#if i could get my brain to cooperate with the ideas i have written down that would be Wonderful

[victarin]

this has been done a million times before but i wanted to draw something cozy :( goodnight

#haven’t been drawing the dca much i fear :( #if i could get my brain to cooperate with the ideas i have written down that would be Wonderful #fnaf dca #y/n tag #my art #id in alt

[brailsthesmolgurl]

WARDROBE MALFUNCTION!

A smol bird requested for this to be written and so here I am, playing fairy godmother! If any of you have any sort of requests, just drop me a dm as I am revived from my death and ready to write more delulus as your solulus!

Context: What happens when your outfit decides NOT to cooperate with you? What will the boys do for you?

Disclaimer: This one-shot is created with me studying their lore on various websites and social media so that I could get a better idea on what colours they like/represent and what style they lean towards. Some of you may disagree but its okay! You can read it as it is and add in your own imagery of a suitable outfit by your hubbies! Warnings: Fluff that might rot your brains.

RAFAYEL

"I am almost done with this piece," Rafayel spoke, eyes still glued to his canvas, one hand holding up his messily stained colour palette, while the other held the brush as he drew strokes across the canvas. "Why don't you go and get changed as you wait for me to finish off this bit, yeah?"

"Yes sir." You quirkily replied and you stood up, spotting him sending you a teasing look given the way you addressed him. Earlier on, some strangers had came by Rafayel's mansion with Thomas to deliver some clothes. Apparently, these clothes are custom made by those luxurious brands specifically for Rafayel. Thomas addressed it as this was one of the ways the luxury brands show their support towards Rafayel's works. ONE OF THE WAYS... At this point, you are convinced that Rafayel is a huge deal and having luxurious brands begging on their knees to work with him sounded like a dream that would never come true to you.

The dress that sat on the bed was delivered for you as well, as per Rafayel's request. There was objection amongst the team that were handling the sponsorship and ambassador deals for the brand. But Rafayel spoke through the phone like he owns the company. "If she does not get a gown, then our business ends. Right now." He hung up abruptly, and the next thing he knew, the dress showed up at his door in less than 30 minutes.

Any brands, regardless luxurious or not, knows the right way and only way to please Rafayel. One wrong move and you are off the chart and some other brand may easily replace you. Hence, nobody dares to mess with Rafayel. Except for you. "The dress on the bed is yours!" He shouted from the living room and you picked up the dress.

The chiffon textured dress is of a forest green colour, going all the way down to your ankles. The strapless design made you gulped as you are not used to outfits of this measure, given the nature of your work, whereas your attire has to be 'appropriate for work in times of need'. Touching the inner material, you sighed in relief as you realised that there was bra padding for you hence you do not have to go all the way out to get a new bra just for this event.

Putting on the dress and zipping it up was easy, and you fit almost perfectly into the dress. The keyword being ALMOST. As you lifted your hands up, the dress started sliding down like it is a floatie on a wet water slide and woop, off it went and onto the ground. You panicked, bending down in one fell swoop and trying to gather the dress so that you can pull it up to your chest again.

But it does not let you go past the waist area unless you unzip it. Groaning, you struggled to find the zip as the dress is really puffy and you did not want to ruin the designer dress. "Is everything okay?" Rafayel stood at the doorway, leaning against the side of his door, as he watched you with amusement written all over his face. He has been standing there for quite a while hasn't he?

You gasped, pulling whatever that is on the floor to cover your chest area and he walked over, analysing the dress and scowling when he found out the reason. "I should have gotten them to measure you instead of just bringing you a standard fit." He took his phone out of his pocket and tapped on the screen a couple of times. His eyes looked back at you and you bit your lip in embarassment. "Your curves are way too beautiful to be hidden amongst this pile of leaves."

His comment made you giggled. Guess he has the same thought as you. "Toss the dress aside darling, I will get you a new one." Another few taps of the finger, he shows you the dress he has in mind. A purple dress with extravagant sleeves, puffing out like how a jellyfish would and you instantaneously knew why he opted for this dress. "I like purple better anyways."

"But wait Rafayel... this dress is not entirely scrap, maybe I can sew a temporary knot on it to tighten the top so it won't fall off. And there is really no need for you to get another custom one for me as we are running out of time." Your suggestion made him stare at you, purple-blue pupils blown wide as if he has really just witnessed a shark eating grass. iykyk.

He walked over and grabbed you by your waist and pulled you close to him, so close that you could hear the sound of his heart against yours. But at this moment, maybe he could hear yours louder than his. "Nobody can put a price on your love for me. EVER. But, I can sure as hell throw out any price on anyone, regardless the amount, as a representation of how much you worth to me." You looked away immediately, eyes stared at the arms that were holding you in place. He kissed your forehead, chuckling, before he pressed his phone against his ear. "Now, let's see who can make this dress for the price I am willing to pay in 30 minutes time." he makes me feel something

ZAYNE

You waited on a bench in front of Akso Hospital. You figured it would be a great idea to wait for Zayne as he finishes work early today and you might be able to grab dinner with him. You were mindlessly scrolling through your phone, looking through your daily for-you-page before a shadow loomed over you. You looked up and no doubt, it is Zayne aka the great and almightly Elsa.

"How long have you been sitting here?" He asked you, before handing you a candy that he had fished out from the pocket of his trench coat. "I was planning to meet you slightly later at your condo." The thought of him initially wanting to surprise you made your heart fluttered. You see, Zayne is a more upfront guy so having him to plan surprises are one of the uncalled scenarios.

"I had only been here for a couple of minutes." You lied, taking the candy out of his palm and unwrapped it before you tossed it into your mouth. The raise of his eyebrow towards you made your breath hitched as he knew you too well that you could not lie to him in his face. "Fine, I had waited here since 5pm." This made Zayne looked down at his wrist watch.

"So it's been an hour and 15 minutes?" He side eyed you and you admitted it by nodding your head. "Next time, it would be better if you were to just wait for me at home. If it wasn't for a full deck today at the hospital, I might just be covering shifts for other people and that might be inconvenient for you." But, he himself actually noticed you exactly an hour and 15 minutes, from his office's window, before his upcoming surgery. He had another three surgeries lined up for the night, but fearing that you may end up waiting the whole night for him, he decided to cancel his schedule for the night and transfer the case to other doctors. Even workaholics take a break. iykyk

"But I just wanted to come over to check up on you. I even chose to sit outside so that you would not be distracted as you are working." You pouted, hands picking at the hem of your shirt. You felt Zayne's hand landed on the top of your head, a gesture of love and comfort. He patted and smoothed your brunette strands back and you stared up at him. "I shall wait for you at home next time okay?"

"Now that's a good girl." killmeplease Zayne smiled warmly. "Now, lets get you back alright? My car is parked right by the road side. Come on." Hands around your waist, he slowly walked you over to his car. The smell of his cologne lingered on your nose, the smell of mint and dashes of cinnamon. Just like his personality, icy as mint but warm and welcoming as cinnamon once you get to know him.

He opened the car door for you and as you walked over to get into the car, your shirt got hooked against one of the metal wires that went astray from the metal fencing and the next thing you heard was the sound of a ripping cloth. You yelped as you stumbled and Zayne slotted himself right in front of you, shocked as well and using his body to block you from falling further. "Oh my..." Your cursed under your breath as your hands were against his washboard abs, steadying yourself. doublekill

He guided you into the car slowly before getting into the driver side himself. When he had started the car and turned on the air conditioning, he turned to look at you. "How bad is the rip?" He asked and you lifted the hem of your shirt, showing the rip that is around 4cm long.

"Why does this have to happen to one of my favourite shirt?" You frowned, fingers won't stop touching and fidgeting with the ripped edge.

"Do they still sell this shirt?" Zayne asked, hands reaching over to tug against the shirt, as if to examine the material of the outfit. The shake of your head made him sigh and he gestured to the glovebox. "Open the glovebox and take out the black pouch please."

You did as you were told and you watched in confusion as he took off his trench coat and placed it onto your lap. The coat still radiating warmth that was collected off of his body heat. He opened the black pouch and laid it flat on the arm rest of his car, and inside of the pouch was an array of threads and needles. "Are these suture needles?"

"Yes." His response was prompt. "Take off your shirt and hand it to me please." He requested and you gulped. Using the trench coat to block his view, you slowly took off your shirt and then wrapped his trench coat around your whole front. You knew that he had probably seen many naked bodies given his line of work but something about this scenario, with you being with him only in a car, felt very intimate and it made you very anxious. "You know how to sew?"

"I am a doctor, I know how to suture. And it is the same concept as sewing, but only with different kinds of needles and threads." He then started sewing, his concentration a trait you find admirable. It did not took him long when he finished sewing your shirt and he handed it back to you, the thread sewed on has gaps of equal length and was tied off neatly. As expected of one of the top doctors from Akso Hospital. As he started driving, he added. "Although I had managed to sew the shirt for you, I believe with my connections, I would be just as capable to find you the same shirt. Then, you would never have to complain about this being your only favourite shirt."

XAVIER

You were going about your day in your own house before you heard your doorbell ringing. You placed your bowl of cereal down and took a glance on the clock on your phone. Who dares to threaten your peaceful weekend? You went over to the door and you opened it to reveal your blond hair lover. "Xavier?" You asked, eyebrows furrowed when he smiled at you.

"Good morning, I see someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed." He teased and stepped in, holding out a parcel for your. "I believe this belongs to you?" The small rip at the top side of your parcel indicated that he probably took a peek on what's inside. Acknowledging the parcel, you took it off of his hands and you blushed, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear.

"Good morning to you too. I guess I might have accidentally wrote your level instead of mine." You bit your bottom lip and you heard him chuckle in return. "But thanks for coming down to deliver this to me when you could have just asked me to get it from you." "But I wanted to see you personally. And seeing the clothes that are in the parcel, I thought I could get to watch you try them on too." His blunt answer made you stare at him like a mad man. His blue eyes however, glinted with nothing but honesty. This guy may be mysterious but he sure is straightforward in stating what he has on his mind. He probably noticed the way you reacted and he took a step back, retracing his words and slightly coughing to ease the awkwardness. "I mean, I would like to see you trying out these new outfits that you had gotten for yourself. It would be a good past time for me."

You chuckled at how goofy this guy is and gestured towards him to go and sit at the couch. You went into the room to get yourself changed and it was as if today is your fashion show day. You strutted out in different outfits, layered against one another and watched the way Xavier would react to you, either fascinated, or straight down confused. There was even this one time, he would just have a blank expression where you wore an oversized shirt under your tshirt. Clothing trends on the streets nowadays baffles him and he wondered if he was the one that was left out from the fashion ring.

Your last outfit featured you in a semi see through tank top and a pair of cargo pants. Not to mention, the tank top seemed to be too small for you as the way the blond boy sees it, it was holding onto your figure for dear life and barely leaving anything more to one's imagination. And the thought itself ticked him off. When you looked over towards Xavier, he does not look surprised nor confused, but rather bland. "What do you think?" Your tone came off to be amused and you did a twirl in front of him before you took a seat right next to him.

Xavier anxiously gulped and looked away from you, his voice low as he muttered. "I don't think this outfit looks nice on you, girlfriend." The way he shifted in his seat made you cornered him against the couch even more, wanting a better explanation. "The top you are wearing. I don't like it."

"And why so?" You asked, looking down at your top and adjusting it. "This is the trend nowadays, they call it the Y2K trend I think. And this tank top was on sale, so I just got it."

"I can buy you some other clothes. Even the ones that are not going to be on sale." He retorted, eyeing the tank top you were wearing with an underlying anger. "I just don't think I would like to see you wearing this in public. It is too revealing, and I guess tight on your body."

His answer painted your cheeks red and you gasped. What were you thinking? Of course you had forgotten about his possesive nature. He does not show it much and having such a pretty boy face like him further disconnects the word 'possessive' from his character. He reached into his hoodie's front pocket and pulled out his phone, opening up an app and handed the phone to you. When you refused to take it, he lifted his torso off of the couch to 'force' you to take his phone. Just like how you had previously pressed your body against him, this is his turn to take his small and sweet revenge. You panicked as he closed the gap between you two and within the next minute, he was pressed against you, one of his hand at the side of your head and another still holding his phone up to you, his gaze intense. "Just choose whatever you want from my phone, my card information is all in there. And perhaps before you check out, you can let me double check on the outfits you are getting." He low-key demanded before he explained himself for such a decision. "I just don't like nor want people staring wrongfully at what I treasure the most."

Another fluff for another day. I already did my best in having to think of different wardrobe malfunctions as I did not want one theme of wardrobe malfunction to be stagnant across the whole story for all three of the boys. SO I hope you would understand my lovelies. :,) I am very very free so I will be posting more regularly for these few weeks. SO please do show me more love and support as that would aid me in my motivation in writing!

Do check out my other works as well!

HOW WOULD THE BOYS REACT TO YOU FORGETTING ABOUT YOUR DATE?

DAMNATION

Hope your Delulu is satisfied my lovelies <3

#love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel sfw #rafayel x reader #xavier love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

[querenciasturniolo]

your fics are absolutely just the best. could you potentially right about how y/n and the triplets go to a fair together and while doing one of the game stands y/n wants to win a stuff bunny or just stuff animal in general and her and matt have this competition to see who’s better at winning the game and matt ends up winning but surprises y/n by getting her the stuff bunny/animal??

water gun ⮕ m.s.

word count: 909

warnings: swearing

summary: you challenge matt to a game, and it doesn’t go as expected

a/n: this idea was so cute, ignore the fact that the ending is awful, my brain wouldn’t cooperate lmao

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

When Chris caught wind of a pop up carnival being just a few blocks down from their house, he convinced all of you to go.

There were no rides, just rigged games and food stands. The four of you were walking around aimlessly, stopping at each food stand and getting something to share. You were all standing on the edge of the path, Chris pounding the fried dough and pointing at one of the booths.

“We have to win a goldfish.” He said, his mouth completely full. You looked at him and pulled a face.

“Chris, the goldfish game is rigged. Besides, the goldfish will die in like three days just because of it being jostled around for the rest of the night.” You said, Chris whining dramatically as you put a piece of dough in your mouth.

Your eyes scanned over the carnival, immediately stopping on the water gun game. You watched a few of the kids fondly, seeing how excited they got when the water hit the target and the little rocket moved up a centimeter. The prizes varied, but a single stuffed animal caught your eye.

“You guys, the water guns, we have to!” You said, looking between all three of them. Chris rolls his eyes.

“So the goldfish game is rigged, but the rocket one isn’t? I see how it is.” He grumbled, tossing the empty plate into the trash can and following you as you made your way to the game.

“What’s the time limit to get the big, purple bunny?” You asked, the carny looking up from his phone to shrug.

“Whoever’s rocket hits the bell first in under thirty seconds, gets to choose anything, regardless of size. Sixty seconds, the medium and small prizes. Ninety seconds or more, the small prizes only.” He said, his voice tired,

You nodded your head and handed him the money, looking back at the triplets with your eyebrows raised.

“You guys gonna play, or are you scared of eating my dust?” You challenged, Matt scoffing and handing the carny his money.

“Bring it on.” He said, Nick and Chris standing off to the side with surprise etched into their features. You rolled your eyes and sat in the rickety stool, Matt dropping down next to you as he shook out his arms.

You couldn’t help the snort that escaped you, Matt looking at you with a raised brow. “Do you have a problem with how I prepare to win?” He asked, provoking another laugh to leave your lips.

“Not at all, it just isn’t convincing.” You said, turning your attention back to your water gun and grinning at the shocked look on Matt’s face.

The carny put his phone in his pocket and looked up unamused. “Alright, the water will start shooting automatically when I start it. Aim towards the target, and try to keep it steady. Go.”

The water guns started, and you immediately aimed for the target. Your rocket barely moved, your eyes flickering over to see Matt’s rocket moving just a little bit more than yours.

“Fuck.” You said, reaching over with one hand to shove Matt’s shoulder, his stream of water jostling.

“That’s cheating, you dick!” He said, laughter spilling from him as he grabbed the top of your water gun and jerked it to the side, the stream hitting the target next to yours. The both of you carried on like this, trying to sabotage the other while trying to hit the bell first.

Matt’s rocket hits the bell, yours reaching the bell seconds after. You groaned, stepping off the stool and lightly shoving Matt by the shoulder.

“Lucky shot.” You said, Matt looking at you and raising his eyebrows.

“Lucky shot, my ass. You’re just mad you suck.” He teased. You rolled your eyes, fighting the smile off your face as you stepped past Matt and went to Chris and Nick.

“Not a word.” You said, Chris closing his mouth and nodding.

“Isn’t that the one you wanted?” Nick asked. You turned around, seeing the carny hand Matt the purple bunny you wanted.

You scoffed and laughed, crossing your arms over your chest as Matt walked over. “So not only do you cheat the system, but you rub my loss in my face with the only thing I wanted?” You said, Matt scoffing and shaking his head.

“Actually, I got it for you, but if you don’t want it.” He said, holding it close to him. Your face lit up, your hands immediately reaching out and ripping it out of his hand.

“Are you serious? Oh my God, I take back everything I said, you’re my favorite person.” You rambled, wrapping Matt in a hug. He laughed and wrapped his arms around you, lightly squeezing before pulling away.

“Oh yeah, I didn’t want you to feel too badly about your loss.” He said, you scoffing and holding the bunny under your arm.

You turned and started walking, Matt falling into step with you.

“Please, you just love me, and you don’t want to admit it.” You said, Matt shaking his head.

“Yeah, don’t gas yourself too much.” He teased. You glanced over at him, seeing the pink tint to his cheeks and smiling to yourself.

You would definitely bring it up at some point, but not tonight. Tonight was for teasing your friends and challenging them to different games. You’d lost each one, but it was a perfect night nonetheless.

#matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

[takearisk-xo]

ALREADY HERE

so @brightlybound asked what already gone would be like with the roles reversed, to which i replied "don't give me more fic ideas!" but i couldn't stop the brain rot and this happened anyway. thanks for all the love brightly!!! you yelling about already gone h/g has been an endless source of joy and cackling <333 i've written this little crack au just for you and it is appropriately titled already here

---

Harry sat up a little straighter in his hospital bed as the door to his room opened and a slight figure, with waist length red hair, slipped into the room. Ron and Hermione were arguing about something over the top of his legs, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what. He thought it had something to do with Ernie MacMillan, but now they were going on about Magical Games and Sports and he couldn't be bothered to play catch up.

Ginny didn't acknowledge any of them, and went straight over to the Healer station to read through the latest additions to Harry's chart. For the shortest of moments, a little pang of annoyance reverberated through his chest, then he remembered that Ginny was now his wife, and was free to peruse his medical history as she pleased.

Wife.

She was his wife.

No one had told him how it happened. His days-long bout of unconsciousness, after he'd found out about Sirius, had everyone pretty tight lipped with further details. It was maddening to know little snippets of how his life at twenty-one looked, and yet have absolutely no context for how he'd gotten there.

"I'm telling you," Ron declared loudly. "He started in chess before getting promoted. He never worked in International Cooperation."

"Yes, he did!" Hermione shot back, her tone bordering on furious. "Because I had to work with him on that export of illegal chimera cubs!"

Ron shook his head and looked ready to let loose another retort but Harry cut him off.

"Can-" He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on Ginny, who in turn, still had her gaze firmly fixed on the parchment in her hands. "Can I talk to Ginny for a moment?"

She glanced around to meet his stare, her brown eyes sharp and a little furrow appearing above her nose. On either side of him, Ron and Hermione exchanged a silent conversation made up of raised eyebrows and shrugs. They must've come to some sort of consensus however, because they both stood at the same time and Ron murmured a quick, "We'll go get tea."

Ginny maintained her wary expression as Hermione gave her shoulder a little squeeze then ducked past her. Ron followed soon after, shutting the door behind him and then they were alone. Alone for the first time since Harry had awoken to find his limbs too long, his friends almost unrecognizable, and the only family he'd ever known to be dead.

Sliding Harry's paperwork back into its slot, Ginny made a show of crossing her arms and frowning at where he sat on the bed. He hardly wanted to have this conversation tucked into the bedsheets like an invalid, so he tugged the blankets aside and moved to stand.

"Don't-" she murmured with a pleading edge to her voice. She'd taken two steps closer in the time it'd taken him to swing his feet around to the side.

Harry huffed impatiently and scowled back at her. "Last I checked, my head was causing all the problems. Not my legs."

Her hard gaze didn't waver, and she apparently didn't consider this statement worthy of a response.

He stayed sitting anyway.

"I have questions," he began.

"I expect you do." Ginny leaned into another step, with her arms still crossed and her eyes flicking down to her feet. "That doesn't mean I have to answer them."

The annoyance he'd felt earlier shifted and heated into full blown irritation. "If you think I'm going to be alright laying here and eating casseroles-"

Ginny spoke over his outburst before he'd even picked up steam. "You're going to have to be."

Harry narrowed his eyes and decided if she could ignore his assertions then he was well within his rights to disregard hers.

"We were... friends," he struggled uselessly, trying, and failing, to ask his first question somewhat delicately. "What changed?"

Her throat bobbed, like it was difficult to swallow even though the look on her face remained impassive.

Harry couldn't stand it. "What changed!?"

Blinking a few times, her reserved mask slipped and her eyes turned blazing.

"Nothing!?" Ginny threw her hands into the air impatiently. "Everything!? But I'm sure as hell not going to sit here and try to prove myself to you!"

Turning on her heel, she stormed toward the door, and cool regret leaked into his bloodstream. He shouldn't have let his own composure slip.

Harry stood and lunged after her.

"Wait-" His hand closed around her elbow just as she reached for the doorknob. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just..."

He trailed off, unsure exactly of what he was trying to say. Ginny kept her back to him and he heard her pull in a shaky breath.

Errantly, like a stray thought, Harry observed just how petite she was. Ginny had always been quite short, but Harry also had a lingering malnourishment to him, so he'd never thought much of their difference in size.

Until now, when he stood next to her nearly a full head taller.

His fingers tightened around her arm in question. She turned enough that he could see the look on her face, and the unshed tears clinging to her lashes.

He let go in an instant, guilt and discomfort spearing through him like a lance.

"I'm sorry," he said again, taking a step back toward his hospital bed.

She swiped at her eyes in clear fury and Harry couldn't tell if it was directed at him or that fact that he'd seen her cry.

Maybe both?

"It's not an easy story to tell," she said eventually. "And I'm not getting into it when you've only been conscious again for a day and half."

Harry nodded, not really registering her words as much as the clear worry that shadowed her face.

A beat too late, he realized she was waiting for a response and he rushed, "Yeah, okay."

Ginny nodded once, her hard exterior replacing the momentary show of vulnerability. Harry stood watching her, scratching a loose thread in the sleeve of his patient robes and waiting for her to leave.

She didn't.

Instead, after a few moments of glaring at him, her shoulders slumped in time with her exhale and her face twisted into agony. He only had a split second warning before she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his ribs.

Harry stood quite stunned for a second, at a complete loss for what to do next.

Thankfully, Ginny didn't allow him to remain clueless. With her face buried in his chest, she choked out a muffled, "Hug me you idiot."

He muttered another quick apology and did as instructed.

Not seeming to mind that his hold around her shoulders was stiff, she clung to him without reservation as her breath hitched with more unshed tears.

Harry had not been the source of much comfort in his life, at least in the parts of his life he could still remember, but Ginny seemed to be receiving some kind of ease anyway. Little by little, he relaxed into it, into the feel of her tucked into his embrace, into her hands fisted in the robes at his back, and the scent of her wildflower hair.

Time stretched, and it could've been several minutes or several hours for all the attention he was paying the clock on the wall.

Ultimately, however, Ginny's hold did loosen and she sucked in a shuddering sigh as both their arms dropped back to their sides.

She stared up at him, her expression a bit sheepish, but also with a hint of something so unapologetic, he wondered if it wasn't so much her feelings in that moment as much as it was her constant state of being.

"I guess I'm not coping as well as I thought." She sniffed, wiping her eyes and shooting him a self deprecating grin.

Then Harry realized she was pretty.

No, that wasn't right. She'd always been rather pretty, but in a girlish, innocent type of way.

The Ginny that stood before him now was stunning. Shining copper hair cascaded down her shoulders in loose waves. Freckles dusted her cheeks and nose, etching constellations down to her neck and collarbones. While her bright amber eyes were lit from within by a fire that looked like it could burn the world down three times over if she had the inclination.

"Do-" Harry began in some lame attempt at making amends. "Do you want to stay? We don't have to talk!" he added quickly. "Or we could talk about something else? But I understand if you don't want to talk at all. Really, either works for me. Talking, or not talking, I mean-"

This startled a laugh out of her and Harry felt a deep rooted elation take hold at being the cause of such a thing.

"If you say 'talk' one more time," she said in reply, "I'm going to throw myself in the river."

Harry blinked. "What river?"

She breathed out a chuckle, but she couldn't hide the trace of sadness that pinched the corners of her eyes.

"Do you think we could..." she hesitated, and Harry noticed her twist a thin gold band around her finger. "Just for a little while longer?"

Harry's eyes blurred a bit at the edges, a new emotion gripping his lungs as he took in her hopeless expression.

He nodded, and with a relieved sigh, she folded herself into him once more. Prepared for it this time, he tucked his chin on the top of her head and let the swirling flowery scent of her engulf his senses.

He'd committed it to memory long before she let go.

#already gone #already HERE #this was so much fun #my fic

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Salut, S!

I was trying to write a medium amount of evanstan but uh, I think I might have blacked out and written this instead? Either way, I thought you would like it.

Chris and Sebastian met two weeks before the start of filming on the first Captain America movie, and here they are, three years later, working on yet another movie together.

But it’s different this time. There’s a thicker brand of tension in the air, settling between the two when Chris looks him in the eye with a downright hungry look when the others aren’t aware. Sebastian doesn’t know what it means, but what he does know is that if Chris ever looks at him any differently, he might actually die.

It makes Sebastian feel alive. It’s better than any drink or drug, and it terrifies him. He wasn’t aware anyone (much less someone of the same gender, but he’ll unpack that later) could have such an effect on him. Chris does this downright mean slow up and down look at Seb, making a primal urge to fall to his knees in front of an entire press team burst from his chest. He has no idea what this man is doing to him, but he craves more.

Sebastian is snapped back into reality when Chris looks at him with a wolfish grin and asks him the question he’s been begging to hear the entire night.

“Seb, darling, do you want to get dinner with me? We can get a pizza or whatever you want.” He asks, and Chris’s choice of pet names makes him weak. It’s not really unusual, he’s called everyone on set darling at least once. But the way he says it now is frightening.

They end up in the car together, Chris’s hands steady on the wheel, Sebastian’s places nervously in his own lap. Chris glances over at him, a smirk etched onto his face.

“Seb, is anything on your mind? Anything you wanna talk about?” He asks, and Sebastian squeaks out a no far too quickly.

“Really? Because if I’m honest, the way you’ve been looking at me might suggest otherwise.” Chris says, and the confidence radiating off of him is so heavy Sebastian might be crushed by it.

“No, Sir.”

Sebastian goes red. Fuck, he never meant to call Chris that, oh no-

Chris groans softly, almost imperceptibly. Sebastian looks over at him, eyes wide. They’re turning into the driveway of Chris’s home and his knuckles are white on the wheel. He parks without a word, and Sebastian’s fear and confusion are growing. He turns to Sebastian and looks him in the eye with eyes that make Seb’s brain short-circuit.

“Baby, I need to know if we’re on the same page. Can you tell me what you want to happen once we get out of this car? Tell me honest, I’m not gonna judge you.” He says, and his voice is low and rough, and it takes a minute for Sebastian’s mouth to cooperate with his brain.

“Fuck, Chris, please. I want you to do whatever you want to me. Honestly, I don’t care, I just- oh my god, Chris, I need you to touch me. Please.” He rambles, and Chris waits until he’s done and kisses him with a fire that Sebastian never wants to be put out.

“Good boy.” Chris murmurs, and Sebastian whimpers, causing a predatory grin to spread onto the older man’s face.

Somehow, they make it into the house, where as soon as the door is shut Sebastian is slammed against a wall and kissed so ravenously that Sebastian might combust. They stay there for an uncertain amount of time. Seb is very bad at keeping track of time when all the blood in his body is flowing south.

“Chris-“ He whines, and the response is immediate. The blonde starts to bite and mark up his neck and collarbones, making Sebastian whimper and bite his lip so hard it draws a little bead of blood. Chris looks up and sees his lip, the blood trickling down it, and slowly moves up Sebastian’s neck, pressing soothing kisses on each mark he’s left.

There’s an outright moan from Seb when Chris leans down and licks the blood off of Sebastian’s bottom lip. His bones turn to jelly and Chris just laughs. He goes back to running his hands up and down the younger’s chest while bruising up his neck, and they both know that they’re going to get a talking to from the makeup team, but neither of them care.

“Oh fuck, Chris, please, I need you!” Sebastian groans, head thrown back against the wall, eyes screwed shut.

“Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you, baby. You’ve been real good, you deserve a reward.” Chris says, voice impossibly low, and Sebastian’s heart might seriously stop working. He whines, high pitched and needy, desperately trying to keep his grasp on reality. Chris takes both his and Sebastian’s shirts off, throwing them randomly on the floor, and it’s the final straw.

“Sir! Please, need you to touch me, ‘ve been good, please!” Sebastian gets out, letting go of everything tying him to this plane of existence.

Chris groans into his shoulder. “Yeah, sweetheart, you have. Said so myself, didn’t I? You’re my good boy, aren’t you?”

Sebastian moans, nodding his head feverishly. Chris picks him up by his thighs, kneading the flesh as Sebastian lets his head fall into Chris’s neck, pressing sloppy kisses into the skin.

He’s thrown onto a bed before he even realizes he’s moving, and immediately feels Chris take off his sweatpants and strip him of his boxers. He whimpers again, and Chris kisses him fiercely, making the younger man melt.

Slowly, he feels Chris’s hands drift lower and lower on his body, and he can’t hold back the noises that fall from his swollen lips.

He wouldn’t trade this for the world.

putain de merde, je vais à l’enfer.

I hope you liked…whatever that was, S 😅

Yours, 🍒Anon

I LOVE whatever that was! 😮‍💨🥴

I love this domineering, confident version of Chris you've written. There are many times that Chris just fucking screams Daddy, these looks he gives (especially when he was looking down and then glances back up, eyelids heavy), and you're so on the money with this drabble.

Fuck, yeah.

This particular part really, really got me, though, "Chris does this downright mean slow up and down look at Seb, making a primal urge to fall to his knees in front of an entire press team burst from his chest. He has no idea what this man is doing to him, but he craves more."

This 👏🏻 is 👏🏻 so 👏🏻 good 👏🏻

Thank you for these drool-worthy words!

#asks #🍒 anon #chris evans #sebastian stan #evanstan #rpf #real person fanfiction #anon provided writing #sub seb #sub sebastian #subastian #dom chris

[isa-ghost]

About how much time a day, or a week do you spend on writing your fic?

Cause I've been reading fics for years, but haven't started writing until relatively recently. I always knew in the back of my head that it took time to write and come up with the stories, but until recently I hadn't even begun to actually understand the time and energy it actually takes to write a fic. both short and long ones.

Now that I've started to think more about it, it would probably benefit fandom spaces a lot to more widely aknowledge the time it takes. It could probably help with the consumeconsumeconsume mindset of fancreations that I know that I've had, and that are present in a lot of fandoms, especially bigger ones

100% that last part, yeah.

See, for me it's even more complicated because not only am I squeezing writing between irl obligations like class, homework, work, family dinner, sleep, etc.

But I also have ADHD, so I'm battling my attention span and the temptations of my hyperfixations, as well as keeping up with my friends, fandom spaces, etc. I don't want to neglect any of those.

But focus is very difficult when I don't have absolutely nothing going on, which means I often need to shut everything completely out (which can take a lot of self control). I'll vanish on my friends and social media for hours, but still pause here and there to catch up on what I've missed for a short while before returning to writing because I HATE falling deep out of the loop and having a lot to catch up on is overwhelming. On top of that, how easily words are flowing and such also impacts how much or how long I write.

So I don't know if I have a simple or precise answer as to how long. But nonetheless, it's HOURS.

So far, for the 4 chapters that are published, I've sat down multiple days in a row OR every other day if I have time-consuming irl obligations, and written as much as I could before something depleted my motivation or I reached a good stopping point. Lately that's amounted to 1-5 paragraphs depending on the scene I'm at.

If it's something my plot plan has left more open-ended, it can take hours for me to work out how exactly I want to get to the next plot point. The Ch 3 Pissa date and stretching out the Ch 4 Eggza day was MISERABLE /lh because it was super open-ended since I wanted to give myself room to improvise, I don't like rigidly over-planning things bc a lot of the fun in writing is filling blanks between points. I get some AWESOME ideas in the moment thar aren't initially planned in my plot. For example, the foreshadowing I included in the Ch 2 nightmare where he hears Missa scream? If you check my post of my plan after I published the chapter, I pulled that out of my ass. It was originally just supposed to be a nightmare where he could hear Fit, Etoiles & Missa yelling to each other. I never planned for him to hear what's implied to be Missa injured.

But even though improvising is important (and required at some points of AMFMN), it's kinda hard to sit down and think of what to do with those parts when your hyperfixation streamer streams 3 days a week and on the days he doesn't, you have class + other things to do + other streams you refuse to miss + friends + etc etc etc and therefore you don't have a perfect distraction-free time to just go ham.

It takes a lot of self-discipline and control to not engage with stuff so I can focus on writing. And even still, depending on how cooperative my brain is that day, that can still be hours of writing.

Generally I try to chip away at least 3 paragraphs or get from one plot point to the next per day until the chapter is finished.

So TLDR; I spend hours a day, which totals to even more hours a week, working on a chapter.

It's equal parts because I get in the zone with writing and smash out a huge amount of the plot points planned for the chapter, OR I'm struggling with flow/attention span/a bunch of other things.

Due to my schedule, Tuesdays, Saturdays and Sundays are usually the best days for me to write. But even still, I have class Tuesday until close to noon, possibly other streams (curse you Sneeg and Fit /lh), work every other Saturday, family daily routine things like dinner, and the occasional plans with irl friends.

So uh. I do be battling the horrors sometimes to get chapters out. But now that Phil is finally possessed, I have a feeling I'll be breezing through things easier. I know a lot of what's happening next and I'm a whore for the drama. :3c

You have NO IDEA how much watching people scream and lose their minds over crumbs and currently published chapters motivates me. I'm so fucking excited for late game fic. Like Chapter 9 onwards. Ohohohough

#AMFMN things

[littleperilstories]

The Prince of Thieves: Cross My Heart, Hope Not to Die

Mood Boards | Chapter Titles | Also on A03!

Warnings: Fantasy-esque prison setting, restraints (shackles), mention of infection/infected wound, mention of death, lady whump (w/ male whumper), physical violence, betrayal

This chapter is kind of a fun milestone (for me)! When I realized how in love I was in with Will, Bree, & Jamie's story back in October (Whumptober 2022), I became so obsessed that I ended up writing all the way to the end despite (a) knowing there was no way I could post it all for Whumptober and (b) still having more Whumptober prompts to fill for Fen & Freddie and The Curiosity Collector. This is the first part that got written to actually expand the story, not just to fill a prompt! Look how far we've come!

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Word count: 2213 || Approx reading time: 9 mins

Cross My Heart, Hope Not to Die

Teaser: His eyes narrow. “I understand what a deal is, you irritating wench. Now tell me what the fuck you want.” I open my  mouth, about to do so, when he adds, “Just remember this, Miss Cooper: I owe you nothing. Do you really think I care what happens to you? If you rot in here or if you hang?”

Bree

I fiddle with the new shackles Hatchett slapped onto my wrists after he unlocked the one chaining me to the wall. I can’t help but wonder what, exactly, he thinks I will do if my hands are free. Despite their batons and metal-studded shoes, the constables seem to be the ones who are fearful all the time.

Not me. I’m not afraid. I’m confident. Positively brimming with confidence—and with secrets. That is the air I try to exude as he pulls me into his office and closes the door.

“Sit.”

He points to the chair in front of me, and I shuffle my way over, doing my best to make the movement look dignified.

Hatchett looks me up and down, the beginnings of a sneer clawing through his mask of solemnity. “Well? What do you want?”

Off to a good start, then. “A deal.”

“I mean,” he says tartly, “what are the conditions of this deal you so desire?” He leans back in his chair. “Because I’m rather doubtful you have anything of value to give me.”

That’s what you think. If I could cross my arms, I would. I settle for a hard stare. Baden Hatchett thinks he knows everything about me. He doesn’t.

He pulls a face, unintimidated. “Cut the bullshit. Start talking, or I’m throwing you back. I don’t have the time or patience for this.”

“I’m not giving up my information for free.” I have no idea, none whatsoever, if this will work. But I have to try. I have to, because if I don’t… “I’m trading it.”

His eyes narrow. “I understand what a deal is, you irritating wench. Now tell me what the fuck you want.” I open my  mouth, about to do so, when he adds, “Just remember this, Miss Cooper: I owe you nothing. Do you really think I care what happens to you? If you rot in here or if you hang?”

Of course I’m under no illusions that he gives a damn about my fate. Why should he care?

“That man back there,” I say, hating that my words come out in a near-whisper, “he’s dying.”

He chuckles. “Ah. You’re a medical expert now, are you?”

“No,” I snap. “Anyone with any brains can see it. He’s half-delirious. Your fu… Your medic let his wounds—he—he let them get infected.”

Narrowing his eyes, he asks, “Are you suggesting our expertly trained medic is having trouble performing the duties of his job?”

Regret will surely follow my next words. “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”

“You dare to make accusations against Mr. Gysborne?” I fucking hate the way he’s looking at me as I talk. Still smirking. Like this is funny. Like he knows something I don’t.

“You can’t even control your own staff,” I say. It’s the first remark that comes into my head, no doubt another stupid thing to say that will piss him off. But as he’s sneering at me like that, suddenly pissing him off is the only thing I want to do. “You need to make him do what you’re paying him to do.”

His face darkens, the muscles in his face and neck tugging into rigidity. Ha. I have, indeed, struck a nerve. “Watch your step, Miss Cooper. Perhaps you ought to choose your words a little more carefully.”

Before I speak again, I take a breath. Savour the victory for a few measly moments. “You can’t let him die.”

Cruel laughter curls across his face. “That is precisely what my role is, Miss Cooper. Or were you somehow unaware of the boy’s sentence?”

My skin prickles. “So you’re all right with just…giving up? Letting him die of fever in there? I thought your role was, precisely, to get him to talk.” I swallow the sickly feeling that’s crawling up my throat. “I really thought you’d care more about the glory of being the one to get him to crack.”

Still he is unmoved. Still he seems amused. “So you’re in here today to plead…what? That I should let him live so you can watch him…hang? You want to make sure you’re in the front row? Or perhaps you’d like to be up there next to him?

The very thought makes me ill.

“That is not what I fucking mean.” I ball my hands into fists, bunching the torn and filthy material of the prison uniform. “He’s suffering.”

Hatchett smiles. “Good.”

“It isn’t,” I say through gritted teeth. “Have a heart, Baden, pl—”

The slap is so fast, so unexpected, it doesn’t even hurt—at first. I gasp and clap one hand to my cheek as it begins to sting, the other hand floating awkwardly before me in its manacle. “What the fu—”

“You,” he snarls, every trace of amusement gone, “do not get to call me by my name. We’re not friends. I’m not on your side. You gave up your right to my given name the night you—”

His words die.

Of course. That’s what this is about.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe, not because I mean it—because I’m not fucking sorry I crept away in the middle of the night without even leaving a note—but because I don’t know what else to say that will make him do what I want.

“Don’t lie to me.” Baden Hatchett takes a breath, straightenes his back, narrows his glare. “You said you had information. I will have it.”

All right. This isn’t going how I planned, but…at least I’m getting somewhere. “I told you. A trade. Make Mr. Gysborne do his job properly. And I will tell you all I know.”

“It can’t be worth much,” he says, rolling his eyes. His violent rage has dissipated as quickly as it erupted. There and gone again in the blink of an eye. “You wish him not to suffer, but you’ll betray him and his friends? Either you’re about to feed me lies or the information is so worthless, you’re willing to share. Either way, this is a bluff. Get out.”

He stands up, he reaches for me, he’s about to drag me back, he’s not going to listen.

His fingers curl around my arm. “You don’t know anything. You were just one of their little runners, a lowly thief and nothing more. You weren’t—you aren’t—worth anything to them, either.”

The final word stings more than any strike across the face ever could.

Hatchett’s eyes are cold. He stands tall, back ramrod-straight, not a fold of his blue uniform out of place. His buttons gleam, his hair cropped so neatly. The perfect picture of a constable.

No. He’s a fucking bastard, and we both know it. Respectable, a shining gold example to us all—on the outside. Inside, a rotting corpse, teeming with worms and maggots.

His throat bobs in the moment of silence as he waits for my next argument.

“After running for them for years,” I say, “I know more than you think.”

He scoffs,“I don’t have time for this,” and jerks me toward the door.

“Wait!” The cry spills out of me, panicked now, desperate. “Please. Just…just listen. Hear me out.”

Pathetic. He doesn’t have to say it. I know exactly what I am.

“I know something no other runner knows.” Does it matter if this is true? There are no other runners around to challenge my word. “About the inner circle.”

An eyebrow drifts upwards, skeptical. “Really.”

Nodding, I try to extricate myself from his iron grip, and to my surprise, his fingers uncurl from my arm.

“I know a secret about the leader. The real one.” I’m whispering now. “And I can tell you about how they work. Recruit runners. Pass messages.”

If we are doomed anyway, what is the point of holding my tongue? Fox’s brother is clever enough to have evaded capture and kept IA going for all these years. Surely he has the wits and foresight to be long gone by now. My brother’s going to kill me, he said that night. Who knows what their relationship was like? Perhaps he skipped town the moment he realized Fox had been arrested.

Hatchett says nothing, but he is listening.

“I will tell you,” I say, tears on my cheeks now. How insincere, even fraudulent, they must seem. Why should I cry? What does any of this matter—should it matter, to me? “If you just give him the help he needs. I’ll—I’ll even do it. If Gysborne is too—too—I don’t know, fucking busy, or whatever the reason is he’s been so neglectful, I’ll do it. If you’ll just let me. Give me medicine, clean water, anything.”

This is coming dangerously close to begging.

His face is impassive save for a faint glitter in his grey eyes. “And why are you going to such lengths for this boy who must die anyway, Miss Cooper?”

“He’s in pain,” I say. “It’s not fair.” It’s not right.

A childish sentiment. Pointless words. Hatchett smiles.

“How do you know him? I confess, I am curious.”

“IA. Obviously.” I can’t pull back the second word in time. Hatchett bristles but keeps his temper in check.

“Seems like more than just two thieves passing in the night.” He drums his fingers against the wall, and the sound burrows into my skull. “You’re practically throwing yourself at my feet to save his life, are you not?” There’s disgust in his words, and he’s right to feel it. “That is surely warranted by more than just the incidental acquaintance of two criminals.”

Baden Hatchett has no right to the story I wrote after I ran away, and certainly no claim to the story of that night.

But he is waiting, and watching, and waiting, and he holds Fox’s fate in his hands—and mine.

“He saved my life,” I say, shuddering slightly as the words come out. I do not want him to know anything about the night Fox saved me.

Hatchett’s head tips to one side. “Did he, now.”

Another shiver runs through me. Why do I feel like I have made a terrible mistake?

He moves on as if what I just said means nothing. “Spill your secrets, then.” Dragging me back to the chair, he shoves me hard enough that I practically fall into the seat. “Now.”

“I want your word,” I whisper. “Let me help him.”

“My prison, my rules, Miss Cooper. Speak first.”

More tears slide down my face now, hot and humiliating. What am I supposed to do?

“Fox isn’t the true leader of Iustitia aecum,” I say. Immediately, Hatchett rolls his eyes.

“That,” he says icily, “is abundantly clear. Try harder.”

Just fucking shut up and listen, then. I don’t say the thought aloud. “He answers to someone else. His family. His brother.”

He blinks.

“If you get the name of one,” I say, “you can get the name of the other.”

You’re even more of a faithless minx than I thought. How I hate that Baden turned out to be right.

“You didn’t know that, did you?”

He doesn’t rise to my jibe. “And what, pray tell, is the boy’s name?”

“I don’t know.” Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you—a true invasion, a low to which I will not stoop. Avoiding his glare, I stare down at the scratched, weathered wood of his desk. It has been here for a long time, from the look of it. No doubt it will outlive me.

Hatchett is smiling grimly when I look up again. “You can find out, though.”

It sinks in over the course of several seconds what he’s suggesting. “No.”

“I still haven’t decided what to do with you,” he says. His voice has changed. He is coaxing me. Drizzling honey over every word. “Perhaps I could still be swayed not to send you to the gallows. If you proved still…useful.”

“No,” I repeat. That was not part of the plan. Or the deal.

His head tilts to the side. “Think on it, Miss Cooper. Perhaps you will change your mind.”

I want to run, to get away from him, to get away from the damage I’ve already done.

Becoming Hatchett’s obedient little spy is not going to make that happen.

“You owe me more,” he reminds me. “You want to play nursemaid? IA’s methods, then. Now.”

That is what I promised. But I still hesitate.

“Hurry up, Miss Cooper.” Hatchett sits again and folds his arms. “Or else I might lose patience and throw you back in your cell, alone, so you can watch the boy languish in his fever some more. I’ll have Gysborne keep him alive, but only just. And perhaps in his delirium, he’ll give us the information we need anyway.”

A gamble, and a big one at that. Now he’s the one who’s bluffing. “You won’t risk losing your informant.”

“Try me.” His fingers draw circles in the wooden desktop, impatient and lazy at once. “So you’d best speak up. If he dies of infection anyway while you’re waffling in here, we both lose, don’t we? And if that happens…” He smiles, grim as death and slick as hot oil. “Then your grand betrayal will have been worth absolutely nothing.”

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Tagging: @starlit-hopes-and-dreams, @gala1981, @kixngiggles .

[Banner ID: A narrow horizontal, rectangular banner featuring a barred archway. The bars and the stone walls evoke the feeling of a dungeon or prison. There are burning candles on either side of the archway. The title of the story, The Prince of Thieves, appears in white text in the centre of the image. The author's username, abbreviated to LPS from littleperilstories, appears in the bottom right corner in partially transparent text. End ID.]

#lps the prince of thieves #whump #dungeon whump #whump writing #whump story #whump fiction #original fiction #original writing #original story #original content #whumpblr #whump community #writeblr #lps-writes #oc Bree Cooper #oc Will Wardrew #oc Baden Hatchett #oc whump #lady whump #physical violence

[fe-noumenal]

Why Apostles of Mercy will (likely) have a good ending

(heavy Axiom's End and Truth of the Divine spoilers ahead!!!)

I watched Lindsay Ellis' latest Nebula video about Guy Fieri. It got me thinking about a common theme I've been noticing in her recent videos - sincere storytelling is good and irony destroys our enjoyment of stories.

And my poisoned by Noumena brain rot mind, gave me some ideas of the direction of the story after Truth of the Divine.

Let's explore this!

First one, a 'positive and healthy', boring one - Cora tries to help Nikola and Ampersand, but they are too far gone. They do what their culture dictates and pass on peacefully. Cora is left to enter full adulthood as a formed person, a speaker for the (dead) aliens. Blah, I hate it! It does tie everything in a neat bow and even gives an opening for future instalments (because I don't think we will get planned 5 parts now), but I find it unlikely. It isn't sincire. Lindsay was always vocal against killing off 'damaged' characters as a redemption. She even said so in TotD content waring.

I read TotD a few times now and the ending can be interpreted as Cora and Ampersand finally meeting in the middle but... But sometimes I feel like it's a relapse. It's written from Cora's POV and we can't fully trust her positive emotions. It could see it as a parallel to Kaveh's alcoholism - a toxic relationship is like a drug. Kaveh tried to help Cora overcome her addiction, but he's gone now, and she is back at square one. She used Kaveh for sex at the beginning - one well of affection dried up and she tried to secure another. But he, in his perfection stepped up and showed Cora how a healthy and mature relationship looks like. And I really think this is Kaveh's function in this book - to teach Cora about love. And that why he has to exit the stage, just like a mentor in hero's journey. He is a moral compass in the book. But when he encouraged Cora to explore her relationship with Ampersand, I'm still not sure if he really meant it, or he was aware that he couldn't help an alcoholic by just telling them to stop drinking. It all comes down how Ampersand and Cora's reunion should be interpreted. I think the bad ending would still be very interesting, if very emotionally taxing turn of events. I like to watch a good train crash, but I like those characters. I want them happy. If Cora and Ampersand continue to make each other miserable, it would go against the theme of the series. Nikola would die and Ampersand would die with him, leaving Cora alone with a string of deceased partners. It would mean that communication between species is futile and Superorganism was right all along. Humanity would burn. It would be cynical and Lindsay has been clear that she despises cynical storytelling.

And here is a possible !!gigant spoiler!! for the whole series: in her mastodon post, Lindsay said that humanity is spared by the Superorganism (because they don't have Twitter in this universe lol, check it yourself https://mastodon.social/@lindsayellis/109853608377077218 ). So a first half of the (potentially) good ending is (possibly) guaranteed. It won't happen if Cora, Ampersand and Nik don't cooperate. And they can't effectively cooperate if they are on a brink of unaliving themselves. I'm still not sure what will exactly happen, if I knew I would write it myself but I have high hopes. And watching Lindsay's last videos only cemented that hope. Again and again she hammers down her point about the sincerity, even if the story is clishe or sappy. Those videos were written in tandem with Apostles of Mercy and it would be so jarring if it said something opposite.

Based on all information available, my speculative outline of the Apostles of Mercy would look like that:

1. Cora tries to help Ampersand and Nikola to heal their minds. It's hard.

2. Cora and Nik bond over their feelings for Kaveh and Amps.

3. They encounter a pod of benevolent transients, who give us a different perspective on Superorganism and Amygdaline nature. They have resources to provide Amps and Nik a true therapy. (Lindsay said that we will meet transients.)

4. Amps, Nik and Cora form a phyle.

5. They are able to communicate by high language, fully confirming that humans are persons by Amygdaline standards. (High language has to happen. It's much more interesting that way. Also this would give us an unfiltered Amygdaline perspective)

6. There is a mental show down with Autocrat, something like Ender's Game.

Add some shenanigans with Sol, Luciana, propagandists and some evil Nils' shit.

Are those all possible options? No. Maybe I'm completely wrong and it will be something completely different? I hope so. I hope Lindsay will deliver an incredible, SINCERE book, that will move as all, just like Axiom's End and Truth of the Divine did.

I desperately want to be this series' Bigolas Dickolas, so we will get all 5 😭

#noumena #apostles of mercy #truth of the divine #spoliers

[nocompromise-noregrets]

⭐star⭐  how much do you plan when writing a fic in general - how much of it is like ‘no the tiny fictional people in my brain drive this actually’ (which relatable) - do you have multiple drafts? What thing have the characters/character done that surprised you that you loved the most?

Oh boy. I never plan, or hardly ever - the nature of the way I write rather precludes it, in that the characters talk and I write, it's very rarely a deliberate thing. I did a bit of noting down ideas when writing Empty Vessel, as it got so ludicrously big, and I probably need to do some planning for the sequel to Break You But You'll Mend, as it's going to require some plot (oh god), but mostly I just write. The tiny fictional people in my brain are definitely the ones doing the driving XD Relatedly, I don't draft - I write, I read over, I make small corrections where needed, then I post. The thought of rewriting something just feels like duplication of effort to me, and once I've written something, that's how it happened, it can't be changed. This is one of the reasons why I'm struggling with the original novel, I think - I reordered some scenes from the fic it was based on, and now it feels kind of tangled up, I'm not sure if it works better in this order or how it was before, and I'm very blocked on sorting it out. I could do with someone who has the time and energy to read it over and untangle it for me, but I'm very aware that's a huge ask.

Meanwhile, the first thing that came to me for there's a joke here somewhere and it's on me was Thranduil saying 'I'd marry you tomorrow if I could', and then I had to work out how the hell I was going to get there from the premise of the fic, which was based around a load of miscommunication and him not answering Bard's messages. So I just sat back and let them talk, and lo and behold, they got there. That particular 'verse has been very cooperative the last few weeks and I am enjoying it hugely. :D There are others, but that's the one that springs immediately to mind, given that it happened this week and I wrote the fic yesterday.

Wheeee, thank you for asking! <3333333 If anyone else wants 'director's cut' style ramblings, do send me a star or two and something specific you'd like me to ramble about!

#ask game #go on #ask me stuff! #my writing

[now-theres-a-spoiler-for-you]

Writing things down so I can refer back when I need it 😬

On Saturday, I had my first photo op with Alex. After all the online calls we’ve done, it was really like showing up at an old friend’s party where they’re distracted by everything going on around them but really excited to see you. I walked into the booth to wait for the guy in front of me to finish, then they sent me forward to stand beside her. It took about half a second for her to register that it was me standing there but when she did, she squealed with excitement and tried to hug me out of reflex. We’d already been warned by staff that we weren’t allowed to handle the guests and if we did, we’d be removed so I pulled back to keep us both from getting in trouble and Alex was like “oh no, we can’t! I really want to hug you!” We both laughed and I said it was fine, and that I was really just glad to see her at a decent hour for once and she said “yeah, not at f***ing 3 in the morning!”

My brain anytime I hear Alex swear is like this

The woman who was coordinating the photo sessions kind of suggested we move things along because we were holding things up so we cooperated (though we were still very giggly) and stood on the marker. Alex took charge and decided what pose to do for us (thank god because I’m not a posing person) and said “I’m wearing a long skirt so I’m going to go swoosh like a flamenco dancer” and lifted her skirt so I matched her energy. We ended up needing to go again because my glasses reflected weirdly but we’d also been told not to put anything down in the booth for health and safety reasons. I didn’t have pockets so I shoved them unceremoniously down the front of my dress and Alex erupted into laughter again. I was unsure whether my makeup had held up between wearing a mask and my glasses rubbing so I asked her if I was all good (I was) and then we ended up with this 👍🏻

A couple of hours later, I went to visit her again at her autograph table. The staff kept asking if I needed to write my name down for personalization but I wasn’t going to need my name written anyway so I declined and Alex already knew what my name was anyway so I figured I’d save them some paper. I didn’t actually need anything signed but needed to give her some things I’d brought along so I had the banana picture to serve that purpose and I told her it was a bit of a joke item, she was confused but laughed very hard when she saw what I’d drawn and was absolutely bewildered and impressed that I’d captured so many recognizable details like her jewellery and her outfit etc.

After she’d worked out what to write on the picture, I redirected her attention to the gifts I’d brought her and handed over the book (a little book of recipes that corresponded to the mood/theme of excerpts from Shakespeare’s work) and said she was very excited to read it because she loves Shakespeare. Inside my head at that moment was like

but I digress, I merely said “I know!” and then she told me about how she was going to be doing another Shakespeare play soon and that she’s scared that she’s not going to do it justice (she’s going to be the best Prospero ever) and I said I’d seen that news and was very excited for her, and that I really hoped it would be streamed because it’s one of my favourite Shakespeare works. She agreed that it would be a great idea for them to stream it and I told her to push them for it because I know it’s something a lot of people are hoping for.

After that, I pointed to the box that I’d made to house the main portion of my gift pile and told her that she could open it now and that it was for her to take home. I mentioned that she’d seen it before but it had been a long two years (especially for her) so I didn’t expect her to remember. When she opened it, she was stunned and kept squealing “NO” because she felt like it was too grand a gesture but I insisted she take her because I’d done it knowing that she would appreciate that specific type of thing. She almost cried as she took in all of the details and kept saying how much she loved what I’d done and that she was going to cherish it. This was before I’d even shown her that there was a second outfit and set of accessories in the secret compartment.

I decided at that point that it was worth shooting my shot and asking whether it would be possible to bend the rules and get a photo of her with the doll I’d made and Alex turned to her handler with a hopeful look but was told no and I said I understood but she did say that she would keep her on her table for the next Galaxycon chat and would pull her out to say hello to me when it happens. I asked if she knew when it would be because it had been ages since we’d been able to catch up properly and she said she wasn’t sure but she knew there’d be one because they’d already asked if she was open to it.

After that, I went for lunch with friends and then made my way home to rest up for day 2 (I did not rest up for day 2 lmao)

On the morning of day 2, my first mission was to get something personalized for a friend so I headed for her table and met up with another Kinglet I’d met at the con the day before. I missed Alex’s signing by minutes but my friend had just spoken to her and said that when she mentioned me, Alex started gushing about my doll again and asked if she’d seen it and told her to tell me she was still in love 🥹

When I was finally able to get back to her table, the staff handling Alex’s line both called me by name and I was like “oh god am I famous over here or something?” to Alex and she laughed at me. The woman with her then explained she remembered me from the day before. After Alex finished signing my friend’s thing, I said goodbye again and ran off, then we killed some time until her panel.

At the panel, Alex was very funny and charismatic. A lot of the usual questions were asked but there were a few interesting revelations and she did inadvertently share a concept she’d been developing if she writes a new River Song book so I’m really looking forward to that if it happens.

After the panel, I went for another photo with her because I’d bought a second token not realizing that my kids would be camping that day and didn’t want to waste it. I didn’t expect to get a goodbye hug for it since we’d been warned not to but I did anyway so thanks queen 👏🏻

That concludes my Kinglet dream weekend. I hope you enjoyed 😂

#kingston ❤️ #alex kingston #brisnova 2022

[pipermca]

Writing Update - February 2023

I was hoping to get some writing done tonight but the brain didn't want to cooperate, so I guess I'll wrap up my February. XD

Frank talk: my output was absolutely horrendous this month. Last month was about 6200 words; in February I only wrote 3,723 words.

My muse started to wander all around again, which is probably why I didn't write much. The rotation seems to be: 1) Pick away at a chapter on a fic until it's finished! 2) Bask in the glory while I play video games for a week instead of write. 3) Start picking away at a chapter on a different fic. 😐

Anyway, I also did some serious thinking about the TF Big Bang. While I do really enjoy participating in them, I think I'm going to have to bow out this year. There's a couple of reasons for this. First, I don't have many story ideas that I think would fit comfortably in 15k. I have lots that will probably come in around 8-9k words, and a few that I'm sure will probably land around 20k or more. The ONE story that might be suitable is sort of half written right now, but it's also got a load of smut that's going to happen in the middle and I always write smut with glacial slowness. Don't know why. XD

Secondly (and probably more importantly), this summer is going to be absolute hell for me at work, and I am reasonably sure it's going to affect my "fun" writing. I am a writer at work, and while the type of writing I do for work is very different than my fan fiction, it does use the same parts of my brain. And I've noticed that after a really hectic day at work, the writing part of my brain is just worn out and needs to rest. (This is also why I'm reluctant to tackle the 20k+ story idea.)

I might see if I can volunteer my time to be a beta reader, since editing/reviewing is different enough from my work writing that I think I could swing it.

In the meantime, I have been spending a lot of time this month worrying over whether I should attempt the BB even with my work schedule. I'm hoping that having come to a decision will give my muse time to breathe (since it's been frantically trying to figure out how to manhandle some of my ideas into something suitable), and let me get back to working on the stories I already have in progress.

That said, here's how the rest of the month went for me.

Posted

Pet Names. 950 words. A reposted story; it was backdated to its original posting date so it didn't appear on the "front page."

WIPs

These are the stories I actually put words down for this month.

Sun and Moon (working title). 43,000 words. I am really hoping I can get the confidence soon to start posting this soon. I need to stop going back and rewriting the first few chapters over and over. >.<

The King and the Bounty Hunter. 10,100 words. This was my muse's obsession this month. I got through the chapter in progress and then dropped it like a hot potato.

Again and Again and Again. 1300 words. I briefly flirted with the idea of making this my BB fic but I don't think I can stretch it to 15k. Also it's a thing I'm not writing. Really.

#progress report #am writing #fan fiction

[cheerstotheelites-if]

Birthday Gift Conundrum

Hey guys! I tried my hand at writing my first fanfic for Fleur's upcoming birthday. Featuring Felicity, Emery, Weylyn, Cooper Ophelia and a mentioning of the birthday girl who deserves the best in the world, Fleur.

Note: I do not own the characters nor the original story "Cheers to the Elites". All credits to the author @l-writes-things for creating the story @cheerstotheelites-if.

note note: The characters may act different from the original.

note note note: timeline of the events is the in the first year of MC and Fleur dating period

note note note note: sending it in the form of an ask because for some reason the submission option is not working for me

note note note note note: for fear of the ask getting too long, the fanfic will come with parts. Enjoy part 1

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

14 February 2023

You can see the special mark, the word written in capital letters “IMPORTANT” on the date, as if to further emphasize its significance to the calendar’s owner.

3 months ago

Felicity POV

“Emery, go call MC to come down for dinner.”

Her child had been cooped up in their room from the moment they arrived home. It was not the first time and not too unusual for someone studying at a prestigious school as Lumintoille. But this habit of theirs has gotten worse lately. Unless she sends Emery to distract them/call them down (drag them), they won’t budge from their seat.

*Sigh* She should have a talk with them.

It’s good to be studious, but they should be careful. Pushing their body to its limits could damage their health. She and Zeke would know.

(Author note” little does she know her child is worrying over a birthday gift for their girlfriend…)

Just as Emery is about to knock on his parent/sibling’s door, he hears some voice sounds. Not only his parent/sibling’s. Others too. Familiar voices. Family. His eyes lit up.

And just like that, he opens the door excitedly, barging in their room.

Are you talking with Big Brother Weylyn, Cooper and Big Sis Ophelia?

MC POV

They did not expect Emery barging into their room. But even if he knocked, would they have heard?

Probably not.

They were too focused on the topic of the group call, which they initiated. Asking for help was not their forte, nor their preferred option, buuuuuuuuut… they had to.

You see… Observing Fleur carefully everyday would result in her reprimanding them for staring too much. Mulling over the perfect gift for her yielded results… though not helpful ones considering the huge list their brain came up with. Then the anxiety from the overthinking on how she would like the gift crept over. It didn’t leave for months.

Dispersing the stray thoughts away, they smile softly: “Yes Emery. Come and greet them if you’d like.”

Emery rushes to their parent/sibling’s side and they lift him up to sit on their lap. He takes the phone from where MC left it earlier, thrilled to talk with Weylyn, Cooper and Ophelia.

“Hello! – he greets them, waving his free hand at the same time.

“Hi!” “Hello!” “Heyo!” – all three of them greet Emery at the same time.

“Well, MC, you didn’t like any of our ideas so maybe you should ask Emery for help” – Cooper suggests, grinning mischievously similarly to a Cheshire cat.

“Hmmm. Not a bad idea. So, buddy. What do you think we should prepare for Fleur’s birthday?”- They ask half-jokingly.

Big Sis Fleur’s BIRTHDAY?! Tomorrow?! Why didn’t you tell me, MC?! – Emery shouts at them with a pouting face.

All of four of them laugh. Emery, leaves the phone on the table and crosses his arms, still pouting. “Meanie.”

MC stops their laugh and apologizes: “Sorry. I forgot to tell you. But don't worry, her birthday is not tomorrow, I promise."

"When is her birthday then, MC?" - he asks. Pouting face vanished, replaced by an expression of curiosity, but still keeping his hands crossed.

Adorable

Thinking that, they chuckle and lean over to take their handmade desk calendar to show him.

"Here, Emery. Look at the marked date. 14 February (14 Blossom). That's when we celebrate and give our gifts to her."

"Can I give her a rose? Will she like it?"

"Of course. You can give her any gift and she will like it." - their girlfriend always had a soft spot for their son/sibling.

"What will you give her?" - Emery innocently asks, not knowing their struggles with picking a single gift for her.

"Why don't you help him with picking a gift Emery?" - Ophelia chimes in.

"Why not give her a rose too?"- a good idea but not one they preferred. They wanted to give her something more unique and memorable. Not something they could give her any da-

Wait.

Memorable?

They could do that!

Something handmade and memorable. But what?

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

Thank you for reading until the end. Stay tuned for the next part: "Birthday Gift Preparation"

🥺🥺🥺

Words cannot describe on how I feel about this jgfhds and there's more coming?! 😳😳😳

Thank you for sharing your work, Fic. I can't wait to read the rest of it.🥺💙💙💙

#Fanart! #fanart-fic #Fleur #Birthday

[the-cat-chat]

November 18, 2023

Clue (1985)

Six guests are anonymously invited to a strange mansion for dinner, but after their host is killed, they must cooperate with the staff to identify the murderer as the bodies pile up.

JayBell: This is one of those movies that is always on my list but for whatever reason I never get around to watching. Until now.

I have fond memories of playing the board game, so I was interested to see how they could make a movie around a board game in a way that doesn't feel forced.

What I like most in this movie is the witty dialogue. There's a lot of back and forth between the characters and it's very well written. Despite the antics on screen and the ridiculous behavior of the characters, the dialogue doesn't feel juvenile.

The mystery also isn't as easy to predict as I thought it would be, and I only really picked up on one of the endings. I think my favorite part of the movie is the multiple endings because it's the perfect homage to the board game where every time you play there is a different murderer with a different outcome.

The only thing that bring down my rating is some of the physical comedy, which is honestly just a personal preference. It's just not my thing cause it feels so slapstick and over the top at times. But it's such a small thing that it doesn't overtake all the other things I enjoy about the movie.

Rating: 6.5/10 cats 🐈

Anzie: Needing a quick impromptu movie when the universe decided we shan’t be watching Adam Sandler voice a classroom lizard?? - the at random choice was Clue. I had heard it was funny and so good and obvi the game of clue is iconic- I felt the dire need to see what the fuss was about and how Tim Curry was going to blow this out of the water. Plus murder mystery - it’s a no brainer. Yessss I know my standards for picking are sooo strenuous and thorough.

Anyway- this movie was pretty enjoyable and funny-so mission accomplished- even if there were a few “hey why are all the men soooo creepy?” moments. (But not enough to really overshadow what was going on.) No my brain did that all on it’s own. I lost the track of my attention for like maybe a second?? And it was over for me in even really attempting to play along with what was going on until the big reveal at the end.

Butttttt speaking of the end. The big reveal (or reveals) are sooooo good and it’s so much fun. And honestly Tim Curry’s commitment to the bit (and everyone else- esp. Peacock at the end) is outstanding. He’s literally dripping sweat from running around explaining what happened or what really happened, and then finally what realllly really happened. And it was no small feat to explain it all out. All the acting was really great and it was a fun escape even if I had no idea what was happening for at least 45 minutes of it.

Rating: 5.75/10 Cats 🐈

#movie #movie review

[mephicchi]

((I can personally recommend watching Kruggsmash's Dwarf Fortress videos on YouTube, he makes illustrations of characters, artifacts, and events that happen in his fortresses as he's telling the story which helps with some amount of understanding. He also really gets into the rp side of it all and just has a nice storytelling voice in general. MonsterKiller, and HoneyStoker are my personal favourite fortresses he's done. HoneyStoker especially, but it has a rougher beginning and Krugg swaps between a few fortresses in that storyline. I'll cut myself off here, or I could talk about DF all day. My humble apologies to your followers.

I'll admit I'm a little concerned about how quickly and how thin exactly the veil may be getting, but I'll keep this rolling for now. I have ideas for how this can play out ic if you feel so inclined to indulge me. You'll see in the letter.

I have. SO MANY mini campaign ideas I want to DM. I love planning for sessions. Making borderline unnecessary props. And cooperative worldbuilding and character building is a favourite passtime of mine. Almost like I enjoy rp or something cough cough. Although when it comes to actually DMing a live session I feel like I choke, I can't read my own notes any more, and descriptive words suddenly all fall out of my brain like it's made of swiss cheese. It's probably all in my head as so far I haven't received any complaints from my players. In total I've probably only DM'd 4 or 5 sessions, all 5e (although once I tried to mix in my own dismal attempt at a homebrew mechanic.) Unfortunately the friendships fell apart and went separate ways due to outside and unrelated circumstances. But it's been 3 years or so and I haven't DM'd live since discovering CR and picking up a lot of techniques from Matt Mercer. I'd like to try it again with what I've learned. In the meantime however I've been DMing a murder mystery over text with my one remaining player still with me. Mostly just written rp, not unlike we have been doing here, although in a much shorter format, and involving skill checks and challenges whenever something necessary comes up. I'm much more in my element when writing tbh.

I am toying with the idea to retry the aforementioned homebrewed mechanic I attempted, but move it over to Call of Cthulhu one day, as the plot I had come up with mainly involved horror themed mindfuckery. But I'll need to do a lot more research and I'm currently, if you'll excuse the phrase, balls deep in 5e with my current headworld obsession.

Ahh I'm going on too long though, once again I apologise to your followers, and I'll leave you with that and move on to the actual letter now.))

// Thanks for the recommendation, I'll definitely check out some videos of his, who knows, perhaps I will fall into a DF hole, I wouldn't count on it though.

In my mind the veil might have already been lifted, but I am having way too much fun to stop this, communicating like this both ic and ooc might just have ignited a small spark of mine to seek out some text based RP groups, while it has also been a wonderful opportunity to learn more about both you and your character, which I would never say no to.

Your enthusiasm towards DMing is all too familiar, I too get ideas all the time, I never write them down anywhere though so they always get lost to time, but perhaps that is not the worst thing for I feel like I am incredibly bad at describing things, and even worse at changing my voice for different NPCs, making it hard for my players to discern who is speaking with them in a conversation with multiple NPCs.

As mentioned before, this whole "thing" might make me seek out some text based RP groups, for as I've just now discovered with this, I seem to have an incredibly amount of fun with it, even if I sometimes have to google translate a word, or look for a word that better encapsulates what I want to say, since English unfortunately isn't my first language.

Despite my refusal to DM, since I feel I am awful at it, I've picked up the rulebooks of a good few systems I'd like to try someday, seems I simply have to find someone that will indulge in my torture and run them for me, hah!

Aside from DnD 5e, I have the core rulebooks of Pathinder 1st Edition, Cyberpunk 2020, Vampire: The Masquerade, Werewolf: The Apocalypse and Mage: The Ascension taunting me with their presence in the corner of my eye whenever I am using my PC.

I hope you know how much I truly appreciate this exchange, but alas, I shall too get to writing the letter. //

#Personal stuff

[freshairforrabbits]

Fanfiction ask meme! 9 (for pretty boy, because I'm obsessed with it, so sue me), 13, and 24 (which feels like it's meant to have a generic "love it/hate it" answer, but I'm really curious about whether writing smut feels different to non-smutty scenes and any and all of your thoughts on that!)

Thank you for asking all these and 24 is especially interesting!

9) The entire nightmare sequence in the church hands down. Every time I write a trippy dream or nightmare sequence (or acid trip sequence) just know that is when I am having a fucking blast. But everything to do with that church scene is my favorite and still is, I kind of went hard as fuck on that and I am unashamedly proud of it

13) Fuck now this is a question, I haven't written for that many characters, but as far as having to write background characters my least favorite is Tuk not because I hate her by any means 😭 I just struggle with how it feels to get in that headspace of a child that young, it causes dissociation which I don't want to deal with while writing. That could just be me though other parts/alters enjoy writing for her the few times she does pop up while they absolutely loathe writing Quaritch which is very amusing all things considered! He can just be such a finicky bastard to pin down and make cooperate

24) Writing smut doesn't necessarily feel any different to writing non-smutty scenes! But I have to be in a particular mindset to write it, the stars have to align, certain factors in my headspace have to come together or else the smut comes off with less punch than the scenes without it. I remember being embarrassed for absolutely no reason when I started to write smut and couldn't even type the word cock let alone cunt, thankfully that changed real fast and I don't even break a sweat moving between a scene with sick nasty fucking and complete absence of sensuality. I do really enjoy writing sex as this looming presence in the background even during scenes where no smut is occuring at all; there's just something about it, especially when writing characters that are hypersexual like pretty boy Jake or just like rJake in sick guy who is hungry as fuck to fill a gaping artifical void. I absolutely love writing smut and non-smut scenes equally and find no real difference moving between them– but some days, my brain is truly nefarious and will fire off ideas rapid fire for the most interesting, gut wrenching smut scenes and those are the days when I love writing smut a bit more with a little devil perched on my shoulder whispering in my ear haha

I hope that answered that question sufficiently 😈

#answered asks #and please feel free to ask questions about pretty boy any time omfg #i will ramble about that fic for fucking decades #ill even talk about the art i made for the fic as well everything and anything is on the table #i even have playlists for that fic djjdkdksj always feel free to ask anything to your hearts content ❤️😈 #and thank you so much for asking these!!!! #pretty boy film

[mercurygguk]

what a man gotta do? | kth

genre; established relationship au, fluff

pairing; kim taehyung x female reader

summary; what a man gotta do when his girlfriend is insanely adorable when she’s drunk and doesn’t take no for an answer?

word count; 2,488

warnings; mentions of alcohol, a tiny bit of swearing, just soft tae and oc being a cute ass couple that i really adore

a/n; saw a text quote on tumblr, my brain popped an idea. this is it. also, i know nothing about gaming, so if anything i’ve written doesn’t make sense, just ignore it lol. please love it a lot and enjoy!! ps. please tell me what you think, thanks x

There is something so oddly pleasing about having the entire apartment to oneself on a Friday evening. Taehyung has been looking forward to this evening for a week and it is finally here. An entire evening for himself with his gaming console, his friends in his headphones and a big bowl of popcorn beside him. It’s quiet in the apartment as he sets up his gaming spot, fluffing the pillows and setting them up nicely on the couch so he can sit comfortably for the next many hours of nonstop gaming with his bestest friends.

The reason for his night alone is because his girlfriend’s (you) best friend just got promoted to a higher rank in the law firm she works at. She then went on to invite all her friends out for drinks which, of course, included you. Taehyung had fought to keep in his excitement when you had told him of your plans a week ago. You had eyed him down then, noticing the small exciting smile forming on his lips as he listened to your words carefully as if he actually cared. He was just overly excited to finally be able to have a gaming night without interruptions. And it’s not that he wants to sound ungrateful or like he enjoyed that you weren’t at home. He loved spending his Friday nights cuddled up with you, hell, that was his favorite Friday nights. But he’s only a boy, really. And a boy has needs. Gaming needs.

So he walks to the kitchen with a pep in his step as the microwave finishes with a loud ping! He pours the popcorn into a bowl and heads back to the couch where his gaming spot has been set up to perfection, everything in place and ready for him to have a relaxing night of games. He sits back in the mountain of pillows, sighing in content as he places the popcorn beside him before grabbing his headset. He sets it atop of his head, checking the sound and mic. Seconds later there’s an incoming call from his group of friends. 

He picks up with a grin on his face. “Hey guys!”

Seokjin gasps from the other end. “What the hell? Got a night off from the wife?”

Taehyung scoffs and rolls his eyes playfully, a small smile on his lips. “She’s out for drinks,” he explains, “best friend got promoted.”

“Em got promoted?” Jimin then asks, just now hearing about the news of his long-time crush.

A smirk appears on Taehyung’s face. “Yeah, like a week ago. She didn’t tell you?”

Jimin falls silent at his question. Taehyung wants to tell his best friend to get out of his misery and just ask the girl out. He’s a hundred percent sure she’d say yes within a heartbeat. In fact, when Em is here visiting you and Taehyung, she talks about Jimin more often than she’d ever admit.

“Just ask her out already!” Seokjin groans annoyed, causing Jimin to tell him to ‘fuck off’. Taehyung grins, having missed gaming and talking with his friends like this. He saw them a few days ago in person which was nice too, but gaming with them is just so different and fun. It’s been a long time since he has had the opportunity to game for an entire night with Seokjin and Jimin.

“Well,” Taehyung captures the attention of his two best friends, “shall we get started?”

And that’s how the next three hours pass. There’s bickering, arguing because Seokjin didn’t manage to cover for Taehyung which caused Taehyung to get killed. “Come on, hyung! You were supposed to cover for me!”

Seokjin sighs deeply on the other end, calming his temper. “You think I’m a mind reader? How was I supposed to know you’d-”

Taehyung’s phone starts vibrating in his pocket. He pulls the phone from his pocket to look at the caller-id. Your photo flashes across his screen, the wide smile on your face on a snowy day in December. A photo Taehyung snapped one day before Christmas, a day you had dragged him outside and into the snow. The first snow in Seoul in years and you had been so happy that you couldn’t stop smiling, so Taehyung saw it fit to snap a photo of you with his vintage camera which he had brought along.

“Hyung, one second,” he cuts off Seokjin’s rambling, removing his headset to answer your call.

“Hey babe,” Taehyung greets who he thinks is you. He stills, confused as Em greets him back in a rather serious, tired-sounding tone. “Oh, hey Em, did something happen?”

Em sighs deeply. “____ is drunk off her ass. Can you come get her?”

Drunk of her ass? You haven’t been drunk off your ass in months, which is why you being drunk so drunk right now doesn’t come as a shock to him. It’s been a while since you went out drinking like you’ve done tonight, so your body has gotten used to not fighting alcohol. Taehyung runs a hand through his dark black hair, removing it from his eyes.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll come by. Where you at?”

With the information from Em, he hangs up and grabs his headset to put it back on. “Hey, guys, I gotta go.”

Jimin sounds like an unsatisfied child as he whines. Taehyung can imagine the pout. “What? Why?”

“Em just called,” he tells his best friend, “____ is drunk as hell. I have to go get her.”

Jimin mutters an ‘oh’ and so does Seokjin. They tell each other goodbye before Taehyung is shutting off his gaming console and heading for the front door. He grabs a coat from the closet in the hallway, throwing it over the white t-shirt and the green unbuttoned flannel he’s wearing. He jumps into a pair of boots and grabs his keys before heading out of the apartment. 

“Shit,” he swears under his breath as he steps outside, into the cold air of January. He takes long strides towards his car, getting in and turning the key in the ignition. The heat is immediately turned on before he pulls out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of the bar Em told him you’re at. “One night,” he mumbles lowly to himself as he slowly drives around the parking lot behind the bar to find an empty spot, “one freaking night.”

The bar is filled with people, some drunk and some just barely tipsy. The aura in there is happy, void of any worries these people might have on regular days. Taehyung skims the darkness of the bar, trying his best to spot you in the crowd. Soon enough his eyes zoom in on Em who’s waving at him. He glances to her right side, spotting you sitting there with your head resting on Em’s shoulder. You look like you’re passed out and Taehyung immediately finds himself worrying a bit more than he originally had. You never pass out, you just always end up being a slur who laughs a bit too much at anything you find funny in the moment.

“Hey,” Em greets Taehyung. He nods at her in a greeting as he stops in front of them, immediately squatting down to be at your level. He reaches out, brushing your hair out of your face. You look at him, eyes blank and unfocused as you take him in. Thank god, you’re not passed out, just closing your eyes for a few seconds for a short nap.

“Hi baby,” Taehyung coos, thumb brushing across your cheek. You smile sheepishly, a very soft and drunken smile. Your boyfriend has to stifle a laugh as you almost fall over as you sit up. He catches your shoulder with his warm palm, steadying you as he tries to catch your eyes with his own. “Wanna go home?”

You nod, not muttering a simple word other than a low hum as he helps you to your feet. You’re leaning against his chest, cuddling into the warmth of him as he talks to Em for a moment.

“Thanks for calling,” he tells her. 

Em nods with a grin and pats your shoulder as if to say goodbye. “Get her to bed,” she smirks, “she’ll have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

Taehyung chuckles and nods in agreement. He bids Em and your other friends goodbye before leaving the bar with you cuddled up against his chest. You’re stumbling alongside him, finding it rather difficult to stand on your own two feet.

“Baby,” Taehyung softly calls, “could you use your legs for a second? You’re way heavier when you’re not cooperating, you know?”

You mumble in response, nuzzling your body even closer to him. “I wuv y-you,” you hum, smiling with your eyes closed as you hug him tightly. The man holding you up can’t help but laugh at you, his heart swelling twice it’s size as you drunkenly confess how you feel for him. Even though he already knew that. Good thing it’s love confessions and not some other kind of confession that slips from your drunk mind.

Taehyung struggles to get you into the passenger seat but he manages. He helps you take a sip of the water bottle Em had gotten for you at the bar. Your head falls back against the headrest of the seat, eyes still closed and lips moving on in another round of mumbles and humming. Taehyung buckles you up before moving to his own seat behind the wheel. He glances at you as he ignites the car. You’re really a sight to see right now. Completely unfazed as you sit in a weird position in the passenger seat, your head lulling from side to side because you have absolutely no control over it at the moment.

“God, you’re drunk,” Taehyung sighs deeply, “let’s get you home.”

If Taehyung thought getting you in the passenger seat was hard, then he had another thing coming. Getting you out of the passenger, however, is a completely different ordeal and then getting you inside the apartment building and into the elevator was probably more exercise than Taehyung has ever done in one day. Ugh, he really hates going to the gym.

The front door is soon unlocked and you’re back home in the warmth of your shared apartment. After the elevator ride up, it’s almost as if you’ve sobered up again. You’re walking better, still holding onto Taehyung, but walking. You’re blabbering now, talking about how you and Em had tested who could drink the most shots in 30 seconds and who could chug a beer down the fastest. Taehyung listens with a small smile, shaking his head in amusement because this is so very much unlike you. But he’s happy you had fun with your friends.

“Oh, you should’ve seen the way I chugged down those shots,” you laugh, plopping down onto the couch as Taehyung kneels down to take off your shoes. “Em could not catch me at all!”

“I’m sure you were ace, baby,” Taehyung hums, grinning now because you’re way too cute when you’re drunk. He’s not even mad that you spoiled his gaming night because you’re too drunk to get home by yourself. This is a sight he would’ve hated to miss out on.

“My head hurts though,” you mumble, frowning. Taehyung matches your frown as he glances up at you while unclasping your heels from your feet.

Once your shoes are off, he gets back up. He cups your cheek, brushing a stray eyelash off it with the pad of his thumb. “Just gonna get a makeup wipe and some pills for your headache, okay? I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

You nod, smiling up at him. He pecks your forehead quickly before heading for the bathroom. Taehyung glances back at you to see you sitting there silently, wiggling your bare feet and hugging a pillow to your chest. He chuckles as he enters the bathroom to retrieve painkillers and a makeup wipe to clean your face. A few minutes after rummaging through the cabinets and the drawers, he exits the bathroom and heads back to you. He stops in his tracks when he notices you’re gone from your spot. He skims the living room, not finding you anywhere. What he does find though is something he hasn’t seen since he was like eight years old. Right there by the dining table behind the couch, you’re currently putting up a blanket fort, a wide grin on your face.

“Baby,” Taehyung catches your attention right away, “whatcha’ doing?”

You smile, looking back at the project you’ve started. “What does it look like I’m doing? It’s a blanket fort!”

Taehyung steps closer, nodding. “I can see that.”

It doesn’t take long for you to finish setting it up before you’re grabbing pillows from the couch, throwing them inside the blanket fort. You’re way too good at this. Something tells Taehyung that you’ve made a lot of these as a child. You emerge from the fort to motion at him, beckoning him to join you. “Come on,” you insist.

Your boyfriend looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind, when really, you’re just tipsy as hell. “____, shouldn’t we just go to bed? I mean, this is-”

“Just get in the fucking blanket fort.” 

Taehyung’s eyes widen as you stare back at him with hard eyes. “Alright,” he puts his hands up in surrender, painkillers in one and a makeup wipe in the other, “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

The hard stare turns into a wide, content smile and Taehyung seriously thinks he’ll get a whiplash from how fast you can switch between facial expressions. You’re already inside the blanket fort when Taehyung stands in front of the opening to it. He squats down, looking inside. It did look insanely inviting and cozy in there. You pat the spot next to you on the blanket, still smiling. Taehyung sighs as he knows you won’t give up until he’s inside your blanket fort. You really don’t take no for an answer.

“You’re lucky you’re adorable,” Taehyung shakes his head before crawling inside the fort, plopping down beside you. You lay on your side facing him with a grin. “I haven’t been in a blanket fort since I was eight.”

You laugh, reaching for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “Then we must make blanket forts more often.”

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