’s strong suit.) So you just giggled and shook your head while leaving some of your books in your locker (alongside the fact that Reggie was probably almost (if not!) hugging you from behind - you shuddered at that thought, it’s not like you were already awkward around living boys your age, no need to add ghosts to that list!)

A week later you and Julie entered the studio with blank faces and hanging shoulders. Julie threw a weak little wave towards the piano and sighed while you threw the blankets and snacks you were holding carelessly on the ground and let yourself fall face-first onto the couch, not being able to hide your smile anymore.

“We got our math exams back… yes the one Reggie helped us with.”

You couldn’t see what Julie was doing, but you heard her gasp and whisper “No! Reggie…” after a while. Then she was standing beside you, nudging your shoulder and willing you to sit up, but you didn’t bulge, needing a few more seconds to wipe the smile off your face again.

Faking to disgruntledly accept defeat as Julie’s nudges got stronger (the couch was really comfortable, you totally understood Luke now) you sat up and looked at Julie. “Who’s going to tell them?” you said with a heavy voice and felt how the couch dipped beside you. Raising your eyebrows you quickly glanced to the side (obviously not seeing anybody or anything) and looked back at Julie questioningly. 

She nodded, telling you that it was indeed Reggie and gave you the okay to drop the bomb.

You sighed as you turned back around, facing the wall on the other side of the studio and hoped that Reggie would ignore the fact that you were probably talking to his ear or something. “So Reggie… the help you gave us on the math final? Well…,” you couldn’t keep your face straight any longer and jumped onto the couch, “WE ACED IT! I WOULD HUG YOU IF YOU WEREN’T MADE OUT OF CUTE AIR!” (Okay… maybe there was a little bit too much serotonin involved.)

Julie added smiling, “And I’m happy to announce that due to my good grades my father allowed Julie and The Phantoms to play at the upcoming Summer Music Festival!”

A guitar riff filled the studio, followed by a short drum intro and with a ‘puff!’ the boys appeared in front of you, beaming and glowing at the news. Reggie even threw a wink at you when you smiled back and said: “Thank you!”

Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising Up right now And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never!

This allowed LUKE…

The music festival was an experience you would never forget. You were very happy Ray managed to persuade your parents to let you accompany Julie (sadly Flynn had no such luck). Not only did you turn 17 and the boys made sure to have the whole crowd sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to you (as soon as you were back home you would add an extra point to your to-do: ‘find out how to kill ghosts a second time’), but the boys rocked the stage and Julie stood up taller and shined brighter than ever before. 

Gone (yet not forgotten) were the painful shocks and the fear of never performing again and the serenity of the guys was visible. 

It was the last night of the music festival when Julie got the phone call from her father. He would come by to get her the next morning and they would drive directly to visit other family members and spend the rest of the summer holidays there. 

Of course, Julie was excited to see her cousins and aunts and uncles again, but she also felt bad to leave you to drive back alone (you had come with your car jam-packed with all the necessary equipment you needed and that wasn’t provided by the festival).

“Don’t worry! It’s only a four-hour drive! I’ve got good music, podcasts and audiobooks to keep me company and back home Flynn will be waiting. It sadly looks like I’m going to survive without you.” 

Early the next morning Julie and some newfound fans of Julie and The Phantoms helped you load the equipment into your car and you said goodbye to Julie. Expecting the boys to just directly puff back to Los Feliz you didn’t waste any time and entered your car, connected your phone with the stereo and started to blast your favourite Broadway musicals.

You must’ve been on the road for half an hour when suddenly the playlist stopped and ‘Wake Up’ started to play.

So wake that spirit, spirit!

Confused you scrunched up your nose and touched the touch screen displaying the music system, trying to change it back to your playlist. But instead, the music changed yet again.

(Don't stop me now) 'Cause I'm having a good time (Don't stop me now) Yes, I'm havin' a good time I don't want to stop at all

“What the hell?” you muttered, staring at your stereo for a quick second before focusing back on the road, “Why you always going crazy on me dude?”

Once again the music switched.

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too?

It took you a hot minute to understand what was going on and then you couldn’t stop laughing. 

Don't laugh at me, don't call me names Don't get your pleasure from my pain

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said mockingly, looking at the empty passenger seat, guessing that that’s where your invisible friend was sitting. “Your pain? I’m not the one who is able to puff wherever and whenever their heart desires and who sneaks up on innocent people.”

Silence. 

“For what it’s worth. I’m sorry. I really am. It’s not like you choose this life, you deserved better than this. But I’m really glad I was able to get to know you. I’m really thankful for the light and happiness you brought back into Julie’s life.”

Don't you worry 'bout a thing

But I'm still learnin' to

using technology

You laughed. “Impressive skills nevertheless. Knowing three fitting songs and then changing them at the right time? Let me guess, Luke? Because I don’t think all of you three would fit into my tiny car full of musical equipment.”

At first, there was no music yet again, but then the slow melody of a (for you) well-known song flooded your car. It was the one Trevor Wilson song you never understood until you met the boys, the one song that was so totally different to his usual rock sound (except for the refrains, which, as you later would find out, were parts of the original lyrics Luke wrote for his version of the song).

I sing to remember the stories that used to be But I don’t write to create what could have been And as I scream words into the darkness around me They come out like a dying whisper

The kindest thing to do is to silence them and let them die To unleash my heartfelt sorrow into the sky  And diminish the will to fight That pulses like fire and screams with pain through my veins

But life’s not always beautiful, it’s rare So I’mma chase it, watch you make it

Don’t need to introduce himself You will want to know his name Pushing your foundations down  He is here to stay

Don’t call him a breeze when he’s a hurricane Don’t call him a tremble when he’s an earthquake Don’t call him an inconvenience Please just say his name

Leaving lyrics in my hands That I swallow like pills Like hurtful words, they rip and claw And press painfully against my chest

But no matter how painful they are I will soak them up, thinking of our hopes and wishes And as each word pushes a new pulse through my veins I keep staring out on the grave of our shared space of mind

Life’s not always beautiful, but it’s rare So I’mma chase it, watch you make it

Don’t need to introduce himself You will want to know his name Pushing your foundations down  He is here to stay

Don’t call him a spark when he’s a lightning bolt Don’t call him a flicker when he’s a raging flame Don’t you dare to underestimate him Please just say his name

But even when the word flood finally comes to an end Fidgeting hands remind me of music never played

I owe him my voice I owe him my sound

So I give him this time I give him this space To sing it out loud To let him declare And let me be proud

What’s his name? (His name is Luke!) What’s his name? (His name is Luke!) What’s his name? (His name is Luke!)

How long do we say his name? (Until we explode!)

My name is Luke! (Tell your friends!)

Tears were rolling down your cheeks, the song now more emotional than ever before. You couldn’t imagine how this song must affect Luke. Thinking that his bandmate abandoned him (which honestly… he kind of did, only mentioning him in one song, not giving any money to their parents and so on) up until he heard the song for the first time.

“Luke…”

Forget about it Let's forget about it

The ensuing silence wasn’t awkward. You hummed along to the music Luke selected, sometimes it were old classics (probably his favourites), other times it seemed to be random newer hits he probably never heard before mixed with some songs from your favourite playlists.

It was nearing midday and your stomach made itself known. As if on cue a road sign hinted at a diner just up ahead. Setting the blinker you pulled into the parking lot a few moments later.

“I hope you don’t mind. I know home’s only like an hour away, but...” you began to trail off, not knowing where to look at and your stomach finished your sentence. And before you were able to grab the door handle it sprung wide open. 

“Uh, what a gentleman. Thank you very much.”

The meal was over in a flash and once more you realised how much the boys actually knew about you without having actually interacted with you (perks of seeing other people without being seen themselves?). 

It’s like Luke could read your wishes just from your facial expressions. Whenever you needed salt or pepper they were right there. Whenever something was too salty or had too much pepper on your drink was being pushed closer to your side. And when you accidentally spilt something and needed more napkins they magically appeared.

When you then spotted a cute little guitar keychain that reminded you of Luke that was being sold as a souvenir at the check-out it was suddenly safely tucked into your back pocket (though that was really really risky, and while you did not condone it you couldn’t really stop a ghost).

Back in your car, you didn’t even bother to turn on the stereo, knowing that Luke would take over as soon as your hands were on the steering wheel again. 

However, a glance to your right presented you with a map of your surroundings, a big x hastily drawn over the Silverwood Lake in San Bernardino, which was basically just around the corner.

“You want to go swimming? We- I just ate! And my bathing suit is somewhere under that mountain of equipment on the backseat.”

Let's just get naked, just for a laugh Let's just get naked It's a trip and a half

You laughed at that, rolling your eyes and shaking your head, before stowing the map away and turning on the car. “I guess catching Reggie in the shower isn’t enough anymore?”

Hey!

“You started making it weird buddy.”

It had started to rain when you finally pulled up in your driveway, but you couldn’t be bothered to rush inside, enjoying the feeling of the cooling wetness on your skin.

“Look at that,” you said to nobody in particular, not knowing if Luke was still around or if he puffed back to the garage, “I didn’t even need to go swimming after all.”

He was. Sitting in the passenger seat, face on his arms while he leaned on the open car window, he watched you dance in the rain with a smile on his face. He was glad he decided to stick around and keep you company on that road trip. You gave him the courage to listen to My Name Is Luke for the first time (and getting to see you smile while showing off his impressive music knowledge was a bonus too). Because without knowing, you were doing little deeds for the boys too.

And made ALEX…

Whoever wrote that “Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning how to dance in the rain”-quote totally forgot to mention how dangerous small summer storms can be. 

Well sure, it might have been your fault for staying out for too long and deciding to let the sun that came out a little bit later dry you instead of changing into fresh and dry clothes, but whatever happened happened and you got sick. (It’s not like you had anything better to do during the last few days of your summer holidays, right?) 

Flynn had been a great friend and hung out almost daily at your house, playing board games, watching movies or tv or even just discussing upcoming Julie and The Phantoms possibilities with you. But your dearest little helper had been Alex.

The blond drummer had turned into the tall brother you never had but always wanted (focus on tall because the age thing with ghosts is seriously confusing) even if he was invisible to you 100% of the time. You had the same interests and were able to bond without actually having to say any words, little gestures and reciprocations on your side were more than enough.

Julie had come up with an easy solution and had bought you some of those sound buzzers (like the ones that dogs and cats use to communicate with their owners) and recorded some simple words and phrases the boys liked to use on them. Now the boys just had to press them to be able to communicate with you without having to use pen and paper or Julie herself (sure your parents were a little bit weary and confused, but you said it was for a longer school research project and that shut them up).

Now, feeling way better than during the last few days, but still very tired, you were sitting in your bed, not really focused on the tv show (or was it a movie?) that was playing on your computer. You had been contemplating and mentally preparing yourself to get something to eat and to drink for the past 15 minutes, but the thoughts alone were exhausting and binding you to the bed. Just then a tray with a water bottle, meds and a fruit bowl floated into your room. 

Suddenly wide awake and full of energy you clumsily jumped out of your bed and grabbed the tray, throwing a quick glance out of the door to see if your parents were around and slammed the door shut, wincing at the loud sound and hoping that Alex had walked out of the way (not that it would have hurt him, but you know - rude).

“Rude.” 

See? He thought the same. (Julie had to specifically add this word for Alex.) 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. But I would like not to get murdered or have Sam and Dean Winchester on my back because my parents think I’m possessed and need to be exorcised.”

“Me.”

“You what?”

“Me.”

“Alex… I need more context.”

“I do. Me.”

You just blinked blankly at the sound buzzers, trying to piece together what Alex was trying to say.

“Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. M-”

“THAT’S ENOUGH Y/N! WHATEVER THAT SCHOOL PROJECT IS, TELL IT I HEARD IT AND I DON’T CARE WHAT IT WANTS!” you heard your father's scream come muffled through the door.

The audience laughter from sitcoms filled your room and you groaned, grabbing a pillow and smashing it against your face.

Faintly you heard the telltale sound of a pen scribbling something on paper and when you peeked from behind the pillow a note was floating in the air in front of you. “You mean exorcise ME! You would be the one surviving!” 

“What? Oh my god… yeah okay, YOU get exorcised… same thing. Both aren’t allowed to happen. Forgive my fever brain.”

“No.”

“Fork you, Alex.”

“No.”

“I have Carlos on speed-dial, I’m sure he already came up with other methods to get rid of ghosts other than the salt thing. He already told me that he’s sorry and that he thinks I might get haunted by you too with the amount of time I spend at their house.” 

“No. Food.”

Confused at that topic change it took you a few seconds to answer. “What?” Looking around your gaze landed on the tray that you had deposited on your desk. “Oh right! Boy, I completely forgot how thirsty and hungry I am. Did I say thank you? Fang u!” you mumbled with your mouth full of fruit. 

“No. Food.”

You swallowed down your food and took a big gulp of water. “Yes Alex, thank you. I am eating. You see? Here I am, here’s the food. The food is here and now whoops - ifs gan!”

You could basically feel the annoyance radiating from the ghost and weren’t really shocked when the pen started to scribble something down again.

“No! Argh!” He really wrote Argh… that dork really wrote Argh! “You can be worse than Reggie sometimes, but you do it on purpose and I’m just sorry for Reggie. A) Carlos thinks he got rid of us by making a french dip and B) You’re awfully lively for a supposedly sick person. I might need to use the buzzers more and see what other reactions I can provoke from your parents.”

Crumbling the note in your hands you thought ‘Challenge accepted’. “You know what? I think I’mma go back on Reggie’s offer and actually let him introduce me to Wilbur. He might know some stuff I could use to blackmail you. And you’re right! I feel much better, just very tired, but that’s nothing a little bit of fresh air can’t fix! Toodles!” 

You left your room, leaving a flabbergasted ghost behind who had lost his snapback with the number of times he had been combing through his hair with his hands. And while angrily pressing a pink buzzer, the buzzer wasn't the only thing that screamed “WILLIAM!” after the girl. (That was another important sound Alex wanted to have recorded.)

.•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

Taglist: @sunsetcurvej​​ @ifilwtmfc​

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp x reader #julie and the phantoms x reader #luke patterson x reader #reggie peters x reader #alex mercer x reader #jatp imagine #julie and the phantoms imagine #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #jatp one shot #jatp oneshot #julie and the phantoms oneshot #julie and the phantoms one shot #my writing #viascribbles

[itswildwinters]

● S N I P P E T ︱In Your Scent I Thrive — coming June 16th on ao3 as part of the @1daboficfest​.

main tags: A/B/O, Omega Louis, Alpha Harry, College Students, Explicit.

The strap of his bag weights down onto his shoulder as he hoists it up, turning the area into a red colour. He walks down the stairs, avoiding making eye-contact with the group of rowdy students. It’s not their fault that he’s uncomfortable, he only has himself to blame; but even though he is painfully aware of that, there’s still a part within him that wants to glare at the omega with blue hair or the beta with large, round, thick-rimmed glasses.

He stops at one point when he remembers the book he has wanted to read for a while, and quickly whirling around, he walks to the Cinema and Media studies section, the back of the hand pressing against his nose. Besides the stench of body scents, he can make out the smell of old books, and he focuses his entire soul on that one, small scent, and for a while it works. He goes through the books, reads their spines, manages to understand the words and he even chooses three textbooks that he thinks will be useful to him — it goes on for fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes  — not seconds — of fragile bliss despite the fact that the group of students is nearby. If he didn’t worry about something as trivial as his dignity, he would have made a happy little dance — as it is, he settles on going to the Mathematics and Statistics section to grab a book for Jace. Despite the slight migraine, he can remember his friend talking his ears off about not understanding some branch of mathematics.

His digits fly over the textbooks as he tries to find a great one from the title alone; maybe something along the lines of, Mathematics for Losers. He smiles to himself and thinks about Jace’s face once he is reminded of his choosing to study mathematics when he sucks at it most of the time; but that’s the dreadful thing about Hamilton College — as long as you have money, you can do pretty much anything you want.

He ends up with a neat stack of five thick textbooks pressing against his belly. He begins to feel slightly better, so he decides to push his body some more — to bath in the nauseous air a little bit more until it becomes too horrible for him to bear. He swims between the shelves of books, going from Geoarchaeology — now that sounds ridiculously fancy — to Chemistry (that one brings back bad memories). The claws in his throat don’t loosen up, and they keep munching on his tonsil, making him want to double over and puke out his breakfast; but he holds on to his sanity, ignores the scents and delves deeper into the library’s first floor. He’s never stayed this long in a semi-crowded public place without rushing to the bathrooms where, to his great chagrin, the stench of piss is a great distraction from his pounding headaches. Piss smells like piss; it never changes. 

He doesn’t do well when too many scents are mixed up together; his condition makes it that he can’t distinguish them all, and brought together they are as nauseous as a bucket of perfume. 

“I’ve got this,” he mutters to himself, arriving in the Economics section; a quick glance at his watch and he realises he’s spent quite a long time in the library, on the same floor as the group of students, and all that without completely losing his mind — he’s proud of himself. He breathes through his mouth and avoids using his nose.

He makes his way through the economic textbooks, scrunching up his face at how complex they all sound (what the fuck is behavioural economics). He’s about to turn around and go back the way he came when something makes him freeze. An accident inhale and exhale with his nose allows for the faintest scent of something to go up his nasal cavity; he can’t put words onto it, but he smells it, without feeling the need to gag. The textbooks in his arms nearly fall down onto his toes from how taken aback he is. His lips, dropped open, dry up quickly, but he barely registers it; his entire being has locked up, and the key to it is that lingering, bloody fucking chaste scent that clings everywhere around him.

He quickly looks around, hoping to catch sight of someone, anybody, with that mouth-watering scent; but he is alone. In the distance, near the centre, he can hear the laughs and whispers of the group of students; but where he stands there’s only him and whatever it is that he has smelled. He knows, deep down, that it’s a stranger’s scent that has awakened within him this odd, flourishing need to find the source of that invisible candy and fully relish in it.

What the fuck. This has never happened before. His feet begin to move and he unashamedly sniffs the air; his face gets close to a book, where the scent is strong — he swears he’s smelling lavender and hydrangeas, though he isn’t sure; the scent is so faint. He’s so used to not being able to distinguish scents that this sneaky newcomer is a complete shock to his system. The only explanation he can come up with is that he’s making it all up. He has never before, not even once, been able to make out a scent, to say that this person smells like that and that and that. It’s always been, well, people’s scents are a bloody mess, aren’t they? But this fragrance, whatever it is, kind-of makes sense to his brain.

He must be acting like some kind-of hound as he crouches down and smells another book, where the scent is just as strong — probably the person used these two books recently. His nose takes him to a table by the wall, under the staircase, where the fragrance — he swears to whatever god’s up there that he’s smelling lavender and hydrangeas — lingers, still faint but strong enough for him to pick it up in the wood, on the chair, against the wall. A tremor goes through his body; his fingers shake as he puts a hand on the table to keep himself from falling to the ground like an idiot, and he squeezes his eyelids shut.

Did Jace give him edibles this morning, to mess up with him? That must be it, because there’s no way he’s actually smelling someone, in a public space, who isn’t even there. That last statement is what surprises him the most; all his life he’s been unable to pick apart the scent of someone who is literally standing next to him, and yet he is able to withstand, even enjoy somebody’s scent that is clutching to pieces of furniture; barely strong enough… on the brink of extinction. His sense of smell is too fucked up and fickle to achieve such a fit.

He grabs his hair in frustration. Must be the essential oils — inhale enough like a maniac and you’ll start seeing, smelling, thinking impossible things. 

He leaves the library without the textbooks.

In Your Scent I Thrive — coming June 16th.

#snippet #abo #larry stylinson #bottom louis #omega louis #top harry #alpha harry #blouisparadise #1daboficfest #ao3 #coming soon

[thekinghazzastyles]

Black Lake // Remus Lupin x Slytherin Reader

Pairings: Young!Remus Lupin x Slytherin Fem!Reader Warnings: None Word Count: 2175 Time Period: Marauders Era Summary: Remus wants to introduce his girlfriend to his friends but it doesn’t go very well.  Requested: No Authors Note: I hope you enjoy!

Harry Potter Masterlist        Masterlist

You and Remus had been dating for almost a year. You both kept it private for the sake of not being judged. More so you because you’re in Slytherin. Slytherins and Gryffindors don’t date, they aren’t friends, they don’t like one another. But you and Remus didn’t care about the stereotypes forced upon your houses.

“Do you want to tell people about us?” Remus asked. You were both in the Room of Requirement. It was in a library form but filled with muggle books and a small rustic table with a pot of tea on top. There was a couch in the far corner of the room, it looked a little worn down but it was rather comfortable. You had taken a small nap but Remus wasn’t tired so he just stayed awakened to make sure you were always comfortable.

“What do you mean? Like, tell your friends?” You were timid for a Slytherin but, proud of your house. You knew how people from every house would react to you dating Remus. You were more intimidated by his friends' opinions. The Marauders were ruthless with everything they did. The entire house of Slytherin was already mostly on the receiving end of their pranks, bullying, and belittling; but to be singled out by Black and Potter was something you would most definitely not enjoy.

“No, I mean everyone, the whole school. I know you think my friends will do something to you but they won't. I promise.”

“I trust you, but how do you know they won’t? What if they think I’m not good enough for you?”

Remus has never seen or heard you talk so down about yourself. “You are enough for me Y/N, if anything I’m not enough for you,” you were going to cut him off but he stopped you. “You know me and my biggest secret, and after knowing it you still wanted to date me.”

You finally cut him off, “Remus John Lupin I swear on Salazar Slytherin's grave that if you talk about yourself in such a  manner one more time, I will hex you into oblivion. You are perfect, everything about you is perfect. I love everything about you, even if you don’t,” you finished.

“Now I never said I wasn’t perfect,” he smirked.

“Remus!” you laughed.  

“Really though, I want to tell everyone.” You both stared at each other before you nodded, “let’s just let everyone find out on their own, the news will spread quickly.”

* * *

Not a single one of your classes before lunch included Remus, so usually, you would both sneak away sometime during lunch to catch up. Now you’d be able to go up to him anytime you want without caring about anybody seeing. Sneaking away to somewhere private at Hogwarts during lunch had to be the most impossible thing you had ever done.

You had been in the library during your free period looking for nothing in particular. You did, however, find a muggle romance novel you had never read before. Pride and Prejudice seemed like it could be a piece of literature both you and Remus would enjoy. Also decided that this would be one of the best ways to reveal your relationship to the school, you were going to ask him if he wanted to go to your special tree at the Black Lake and read with you.

Briskly you made your way to the Great Hall and straight for the Gryffindor table. You could feel your nerves settling in but you didn’t let your face falter. You approached the table and caught sight of Remus and his friends as they were laughing about something,  not caring if they were irritating the people around them.

The silence in the hall seemed to diminish once you were behind Remus. Potter and Black looked up at you first and they both wore an equally disgusted scowl as they stared you down. “Remus?” you spoke softly, suddenly feeling timid. “I found a new book, do you want to go read it with me?” You failed to maintain eye contact with Remus as you continuously looked down at your feet and the book in your hands.

“What does this snake,” Black seethed, “want with you Moony?” Potter seemed to agree with him but Peter, who was sat next to Remus with Black and Potter on the opposite side, looked like he didn’t feel the need to contribute to this conversation.

Remus stood up and wrapped you in a hug whispering into your ear, “I’ll handle this, promise.” He turned towards his friends, “Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N, Y/N these are my best friends James, Peter, and Sirius.”

The entirety of the Great Hall was waiting for the reaction of ¾ of the Marauders. It was silent. No one spoke for what seemed like an eternity before James spoke up, “can we talk somewhere private?”

* * *

The Room of Requirement has once again aided one of your needs. On the journey there you were dreading the conversation that was about to happen. The five of you had been seated across from each without uttering a word for the past five minutes. You didn’t dare look up at the three boys across from you and kept your eyes trained on yours and Remus’ entangled hands.

“What is happening? How did this,” Sirius gestured at you and Remus, “happen?” Sirius leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He and James seemed to be the most concerned with Remus dating a Slytherin. You were completely harmless but solely because you are a Slytherin, they automatically despised you and everyone else in your house.

“No matter that, why would you let this happen, Moony? A Slytherin? Really?” James stood up abruptly which caused you to jump a little. Remus squeezed your hand to reassure you that he was there. “Are you under a love spell? Is it amortentia?” he turned to Sirius, “I think she has him under a love spell.”

They both began whispering amongst themselves and Peter kept to himself on the couch. You decided it couldn't hurt so you gave him a small smile and he gave you one back. You were pleased that he wasn’t completely against you.

Remus stood up catching everyone's attention, “Prongs, Padfoot, Y/N did not put me under a love spell. She has been my girlfriend for almost a year; I think it would’ve worn off by now. I love her and if you two can’t accept that I don’t think I will speak to you for a while,” he finished sitting back down next to you.

“Remus you can’t do that, they’re your best mates,” you scolded him. You didn’t want him to choose between you and his friends, who had been there with him for a lot longer.

“The snake is right Remus,” Sirius was cut off before he could finish.

“Don’t call her that. She is not a snake, she is my girlfriend and I love her. I didn’t think you two could be so close-minded. And I will not sit here and listen to you two belittle her just based on the robes she is wearing,” he finished as the room went silent. “Come on Y/N, we’re leaving.”

“Remus, wait! We can work this out, mate!” James called for him but you both kept walking. He kept walking until we were at the Black Lake. He was first to sit down and lean against the tree, Remus pulled you down softly to sit between his legs.

“Can you read it for me?” His voice was soft. You didn’t want to bring up what had just happened or the fact that you still had classes to attend because he needed this.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” You could feel his breathing slow down as you lay against his chest. His arm was wrapped around your waist, drawing random shapes on your side. You finished the first chapter and pulled out a bookmark before turning to face Remus. “Remy?” you asked quietly to not disturb him.

“Yes?” he asked, not bothering to open his eyes.

“I think you should speak to your friends, without me. I don’t want to be the reason you lose your best mates, Rem. They’ve been with you through everything, more times than I can count. You can’t end a six-year-long friendship over me, I won’t let you.”

Remus was quiet as you both sat there. He was playing with the grass when he gave you a slight nod and met your eyes. “I will speak to them. I’m sorry I upset you. And I’m sorry they spoke to you like that.”

“Remus all that matters is that you speak to your friends. I’m fine. I love you,” you finished, hugging him. He said it back and returned the hug. Remus stood up and held his hand out to help you up but gave you another hug.

What the two of you didn’t know is that Sirius and James had used the Cloak of Invisibility. They didn’t expect to see such an interaction. And they didn't expect you to tell Remus that he needed to speak to them. They had no time to dawdle and had to head back to the Gryffindor common room to listen to what Remus had to say.

* * *

Remus briskly made his way to the Gryffindor common room. Before you went your separate ways, he told you he would let you know how it goes. He was nervous to face the rest of the Marauders; maybe not Peter but James and Sirius had a vendetta against the entire house of Slytherin. When he entered the room the two out of the three boys were sitting down listening to James complain and watching him pace about the room. All three heads turned at the sound of the portrait door closing.

“Remus-,” James was cut off.

“I need you to have a seat and listen to what I am about to say.” James took a seat in between Sirius and Peter, waiting for Remus to begin. “Y/N is my girlfriend and I love her. She loves me for who I am, I trust her. I didn’t think you guys would react this way but this is exactly what she said she was scared of. I wish the three of you could just not care that she’s a Slytherin, she’s never done anything remotely evil, she reads and loves pastries.”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius started. “We’re sorry,” he emphasized. “We shouldn't have let this get out of hand. We trust you and your decisions, so we should’ve trusted you on this.”

“We shouldn’t have judged her so quickly,” James added.

“She seems nice,” Peter spoke.

“She is,” Remus smiled, “and I hope the four of you can set aside your differences and become friends.”

* * *

You were sitting in the courtyard working on your potions essay when two shadows loomed over you. Your eyes met with Sirius and James. Closing your book and putting away your parchment, you sat up a little bit straighter before speaking, “may I help you?”

“We wanted to apologize,” James spoke. “We shouldn’t have treated you the way we did and assumed you would be bad for Remus.” James kept his head, too embarrassed to make eye contact.

Sirius decided to speak as it seemed that James was finished, “we just want what’s best for him and if that's you, we have to get used to it. I hope we can set our differences aside and be friends.”

“Okay,” was all you said. You didn’t feel the need to scold them for their behavior, that wasn’t your place. The boys both nodded and walked away. You felt more at ease now that they didn’t dislike you. Your eyes strayed on the spot where the two boys had just been standing, not noticing another person who had just sat next to you. Remus watched you for a few seconds before clearing his throat. “They apologized,” you said, turning your head to face him. “I accepted it.”

Remus didn’t respond. You both sat there with your head rested on his shoulder watching as the sun gradually set. He stood up reaching for your hand. You both made your way to the Great Hall and toward the Gryffindor table. You were too tired to protest so you didn’t say anything. Your head was still rested against Remus’ shoulder even when you took your seats in front of the other three Marauders. You gave them a tired smile and they returned it.

Dinner continued rather quietly from your side of the table. Remus and you didn’t bother speaking to one another but silently communicated through facial expressions. He dragged you to the Black Lake for a moment before curfew set in. As you lay on his chest you focused on the way his heart sounded. “I love you,” you whispered.

“And I, you.”

Harry Potter Masterlist        Masterlist

#Remus Lupin #young Remus Lupin #Remus Lupin x Reader #Remus Lupin x Slytherin Reader #Remus Lupin x Slytherin!reader #Young!Remus Lupin x Slytherin reader #Young!Remus Lupin x slytherin!reader #Young!Remus Lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #Remus Lupin x y/n #marauders #moony #progs #padfoot #wormtail #peter pettigrew #sirus black #james potter #harry potter #slytherin x gryffindor #Gryffindor x slytherin #slytherin #gryffindor #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #oneshot

[slutsofren]

not the only way

din x neutral reader✨

Summary: Things are going good in the world of bounty hunting alongside one Mandalorian and his green baby. But he wants more. He wants to see you with his own eyes.

Word count: 1,400 exactly lmao

basically we got to talking in the discord server about Din revealing his face and well- i couldn’t be bothered to stop soooooooo here is a totally self indulgent fluff piece for my loveee

read on ao3 here

----------

Things were… good. Better than good, they were great if you were being honest with yourself. You weren’t in the habit of jinxing things when everything always seemed like an uphill battle but you couldn’t deny how incredible the recent month was.

You’d been off carting around the galaxy with a beskar clad Mandalorian for nearly a year and a half. Your work with the man was a constant threat to your life, keeping you on your toes and being more vigilant meant you hardly had moments of reprieve. It was okay though, you thought. Days like this meant the universe to you.

Bounties came along easily, the most recent few hardly putting up a fight for their worth. The pay had been phenomenal. Fuel costs were low, maintenance on the Razor Crest were far and few in between now.

Yeah, things were good.

It was when things got slow did your mind wander. Thoughts of the man under the beskar helm, how his voice would sound without the modulator distorting it. Was it naturally low or was that the manipulation of the helmet, you wondered. Like small clouds shifting in the wind your mind tried to conjure up ideas of the color of his eyes or the texture of his hair. There were so many possibilities.

Your mindless daze got the attention of the man on your mind. “What are you thinking? You look lost in thought,” he spoke beside you in the cockpit of the Razor Crest.

“I’m wondering how long this is going to last, Mandalorian.”

His sharp silver helmet tilted to the side, wordlessly encouraging you to continue.

“The last few jobs have been easy, you know? We haven’t had anybody chasing us in weeks. These last few days have been really peaceful and it’s nice. I can’t help but wonder that’s all.”

He let out a soft hum at your admission, likely feeling the same way. He was tired, stars you were both tired. It wasn’t like either one of you were getting any younger either. Being chased by the last remnants of the Empire really aged the two of you.

The Child, Grogu, cooed in Din’s arms and reached towards you, wanting to be held by you.As he settled in your lap the quiet hums of the ship filled the comfortable silence. Your mind still wandered as you stared into the mesmerizing sight of hyperspace as your trio scampered off to the next bounty.

Eventually you dozed off, as did Grogu, only for you to be awakened a short while after by a leather clad hand gently shaking your shoulder. You furrowed your brows, let out a questioning hum and opened your eyes. Din stood above you and you looked past his body out towards the window, noticing that you were all still in hyperspace. 

The Mandalorian held his gloved hand out towards you. “Come, I need to speak with you,” he paused, looking towards the sleeping child, “privately.” You accepted his hand and stood then placing the sleeping bundle into his pram in the corner and quietly shutting it closed.

Din led you through the shutter doors, just past the ladder leading toward the hull of the ship.

Towards his private quarters.

“Trust me,” was all he said after noting your hesitation. For all the time you’ve worked together the two of you have always gone out of your ways to give the other privacy and space. In such a small ship, it was well needed for both of your sanities some days.

Your eyes wandered around his room, taking in everything as fast as you could. Much like the rest of the Razor Crest, it was dark in his room save for the small blinking lights littered around the walls as indicators of various mechanics. You were able to see that he had few items, much like yourself. A small simple bed, a couple storage crates stacked neatly against the wall, his beskar spear and some blasters resting on top of a lone crate by his bed, and nothing else. Simple pleasures for a simple man, you thought.

“What did you want to talk about, Mandalorian,” you questioned.

For such a brute man on the field, he seemed to shrink into himself, his body language screamed the anxiety that lurked beneath. “Hey,” you put a hand on his right pauldron, the same one marked by his clan symbol, “what’s going on?”

“I would like to kiss you,” he admits softly just before a whisper of your name crosses his lips.

You straighten up for a brief moment, taken back by surprise. He notices this, as he does everything, and takes a step back away from you, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”

“Wait, Mandalorian, no,” you stop him and take a step and another step closer until you’re practically breathing in his scent. Bergamot, leather, and blaster powder fill your senses, his familiarity ingrained in your mind just as this moment will be. “I think I would like that too.”

You raise your hands up towards the dark fabric of his cape that tucks just beneath his chest piece, your eyes focused on the visor of his helmet. Your spine steels itself in its place, each breath that escapes your lips filling your heart with more and more hope that this is happening.

This is really happening.

“Are you sure, cyar’ika?”

“More than anything.”

His own hands reach up and cup your face, bringing his helmet down to lean gently on your forehead softly. A Mandalorian kiss. 

This was a lot for him, you knew. The creed, the covert, everything about his status as a Mandalorian relied on secrecy and honor. He was trusting you with this and in return, you’d honor him.

Your bounty hunter leaned away as his hands left your face. Inhaling a sharp breath, you closed your eyes in anticipation as a hiss filled your ears noting that he removed the heavy metal from his head.

The fabric of his thick cape itched under your palms as you inched your fingers higher and higher slowly to the back of his neck. Giving him a chance to stop if he needed to.

Soft hair tickled the tips of your fingers, a small breathy chuckle left your lips at the feeling. Soft delicate touches reached forward and you began to feel the roughness of facial hair along his jaw, your smile grew wider. “Cyar’ika,” Din’s deep voice tingled your ears.

Oh, you thought, you could never get used to this but you’d welcome it all the same. “What is it, Din?”

“Open your eyes,” he asked softly, nearly a murmur, “let me see your eyes.”

Your heart fluttered at this. Uncertainty pushed far to the center of your mind. “Din-,” you began.

“Don’t worry your pretty mind with anything, just,” he stumbled, “please let me see you.”

“But The Way-,” you began.

“The Way doesn’t have to be the only Way.”

A heartbeat passed. Two. Three.

Opening your eyes was likely the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life, all these worries infested your mind but that voice, that pleading. It was so hard to resist when Din’s sweet voice asked so softly to see you.

Those small blinking lights casted a soft glow on the face in front of you. The first feature you noticed were his lips, by the stars, his lips. Your gaze trailed upwards to his well groomed mustache, a feature you’ll likely store away for later in your mind, his sharp prominent nose, and finally his eyes.

Stars, his eyes.

He gazed upon you like it was your first time seeing each other, truly seeing the other. And it was, in a way.

“Din, you’re so handsome,” you spoke softly. His lips twitched a smile at your admission. He leaned his head forward and gave you yet another Mandalorian kiss. You threaded your fingers to the back of his head, feeling the soft curls beneath your fingers as the two of you inhaled each other’s presence. You whispered, “Kiss me.”

Tentatively his lips touched yours and it wasn’t perfect by any means but you still felt as if you were as light as a feather. His mouth moved in tandem with yours deepening the kiss the two of you always wanted but never let yourselves have.

Not once have you seen more beautiful brown eyes.

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #din djarin #the mandalorian reader insert #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian fic #Pedro Pascal #asher's writing #posted on ao3 #not the only way

[dragonologist-phd]

I'll shake things up a bit and do a ⭐️ for any Desta/Aloth fic of your choice :)

Ooh, how about a throwback to The Weight of all Our Memories? Technically it's a pre-relationship fic, but it's focused on Desta and Aloth and it's one of the first Pillars fics I wrote!

Commentary Below:

First off- the fic title comes from i believe by Christina Perri, which is on Desta's playlist and is pretty perfect for Desta and Aloth's dynamic in the first game!

Defiance Bay was burning.

The smoke was a dark stain in the sky, visible even miles away from the city. By now the buildings and walls blurred into nothing but a dot on the horizon, and yet the smoke billowed and curled, dark and sinister and showing no signs of fading.

Hey look, description! Ha I always feel like descriptions aren't my strong point, but I do like this opening

Aloth could only imagine what must be happening back there- looting, destruction, a mad scramble from the authorities to restore order to the chaos.

The Leaden Key had created that chaos, and the guilt of that fact pressed harder on Aloth every time he caught sight of the smoke cloud in the distance.

I tol’ ye not to trust ‘em, ye ninnywit.

Aloth winced and pushed Iselmyr’s voice away. She had been simmering just underneath the surface for days now, fueled by Aloth’s own frustration at himself. For once he couldn’t say she was wrong in her criticisms; unlike him, Iselmyr had never wanted anything to do with the Leaden Key. Aloth had always disregarded her protests, so sure that she was only trying to keep him from finding a way to reverse his Awakening. He’d refused to let her dissuade him from his path. At the time, he thought he knew what he was getting into.

Now here he was, watching Defiance Bay burn and wishing he had listened a little closer to the voice in his head.

I think of Aloth as the kind of person who goes on long rants to himself in his head (with or without Iselmyr), hence the long strings of internal narration as he berates himself

“Look out!”

Aloth started at the voice and quickly ducked, narrowly avoiding the projectile that flew past his ear. He blinked in surprise, trying to pull himself out of his thoughts enough to figure out what had just happened.

“...Why did you just throw a pinecone at me?”

And then comes along Desta, to pull him out of those long, unproductive thoughts. This is a constant theme of their dynamic, and I like the way they bounce off each other in this way

Desta grinned sheepishly as she approached. If not for her silver metallic armor, she would have been impossible to locate among the trees and shadows of the dim evening. Her dark green skin blended in well with the scenery, and her golden godlike eyes caught the light in strange ways. Seeing her emerge from the forest was strangely otherworldly, even as she plopped herself down noisily next to Aloth and gave him shrug. “I wanted an excuse to shout something at you. You seem distracted, and not in your usual ‘leave-me-alone-so-I-can-read’ kind of way.”

Aloth let out a small breath and closed the grimoire in his lap. He’d hoped nobody would notice his momentary absence- as Desta pointed out, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to distance himself from the campfire that the others were gathered around. “You needn't worry about me. I’m just trying to focus on this new spell.”

Without meaning to, he glanced again towards the smoke rising from Defiance Bay. Desta noticed. “No, you’re torturing yourself by obsessing over the riots. It’s what you’ve been doing ever since we left the city. That doesn’t do anybody any good, you know.”

Another good dynamic between them that comes up a lot is one them saying 'I'm fine" and the other saying "You're obviously not, let me comfort you dammit!"

“I-” Aloth started to protest, then stopped himself. “I know. I know it’s too late now to fix things. That doesn’t stop me from wondering what I could have done differently.”

Aloth could feel Desta watching him, but he couldn’t meet her eyes. It had only been a couple of days since his guilt-ridden confession about his connection to the Leaden Key. Telling her about his past with the organization had been terrifying; that was why he'd avoided it for so long. He’d seen her righteous anger firsthand, and had no desire to have that anger turned upon himself. But when he'd finally told her the truth in the shadows of the burning city, there had been no anger. Desta had only given him that same soft, unreadable look she was giving him now, and he had been instantly forgiven.

This is less for my fic and more props to the game- the dialogue for Aloth's confession is really really good

It made no sense. At the time, he’d lacked the bravery to question it, but now he had to know. “Why aren’t you furious with me?”

Desta’s brow furrowed. “What?”

Aloth shook his head at the outrageousness of the situation. “I lied to you! I betrayed you! I was a member of the Leaden Key, I worked for Thaos! How am I still here?”

A good-natured smile played on Desta’s lips. “You didn’t betray me, Aloth. Yes, it would have been nice if you’d shared certain information sooner…” Her voice took on a disapproving tone,, but even now there was no true malice behind it. “But you can’t actually expect me to blame you for all of this.”

“But-”

“Aloth.” Desta firmly cut off his protest. “Did you know Thaos was planning an assassination?”

Aloth’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Well, no. But-”

“Did you know the Leaden Key was doing all that crazy stuff with the machines and the souls?”

“No.”

“Did you know that Thaos was causing the Hollowborn and killing people and trying to throw a city into anarchy?”

Aloth held up a pleading hand. “You’ve made your point. I didn’t know this would happen. But I still played a part. I thought what Thaos was doing was good, and I never questioned it. Not once. Even when I knew something was wrong, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. And you…” Aloth trailed off, trying desperately to arrange his thoughts correctly. “The entire time I’ve known you, all you’ve done is go out of your way to help people. The Leaden Key does the opposite of that. They’ve tried to kill you, many times. You should hate everything about it.”

The silence that followed his words hung tensely in the air. Aloth waited for a response, an explanation. Perhaps Desta had a reason for keeping him around she hadn’t yet divulged. Perhaps she was about to come to her senses at last, recognize the weight of what he had participated in, and send him away for good.

Honestly, I kind of forgot how sad I made myself for Aloth and his disbelief when someone treats him with compassion...

Finally, Desta heaved a deep sigh. She reached down and plucked the pinecone she’d thrown off the ground, turning it over in her hands as she spoke.

And I like this mental image, of Desta worrying over the pinecone as she talks. She's prone to restless motions in general, and especially in vulnerable moments like this

“I don���t hate you, Aloth. I get it. I understand why you stayed loyal for so long. When you found the Leaden Key, you were aimless and alone. You didn’t have a family or home you could turn to, and then all of a sudden you had a purpose. You had something to believe in, to give your life some direction.”

Desta’s words came with the rushed tone of vulnerable honesty, and they hit at the memories within Aloth.  He stared at her, trying to discern if she was using her Watcher abilities, but she didn’t seem to notice him. Her gaze was fixed on the pinecone she held, and she spoke faster and faster as she turned it in her hands. “Maybe for the first time in your life you didn’t feel lost or rejected or isolated. And maybe you would do anything to hold on to this new life because that feeling of belonging can be the most intoxicating thing in the world and you really, really don’t want to let go of that.”

And I love how Desta and Aloth are character foils in this way! This also wrapped up in a lot of Paladin and Godlike stuff that Desta has going on, and I like how she and Aloth coming from very different directions but end up with a lot of similar feelings around belonging and responsibility

She stopped to take a breath, and seemed to notice Aloth’s stare for the first time. He politely dropped his gaze, and she laughed self-consciously.  “Come on, Aloth. I’m a walking tree. I know how much it means just to be accepted.” She motioned to the armor she wore, emblazoned with the sigil of the Kind Wayfarers. “You think I don’t know a little about dedicating yourself to an order?”

“But you’re a Kind Wayfarer,” Aloth pointed out. “Your order stands for peace and protection. You literally have Kind in the name. Can you really compare that to the Leaden Key?”

“Maybe not exactly,” Desta conceded. “But although I hate to admit it…when I joined I wasn’t some perfect, pure-hearted hero. I was young and lonely and starry-eyed over these people that suddenly made me feel like I belonged. The Wayfarers are wonderful, and I’m glad I met them, but… if I had met a Leaden Key agent instead of a paladin that day… I don’t know. I might be in your place right now.”

Honestly, Desta would make a terrible Leaden Key agent. Stealth and secrecy are so not her things. But there is some truth here in that when she dedicates herself to something, she does it wholeheartedly, and there is that chance that in different circumstances that passion could have been directed to something a lot less nice than the Kind Wayfarers

Aloth mulled over her words. Despite what she said, it was nearly impossible to imagine Desta as a solemn Leaden Key agent, steeped in secrecy and pledging her services to a man with a hidden agenda. “I still think you might be a little wiser than me in that regard. You would have stood up to Thaos and his followers before it got this far.”

Desta chuckled, leaning over to nudge Aloth in a friendly way that caught him completely off guard. “Not wiser. Come on, have you met me? Wiser. Ha.” She smirked at him and shook her head. “No. Just luckier.”

Now it was Desta who was staring in the direction of Defiance Bay. Her eyes seemed to suddenly grow tired. “Luckier this time, at least. You have a lot of faith in me, but I’m not sure it’s deserved. That feeling I talked about… I know it. Not just from me, but my past life. And not about the Wayfarers. These strange memories keep coming back, and a lot of them don’t make sense; it’s all just bits and pieces. But believe me, I recognize that feeling. That sense of purpose. I think past me felt that around Thaos.”

Desta’s voice grew quiet, and she gnawed at her lip in distressed concentration. “I think past me did a lot of things for the sake of that purpose. For the sake of Thaos. I don’t know what all I did, but it feels…bad.”

Regarding that passion, it's something she had in common with her Inquisitor life- and the Inquisitor is an example of that dedication turned towards the wrong thing, and of "Desta" putting that responsibility to her order above her friendships

Aloth took a moment to let this new information sink in. He still found it hard to imagine Desta as she described herself, but there were no rules on how souls could change through their cycles. After all, something in Aloth had once been Iselmyr. “Perhaps we do have some things in common.”

A triumphant smile crossed Desta’s face. “See? I know what I’m talking about. So trust me when I say that reliving the past and wondering what could have gone differently will drive you mad. Whatever you did or whoever you followed...it happened, and it’s over. Nothing can change that, not even a Watcher. You can only decide what happens next.” She paused and studied Aloth for a moment. “I want you to stick around, but you shouldn’t do it just because of that. I don’t want you to follow me.”

“You… don’t?”

“No!” Desta leapt to her feet, her golden eyes shining with passion. “Don’t you get it? I want you with me, not behind me! You have to make a choice about what you’re doing next, and it has to be your choice. I’m not going after Thaos out of obligation or to carry out orders. He doesn’t have that kind of power over me anymore. I’m going to hunt Thaos down and do what I can to fix the harm he’s done because I think it’s the right thing to do. And I hope whatever you decide, that’s your reason, too.” She held out a hand to Aloth, waiting for his response.

And again, kudos to the original game writing, which some of this dialogue is based on! I loved the themes of choice and autonomy on Aloths questline in this game!

It took him a moment to sort out the disorganized thoughts running around his head. To be honest, Aloth still wasn’t sure if he could trust himself; he’d once thought the Leaden Key was doing good work, after all. The memory of his old mistakes drew his gaze once more back to the silhouette of Defiance Bay, but as night approached the darkness had rendered the distant smoke invisible.

A not-so-subtle metaphor for Aloth being able to stop obsessing over his mistakes!

In the end, Aloth finally decided, he really only had two choices. He could either continue to choke on his mistakes, or do what he could to move on and rise above them. So he gripped Desta’s hand, and he allowed her to pull him to his feet.

This fic was really fun to write as an initial way to explore the really strong bond these two forged, and it was fun to revisit it like this! Thanks for reading!

#thanks!! #ch: desta #ship: if the creeks don't rise

[yan-purgatory]

Netflix and Kill

request: CHANGKYUN possessive yandere! Where he's your quite neighbor who slowly opens up to you but you have a house Netflix date with another member, he can't handle that, time skip you go to your kitchen to get some midnight snacks(same night after the date) and find kyun in the kitchen sitting in the dark etc etc👀

pairing: changkyun x reader

word count: 1.8k

admin: ღ

The first time (Y/N) had “met” their neighbour was the day after they moved in. There was a knock at the door, leading (Y/N) to abandon the assembly of their IKEA wardrobe and greet her visitor. By the time they were at the door however, there was no person but rather a box of fresh cookies, and there was a young man walking away. (Y/N) stepped out to try to talk to him and thank him, but he just walked straight back into his apartment and locked the door.

(Y/N) picked up the box with a smile on their face, the smell bringing a rush of happiness and peace to their exhausted body after days of heavy labour. Meanwhile, her neighbour was just watching through his peephole to see their reaction, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in in seeing the delighted smile of his new neighbour.

Changkyun collapsed on the sofa. He didn’t know why his heart was beating so fast when he hadn’t even interacted with them, when most of the people he saw on a day-to-day basis disgusted him and he had to put on the facade of kindness in order to advance in society. Yet, he was secretly yearning to speak to his new neighbour, a completely foreign feeling to his cold heart. Even if he’d put in the bare minimum effort by buying some simple cookies from the bakery, they seemed to treasure his gift and he liked that feeling.

Before he quite knew what he was doing, he was writing an email to his landlord to ask for the new resident’s name. There was a pit of worry when he hit send that his request would not be received and he would never be able to learn enough about the person who was occupying his brain.

Luckily, by that evening he had his reply, and his night was spent scouring the internet, fascinated by the enigma (L/N) (Y/N).

~ ღ ~

The next time that (Y/N) encountered their quiet neighbour face-to-face was a week later, when checking their mail in the morning. He was already there, a few envelopes in his hand and ready to leave only to stop in place when he saw (Y/N).

“Hi.” (Y/N) smiled awkwardly. “I don’t think I’ve had the chance to introduce myself.”

He nodded, not saying a word with his eyes trained on them.

“My name is (Y/N), and I’m the new chef at the Traveller.” They said, stretching out their hand for him.

Of course, Changkyun knew that but he didn’t dare tell them that. (Y/N) didn’t need to know how he’d spent long nights pouring over the social media of them, their friends, their family, just shooting any form of the drug that was (L/N) (Y/N). Nonetheless he took their hand in his own and gave it a firm shake, enjoying the soft feeling of their skin against his. It was better than anything he’d absorbed from the computer screen.

“Changkyun.” He replied shortly.

“Your cookies were delicious, by the way.” (Y/N) offered him a grin as they withdrew their hand from the slightly too long handshake.

“Thank you.” A ghost of a smile ran over his lips. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook otherwise.”

“Well maybe I can teach you. It is my job after all.” His neighbour said cheerily. He nodded and pushed past them to leave the mailroom, hoping they couldn’t hear his racing heart.

By God, Changkyun had never been so infatuated with anyone in his life. There was something about them, about the way that they smiled at him that made him feel alive.

~ ღ ~

In the passing months, (Y/N) found themselves establishing a closer bond with Changkyun. Teaching him how to cook their favorite dishes, helping him decorate his drab apartment for Christmas, listening to the playlist he made for them on spotify. All the while, his obsession with his neighbour was spiralling downwards - when (Y/N) stood a bit too close to him, the desire to bury his nose in his hair and breathe in their gorgeous scent was almost uncontrollable. When (Y/N) would stagger up the stairs drenched because they forgot an umbrella, his hands twitched to remove their wet clothes and run his hands down their naked body. (Y/N) had become his night and day, and they didn’t even know it.

He’d taken to walking around the block at 8PM on Thursdays, since usually (Y/N)’s shift was over and they would be walking back only to coincidentally run into Changkyun and have him accompany them home. However, when he engaged in his daily ritual on that night, he saw no sign of his neighbour. Clearly, their work was taking over their life - he was considering phoning their boss as their boyfriend to ask that she doesn’t work any more overtime, since it was depriving them of time together. A little white lie never hurt anybody, no?

However, just as he was arriving home and unlocking his door, he heard the familiar soothing sound of (Y/N)’s voice.

“No way! I swear, I’ll kill you one day.” Their laughter was medicine to his ears, but he froze in place when he heard another voice accompanying it.

“You’d never do that, you love me far too much.” The words sent shivers down Changkyun’s spine. Was there a secret boyfriend behind the scenes that he didn’t know about? Had he spent all this time chasing after someone who had already been taken?

(Y/N) didn’t even pay any attention to Changkyun, rooted to the spot in front of his door - as they dragged their partner over to their flat and continued to babble on.

He felt himself shaking with rage, at himself and at her. How could she seek out the company of someone else when he was always there for her?

All ideas of going to bed were now abandoned, as Changkyun abandoned his home to sit outside of (Y/N)’s door and listen in on the interaction.

He heard the ‘Ba-Boom’ of Netflix turning on, the sound of popping corn, and then relative silence whilst (Y/N) and their vermin watched some film together bar the occasional snarky comment.

It was practically torture, knowing that (Y/N) was with another man, possibly even cuddling with him. Changkyun wanted nothing more than to rip the bastard into shreds, but he had to be patient.

As the hours trickled by, he felt his eyelids starting to droop. Surely a coffee wouldn’t hurt, he posed to himself. If he had the caffeine, he could stay up and talk to (Y/N) long after that vermin had scampered. It was when he was on his way out of the apartment holding the steaming cup of joe that he ran into the man who had been plaguing (Y/N). And like that, an idea popped into Changkyun’s head.

“You’re (Y/N)’s newest victim then?” He spoke in a low voice, hoping that regardless of what state (Y/N) was in they wouldn’t hear him.

Kihyun gazed at him quizzically.

“What do you mean?”

“I see men like you in there most nights of the week. They’re practically the village bicycle.” Changkyun scoffed, taking a sip of coffee.

“We just watched a few movies, we didn’t fuck?” His rival retorted, but Changkyun just laughed coldly.

“They’re buttering you up. I wouldn’t expect them to be ‘friends’ with you for much longer.”

“Why are you- never mind.” The man sighed, turning on his heel to leave the building.

“Have a nice night!” Changkyun called after him, barely able to contain his shit-eating grin. Yes, it was satisfying to indulge in (Y/N), to admire them like anyone else. But it was way more fun to see the ones once enamoured with the ethereal being scamper away with their tail between their legs.

With the nuisance gone, Changkyun decided to enter (Y/N)’s apartment. The door was left slightly ajar, practically inviting him into the warm haven.

His angel was passed out of the sofa, having been tucked up nice and warm in a cozy blanket. He stopped to admire their perfect face, barely lit by the dim light of the television screen.

He found himself a seat in the kitchen to indulge in his lukewarm coffee as he waited for (Y/N) to awaken, so they could have a nice little chat.

~ ღ ~

When (Y/N) woke up, their apartment was dark and Kihyun was long gone. Brushing off the disappointment that came with no longer having his pleasant company, they sat up,

their stomach was screaming at them. The only food they’d eaten that night was the popcorn with Kihyun - they’d planned to cook a meal for the two of them, but exhaustion had won over them and they embarrassingly fell asleep in front of the movie before they even had the chance to offer.

Even if they regretted being an awful host to Kihyun, their hunger was a more pressing concern as they plodded into the kitchen to find something. Their mind was so occupied by their stomach in fact, they didn’t even notice Changkyun’s presence.

They found a packet of instant ramen shamefully hidden at the back of their cupboard, and were just about to heat up some water when a familiar chilling voice spoke up.

“Did you have a nice evening?”

They turned to finally notice Changkyun, leaning back in one of her chairs like he owned the place.

“Changkyun…? What are you doing in my kitchen?” (Y/N) rubbed at their eyes to make sure they weren’t dreaming.

“I thought it would be nice to pay you a little visit. It seems I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.”

He stood up and approached them, his aura more intimidating than they’d ever seen before.

“Who was he?” Changkyun snarled, his hand shooting out and gripping so tightly into (Y/N)’s neck that the nails were digging into their skin. “That son of a bitch you spent the entire evening with, leaving me out in the cold?”

“He’s just my colleague! Nothing more!” (Y/N) insisted, tears welling up in their eyes.

“Is that so?” (Y/N) was shoved onto a chair, with Changkyun standing over them. “Because I think some boundaries were overstepped. You don’t quite understand that you should belong to me, and me alone. You’ve severely betrayed my trust, and you should have to beg for my forgiveness.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“You’re going to phone them tomorrow and resign. Do you understand?” He breathed out, ignoring their scathing remark. “Your workplace doesn’t deserve a worker who will whore around with whoever pays them attention.”

He seated himself on their lap, his face getting dangerously close to them. It was then they felt cool steel pressing against their neck and realised he was brandishing one of their chef’s knives.

“You don’t need your job. You don’t need anyone else. You just need me.”

#yandere monsta x #yandere monsta x au #yandere kpop #kpop yandere #yandere au #yandere x reader #yandere changkyun #yandere changkyun x reader #yandere I.M #yandere I.M x reader #changkyun x reader #i.m x reader

[howpeacefulislwj]

Episode 8

Bunnies are So Good. Lan Wangji is going to miss the Bunnies. 7.5/10

He was so close. He was So Close to escaping. 4/10

This man is on absolutely his last thread of self-control. He is going to Snap and he is not going to be responsible for his actions. He says “boring” but inside he’s screaming. 1.5/10

Lan Wangji is Surrounded by Idiots. He is the Last Sane Man In This World. He cannot work in These Conditions. 3/10

Lan Wangji has done Nothing to deserve This. He is Alarmed. Will he have to go near a Stranger? A haunting thought. 3.5/10

I Hope Standing Here In This Gentle Fall of Petals Doesn’t Awaken Anything In Anybody. 7/10

Bad enough that he’s stuck on a quest with these two, but now the statue is alive? The Evil Statue is Alive and it wants to Eat Their Souls? No. This is Unacceptable. 4/10

So determined, so steadfast. Look at the set of his jaw. Those eyebrows. Fierce. 4.5/10

What the fuck. 2.5/10

The Situation is going from Bad to Worse. However, Fighting Monsters is pretty solid ground for him compared to being flirted with, so that’s good actually. 5/10

#lan wangji #the untamed #cql #the untamed memes #cql memes #episode 8 #peacefulness average: 4.3/10

[doiedreams]

State of Lucidity // l.ty

◈⇢ Synopsis: apparition!Taeyong’s appearances at night is what you think keeps you sane, but what was once a healing escape is becoming an addictive attachment Taeyong doesn’t want you to fall victim to.

◈⇢ Pairing: apparition!Taeyong x reader

◈⇢ Genre: fluff ద, angst ᱬ

◈⇢ Listen to: What Dreams Are Made of (by Evan McIntosh) HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

◈⇢ Warnings/Content: lucid dreaming, small mention of addiction, hints toward dream reality confusion

◈⇢ WC: 1.6k words

A view of your drab ceiling shifts into the focus of a hazy atmosphere as your eyelids flutter open. The sound of a vague, lulling white noise begins to fill your ears, as it feels like you’ve been transported to another realm. In a way, you have.

You feel a presence becoming more palpable next to you, and the mattress you lay on lightly begins to sink at your side.

Turning your head towards it, you sigh as your eyes meet the dark, and yet so bright, eyes of Taeyong. With the way his eyes gleam, you’d be able to find his gaze if the room was pitch-black. The corners of his perfectly shaped lips turn upwards and he lets out a soft giggle. You join him, feeling a euphoric feeling course through your body upon seeing him once again in all his angelic glory.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” you whisper.

“I tell you every time. It won't be the last time we meet.” His fingers brush against your hand beside you, and you allow them to intertwine at your side. “I have something for you.”

“And what might that be?” you ask.

Laying in bed on your backs, Taeyong taps his finger against your hand, bringing your attention to the space between your bodies. You feel a cool, smooth surface touch your fingers and you sit up, looking over to find a plate next to your legs. On the plate sits a pile of bright red, crownless strawberries, and a cloudy white substance next to them.

You turn towards Taeyong, who's still laying on his back in your bed looking at you with twinkling eyes, and ask, “Is this-?”

“Strawberries and whipped cream,” he finishes. “Your favorite.”

He reaches for the plate and balances it on his belly as he lays on his back.

“Come eat.”

You shoot him a quizzical glance before laying your head back on the pillow. You pluck a strawberry from the plate, scoop up some of the cool cream with the bottom, and plop it into your mouth. A burst of juice surges in your mouth as you chew, and you can’t help but feel like you’re sitting in a strawberry field, facing the sun with Taeyong’s smile shining just as bright next to you. This feeling of freedom, like you can be anywhere and everywhere on earth without moving an inch, is what makes you love being with Taeyong; you couldn’t feel this way with anybody else. You proceed to crush the juicy goodness between your teeth, savoring both the vibrant tang of the red fruit and the sugary coolness of the whipped cream.

The hint of mouthwash that once resided on your tastebuds when getting into bed is no longer there. It’s as if you've been bound to your lucid dream with Taeyong forever, not once partaking in the materialistic everyday routine involving brushing your teeth, making food, and going to work. Instead, it seems like the only lifestyle you've ever known is the one in which you bask in his presence in your soft bed, having conversation after conversation about pleasant memories that you somehow don't remember by the time you awaken.

“Mm, I love midnight snacks,” you hum, as you continue to take strawberries from the plate.

“I know. That's why I brought these.”

“Don’t you want some?”

“Nope. I'm only here for you,” he says as his eyes twinkle even in the room’s dimness. Catching sight of his smile once again brings butterflies to your stomach. His smile. Such a healing sight makes it so hard to part ways with it. And those lips. To feel them on yours just once would fulfill you with everlasting bliss.

-

“Your smile is so pretty,” Taeyong said in a hushed tone, his face hovering over yours, fingers lightly stroking your cheeks as you lay against your polyester sheets.

Your hands rested upon his shoulders and felt their way up his neck until they reached the sides of his face. “Yours is perfect.”

You yearned to close the space between your faces, but before you could, Taeyong said, “I’m sorry. I should go,” and shifted over to his previous spot on the bed, letting go of you.

“Taeyong-”

“I don't want you to get hurt,” he cut you off. Your perplexed stare sparked guilt in his chest as soon as he spoke. He could practically hear the questions darting in your head at the moment, and in response, all he said was, “Please, trust me.”

You decided to say nothing more upon seeing his soft smile that constantly told you that everything is okay.

-

Since that moment, you’ve wondered, what does he mean? How could I possibly get hurt? He wouldn’t hurt me. Yet, you never dared to ask him. The reassuring smile that never seemed to leave his face was the only answer you ever needed.

“All done?” Taeyong asks, pointing at the last strawberry before offering it to you.

You take it from his hand and eat it, nodding to let him know you’ve been satisfied. He sets the plate aside, and with a deep sigh, shuts his eyes and reaches for your hand once again. You allow him to hold your hand, but keep your eyes open just to be sure he's still with you.

The blurred haze hovering over you slowly begins to slip away as you start to feel reality force itself into your space.

“I think it’s best for me to go now,” Taeyong whispers softly, his breath leaving a phantom kiss on your skin.

You shake your head, rumpling the fabric of the pillowcase beneath your head, as you begin to object. “Just a li-”

“I can't stay any longer. I'm sorry.” The glint in Taeyong’s eyes slowly begins to dim down along with the atmosphere of the room, but his soothing smile doesn’t diminish one bit.

Recently, it seems as though you spend less and less time together. You can’t be upset with him, as you know he tries to make the departure as bearable as possible for you. Plus, he keeps his word: he’ll be back. He always comes back. He’s never given a reason as to why he needs to leave so early, but you're sure it must be the same reason he told you he didn't want to hurt you that night. He couldn't possibly hurt you. He's healing. He's therapy.

Yet, he's an obsession. A medicine that you manifested for your survival. He’s the embodiment of your pain turned to healing, and his addictive nature is getting the best of you. You're losing your grip on reality and Taeyong knows it. The stronger your attachment to him becomes, the easier it is to slip away from your real life. Every single morning, you leave more and more of yourself with him when you get out of bed. Every night, the desire to be with him gets stronger. He doesn't want to be responsible for the damage you'll do to your real-life relationships. Nor does he want to be at fault for the crushing guilt you feel when you have to leave your room and face reality every day. If he’s not careful, you’ll become more and more dependent on his presence to heal the legitimate wounds this obsession brings.

He loves you. He wants you too. Just not at the expense of your lucidity. He wants you to be able to live without him. It’s for your own good.

You don’t know of the damage this attachment could bring. Maybe it’s best you do, but the only desire you have is to spend eternity laying next to him in a bundle of linen. If your mattress could swallow you whole and transport you to a place where it's just the two of you, you’d let it.

Your head begins to swim and the white noise that once occupied the space around you starts to fade out. A tugging force on your hand rouses you from your thoughts, and you turn your head to meet Taeyong’s eyes.

“I promise, you’ll see me again.” He gives you a reassuring nod, accompanied by his pretty smile. A sigh leaves your lips, but in response to his consolidating words, you nod back and squeeze on his hand.

“Thank you for the strawberries and cream. It’s always nice having you here.”

His smile becomes one with a glint of sadness. I was never even here. “You’ll always have me.” His gaze darts away from your eyes and a pit begins to form in his stomach knowing he’s feeding your attachment to him. When will the line between dream and reality become completely blurred? It won’t be much longer, but he can’t just leave you forever. You need him. “Enjoy the rest of your sleep.”

With that, you can no longer feel a hand in yours and the only sound you hear is the slight hum of your AC. You run your hand along the cold bedsheets of the empty space next to you and feel an immediate longing for warmth. The bright red light illuminating from your alarm clock indicates you should be asleep for at least another hour before it goes off with its annoying wake-up call. You pull the covers over your body, and with a tart taste at the back of your mouth, you shut your eyes and rest, waiting to be awakened into your clouded reality.

a/n: I highly recommend listening to the song listed in the description. The vibes are just right and the fic correlates with some of the lyrics. It was supposed to be fully fluff but then I’m like damn,,, it’s a shame Taeyong aint even really there lmao and it just developed from there. as most of you know, I’m mainly a fluff writer. Anything that it isn’t purely soft fluffy content is new territory for me haha. With that being said, I hope you enjoyed it ♡

proofread by: @give-seconds @meraki-mark @byunbaekby @orange-nimon-cross @pastelsicheng @heartyyjeno @drydrops891 thank u! ♡

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