#my story is a story of the complete obliteration of every story that came together to make it

[neuromantis]

aw2 gave me perhaps, one of the most important realizations of my life. just now. "how do you run from an idea?"

the world i created when i started writing. i liked it. and i liked my characters. they were real to me. but. i could escape there. but i couldn't live there. with my family and friends and loved ones, the only ones i've had then.

i needed to stay outside and keep writing them. i could never join them. so i kept writing. every day i would write more of it, obsessively. and with that came a realization of the genre of the story it was shaping up to be.

i keep calling it "automatic writing", because i really never felt like i was in control of it. ideas just used me as a conduit. the story was telling itself. and it wasn't. a nice story. not one with hopes or happy endings.

i once told someone a long time ago that i couldn't stand writing anymore because i loved those people. loved their world. but if i made more of it. they'd have to suffer for it. so i quit. i kept meeting new ideas and characters and i only wrote down the barest of outlines. because the narrative would inevitably doom them, there had to be no narrative anymore.

i think what also made me stop it, was meeting Adam. a guy i knew like 10 years ago who suddenly messaged me. he re-sent me my own message to him from 2013. "well what about the fact that perhaps there IS a god, but he just specifically hates you?"

the last couple of years made me accept it. Adam is me. N(adam)ian. The one who made it all. The one who set up the rules. The one they'd be suffering for. And I don't want to be that. So I chose to leave them. They don't let me. But at least I can not write.

#there's a particular plotpoint about a certain guy being involved who is more of a proxy of me than the main character ever was #that guy got... a rough hand. of knowing every plot point and story beat as it would unfold - before it happens #and his particular thing was knowing that no matter what he does - he can never poke a hole in the narrative #still he tried even if he knew it was absolutely pointless and that perhaps it's exactly his efforts that doom the narrative #because by being unable to give up on a story he is inside of - by continuing trying to dismantle it - he still played by the narrative #and since i am the only who also knows how it plays out and ends... i should put in more effort myself #and that effort is the only thing i can do - to stop writing #''you can change the story'' - i hope i find a way to #because my only ever way of writing was basically ''black out and come to a finished piece on paper/screen'' #i think... that's not a great way to be creative = it requires no input from me #i just let the story possess me and write itself #as i really have no imagination to be quite honest #but one of my goals for this year is to create more - no matter how scared i am - and maybe i can make that story MINE #actually be an author of it instead of a tool to write it or some dumb metaphor like that #also of course this is all such pithy horseshit #but i think aw2 shows a fairly similar situation pretty well #''you want me to write? the same thing that put Alan Wake in The Dark Place?'' #my story is a story of the complete obliteration of every story that came together to make it #an excercise in quantum mechanic bullshit that won't save anyone in the end as the only escape from it is to stop existing #it's an Apocalypse story in the meaning of ''there is no post-apocalypse. there is nothing anymore. at all. the end. fuck you'' #a pretentious excercise of trying to write a story that wants to stop existing in the first place #of people who fight and win by erasing themselves and their world #and it's really your fault if you picked up the book and liked them - because you made them suffer again #ew. i sound... like a fucking hack #no wonder my own meta-narrative ate me fucking alive #i am neither smart enough to figure how to undoom it nor creative enough to have anything else occupying my head 24/7 #truly fucking bleak

[somnambulic-thing]

This fic is part II of my come as you are universe but can be read as a standalone.

Series Masterlist

bendy Eddie Munson x gn!Reader with vagina&boobs, we're early 20s, E 18+ smut smut smut

Words: 3.3k

|new relationship/former best friends, fluff, pining, smut, fingering, piv, Eddie gives himself head for you, cuddling, intimacy af, silly and a little cheesy|

A/N: I kinda fell in love with those two and have two more parts partly written already. Some fics are very fun to do research for, this is one of those. If you feel like any acts in this fic are unrealistic: I don't care.

Big thanks to my cheerleaders @bettyfrommars and R<3 for the help with that story.

If you want to be tagged for the next part, reblog this post and tag it with #somnatags1 and I put you on the list

Comments and reblogs are so appreciated you have no idea.

“Eddie?”

“Mhh?”

Slouched against the wall behind his bed, Eddie doesn’t look up from the guitar in his lap. He’s dressed in nothing than grey boxers and a sun-bleached shirt that misses sleeves and most of the sides. You could fit your head in there easily, breathe him in, graze your teeth lightly over his nipple, flick it with your tongue. Your skin would prickle with anticipation of the reward you would get for your teasing. When you were lucky he would let out one of those deep, shaky hums. Your forehead pressed against his sternum you would feel the fine vibration through his skin—

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he mumbles, busy fingers turning the keys to loosen the strings he’s about to exchange for new ones, always two at a time. He could do this in his sleep, so you assume the lack of response means he’s mulling over the setlist for tomorrow night again. You never knew when the right guy with the right connections would be in the crowd after all.

You’re soaked through your underwear.

Seeing Eddie like this, completely immersed in his element and lost to the world, was already an infallible way to make you lose your mind. But you have been mulling something over as well as you watched him the past twenty minutes and the thought had you softly grinding against the cushion of the armchair. Wouldn’t be a surprise if you left a damp spot behind.

“Did you ever try to blow yourself?”

The unplugged guitar cries a discordant noise as his fingers twitch and slip. His head shoots up, eyes wide and dark, voice a high rasp. Like something itchy got stuck in his throat.

“W-what?”

The thought wasn’t new. In fact, it hadn’t been a full week after Eddie and you had finally and officially deepened your years-long relationship from friends to lovers when the thought came to you for the first time. In the days prior, there had been many thoughts, many fantasies. Some whispered against sweaty skin in gentle request, others moaned in urgent demand. Every free minute spent exploring each other’s bodies in new and thrilling ways, tangled together in one sticky writhing mess.

It had just been a blip - the thought - just a flicker in your mind.

Eddie had told you about his day. Standing in the middle of his room, bend over, hugging the back of his tights and his chest pressed almost flush against them. It was casual. No strain. Just Eddie being Eddie.

And suddenly… oh… oh!

He had unbent himself, cheeks a pretty pink from dangling upside down and pulled his shirt over his head. “Oh, and I missed you the whole fucking time,” he said softly, grinning at you out of a cloud of messy hair. The thought was gone forgotten obliterated when he climbed into the bed with you and straddled your hips.

But a seed had been planted and the soil was more than fertile.

The man couldn’t keep still; was always climbing things, spending ages comfortably squatting in one place, or bent like a pretzel wherever he settled down for more than five minutes. With each display of his ridiculous flexibility, the thought took root. Fuck by fuck, restraint and inhibition dissolved, giving way to trust and desire, nurturing that young, delicate sprout.

What it had grown into over the past months had finally borne fruit; plump and juicy and ready for harvest. The curiosity was killing you. You had to pluck it right now.

“Did you ever try to suck your cock?”

“Jesus,” he huffs and runs both hands through his hair, wavy strands wildly sticking out from between his fingers as he holds on to his roots. His pointy elbows press together in front of his face, obstructing the view you had daydreamed about so many times.

Eddie Munson has a busted-face you can usually spot from five miles away. You’re almost sure that’s what he’s trying to hide from you. There’s a sudden abundance of saliva in your mouth and you swallow hard to keep from drowning.

“You have, haven’t you?”

“Uhm, I—“ he stretches the vowel like a rubber band. “You know…”

“Ed, it’s me.”

He shifts one arm to the side and peeks out at you. “Yes,” he says on a massive exhale as if confessing a sin that had weighed on him for centuries. “Yeah, I’ve tried.”

“And?”

“A-and?”

You lean forward on the chair. The motion spreads the wetness in your underwear. “Can you do it?”

“Jesus…”

“Hey,” you say softly, “are you ashamed?”

It wouldn’t be the first time, not for either of you. Sometimes intimacy was just scary with the possibility of rejection or worse, ridicule, while all the sensitive bits lay bare and on display. But it’s the first time you had seen him at such a loss for words.

“I’m not… ashamed,“ he finally drops his hands to the mattress with a stereo thump. His face is flushed a bright red that’s spreading down his neck; he looks like he’s catching fire from the inside.

“Because there’s no reason for that. You know that, right?”

“Right.”

“I’m just curious.”

“Mhhh,” he hums and his gaze drifts away from your face to the ceiling above your head.

“Babe, do you want me to drop it?”

“Nope.” The corners of his mouth twitch and while it’s not a full smile, there’s a hint of dimples. He looks a little dazed and his voice sounds suitably viscous. “Don’t want you to drop it.”

He takes the guitar in his lap by the neck and bends over the side of the bed to lean it against the nightstand. When he shifts back, he wiggles his hips and slides a little further down the wall. “Definitely don’t want you to drop it,” he says and grabs his hard cock through the fabric of his boxers, hips twitching up at the touch.

It’s a sight you’ll never get used to; Eddie being flustered and hard for you. The squeeze of your thighs is ridiculously insufficient against the throbbing in your cunt. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

It’s your turn to be speechless.

Eddie grins, the tip of his tongue poking out between curled lips. He’s stroking himself lazily. “You can’t just say shit like that without a warning. I swear you cut off the blood flow to my brain for a few seconds.”

“Was just a question. I had to start somewhere.”

He laughs, deep and sultry. “Just a question— Sweetheart, you know how my imagination runs away with me.”

“Where did it go?”

“Uhm, shit.” He swallows and the hand on his cock stops moving. You see the muscles in his belly tense. “Making myself come on my face for you… and in my mouth.”

You slide your hand between your thighs with sudden urgency, moaning as your fingers press against your clit.

“Fuck,” Eddie moans too. “You like that?”

“Oh god, yes!”

“Come here,” he says and holds both arms out for you.

You move so fast you almost stumble. Eddie pulls you into his lap as soon as his hands can reach you, greedy and excited, just like his tongue when it slips past your lips. Grinding your crotch against his hard length, you suck the moan from his mouth. You swear you can taste it, sweet and juicy and dripping from your chin.

“So, you can do it?” you ask and pull his head back by his hair to access his neck, leaving him his mouth to talk for now. He groans and digs his fingers into your hips as you softly run your teeth over his skin in search of a spot to sink them into.

“Yeah, like, a little. Not all the way, fuck… Not… not even like half the way but— fuck, baby.”  Eddie’s nails dig into your back when you bite him and his thighs tremble beneath you. “Shiiit the way this is turning you on, don’t want you to be disappointed.”

You sit up, confused. “Why would I be disappointed?”

“It’s been a while and I have no idea if I still can do it.”

“Eddie, listen,” you cradle his face in your hands and smooth your thumbs over his cheekbones. It does the trick to ease the tension from his worried brows but there’s still some flickering in those big brown eyes.

“M’ listening.”

“I won’t be disappointed.”

You realize how hard he’s holding on to you when his vice grip on your left hip vanishes. His hand slides between your thighs, fingers trembling ever so slightly and you can’t but grind down when he presses two firmly against your cunt.

His eyes roll up before they find you again under heavy lids. “You say that now, but you’re soaking my dick through several layers of fabric here, sweetheart—“

You shut him up with a kiss, smiling against his lips as the initial noise of protest turns into an avid sigh. You sneak your fingers into his hair to scratch his scalp with practised finesse and Eddie goes boneless. He’s holding onto the back of your shirt with both fists and just melts into you.

“Better?” you ask drawing back to see his face. His expression is soft, cheeks flushed and he bites his lower lip and nods. “Good. M’ just going to suck you off myself when you can’t do it, no big deal.”

“Hey!”  he complains. “That’s not what you called him the last time. Or the time before that. Or— hnng ahh.“

You reached down into his boxers to grab him, sliding your thumb back and forth over the tip. “Silly man.”

“Uh-hnn, but it always pays off.” He closes his eyes, enjoying your lazy strokes for a while before he looks at you again. “So, uh… you want me to try it?”

“You wanna try it now?”

“I’m getting kinda desperate here.”

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself in a horny hurry. You have a show tomorrow.”

He laughs and places a kiss on your cheek. “I’m not going to force it,” he says and breaks out into a wicked grin. “I heard I’m getting my dick sucked either way.”

You look at each other for a moment, both grinning and giddy. “Alright,” you say and then you both scramble to take your clothes off.

It’s a quick and silly affair with garments flying through the room left and right, with giggles and stolen kisses. Eddie’s hand slips between your legs. Swift fingers part your lips and rub soft circles around your clit. You slump against his shoulder and he laughs darkly.

“Knew I’m not the only one who’s desperate here,” he says and sinks two fingers into you. “You’re going to drown us. Jesus. Let me take care of you first. M’ dying to taste you.”

“Oh!”

Eddie pulls up his brows. “Oh?”

You put your palms on his chest—

“What are you doing?”

— and push him down on his back. “M’ taking a seat,” you say, straddling his hips, hovering.

“O-okay.”

“You said you want to taste me—“ Reaching down, you line up his cock.

“Yeah, but why— what— fuuuck,” he groans as you sink down on him slowly. You shiver and moan with every inch that stretches you gloriously, not taking your eyes off Eddie’s ecstatic face.

 “Fuck! So good…” He grits out when you’re fully seated. “I’m so confused.”

Wiggling your hips, you lean down to rub your nose against Eddie’s. “I’m making sure you can taste me—“

“Jesus Christ!”

“Got it?”

Eddie wraps his arms around you and pulls you flush against him. You can feel his stomach tense and his cock twitch inside you. His voice is whiny and when he speaks it sounds like one long word. “Don’t you move or it’s fucking over in two seconds Jesus you’re killing me you are going to be my demise holy fuck.”

“Take a breath, babe.” You chuckle against his neck. “Hmm, you feel so goo—“

“Shut up, demon.” 

You press your lips together to keep from laughing. Eddie is holding you tight, breath deep and heavy, in an effort to calm himself down. It takes all of your willpower to not stick your tongue out to taste his neck, not to tell him how full and complete you feel with him inside of you. He twitches again and you can’t keep in a moan.

“Oh god,” he laughs, strained and raspy. “I’m not strong enough for this.”

“Shall I dismount?”

“Not yet.”

He kisses your temple, smoothes his hands over your back up and down and up again and he’s warm and now slightly sweaty and he smells like tea tree shampoo and old spice and the incense he keeps in stock just for you but secretly burns when he’s by himself as well.

“I love you,” he whispers into your hair.

You lift your head and find the softest of smiles and you have to kiss it and kiss it and kiss it again.

“Love you too, Munson.”

He hums and kisses you once more. “Get off now. Before I’m going to fucking explode.”

“So,” you ask while you slowly lift off of him, “how is this going to work?”

Eddie pats the bed next to him. “Lay down.”

While you settle down next to him on your side with your head propped up on your palm, Eddie pulls his knees to his chest.

“Oh,” you say, a wave of heat rising up in your chest. “You’re getting your cute little ass into the air?”

He rolls his eyes and turns his face to the ceiling. “Gravity helps, okay?”

“I’m not complaining.”

He lifts his knees to gain momentum and swings his hip up into the air. You follow every movement with your eyes. The way his back arches and the skin of his tummy scrunches together in soft wrinkles. His hands move to his back to keep him steady and he takes a moment to find balance.

“You ok?”

“Uh-hm,” he huffs and glances over to you. “Taking it slowly.”

The excitement settles hot in your chest, and you’re breathing faster. You slide your hand down and between your legs, palming your pussy. Eddie picks up on the motion and looks away with a groan, staring at his flushed, swollen cock hanging right above his face, still glistening wet with your slick. He groans again and closes his eyes.

“It’s so pretty, isn’t it?” your sigh and press a finger against your clit.

Eddie hums and moves, lowering his hips closer to his face.

“Can I help?”

“Nope,” he pops the p and shakes his head, eyes still closed and lowers his hips again. There’s maybe a hand width left between his face and the tip of his cock. You start circling your clit slowly, moan softly as warmth builds up in your pelvis.

“Feels good?” he asks and the distance shrinks again.

“Really good. The visuals help. You should give it a try.”

He chuckles. “Am I close?”

“Eddie, open your eyes.”

He not only opens his eyes, but stares mesmerized at his erection. “Good news,” he groans and you’re stomach starts fluttering like a swarm of bats.

“Oh god,” you breathe out and speed up your fingers. “You sure?”

He lowers himself again, now so close. “You have a good view? Need to make any adjustments?”

You quickly shuffle around, rest your head lower and put your hand back between your thighs. “I’m good.”

Eddie shifts his eyes over to you and takes a deep breath before he looks back. “Fucking hell,” he mumbles and then he sticks out his tongue and gives the underside of the tip a lick.

“Eddie,” you moan, hips twitching against your fingers as he does it again. “You’re gorgeous, so gorgeous…”

“Shiiit,” he breathes out and lowers his hips a little more, reaching the rim of his tip now. And he gives it a swirl, moaning deeply.

“Feels good?” you ask, trying to mimic with your fingers on your clit what Eddie’s tongue does to his cock.

“Yeah,” he breathes out harshly. “I can fucking taste you, t’s driving me insane.”

“Can you give it a kiss for me?”

“Baby,” he whines and shuffles his shoulders, gives himself another lick and then presses his full soft lips against the swollen tip of his cock. “

“You look so good,” you moan and quickly dip a finger into your hole, before you press down firmly on your clit. “Can you make yourself come for me, Eddie?”

“Demon,” he huffs and shuffles again. His hips lift up for a moment. When he lowers them down again you gasp, electricity surging through you as he slowly sucks most of the tip into his mouth. His cheeks hollow slightly and the tip of his tongue pokes out, sliding back and forth over the sensitive skin. You sink your fingers into your clenching cunt and press your palm to your clit, moaning loudly in unison with Eddie.

“God I love your mouth so much, how it makes you feel good—“

“Close—“ he huffs and sucks the whole tip in this time. The way his lips stretch around it, how eagerly his tongue tries to reach as far as it can. You can hear in the noises he makes that he’s almost there. Your hand stills. You’re mesmerized. You don’t want to blink, don’t want to miss one second of this spectacle. Eddie is trembling with strain and lust. It’s obscene.

“Come on, Eddie. Suck that big cock with your pretty mouth for me. Come for me.”

And with a yelp, Eddie comes just like you demanded. His tip slips from his mouth as his back straightens slightly and he digs his hands in to keep steady. His release comes in hard spasms that make his cock twitch and bop and his balls pump his cum all over his face. Eyes shut tight, mouth wide open and panting and he sticks his tongue out to get a taste of himself. You shower him with praises, you’re ecstatic and a little dizzy.

His cock is still twitching when Eddie let’s go and his legs drop back to the mattress. When he tries to open his eyes, they roll up and shut again. His hand comes up and searches for you. You intertwine your fingers with his and he pulls you down.

“Kiss me,” he demands with raspy shallow breaths.

You taste the both of you on his tongue, tangy and salty and sweet and he grins against your mouth when the sensation makes you whimper.

“As good as imagined?” he asks and nibbles on your bottom lip.

“You kidding me? This was so much better. I could cry.”

And sure enough, when he opens his eyes to look at you, he finds your eyes wet with tears. A satisfied grin spreads over his face. He turns to his side and pulls you against his chest. You breathe him in, feel a hum vibrating through his chest.

“What about you?” you ask.

“Oh, I’m spectacular, sweetheart.” He looks down and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Blissed out and covered in cum. Let’s do it again tomorrow.”

You grunt a laugh. “Did I awaken a monster?”

“Yepp, gonna join the circus now.”

“Bendy bastard,” you chuckle and push yourself up to face him. His eyes are soft and so is his smile. He looks completely spent. You kiss him again, slide your tongue over his lower lip right to the corner and from there up his cheek.

With his eyes closed Eddie clears his throat. “Uh, are you licking my cum from my face?”

You answer with a hum and a lick of your lips when he peeks at you with one eye. You feel his cock twitch against your thigh.

He throws his head back and groans, then pushes you to your back.

“Wha—“

“Gonna have to fuck you now,” he says like you’re a bit slow and lowers himself between your legs, sinking his teeth into your thigh. “Starting with the feast I was denied earlier. Too bad you can’t reach the table.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #my writing #Eddie Munson smut #my fic

[call-sign-shark]

Savage Daughter || Shelby family x You

Summary:  When the Shelby family gathers together, chaos is never far. Yet, for once, it's not the men who bring it but you, and soon the girls join you too. (based on Ekatarina Shelehova - Savage Daughter)

Words: 1.2k

Notes:

✞ This story is linked with the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes but can be read as a stand-alone.

Slipping your finger between your diamond choker and your skin, you took a big exhale — the expensive corset you wore for the occasion was crushing your ribcage. The sound of chatters, clinging glasses, and classical music might have been loud but all you could hear was your own pulse, beating in your temples faster and faster with each labored breathing.

Your crystal eyes scanned the room, looking for your husband but it seemed that he was also in distress, standing still behind Tommy with his gaze fixed upon an invisible spot on the wall. Arthur was nervously chewing the inside of his cheek, visibly as uncomfortable as you when surrounded by all these posh guests, and yet, he had no other choice but to keep playing the bodyguard for his younger brother.

"Mr. Shelby, what a wonderful party you're hosting here! Arrow House is wonderful, I reckon." An old, ugly gentleman, dressed in a suit more expensive than everything your parents had ever owned, said with his silly accent. If being honest, he was looking absolutely ridiculous with his ears too big and his triple chin far too fat for such a small bowtie. To play the Devil's advocate, your mocking thoughts were justified: the pig had tried to grope almost every woman he had talked with. And as if this previous fact didn't render him despicable enough, he had ignored Arthur as if he were part of the ballroom's furniture. Another sigh, louder this time, escaped from your lips at the painful sensation of the blisters behind your heels when they rubbed against your tight shoes.

When Arthur came back to you, one look at his pursed lips had been enough for you to guess that he had spent the last ten minutes keeping himself from strangling the impolite Mr. Dempsey.

"Fookin' bastard, can't even say a bloody 'hello' to me. I swore I should've cut his fucking —" Stopping mid-sentence, the lanky gangster suddenly frowned and tilted its head at the sight of you taking your high heels off, only half listening to him, "The hell you're doing, angel?"

"I'm taking my heels off, that's what I do." You replied, grunting as you undid the complicated laces that were climbing up your shinbones, "And I don't care if it ain't classy or decorous, these shoes are making my skin bleed and this damn corset is suffocating me!" Talking about the corset, you pulled on the delicate silky laces to tear them apart and free your body from this inhumane trap until all you were wearing was a thin white summer dress.

"Heaven, love," Arthur tried to interrupt as he noticed how a few outraged guests were already whispering together all the while glaring at you. Among them, Tommy Shelby's arctic iris.

"I'm dead serious: I'm trapped here among hypocrites, suffering in clothes their wives criticized when they saw me while I could be outside, peacefully enjoying the immense garden of the mansion. A garden which is, by the way, the only enjoyable feature of this golden cage. All of this only because Tom wants people to believe we're all getting along in the family, tsk." Arthur closed his mouth, unable to find something to retort to your murderous prose. Maybe that was why he looked at you silently instead, a glimmer of amusement shining in his still blue eyes. "What?" You finally asked, not comprehending why the lanky gangster was now smiling, his mustache slightly lifted on one side.

"Gimme these shits." With that being said, Arthur took your heels and corset from your hands before leaning above you and kissing your forehead with indescribable tenderness, completely obliterating the rest. "Now go," The gravel in his voice rumbled, "Go run barefoot and curse at sharp stones, I ain't going to pin your wings." Of course you felt suffocating, he thought, for he knew you didn't belong here. Just like him. But while he had to remain somewhat near to his brother for the whole evening, Arthur never wished to inflict such torment on your savage soul: you were born to dance around fires, in the curves of old bones, or look for omens in the falling of feathers. Not to sip on champagne and boast about your riches with aristocratic ladies.

"Really?" You inquired, the fierceness of your face softening at your husband's surprising —and understanding— reaction. Arthur winked at you for a sole reply before turning around and barking at those who were still observing you with a loud "The fook you're looking at me wife ay? Go back to your chit-chat!". It had been the final nail in Tommy's coffin, who pinched his nose as if to stop a dawning headache — a headache that bore your name.

Offering one shark-like and insolent smile to little King Shelby, you left the ballroom running barefoot and only stopped when you found yourself in the middle of the garden, slowly spinning on yourself. With your doll-like face facing the night sky, you relished the sensation of the fresh breeze softly grazing your skin in welcoming strokes. A cheerful giggle fell from your plump lips as rays of moonlight illuminated your dainty frame like a myriad of motherly hands ready to catch you.

"Hey! Devil! You're nothing but trouble, you know that?!" A feminine voice erupted behind you, making you stop dancing and glance from where the soft lilt was coming. What was your surprise when your gaze met Ada's cunning smile! Beside her Polly was standing, her frail arms crossed on her bosom but her ebony eyes displaying an excitement she hadn't felt in years.

"I can't help it, Ada. I'm my mother's savage daughter!" You exclaimed, opening your arms to fake a pretentious bow — a move that stirred a sincere laugh from your sister-in-law.

"Tommy's mad." She said through her grin.

"Tommy's always mad. Why don't you join me?" At your offering, Ada side-eyed her dear Aunt, not sure if she could momentarily strip from the elegant Mrs. Thorne mask and be herself for once. For fuck's sake! Can't they fucking behave?! Can't your fucking wife stop fucking everything up just once eh?! Tommy's voice was roaring from the inside of Arrow House, just what Ada and Polly needed to make up their mind.

Freeing themselves from fancy hats, oppressive clothes, and painful high heels, both Polly and Ada joined you in the middle of the garden, the two of them grabbing one of your hands to form a round dance.

We are our mother's savage daughters, you sang.

I'm not joking Arthur! Did you think about what people are going to say?!

We are our mother's savage daughters, Ada followed. Her voice swirled up to the sky, each note bringing her closer to her mom she barely knew.

We will not cut our hair! We will not lower our voice! Polly's cheered louder, and as she did she was sixteen again, walking barefoot in the mud with a horse's rein in one hand and flowers in the other.

And deep in our bones, the old songs are waking So sing them with voices of thunder and rain, the wind carried your chant away. So far away that somewhere on the road, one Romani woman, fierce and beautiful, felt the wild drums of nature beating within her as she braided the hair of her adorable little girl.

"Are you okay Mom?" She asked, concerned by her mother's sudden stop.

"Yes, Katie. Yes, I am."

Esme smiled.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick@kxnnxy @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd

#Arthur Shelby #Peaky Blinders #Arthur Shelby x Reader #Peaky Blinders imagine #Ada Shelby x Reader #Polly Gray x Reader #Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x reader #Arthur Shelby x oc #Paul Anderson #Heaven Shelby #Peaky blinders oc #Heaven In Your Eyes

[shelbbswrites]

When auditioning for their roles, Galitzine read with other prospective Alexes, never quite finding a rhythm. But when they met over Zoom for a chemistry read, it was instant fireworks. Director Matthew López noticed their spooky chemistry right away. When the actors first got together in person to rehearse, López recalls leaving them alone. “I came back about 10 minutes later and they were the best of friends already,” he says. “It was like they had known each other all their lives.”

---

Galitzine’s own Prince Henry manifests as a sort of murky fictional blend between the real-life princes William and Harry—a stoic people’s prince who eventually fights against the system he was born into. “One of my great fears is being misunderstood,” says Galitzine. “Henry has to live with that every day…. It just felt like a beautiful story: someone who’s largely pretended to be someone else their whole life, and then this other person completely obliterates their worldview.”

---

“There’s so much choreography to sex…ual scenes,” Zakhar Perez says, laughing, recounting the sheer amount of time and energy (and the occasional blow-up mattress) that went into rehearsals. “It’s a crazy thing to be intimate in that way with your friend,” says Galitzine. “And we want people to fall in love with these characters, because their love has to be real.”

#rwrb #rwrb movie #red white and royal blue #red white and royal blue movie #taylor zakhar perez #nicholas galitzine #writing tools

[ginnyruin]

Spoilers for Altered State

Long comment anon again. I finished the story and am obsessively watching my email for more!

“Idiots to lovers” 😩

He is so smart but so dumb. He is so hurt over other men and the fact that she is more interested in what he has to offer (lessons, library, etc.) and not just him. But who is he without those things to her?

I want them to finally get together though. I don’t know how he will react when he finds out she is a virgin though. Relief? Happiness? Uncertainty on how to handle it? Will he mentally break from happiness and apparate out of the room to give himself time to breath?

I am here for the potential chaos of him seeing Abraxas and Hermione together in a non-delicately fashion. I feel like he would be smart enough to see through this but he is going to be immediately blinded by pain and anger and just go off the rails.

I’m really excited to find out what happens.

“And I will obliterate all thoughts of anyone that came before me.” He stared intently at her, and a hint of a cruel smirk plucked at his lips. “No memory charms necessary.”

With the ironclad set of his jaw and furrowed brows, he appeared stern…almost angrywith her.

He’s so mad at men that don’t exist 🙄. Poor girl, he really put her through it for one of her sexual experiences. I feel like he was reading her inexperience as hesitation towards HIM in particular vs. Abraxas when it was really her inexperience and yes a little bit of fear of future him.

I’ll know exactly how perfect you feel. And nothing could stop me from taking you multiple times a day, every day.”

I hope this happens, not only because it’s hot, but because I want to see him become a desperate clingy boyfriend. She has to go back to Hogwarts to work. Is he going to owl her every night to quit and forget spying on Dumbledore?

He took a deep, long breath. “You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.”

Regardless of whatever feelings she may or may not develop for him, he would never feel the same, because he was incapable of it. And she couldn’t help being a romantic at heart. Without a complete soul, he’d never be able to give her what she wanted, and she couldn’t allow the world’s greatest actor to force her off her path.

Is he incapable?

Softly, he pressed his lips to the center of her palm, and left there, burning like embers, the phantom imprint of a lingering kiss.

He raised his head slightly, but bowed over her palm with a certain reverence that forced that incorruptible thing in her chest to flutter, to weaken.

This was such a sweet, beautiful paragraph. What was going through his head here??? I must KNOW.

Sigh…. I really hope they eventually realize how similar they are and how broken inside they both are. I love your Hermione. She is a perfect blend of being a badass but not perfect. I feel horrible for her. She has to be so brave in her situation, but even back in her time she had to put on a brave face socially with how alone she feels. I’m afraid she will give in in the hopes he does reciprocate (as normally as he can given who he is) and he is just an ass and rubs in how much she wants him, how weak she is for him, etc. to a point it’s hurtful. I just want someone who is going to be as strong and smart as her to care for her 😭

I’m adding to peoples playlist, these songs give me Altered State vibes.

Believe by Mumford and sons

Kiss from a rose by seal

Endgame - Taylor swift

Infinity by James young -especially this song!

I'm a mad man for your touch, girl, I've lost control

I'm gonna make this last forever, don't tell me it's impossible

Oh, darling, my soul

You know it aches for yours

And you've been filling this hole

Since you were born, oh

'Cause you're the reason I believe in fate, you're my paradise

And I'll do anything to be your love or be your sacrifice

Meet me at the bottom of the ocean

Where the time is frozen

Where all the universe is open

Love isn't random, we are chosen

And we could wear the same crown

Keep slowing your heart down

We are the gods now

this ask/comment brought a huge smile to my face, thank you so much! <3

As for the paragraph you quoted, I loved writing it too. Hmm what was going through his mind during that particular scene? maybe we'll see one day in the general sense. Also, I can certainly see him getting frustrated that she works at Hogwarts and just straight up demands that she quit (that'll go over well).

"But who is he without those things to her" - These two definitely have a lot to figure out before they get their act together. They really are similar, but they don't realize it yet. This story will try to explore that more deeply. In a way, they are inevitable.

It means so much to me that you like Hermione's characterization. There are many wonderful directions writers can take Hermione's character and readers have different preferences, so I'm thrilled you like her in Altered State. She's smart and tough, but she's imperfect and struggles a lot too, dealing with others who can be just as cunning. I love writing how she manages to overcome the challenges that keep coming her way.

Your song recommendations are super lovely, thank you, and the lyrics of the last one are simply perfect for AS Voldemort and Hermione! It really reminds me of the last few chapters.

If you continue reading, I sincerely hope you enjoy the rest!

#asks

[300iqprower]

The problem nowadays is that nobody wants to figure things out except for very few fandoms. Undertale and Deltarune are honestly rarities simply because they're full of people who prefer to find out the mysteries of the game for themselves. Kirby has been like that for years. Other series see an easier route in the model fnaf and dark souls laid out and it works out just as well so that's why most other series go that road.

IMO it's half people wanting everything spelled out, which has always been an issue, but now in addition the new problem of people thinking anything NOT spelled out is "inaccurate" or "misinterpreting" even when it's something that explicitly meant to be interpretive. People have no just become too lazy to read into something themselves, but obsessed with the idea of concrete answers and direct validation. With Dark Souls it's the fault of those around it, not the series itself, but with FNAF it's totally its own fault.

Dark Souls has a masterful balance of implicit storytelling with text and then showing over telling when it gives its concrete info. The facts are there, but they're presented in an interpretive medium, and the series has gone out of its way to distance itself from fan theory. It has a story but it's not afraid of its audience devising their own take on it. The format works best with Bloodborne because as a brilliant post put: It's wet. It's something alive, changing, and in many ways unknowable, and all of that plays off the format. It has some of the most straightforward storytelling and yet several years later people are piecing new things together. Dark Souls meanwhile pretty much collapsed under its own weight when it came to creating a resolution. I don't think it failed per se let alone is bad but Dark Souls 3 was unfinished, and it really really really showed with the ripple effect that had on both gameplay and story. But that's going on tangents.

FNAF meanwhile is just bad. I think I've made clear i fucking hate that franchise in the past but even disregarding my personal feelings towards both the series' gameplay quality and the ethics of its creator, IT'S A FUCKING MESS. I watched the Game Theory vids like every other teenager online did, and it was only years later I realized I had a completely different mindset in enjoying them: I saw the fun as being the speculation, not because you were "getting answers" but the series itself decided to take that approach with all this cryptic bullshit and the series' creator egging on the theories himself and directly saying there WERE concrete answers to everything. It was certainly good marketing but it was shit storytelling and in the long term obliterated the storytelling process for such games, FNAF itself included; everything after the third one I'd say but I'm generalizing since I know there's like 2 or 3 between where I lost interest and where I checked in on the new one just to laugh at the dumpster fire I'd heard so much about. Either way my point stands that when the more it tried to elaborate on itself the less coherent it became, and in the general indie space now everything has to have speculation not for the sake of your own for fun elaboration, but just to piece together any canon at all.

TLDR, the point of speculation shouldn't be to have any plot at all, it should be a for-fun exercise to extract more personal investment from the plot. People copy Dark Souls's approach without understanding any of its nuance, and FNAF has created this idea that everything has a concrete answer that can be spelled out and if it isnt spelled out then it's "wrong" when narrative speculation and interpretation shouldnt be something that's "right or wrong" to begin with. And Toby Fox absolutely gets that, it's exactly why his narratives can be so multilayered and meta without becoming convoluted or losing meaning if you just experience it as is. And the series that inspired it like Kirby and Mother are much the same, thought I'd say Toby's work is easily the most emotionally gripping for me personally.

#writing shit #writing analysis #dark souls #soulsborne #never thought i'd get an ask #fandoms are the worst i stg #kirby #eh....i dont wanna tag the other one. Fuck that franchise and its creator with a rusty axe.

[the-scandalorian]

What about a mix of two prompts?

“i've never been kissed before so you volunteer but i decline, we're best friends and it would be weird, but a couple hours later i lay awake in my bed and i can't stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss you and suddenly i regret what i said”

and

“two characters look at each other. silence. then. BOOM BANG LIPS CRASHING CAN'T RESIST YOU ANYMORE BAM BOOM THERE'S A WALL LET'S PIN YOU AGAINST IT”

of Din Drjarin/f!reader?

Thank you so much for the prompt!! I love this combination so much! Hope you enjoy this 💖 And for the others who made requests, they're in the works!

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: alcohol consumption, spice

You and Mando were sitting in your usual evening position—back-to-back in the middle of the hull—so he could lift his helmet just enough to eat. You’d finished dinner a while ago, and now you were passing a flask of whiskey back and forth over your shoulders. The last few hunts had been long and hard, but the carbonite chamber was now at capacity, so you were taking a night off before returning to Nevarro.

As the flask got lighter and the sky visible through the open ramp faded from a dusky twilight to a velvety black, you inched closer together until you were fully leaned against one another. He was fairly comfortable as a backrest considering the amount of metal and weaponry strapped to his body.

Your conversation had been skirting dangerous territory for a while now—a place you’d been working towards for months if you were being honest. You weren’t supposed to be doing this though: the easy friendship, the light teasing, and the casual intimacy of spending weeks together in a confined space were supposed to stop there... not progress into anything more. You were hunting partners—that was it.

Yet, here you were telling him about your first kiss.

“What about you, Mando? I mean... is kissing even allowed for Mandalorians?”

You reached back to pass him the flask. He took a pull and then—in his unmodulated voice, which was always slightly distracting—said, "Mandalorians touch the foreheads of their helmets together... it's called a Keldabe kiss.”

“That’s very sweet and all, but what about actual kissing? Is that allowed? Or are you only allowed to bonk your metal heads together?”

He scoffed and tilted his helmet back to lightly knock against the back of your head. You laughed and knocked him back.

(That only counts as a Mandalorian kiss if you’re facing each other... right?)

“So?”

“Yes, it’s allowed. If you find someone you trust, there are options... blindfolds, dark rooms... eventually, marriage.”

You ignored the way your heart dropped a little more at each of those options. Instead, you pressed him again: “Okay, so... what was your first kiss like?”

“I don’t have a good story like you do.”

You nudged his side with your elbow. “Oh come on, just tell me! I told you mine, so you have to tell me yours. That’s how the game works.”

You heard him exhale and take another long pull from the flask. He passed it back to you over his shoulder. “Isn’t it my turn to ask a question though?”

You scrunched your eyebrows together. Honestly, you’d lost track of whose turn it was at this point, but he’d answered every other random question you’d thrown at him, even the intrusive one about the craziest places he’d had sex. He’d even thrown you some bold curveballs. But he didn’t want to tell you about his first kiss?

It hit you all at once.

“You’ve never kissed anyone.” You blurted the thought before remembering to pass it through your usual verbal filter.

“No, I haven’t,” he confirmed.

“Oh,” was all you can think to say. You took a sip, and the whiskey burned slightly as it went down your throat. You reached back to hand it over again.

His gloved fingers brushed yours when he took it from you. “I never trusted anyone enough in the past.”

In the past.

Your thoughts raced as you tried to decide if that wording was intentional.

...he was sitting here, leaned against you, lifting his helmet in your presence, in the present…

That had to mean something.

You couldn’t help but ask the question that seared through your mind, “Do you trust me?”

He let a pause stretch out between you, laden with the implication of your question, and shifted slightly against your back. “Yes.”

Your heart rate kicked up. There was so much potential in that yes that you couldn’t help but push forward.

“I would kiss you.”

It came out sounding like an offer, but you really meant it as a want. You wanted to kiss him. You’d held that truth for a while now—months probably—keeping it close to your chest, knowing that it would likely live there forever. There was no room for attachment in your utilitarian partnership, or in his strict Creed and your nomadic existence. Kissing him was an unrealistic daydream, a passing thought you regularly ignored.

Though... it was harder to ignore when he let his gloved hand linger on your waist, or threw himself into the line of fire to protect you, or wordlessly accepted joint commissions from Karga as if your partnership was implicit. He’d been doing all those things more and more often.

And now, your carefully guarded truth was lingering out there, floating freely between you. You started to panic as the silence stretched on and scrambled to snatch it back: “I mean... if you want to know what it’s like.”

You immediately regretted adding that qualification. That wasn’t why you said it.

Another strained moment of silence passed.

“It wouldn’t make for a very good story,” he finally replied. He was trying to make light of the weird situation, but it came out flat in his modulated voice. He was obviously uncomfortable... and uninterested.

You were so incredibly grateful that he couldn’t see your face at that moment. You forced out an unconvincing laugh and said: “Right.”

The chirping of the crickets outside suddenly seemed deafening in the fraught silence that settled between you. You felt him adjust against your back once more. The flask appeared in your periphery, and you grabbed it quickly, taking a long pull.

Fuck.

You could tell that you had just taken the quiet, tenuous potential of your friendship and obliterated it with one awkward sentence.

“I’m going to get some sleep,” he said, pushing himself to his feet behind you.

You nodded vaguely and stayed where you were, staring out into the starry night, until you heard the mechanical click of his bunk closing behind him.

It was never going to happen—you’d always known that. It had never been a real possibility. And yet, in some shadowy corner of your traitorous heart, the tiniest bit of hope had taken root, cultivated by months of lingering touches and endless time spent together in hyperspace. And it hurt to have that fledgling hope completely crushed.

Eventually, you closed the ramp and plopped down on the spare cot against the wall. You tossed and turned for a long time, wondering if Mando would even want to partner with you for jobs any more. Probably not.

You froze when you heard his bunk slide open and the sound of his feet hitting the floor. You expected to hear him walk to the refresher, but when you didn’t hear his footsteps, you propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

He was facing you, backlit by the light of his open bunk. His silhouette was different than usual—with a jolt, you realized that he was completely unarmored aside from his helmet. The hands that were twitching and clenching by his sides were bare. You sat up and swung your legs over the side of the cot, waiting for him to do something... anything. The silence between you wasn’t strained now; it was charged, electric, expectant.

He reached back and pressed a button on the wall behind him and his bunk slid shut, bathing the space in complete darkness. You heard him take two steps toward you, then stop. He was waiting for you in the middle of the hull, wordlessly asking you to meet him halfway.

So you did.

You weren’t sure what to do once you were standing a foot in front of his dark outline. You waited for a moment, then you both stepped towards each other at the same time, his hands—you faintly registered that you were feeling his skin on yours for the first time—finding your arms in the darkness. You pressed one palm to the soft fabric covering his chest, tilted your face up... and waited.

He needed to be the one who took that final step.

After he released a shaky exhale through the modulator, his right hand left your bicep to reach up and grip the lip of his helmet. Your stomach swooped in anticipation when you heard the pneumatic release, and you watched the dark shape being lifted from his head.

You could feel the beating of his heart under your fingertips as he lowered his hand to his side, helmet grasped in his fingers. He leaned down, and you couldn’t help but lean up to meet him. Your lips connected sloppily in the dark, off-center and a little harder than you meant, but you corrected yourselves quickly. You thought about how soft his lips were as you moved yours against his; you smiled against his mouth when you noted the tickle of his mustache, and he exhaled against you when you reached up to map out the rest of his face with your hands: scratchy stubble along his jawline, a sharp nose, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, soft hair feathered across his forehead.

He let out a satisfied moan and gripped you a little tighter when you parted your lips to run your tongue experimentally along his pouting bottom lip. He responded in kind, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss, his tongue tentatively working its way into your mouth. A muffled moan slipped from your own lips, and you slid one hand under the hem of his shirt, dragging your palm up the rippling muscles of his back.

Mando seemed to be emboldened by your exploration; his helmet clanged against the floor when he let it fall, and both his hands were suddenly roaming over your body, large palms cupping your breasts through your shirt. In an instant, a kiss that had started out as uncertain and eager was suddenly hot and desperate. He backed you toward the ladder with decisive steps until you were pinned between it and his broad chest. His hands worked their way down your back, over the swell of your ass, until he was gripping the backs of your thighs. You linked your hands behind his neck, so he could hoist your legs up and around his middle.

He dipped his head into the crook of your neck, and his lips found your skin. He trailed kisses up, until he paused with his mouth by your ear.

“It was worth the wait.”

***

everything taglist: @chattychell @fisforfulcrum @meanperegrine @over300books @rebelpitstop @spideysimpossiblegirl @tacticalsparkles @tobealostwanderer @trashbuns @tuskens-mando

#my writing #requests #asks #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin reader insert #mando fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian reader insert #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #mando x you #mando x female reader #mando x f!reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x f!reader

[binnieboyswhore]

Bunny

Pairing: Changbin x Reader Genre: smut Word count:1,723 Warnings: Pet play (he just calls you bunny nothing more than that), Hickeys and of course Sex Authors note: Sorry this has taken so long to get out, i’ve been trying to write like five things at once and my head gets jumbled. Also sorry if this is trash, i deleted it all and re wrote it idk how many times but i need to put something out.

Please if you are under the age of 18 do not interact. Thank you :)

Normally going with Binnie to music video sets wasn’t that big of a deal as you always made food for the boys and helped waste time with them, today though was different. You set down the food you had brought, the boys thanking you one by one as you find a corner to snuggle into. Your body exhausted from the over stimulation of the night before thanks to Changbin.

Chan passes by you on his way to the food table, “You okay Y/N?”

You open your eyes and smile softly at him, “ya, just extra sleepy today.”

He smiles cutely at you, “okay hold on” he sticks his finger up at you and retreats back to the room he was in returning with a blanket.

“Stay cozy,” he said, laying it on top of you.

You mumble out a soft “thanks Channie” and he pats you on the head and goes to join the other boys.

You lay there eyes closed but unable to fall asleep instead focusing on Changbin theatrically re telling the story of how he had to “save” you from a spider in the bathtub last night. He went on and on about you screaming and how he basically had to wrestle the spider cause it was so big when Han had thrown in “are you sure the spider was big or are you just that small?”

You could hear Binnie grunt at his remark wishing he could smack him in the back of the head but showing restraint. The group went on to discuss other things and go from topic to topic.

What Binnie didn’t mention was how you showed your gratitude towards your hero and how one blowjob accidentally turned into hours of him just obliterating your pussy. Just at the thought of last night, between your legs grew damp and you faintly felt his hand wrapped around your throat. You’re breathing started to become heavy as you tried to think of anything else besides Bins head between your legs. As you squeezed your thighs you felt someone lay on the couch behind you and as you felt the hand that gripped onto you you can’t help but feel a little devastated.

“Wakey, wakey.” The deep Australian voice whispered in your ear.

“What do you want Felix?” You mumble, “I’m trying to take a nap.”

“You’re kidding yourself if you think you actually are, I give it 10 minutes before Jisung and Hyunjin start opera singing for no reason” he giggled. You roll your eyes while turning on your side to face him.

“Why are you so tired anyway? You texted me you were going to bed early.” Felix said repositioning his head on his arm.

“Ya, I was but then ya know Binnie.” You said feeling the heat on your cheeks.

“God you guys are like bunnies, are you ever not doing it?” He rolls his eyes at you.

“Well we’re not right now and we very much could be so be thankful.” You huff at him.

“You’re so gross. Anyways after this we’re all gonna do a movie night at the dorm, do you wanna come?”

You thought about it, go home and sleep or stay around these hooligans and spend time with your boyfriend? “Ya I guess I’ll come but I’m not bringing anything.”

“Great, I already baked some stuff so don’t worry.” He said, his smile growing and roughing up your hair. You “hmph” at him as you try to fix your hair, exposing the hickey right behind your ear.

“You forgot one.” You stare at him in confusion until he pokes it with his finger. Your eyes go wide bringing your hand up to cover it. “Don’t worry stay here and I’ll go grab some green concealer.”

You nod your head in thanks as you sit up covering it with your hair knowing if Minho or Jisung got a glimpse of it they wouldn’t let you or Binnie live it down. Thankfully he hurried back with a small bag and a sponge and got to dotting and blending the make up in.

“Next time, tell him to not be so rough,” Felix said, putting everything away.

“Who says it’s him making it rough?” You smirk at him and he scrunches his nose at you. You can’t help but let out a loud laugh catching everyone’s attention, including the eyes of your boyfriend who was playing some slap game with Jisung.

Binnie, noticing how close you and Felix were came sauntering over, sitting next to you wrapping his arm around your waist, “Secrets don’t make friends.” he said, feeling left out.

“I know they make best friends.” You said kissing his cheek and smiling at him.

“We weren't telling secrets anyway, I was telling her she needs to tell you to stop being so rough with her.” Felix told him matter of factly.

“Hey,” Binnie says, grabbing you under your chin, “if bunny wants it rough bunny gets it rough. I could never say no to this cute face.” he kisses you smiling knowing he’s grossing out Felix.

“Y/n please tell your boyfriend to stop being gross.” Felix says, his nose scrunching once again.

You lean into Binnie resting your head on his shoulder, “Why? Would you tell bunny no?” you tease him pouting your bottom lip.

Felix's cheeks turn bright red at the thought of being there with you and Binnie in a sexual situation. “You guys are no fun.” He says getting up and heading to snuggle with what looks like Han.

You look at Changbin who’s already staring at you, “What?” you question him.

“I just missed you.” He said, cocking his head to the side like a puppy.

“Binnie you literally spent the night at my house and we drove here together. How could you possibly miss me?” You say giggling at him.

He gives you another kiss and grabs your hand, placing it over his crotch, feeling his stiffening cock you open your eyes, “Here?” you asked in a hushed whisper.

“Only if you’re comfortable with it.” he says sincerely studying your face.

You start to remember your thoughts before Felix had interrupted them, “Where would we go?” you grab his hand.

He smiles at you grabbing your hand back and dragging you out of their room and down a hallway as he checks every door, you follow holding the blanket Chan gave you close around your shoulders. Every door Changbin had tried had been locked and you were whispering for him to hurry before Chan caught you guys and finally he pulled a door open and not really looking in it he pulled you in closing the door behind him. He laid his lips on you heavily, rubbing his hand all over the wall to find a light switch.

Your hip bumped something and a loud clang happened, you jumped a lightbulb smacking the back of your head. You reach up to turn it on and look to see what has fallen then look around where you are and changbin and you start laughing. Of course the only door that would open would be the janitors closet and on the floor was a mess of brooms and mops.

Changbin had found a table and continued with what he came here to do, you. He grabbed the side of your head capturing your lips in a kiss backing you into said table. Grabbing the back of your thighs and pulling them up for you to jump, he set you top of it, moving his mouth to kiss down your neck.

You reached out to start unbuttoning his shirt when he grabbed your hands chuckling, “We don’t have time for foreplay babe, I’ve gotta be on the floor in like 15 minutes.”

He reaches his hand down between the band of your pants rubbing his fingers on your clit that was very much so still sore from the night before. You let out a moan as his finger gathered your slick from between your folds.

“Geez that fast?” Changbin says smirking

Your cheeks burn a shade of red, “Don’t get shy, I think it’s hot.” He says leaving kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

He quickly uses the slick that he built up on his fingers to cover his cock as a makeshift lube. He lowered your pants just enough to slide himself inside you, wasting no time he grabbed onto the table and started pounding into you causing you to yelp and moan. You could hear every grunt he let out with his lips being right next to your ear, only feeding into the building knot in your stomach. You use your hands to keep yourself stable on the table but with the roughness that Changbin is pounding into you with was making it difficult.

“Binnie, please” you whine, throwing your head back “I need to come.”

He brings his ring clad fingers between the two of you, finding your clit and begins rubbing it in rough circles, trying to milk every nerve in your body for this orgasm. He knows he’s on the brink of achieving it when your walls begin to spasm around him.

“Come on then, come for me bunny.” Binnie whispers to you as his hips snap harder and hand rubs you faster.

You begin to let go and just as your moan slips past your lips the door swings open and Chan barges in, “Bin let’s go- OH MY GOD.” He steps back out of the room as he makes eye contact with you completely ruining your orgasm and making you scream.

You take the blanket and cover yourself with it as you hear more feet come running down the hall.

“Stop, don’t go in there.” You hear Chan say to whoever is approaching.

Binnie looks at you with big eyes trying not to laugh mean while you look like you’re about to cry.

“Is Y/N okay?” You hear Felix's voice question with worry.

“I’m fine,” you yell at him, “Chan just scared me.”

“What’re they doing?” Felix asks Chan.

“What do you think they’re doing?” Chan answers, annoyance very evident in his tone.

“Ugh, are you guys ever not fucking.” Felix yells.

Binnie can’t help but laugh looking at you blush, “I don’t call her bunny for nothing.”

#skz #skz smut #stray kids #stray kids smut #chan #chan smut #bang chan #bang chan smut #minho #minho smut #lee minho #lee minho smut #lee know #lee know smut #lino #lino smut #changbin #changbin smut #seo changbin #seo changbin smut #hyunjin #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin smut #han #han smut #han jisung #han jisung smut #jisung #jisung smut

[lovetorn]

Life Was A Willow [Part 2]

Witch Hunter!Dream x Witch!Fem!Reader

Part 1 Part 3

Summary: It's always been hunters vs. witches, right?

Word Count: 3.6k+

Warnings for Part 2: violence, mentions of death (familial), swearing

A/N: part 2 !!!! thank you so much for the support and feedback from part 1, omg thank you !! well, i hope you enjoy part 2 ahhhhh !!

It’s 9 pm and Y/n still waits for the signal. She looks in the direction of the Castle and swings her feet back and forth from where she sits on the cottage’s roof.

The air is cold and the trees continue to rustle, the same way they do every day, but tonight, she has an eerie feeling about it. Regret slips into her mind sometimes, telling her that she is foolish for even accepting such a vague invitation by someone she doesn’t even know—but it was so intriguing and she trusts them (she doesn’t exactly know why).

Suddenly, a large pop startles Y/n out of her daze. Sparkles dance in the sky as fireworks burst from the land below. She quickly notes that the explosions are coming from the West side of the Castle and takes that as the signal. Very grand indeed.

Y/n jumps from the roof, landing gracefully on the dirt, and takes off running through the forest. She misses tree roots emerging from the earth and ducks under low branches from the undergrowth. The only thing that lights her path is the moonlight and at this moment, Y/n is thriving. The full moon allows her abilities to heighten and she places her full trust in her instincts.

The fireworks continue to explode and Y/n fills with more adrenaline, the sound making her scream out in joy. She’s excited about the meeting, and she doesn’t even know who it is. And maybe that’s what she’s eager for; the unknown.

The entirety of the concept scared her before, but now she’s exhilarated. And as the show comes to a close, Y/n nears the East side of the Castle. It’s completely silent at this end and the eerie feeling she had before creeps back. It’s not a feeling of uncertainty but one of opportunity and her instincts are telling her to take it.

When she reaches the abandoned cottage, Y/n inhales sharply. There’s no light coming from the house and the door remains closed. As she steps onto the stairs in front, the wood creams beneath her and she scolds for giving away herself to the person inside. Instead of sneaking around, Y/n stomps towards the door and swings it open.

She sees a man in the corner and makes her way towards him, her hands out and ready in case this interaction goes south.

“Who are you? And how do you know me?” Y/n calls out. The man jumps slightly and lifts his head. And in the moonlight flooding in through the window, Y/n recognises him as Dream, even with his mask off. He stands in a white button-up and brown pants, his hunter boots on and a newsboy hat sat on his blonde hair.

“Dream?”

“Hi, Y/n. I knew you would recognise me.” Y/n doesn’t want to look away from him. This is the first time she’s seen his face, and despite the darkness, she sees how handsome he is.

“Why—how? Why did you want to meet me in such a creepy way?” Y/n asks in disgust, picking a cobweb out of her hair and then off of her shoulder; they seem to be everywhere. Her expression falls back to one of admiration when she looks back at him. However, the moonlight lacked the light Y/n needed to see him properly.

Dream laughs slowly. “I forgot to bring a lighter for the lamp. Do you think you could, uh—maybe,”

“Glady,” Y/n sighs and flicks her hand towards the candle in the glass encasing. It immediately comes to life and the room becomes brightly lit. Her eyes fall onto Dream again and she finally sees him; his piercing green eyes and the scar that runs from the top of his left temple to the corner of his lip.

“Wow,” Dream mumbles under his breath. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you, and I know that everybody I know would, just, obliterate me for even thinking about doing this, but I needed to talk to you about—“

“You’re rambling.”

“Right, right...”

Y/n squints at the man and then tilts her head. “Whose C?”

Dream’s eyes widen as he nods. “Yeah, uh, that’s me. My name’s Clay.”

The witch doesn’t say anything as she stares at him. “So why do they call you Dream?”

This isn’t where Dream thought the conversation would go, but he’s happy they’re not fighting.

“My mother came up with the nickname when I was born. I nearly didn’t make it and then through some miracle, I did. So, she called me her Dream.” Y/n can tell the story makes him emotional, so she doesn’t push any further.

“That’s really sweet, Dream.” And at the sound of his real name, Dream perks up slightly before he cracks a smile. Y/n grins back at him; a real genuine smile. The pair stand in the low lit room in comfortable silence, until Y/n’s curiosity gets the better of her.

“What did you want to talk about?” She asks. Dream nods once and continues from where he was cut off before.

“I wanted to discuss the possibility of a truce between witches and hunters,” Dream isn’t smiling anymore, instead his lips are screwed up and his hands fidget in front of him. Y/n, however, grins even bigger.

“I’m all for that, honestly. I’m tired of being on edge every day and being scared for my life. If we can find a way to create peace, even for a little bit, I’m on board.” Y/n keeps it short for now, not wanting to scare him off by how passionate she feels about the situation.

Dream’s eyes light up at the sound of her agreeing. “Really?” Y/n nods and becomes surprised when she feels Dream’s arms wrap around her. “Thank you, thank you.”

“No, Dream, thank you! I’ve been trying to convince people of this for years. I’m really glad that you feel the same way.” The pair pull apart and Dream flicks his eyes down to Y/n’s lips for a split second.

“You’re so pretty,” Y/n nearly chokes at his comment. Dream feels his cheeks burn when the words tumble out and soon they’re both flustered. “Sorry! Oh my, I’m sorry, that didn't mean to slip out—”

“Dream, it’s fine. I think you’re pretty too; especially without the mask.”

The hunter swats the witch’s shoulder playfully. “Stop~” The pair laugh together, and then proceed to stand in another comfortable silence. The wind howls and whistles outside and makes the cottage creak, adding to the eerie aura that surrounds it.

“What’s with the hat? It’s nighttime.”

Dream plucks the accessory off of his head and runs his opposite hand through his hair, the soft locks falling back into place when his hand returns to his side. “Part of the disguise, duh.”

Y/n squints at him, her expression morphing into one of mischief. “Isn’t the mask a disguise in itself, though? Also, put the hat back on, you look handsome with it.” It’s time for Dream to blush now. He covers his face with his hat and scoffs softly. “Y/n!”

The girl slaps her hand over her mouth to muffle her embarrassed laughs. “It’s true!”

The man rolls his eyes before placing the hat back on his head. “Happy?”

Y/n nods before telling him to answer about the mask.

“Well, no, nobody at the Castle actually knows what I look like—except for my best friends, Sapnap and George.”

“George? As in Prince George?” Y/n is shocked, to say the least. She now understands why Dream is so passionate about the peace between the Hunters and Witches. Prince George is known for his differing morals and ideas from his family, which makes him stand out from the other Royals. Y/n admires his bravery and courage to do so.

“Yeah, we’ve been friends since we were young. I’m jealous that he can be so open with his opinions in that Castle—Lord knows if I was, I'd be executed,” This makes Y/n’s stomach drop. “But, it’s okay, with your help, hopefully, we can convince humans and magical-kind alike, that there can be peace. A—And we can live together in harmony, without being consumed by the overbearing thought of death every moment of our lives.”

Dream stops his tangent, his face flushed and his eyes pleading. Y/n feels like crying; she has waited years for someone to be as passionate as her about this topic. “I’ll help you, Dream, no matter what; because I wholeheartedly believe we can do this. I trust you.”

Y/n shocks herself with this statement; she’s never trusted a human before.

“And I trust you Y/n.” The pair stare at each other, smiles spread across their cheeks as the night outside slips away, and then it’s just them; standing in the main area of a small, abandoned cottage that sits East of the Castle, lit up with a lantern that casts a warm glow over the pair. Y/n can almost say it looks and feels magical.

“Ok, enough flirting, let’s get planning on the truce. Sounds like a plan, doll?” Dream gives her a lopsided smile and Y/n feels her heart rate increase at the sight of him.

“Where were you?” Wilbur says. His voice is deeper than usual and fits in perfectly with the way he’s sitting ominously in the dark. Y/n stops tiptoeing towards her room and turns to face him; defeated that she got caught. However, she still remains giddy and her heart beats faster for other reasons.

“I was meeting with Schlatt—I need more toadstools for a potion I’m making.”

Wilbur squints at her, his lips curling into a frown. “I know you’re lying, and so does Niki.”

Y/n sighs and starts walking towards him. “I’m sorry—“ She pauses when she sees Wilbur shake his head.

“Don’t.”

Y/n screws her lips together and nods once. Her once excited demeanour fading away when she sees Wilbur’s look of disappointment. “I was meeting one of the new hunters, Dream.”

Wilbur furrowed his eyebrows, “What? Why?”

“We’re formulating a truce amongst witches and hunters.”

He raises his eyebrows in both surprise and suspicion. “Okay? And why are you doing this? We don’t need peace.”

“Uh, so we’re not in danger every living second?” Y/n’s nerves grow into anger. “Why are you so against the chance of maybe, finally getting this?”

Wilbur shakes his head and stands up, the chair screeching against the wood floors as he moves. “Haven’t you heard what becomes of curious minds?”

Y/n is at a loss for words while the tall man rolls his eyes and leaves, avoiding her as he circles around her to walk down the hallway.

His abrupt exit confuses Y/n. Why is Wilbur so against peace with the Hunters?

—

Dream manages to sneak into the Hunter’s Wing before they lock the front doors for the night. He sits silently on the bench in the training room and slips his boots off, making sure to place them on the floor as quiet as possible. He takes his hat off of his head and holds it in his palms, smiling stupidly at the inanimate object. The flame in the lantern next to him is fizzling out and it's hard to see 4 feet in front of him.

“Dream?” Even in his daze, Dream can sense the anger and fear in Sapnap’s voice.

“Sapnap? Why are you awake?” The younger boy walks out from the hallway and towards him.

“Me? Where were you? It’s midnight.”

Dream sighs and rests the hat on the bench next to him. “I was out.”

“Out? You mean meeting with the witch?”

Dream’s eyes widen. “How do you know that?”

“Fireworks don’t just go off for no reason, Dream. And I found the note in your room.” Sapnap says, ripping the letter from his pyjama bottoms pocket.

“Just say you have a crush on her, Dream!” Sapnap yells, throwing his arms up in defeat.

“I don't—I promise, Sapnap.”

“Fine, if you don’t like the witch, then kill her.” Dream’s dumbfounded. He stares at his best friend with such bewilderment that even Sapnap feels a twinge of guilt. Dream sighs, carding his hand through his hair in frustration and confusion.

He doesn’t reply, even when George arrives in a hurry, still in the process of wrapping a dressing gown around his body.

“What’s happened? I heard yelling.” The pair remain frozen, refusing to meet the Prince’s glare as they avoid eye contact.

George shakes his head, “Has this got to do with Dream meeting with the witch?”

“George! How do you know, too?”

George huffs. “I know everything that happens in and outside of my Castle. But, fireworks? Really?”

Dream throws his hands down in frustration. “Yes, fireworks! It was a good distraction and it was a signal for her anyway.”

George eyes the blonde before he crosses his arms over his chest. “As much as you hate to admit it, it's obvious that you’re fond of her, Dream. And no matter what happens, I’ll be by your side, okay? You know that.”

“What the fuck?” Sapnap spits. “You have his back? George, I can tolerate your ideals about the magical kind, but this is the witch who killed half of the hunter population.”

Dream stills. “What?”

“You’ve gone and done it now, Sapnap!”

“Y/n killed people?”

“Dream—“ George goes to speak, but he’s cut off by Sapnap.

“Yes! That’s why I’ve been trying to warn you! Why do you think we got this job so easily?” Dream stares at the concrete floor, his heart dropping into his stomach. He can’t believe it, he refuses to.

“Sapnap!” George snaps. The younger boy cowers away slightly, his once confronted facade crumbling at the sound of the Prince's tone. “Stop it, right now. You are in no place to tell him this, okay? You may be my best friend but that doesn’t excuse you from doing this.”

Dream chews on his bottom lip quietly as he watches Sapnap turn around and stomp out of the training room, but not before he scrunches up the letter and throws it on the floor. “Thanks.”

George’s gaze remains on the door. “Don’t thank me. He should know better anyway, considering his last relationship.”

The blonde nods once, reminding himself of the youngest boy’s past relationship with a fairy from the kingdom next door. Dream lets out a laugh at the thought.

For the next few days, Y/n hears nothing from Dream. She worries for him, has he been caught?

She stands on the porch of her cottage, hoping, begging for a sign that he is okay. Clouds plague the blue skies above and Y/n knows the bad omens swirling around the kingdom are the cause—and the inside of Niki’s crystal ball had burst with black and dark red clouds which had only confirmed her suspicions.

The wind howls through the trees and calls to her, speaking words of concern under its tongue. Y/n rolls her eyes and sighs, she knows to be careful, especially with the humans inching closer to their world.

However, a faint voice draws Y/n’s attention away from the wind and to the well in the corner of the garden. The sound confuses her at first, and then the wind’s guidance is forgotten as she makes her way towards it. The short fence around the area is still broken from the fight with the hunters weeks ago, and nobody has had a chance to repair it yet, so Y/n takes it upon herself to fix it.

The whispers from the well become a string of mumbles and are impossible to decipher as Y/n kneels with her back towards the forest—and for the first time, she is anxious about what lies within it.

But, before she can even begin picking up the pieces of wood, the sound of someone approaching her at a fast pace alerts Y/n immediately. She spins around with her hands out and is shocked when she sees Dream with his sword raised. The ground moves beneath her feet as she uses the earth’s power to aid her in meeting his strength.

“Dream?” She screams, her body struggling to resist the force of his weapon. Sparkles fall from her fingertips as she pushes back.

“You killed an entire army of people, Y/n!” Dream’s tone is low and angry and Y/n knows he would have found out eventually.

“Dream, I didn’t do that!” Y/n exclaims and Dream swings his sword backwards.

“How can I trust you? Hm? After all, you’ve killed people!” Y/n could cry at his utter naivety. She drops her arms by her sides as Dream glares at her in pure disgust.

“Instead of fighting, can we talk about this?” Y/n pleas. Her feet move swiftly beneath her, maneuvering her body away from Dream’s sword.

Suddenly, Dream brings the sword down to slice into Y/n’s arm, but a force pushes it back towards him, making the blade fly high into the air before it clatters onto the ground.

Y/n stands with her hands out, remnants of glitter falling around her fingers. “I told you! I’d never do that, and I have proof.”

“Proof?” Dream still stares at his sword, unable to meet Y/n’s eye.

“Proof. Now, how about we calm down and I’ll show it to you. Okay? Sounds like a plan?” Dream nods slowly, turning his head to face her. Finally, his green eyes soften and the raging fire that burns within them fizzles out.

“Okay.”

Y/n sighs before she begins. “When a witch kills an innocent; a human, they gain a marking on the back of their neck to signify the betrayal of the harmony between the two. However, since King James, that peace has been terminated; hence his need for hunters, like yourself.

“But, anyway, everybody in this damn kingdom thinks I killed those hunters, but I don’t have the mark,” Y/n turns around, her hand going to lift up her hair from her neck. The skin is clear, with no markings, nothing.

Dream nods, furrowing his eyebrows. “How do I know you didn’t just cast a spell to make it disappear?”

Y/n rolls her eyes. “There’s no way to cover up the marking; it’ll just shine through whatever you put over it. It’s permanent and very obvious.”

“I told you, Dream, I didn’t kill them. I’d never kill an innocent.”

“Why didn’t you show them, then? You've had proof this entire time and never thought to actually show anyone?” Dream is bewildered. Y/n nods slowly, understanding his argument.

“I don't need to prove myself to your kind.” Is all she says. Dream waits for her to continue but soon realises she's not going to. “Fair point.”

“So, why did you come at me swinging? Did you really believe I would do that?” She whispers and Dream feels his heart sink. He is speechless for a few moments—did he really think that? Or was he feeding into Sapnap’s ideology of witches?

“S—Sapnap convinced me of things. I didn’t believe it at first, but the more he went on—I guess he got into my head.”

Y/n cocks her eyebrow and scoffs out a laugh. “Yeah, he did. You could’ve easily killed me with the amount of anger you had.”

This makes Dream’s breath catch in his throat. “I—I’m so sorry, Y/n. That was never my intention—”

The witch shakes her head and holds her hand up. “It’s okay, Dream. You didn’t offend me. I’m still here, with you, right? Isn’t that enough to tell you that I’m not angry?”

“Yes! Yes, sorry—”

“Stop saying sorry, it’s annoying.” Y/n giggles, holding her hand out to grasp Dream’s.

“So—”

“Dream!”

The cottage is quiet, too quiet, and Y/n walks into the small kitchen, hoping to bake a cake to cure her boredom. But, Wilbur sits at the round dining table, his beanie and a sewing needle in his hands.

“Wil, I wanted to talk to you,” Y/n mumbles, pulling out a chair. Wilbur doesn’t meet her eye as she does so, continuing to patch up his beanie that got ripped on a tree last week.

“Why are you against harmony with humans?”

Wilbur sighs softly. He places the beanie on the table and turns to face Y/n. “Y/n, when I was young, I lived amongst the humans in a town not far from here. We tried as hard as we could to mix in and not draw attention to ourselves.”

The girl listens intently, both curious and scared for his answer. She can tell the story makes him anxious so she reaches for his hand that lays on the wooden table. “Go on, Wil. I’m here.”

Wilbur nods, his eyes already full of tears as he continues.

“However, one day, my family decided to move to a more secluded area within the town, so my father could teach me more about magic without the risk of being caught. When we entered our new cottage in the forest, we were ambushed and they killed my entire family, leaving me, the only child, alone. I was left there, with my parents' bodies for weeks. I was made to fend for myself until I found Niki in a cave several years later. I was only 7, Y/n.”

Tears cascade down both of their cheeks. Wilbur takes in a shaky breath before he collapses onto the table out of grief. Y/n immediately leaps into action, wrapping her arms around the older man and letting him use her for support. His broken sobs and heart-wrenching cries stab Y/n all over, and she immediately regrets asking him about it.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Wilbur,” She didn’t push anymore, and that was all Wilbur needed.

#life was a willow fic #lwaw #dream x reader #dream imagine #dream imagines #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken imagines #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt imagines #dream smp x reader #dream smp imagines #dream smp imagine #dream x fem!reader #dream x female reader #dreamwastaken

[saphirered]

I Don’t Hate You (Vagrant pt3.)

The lady at the front desk gives you a dirty look as you come straggling in, leaving a wet trail behind you, boots sopping with an equally disgruntled expression on your face. You toss her a coin, if only to be done with it all and go back up the stairs. There you see, Fjord is no longer sitting in the hallway and probably either has gotten himself a room of his own or Molly’s taken mercy upon the half-orc and let him sleep peacefully and undisturbed in their shared room. A sense of dread still lingers as you approach your door and you take a sip from the opened bottle in your hand, hoping to find some courage to push you over the edge and just get it over with. You can see the hint of orange light bleeding through the small gap. 

When the door opens Caleb looks up from his book, or well, your book. You look like an absolute mess and he knows you know you do. It’s an unspoken agreement to not comment on this fact made in that brief moment of eye contact, for both of your sakes. 

“Do not question my terrible life’s choices, Widogast.” You grumble as you let yourself fall backwards on your bed. You don’t even have the energy to magic away the remainders of the rain that kept you company from your soaked person. Well, that or the fact that the droplets rolling down your skin hid the tears from the panic attack and brief existential crisis you had on that rooftop before you came down. 

Caleb puts down the book, gets up from the bed and slowly and carefully inches over to your side of the room. He hesitantly sits down on the edge. You have half the mind to kick him off just because but can’t find the energy to do so. Despite your distaste for magic users like him, being alone after your mental breakdown you just experienced, really sucks. Caleb pats your knee awkwardly in an attempt to comfort but not wanting to cross any boundaries. It’s pathetic, he knows because one can hardly fix a stab wound by slapping on a bandaid. His own past experiences have left him a tad bit at a loss when it comes to comforting a person in pain, especially one so stubborn and crass as you have been towards him. 

Still, Caleb has figured out your hatred isn’t directed at him personally. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out it’s people with abilities like him that have played a part in your past causing you pain and suffering and the wound is still very fresh, hence your trauma being reflected onto him, despite his complete lack of involvement in your before the moment you met. It may not have helped that your hostility towards him hasn’t exactly encouraged him to try and build a proper relationship with you. He hardly even knows you yet still he feels as if he knows your tells, the things you go through and why you act like you do. He may not know the details of your life but he feels safe to say he knows you better than any of the others. 

It’s not his lack of knowledge and insight into your life beyond what’s surface and what he can read off you that holds him back. It’s the fear of what he might find within you that will tear open wounds of his own he’s worked so hard to cover up. It’s the fear you might be one step ahead of him in a similar story and there is no hope for people like you and him after all. It’s the fear those you run from are the same people he has tried so hard to escape. It’s the fear of you, that you might be each others’ salvation, or undoing because he knows what he has the capability to become, what you could become. 

But here you lie, upon your bed curled up, traces of tears long since fallen, possibly even ran out, tightness in your throat, indents of your nails in your palms from clenching too much, frustration and anger in your eyes is still overwhelmed by pain and hopelessness and a wish the void would just come and claim you, where you no longer fear the consequences of running and will be able to obliterate those who caused you so much hurt, or die trying in the process. Caleb is reminded of himself in that cell of his own, for years, a broken mind piecing itself together from the shambles it was left in, barely a shell of what it used to be. 

When he promised himself he would do anything and everything in his power to take down these tormentors and their accomplices so no one would ever have to suffer like he had, still is suffering, Caleb didn’t expect to find you. He still remembers himself begging, praying, screaming just to not be alone, to have someone tell him there is still hope and not all is lost. There’s still good in this wretched world and if the world turns bleak, it’s up to you to be that good despite everything. Those were the pretty words and empty promises of a dreamer but does that make them a lie? 

“Don’t patronise me. I’m not some fragile broken child in need of mothering.” Caleb retreats his hand, clasping them together in his lap as he studies your face. Your eyes are cold, your expression matching. A mask, he knows. A way to protect yourself. 

“Good. Because I have no intention of doing so. I want you to be blunt and truthful and I don’t want you to hold back. I want you to humour me and answer some questions.” You raise an eyebrow expecting there to be something behind Caleb’s request but his stare is unreadable, like a practiced mask of his own. 

“You want me to be blunt and give you a peace of my mind?” You humour. You’ll tell the asshole okay. You’ll bicker and fight and quarrel if that’s what he wants no problem. Maybe a battle of wits and words will get you back into your groove. 

Little do you know that is in fact not what Caleb is looking for. Not exactly. He isn’t looking for a fight. He’s looking for answers, how to help you despite your differences because no one deserves to go through this, especially not alone. So because of that, he will not humour you in turn with his usual reply to your attempts to push him. He doesn’t intend this to end in another futile empty argument. Not now. So he’ll drop the game and go straight for the jugular. 

“Why do you hate me?” You freeze at the abrupt and sudden question. Caleb knows you don’t really hate him personally but coddling you won’t work and some things you’ll have to realise by yourself first. Finding the strength to lean up on your elbows you tilt your head at him as a half smirk creeps upon your lips.

“Because you’re an egotistical self-serving bastard who cares for nothing but himself and the people useful to him, until they outlive their usefulness.” The words are meant to cut like knives and usually you’d get a rise out of Caleb by such a statement but when you don’t see any response to your words, nothing but those blue eyes staring into yours so… unbothered, it feels as if those knives are turned onto you instead. You’re not quick enough to get rid of that tiny hint of guilt slithering across your features. 

“Why do you hate me?” Caleb asks again, voice still calm like it’s the most unremarkable question ever. He could have asked you about the weather with that tone. 

“Because you’re an asshole.” 

“Why do you hate me?” 

“Seriously? I already gave you an answer. Was I not clear the first time?” That guilt in your stomach starts growing, festering. There’s something in your mind pushing through but you try to fight it off, not liking the thought of being faced with those emotions. You’ve worked too hard to push them away. 

“Just answer the question. Why do you hate me?” Caleb sees you struggle. Your first answers where in the blink of an eye, a defence mechanism slipping into place. That works, for a while, until it doesn’t, until you start questioning it and give yourself a moment to think.

“Because…” Because you’re a coward. Because you run from your problems. Because you leave other people to swipe up the mess for you. Because you’re a monster to blame for the pain of others. Because you’re to blame for your own pain. Because you couldn’t save them. Because. Because. Because. Those are not reasons you hate Caleb. You take in a sharp breath, clenching your jaw in anger, nose scrunching holding at bay the curses from passing your lips and the threat of all your emotions from spilling out like a breaking dam. 

“Why do you hate me?” The words now, do not sound void of emotion, but instead are filled with a warmth and pity. Damn him! Damn him to the hells and abyss! When you don’t answer he repeats it again. Caleb gives you amicable time to answer, leaving a long silence to give your mind the time and space to think for itself, analyse and process and you hate every second of it because you can’t stop it. The cracks in the walls you’ve tried to hard to build become more apparent by the second. He asks again. 

“I don’t bloody hate you!” You shout, pretty sure you may just have woken up the entire floor. The silence after the words leave your lips is deafening. 

“Then what do you hate about me that causes you to act the way you do?” Your hands clench back into fists, your nails pressing down again in the still tender skin from but minutes ago. You don’t want to say it. You really don’t but that pain raging through your body wants to get out and you feel the floodgates opening inch by inch despite your efforts to fight it. Then there’s that voice in the back of your mind; maybe speaking the unspoken will give you some peace. 

“I don’t hate you! I just hate what your remind me of. It’s like you’re here to personally torture me so please just leave me alone to suffer, get over it and move on.” You don’t want to remember the last time you pleaded for something, and had hoped to never plead for anything again yet here you are. 

“I am going to give you a choice and I’ll only offer it once, so listen very carefully.” You’ve never seen Caleb look so intense, so genuine, and so determined. You can’t do anything but listen so you nod, signalling him to continue and that you’re paying attention to his every word and not to twist them for your own amusement for once. Whatever previous relation, or rather lack thereof you’ve had is gone now. There’s only you two, in a place of vulnerability and without judgement. 

“You’ve got two options. One; you tell me to piss off, like you usually do. I’ll go back to bed, back to sleep and leave you alone. We will never speak of this again, never mention this and go our separate ways. We will remain cordial when interacting and won’t let our own grievances get in the way of the others.” You take in the words, nodding to confirm you understand. 

“Or two; you and I are going to talk. You are going to tell me what you wish, and can tell me provided it’s the truth and I will listen. If you wish to tell me your life story I will listen. If you wish to tell me all your troubles I will listen. If you wish to share your pain, I will listen. And know that I will help you if you’ll allow me to. Because if you keep doing this on your own, let the guilt and grief and pain swallow you whole, I know exactly where it will lead. Do not allow it to be your undoing, or turn you into a person beyond your recognition.” Midway through his offer your eyes have closed and your brow furrows. You bit your lip and that combined with the movement of your eyes behind your eyelids are the only indication to Caleb you’re still listening to him. 

Caleb gives you time. He doesn’t expect an answer right away. That’s not how this works but he does study you, attempting to get an inkling of what’s going through your mind. He feels warmth wrap around his wrist, glancing down to notice your fingers have wrapped around it and hold on tightly. You’re holding onto a lifeline and he knows it. 

“Why?” Your, words a pained choke, you don’t dare open your eyes, don’t trust the look in Caleb’s eyes to tear down what last defences you had up and turning you into even more of a broken mess. 

“Because despite what people might have you believe, there is still good in this world.” You’re unable to stifle a sob, feeling a tear slide down your cheek. 

“I’ve not known much kindness in my life but I feel confident in saying this is the kindest thing anyone has ever offered me. It’s why my pervious actions and words towards you make me feel like an absolute ass even more. I hope you find it in yourself to forgive me.” You release Caleb’s wrist, feeling grounded once more despite the buzzing in your head and twiddle with your fingers awaiting a response, the tense air slowly lifting as you sit in peace and silence. 

You nod, wiping at the corners of your eyes before you open them, a bit more red and puffy than they were before you entered the room. You finally look at the wizard and take in a deep breath before nodding again. If it were anyone else, any other moment you might have said no. You’d even have laughed at whoever tried this emotional shit on you. But it’s time. You’re not getting any better nor can you repress everything forever. It’s time to face some of these troubles head on. Luckily you won’t have to do it on your own. It will take time and effort and it’s going to hurt like hell but it has to be done. You have to move on and learn how to live. You owe it to yourself, if not the people you’ve left behind. 

“Now this doesn’t mean we’re going to be best friends from now on. You’re still an asshole and so am I so don’t think I’ll let you off easy for your comments and the trouble you cause.” The corner of Caleb’s lips turns up slightly as he speaks and you mimic his expression.

“I don’t think anyone else could handle it, so I’m sorry to disappoint but you’re definitely stuck with me, Widogast.” You muster a smile, exhausted. It’s mutually understood the conversation as per your agreement won’t happen right here, right now but instead when you’re both ready. For now, at least you won’t pretend to hate each other anymore and start over. 

“Hey, Caleb?” You ask.

“Yes?” He answers but before he knows it your arms wrap around him and pull him into your embrace. Caleb’s form goes rigid shocked by not only the gesture but by the physical touch itself. After a good few moments he finds himself ease just a little, enough to return the embrace lightly.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #caleb widogast x reader #caleb x reader

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair

Chapter 33: Existing in the Bit That’s Left

Summary: Life goes on, whether we will it or not

Read on AO3

Previous, master list, next

Chapter 33: Existing in the Bit That’s Left 

***

When a hermit crab dies, its shell is left behind, sitting at the bottom of the ocean. Empty and lifeless, it remains motionless as the waves cover it with sand.

Jamie had once owned a hermit crab. After it had died, it rattled him that the beautiful shell that looked so much like his pet remained even though the crab was gone. 

Now, Jamie himself was nothing more than a hollowed out shell. 

He knew his heart was gone, every ounce of love within him ripped away, but what had surprised him was that it was as if she’d taken his very body with her as well as his soul. He didn’t have the energy for even the most basic tasks. Food was tasteless. His vision seemed foggy. As tired as he was, he couldn’t sleep. Life seemed to happen around him, but he hardly managed to bring himself along with it. He was being buried under the weight of the emptiness. 

Nothingness shouldn’t have been so heavy. 

He spent three weeks laying in his bed. Barely eating, barely moving. 

Jamie was aware that he was wasting away, but he couldn’t seem to care. Claire wouldn’t want him to give up without her. Even more compelling, he wouldn’t want her to act like this without him. Even as he’d sent her back through the stones, he’d told her to live a good life without him. He wanted her to be able to move on. Except he couldn’t bring himself to do the same, and he never would. After knowing the joy of a full life, there seemed nothing left for him in this hollow existence. 

If he could have reached out and grasped onto some sort of hope in his new life without her— not that any seemed to exist— he still would have chosen not to. All the right decisions, the healthy decisions, the ways to cope and move forward— they all seemed like a betrayal. He didn’t want to move on; he wanted Claire back. 

The first time he’d uttered the horrible truth of Claire’s absence outloud was when Murtagh had forced it out of him. His godfather had come banging on his door after Jamie had ignored his texts for weeks, eventually barging in on Jamie’s state of depressed chaos. He had dragged him out of bed, forced food down his throat, and shoved him in the shower. After Jamie looked less like a corpse, Murtagh coaxed the story out of him— at least, the only story Jamie could give. 

“She’s gone,” he forced out. Hearing the words aloud was like a knife to the gut. He’d known they were true— every beat of his heart without the answering one of hers next to him made that truth abundantly clear. But being forced to say it aloud brought a whole new level of pain. 

Murtagh clearly didn’t know whether he meant she’d broken up with him or died. His godfather tried to probe him for details, but Jamie didn’t have it in him to explain anymore. 

“There’s nothin’ left for me,” Jamie rasped, “she was it. Claire—” his voice broke on her name, but he forced it out, finding some amount of reverence in the shape of it on his lips, “ Claire was my heart and soul. I dinna ken what to do, a ghoistidh.” 

“Ye do what ye have to, lad,” Murtagh said firmly, “ye keep going.” 

“How?” he looked up at him with tears shining in his eyes. “How can I keep going without her?” 

Murtagh brows drew together as he grew thoughtful. His expression reflected the gravity of the situation. His godfather knew that he was desperate for a reason to keep going, crying out for help. Words couldn’t heal him, but something had to be said. Murtagh took his time before saying them, very carefully. 

“Ye’re no’ without her, though. No’ really. Ye’ll carry her memory wi’ ye. Ye keep going, and ye bring her wi’ ye, even if it’s no’ in the way ye would have liked.” 

Jamie swallowed the bile rising in his throat. All he could hear was buzzing, the cotton in his ears growing somehow thicker. 

“I don’t want to,” he forced out, shaking his head, “I don’t—”

The meager contents of Jamie’s stomach rose, and he rushed to the trash can before collapsing to his knees and heaving into it. The grief in his heart tried to force its way out of his body, and he wished it could just end this and tear him from inside out. Murtagh hovered behind him, offering him a wet towel, and Jamie sat back heavily against the cool wall. 

“I ken she wouldna want me tae give up,” Jamie said quietly, barely above a whisper, “but I just dinna want tae keep going.”

Murtagh’s eyes swam with emotion and his face crumpled underneath his beard as his brain came to a conclusion. Clearly his godfather thought the love of Jamie’s life had truly died. And she may as well have been to Jamie, or maybe she had actually di—

The fear that Jamie had been fighting for weeks rose inside him again. It was possible that Claire really was dead. More than just possible. She’d said coming through the stones had been torture, and she’d been so weak afterwards when Jamie had found her the first time she’d gone through. He could only imagine what the trip had done to his barely conscious lass, hanging on by a thread. Or maybe he had waited too long and it had been too late. Maybe she’d gotten back and was too weak to even draw energy anymore. Maybe she’d died on that hill, all alone, grieving his loss as much as he grieved hers.  

This fear haunted him, both waking and sleeping, tearing him into pieces. Seeing Murtagh’s face as the man thought Jamie was mourning her death, Jamie wasn’t so sure he wasn’t . He wished he could know what became of her— anything to stop this horrible speculating that churned his mind. But he was left in the dark. Left to hold on to the tiny comfort that he had done what had to be done. 

For his wife. 

Jamie let his head fall onto his knees, hugging his arms around them so they were pressed tightly to his chest. 

“Jamie. I willna allow ye to waste yerself away,” Murtagh said firmly. “I ken ye’re hurting, and I would never suggest ye ignore it. I only ask that you take care of yerself, even when ye dinna want to. If not for the memory of her, then do it for me, aye?” 

He raised his red-ringed eyes enough to see his godfather, and he realized there was real fear lingering on Murtagh’s face. 

As much as he wanted to let himself fade away, he could never do that to the man sitting in front of him who he loved so dearly. 

“Alright,” Jamie agreed, “alright.” 

***

When Jamie was young, his parents had a yearly tradition where they would send him to his grandfather’s house to stay for a couple of nights. His grandfather was loving enough, but every time Jamie went, he was overcome with intense homesickness. He would cry himself to sleep each night of the visit, feeling like the guest room was freezing to the bone as he imagined the warmth of Lallybroch. 

Every day now felt like that homesickness magnified a hundredfold. 

Claire had been the true home of his heart. Jamie longed and ached for her in ways he hadn’t known possible. 

Only that home had been lost. And he was left lying awake at night dreaming of her warmth and missing her with every fiber of his being.

***

While driving on the highway during a long road trip, inevitably one will see a plastic bag being blown down the road. Aimless, empty, and completely at the mercy of the wind. Jamie would watch them sometimes, tracing their progress before they drifted away. But he never asked himself where it would end up because it didn’t matter. The bag would simply continue on, moving forward without a destination. 

Jamie was no more than a bit of plastic pushed by the breeze. He stayed rooted to his life only by his promise to Murtagh. He began to go about his days with empty precision. He would wake up at 8, brush his teeth, eat one cup of parritch, and head into work. Every night he would come straight home, take a 30 minute walk around his property, cook himself dinner, and fall asleep to the murmurs of the tv. 

On the rare nights when he allowed himself out of his robot-like trance, he would venture into the closet of the guest bedroom where Claire’s dresses still hung, and he would bury his nose in it, hugging it close to his chest, searching desperately for a whiff of her earthy-rose scent. 

On those nights, he would cry himself to sleep. 

Jamie continued on, but he had no idea what he was moving toward. 

***

When he was a lad of about 5, he and Willie had gone out to the barn to play. They had a bit of rope with them, and Willie thought it would be fun to try to walk a baby goat like they walked their dog, Rufus. They’d fashioned a leash for the poor thing, but when the time came to “walk” it, the animal had simply laid on its side as he and Willie had dragged it through the dirt, wailing its disapproval but not moving a muscle until Jamie’s parents had run out and grounded them for a week. For the goat, there hadn’t been so much active resistance as simply a complete shut down. 

When Jenny showed up at Jamie’s door one night, ordering him to get in the car to come over to dinner, Jamie had simply obeyed. Getting dragged was easier than fighting. 

She’d driven him straight to Lallybroch, where she, Ian, and the brood resided, and Jamie somehow managed to find a weak smile within himself for the sake of his nieces and nephew. 

As soon as he came through the door, he was overcome by a stampede of little feet and grabbing hands. Chubby arms wrapped around his legs, his hands were grasped, and his body became a playground. 

“Weans! Where are yer manners?! Say hi to Uncle Jamie!” Jenny admonished. 

“Hi, Uncle,” came the obedient responses from wee Jamie and Maggie. 

Before Jamie even had a chance to respond, he was obliterated by an innocent, well meaning question that cut him the core. 

“Uncle Jamie, where is Ms. Claire? Can she come to dinner too?” 

Jamie froze, every muscle coiled up on instinct from hearing that name. He’d tried to numb it out, tried to let himself get dragged on through life without the roadblock that was any mention of his lost love. 

Jenny knew, of course. Murtagh had told her about Claire’s “death”. Her face shown with sympathy as she watched Jamie stumble back onto the bench seat behind him. He sat down hard, pressing his hands to face, and peered down at wee Jamie. 

His voice was thick, nearly unrecognizable, when he managed to force out the following words: 

“She’s gone to live forever with the faeries.”

His eyes flicked up toward Jenny, whose face showed raw grief. She may not have liked Claire much, but hearing about her death spoken in such terms, or at least seeing Jamie like this, seemed to wreck her. 

Only somehow, speaking those words— the truth, disguised as a fairytale for children— actually freed a tiny knot in Jamie’s chest. 

Wee Jamie looked both disappointed and intrigued at the news. 

“Gone to live wi’ the faeries?” he echoed. 

“Aye,” Jamie nodded. He glanced up at Jenny again, and then back at the weans. Every thought in his head seemed to vanish, and he hadn’t decided to do anything, but his body was moving. He leaned down closer and gestured them toward him. Lowering his voice, he said, “can I tell ye a secret? If ye promise ye willna tell?” 

Both children nodded eagerly, waiting with baited breath. 

“Claire is a faerie. I found her on the faerie hill one day, and I took her in. She wasna meant to be here, you see, it was an accident. But we fell in love, and she decided to stay.” 

“But why did she go back then?” wee Jamie asked. 

Jamie swallowed hard. “She… well, she ran out of faerie dust. She needed tae go back to live with the faeries so she could have all the faerie dust she needs.” 

Tears gathered in his eyes, and he had to blink hard not to shed them. 

“I”m sorry ye lost yer faerie, Uncle Jamie,” Maggie said, reaching out her hand to rest it gently on Jamie’s knee. 

He took it in his, marveling at just how small it was. But brought him comfort, and for the first time in the past three weeks, he thought maybe he wasn’t entirely alone in the world. 

“Me too, Maggie. Me too.” 

***

a/n: One more chapter to go in arc II, and it's a big 'un. See you tomorrow and thank you so much for reading!!

Next

#the chapter deluge continues!! #all that was fair #update #claire x jamie #outlander fanfiction #fae claire

[girlgrouptrash101]

Olivia Hye (Loona) - I Kinda Like You

Request: “olivia hye reaction to her female s/o wearing her hoodie in front of the members please :3″

Word Count: 1,436 Words

Warnings: just fluff my dears :]

A/N: this was ony supposed to be a tiny drabble but i guess i got a little caught up in the plot,,, oh well, enjoy!

- C

“Haha! Gotcha!” Yeojin screamed as she smashed the buttons on Hyejoo’s remote control, trying desperately to beat the stony-faced girl at a game of call of duty. Hyejoo had gotten the game for Christmas, and she’d practically already reached the maximum level in each game mode. Hyejoo absolutely loved gaming, and if she was being honest, not many things topped gaming for her. Except you, of course. Every day her members call her or chat to her and she can’t hear them with her headset on, but for you, Hyejoo would even go as far to quit her game just to talk to you. In your eyes, that was the biggest sentiment the timid girl had ever given you.

“Yeojin, you shot the wall again. I’m not even near you.” Hyejoo spoke gruffly, before laughing at the frustrated maknae. The younger girl huffed out, dropping the remote before jumping slightly as the door to Hyejoo’s dorm room burst open. You had just taken a shower after sleeping over at the dorm last night, as you often do since Hyejoo had introduced you to her members - 11 girls that had rapidly become some of your best friends.

“Hi Y/N! Nice hoodie.” Yeojin teased, before whining out as Hyejoo killed her again. You looked down and blushed lightly, feeling comfortable in the confines of your girlfriend’s soft hoodie. Looking up again, you found Hyejoo was staring at you with one of the softest looks you had ever seen, before she outstretched her hand to beckon you over.

“You look adorable.” Hyejoo whispered to you as you sat down beside her, your head leaning on her shoulder as you watched her obliterate Yeojin at the game. 

“Alright well, I’m clearly not winning this, and I definitely don’t want to be around when you guys get all mushy.” Yeojin said, dropping her controller on the ground and standing up. “I’ll see you two later.” She said finally, and you both bid her goodbye as she headed out the door, presumably to go and make bracelets with Jiwoo as the two had planned yesterday.

The room was much quieter now as Hyejoo had switched off her gaming system, neatly putting her controllers away so as to keep the dorm neat for her roommates. You sat on the floor as you watched her tidy, leaning against the edge of Hyejoo’s bed. Once she had finished, she crawled back to you and leaned against the bed beside you, opening her arms for you to crawl onto her lap. Once you’d sat down, the raven haired girl wrapped her arms around your waist and held you close to her.

“Did you sleep okay last night baby?” She asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear absentmindedly.

“I did, except for when you accidentally elbowed me in the stomach during your sleep.” You joked, earning a chuckle from your girlfriend. The smile stayed etched on her face as she gazed at you, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your temple. Just as you went to turn your head to repay her with a proper kiss, the bedroom door burst open once again.

“Hye- AH! THEY’RE KISSING!!” Yeojin screamed out, slapping her hands over her eyes so she wouldn’t see anything. The girls responded with a few whistles and a small shout from Jiwoo as they heard the maknae’s scream, further embarrassing the both of you. 

“We’re not! Now what do you want?” Hyejoo argued back, leaning over to grab a pillow from her bed before launching it at the younger girl. Yeojin caught the pillow and threw it back, laughing before letting you both know that lunch was ready. She left as quickly as she came, slamming the door shut and running off to eat. The room was quiet again as you both sat there,not wanting to move away from one another.

“Damn, is it really always going to be this difficult for me to just kiss my girlfriend?” Hyejoo asked, a small smile on her face again as she noticed the blush on your cheeks. You decided to give her just what she desired, your lips meeting hers in a soft, yet passionate kiss. As Hyejoo’s hand moved to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, you had to force yourself to pull away before it got too heated for either of you to resist. Your forehead rested against your girlfriend’s as she finally opened her eyes again, the blush now settling on her own face.

After a few more moments of silence, you finally stood up and held out your hand for Hyejoo to follow. 

“Let’s go eat shall we?”

-----

A little while later, you found yourself chomping down on some delicious food prepared by Hyunjin and Vivi. There was hustle and bustle all around the table as all 13 of you ate happily, sharing stories and jokes that led to infectious laughter and smiles being spread around the table. You smiled as you ate, feeling so lucky to be brought into such a close-knit group of girls, and even luckier that you could now call them all your best friends. You stayed in your little bubble of happiness for a few more minutes, appreciating the lovely food, until Sooyoung decided to break your train of thought. 

“Y/N, isn’t that Oli’s hoodie?” She asked, a smirk on her face. Your cheeks heated up again as most of the girls stopped talking to listen in on your conversation. Before you could reply, Jiwoo cut in, embarrassing you even more.

“Oh it definitely is Hyejoo’s! She was wearing it last week! Oh that’s so ADORABLE!!!” She squeaked, fawning over you cosied up in your girlfriend’s clothes. The rest of the girls joined in, making kissy noises and cooing over the both of you. You just looked at Hyejoo, who was looking right back at you, the two of you just begging for escape from the situation. Eventually, Hyejoo decided to speak up, using a sassy tone in hopes that her members would quit teasing her.

“Yes, that is my hoodie, and what about it? Y/N is my girlfriend and she can wear as much of my clothes as she wants to. Plus, she looks cuter in them than I ever could.” Hyejoo replied, her voice getting quieter as she added the last part, hoping that only you would hear it. Unfortunately she was wrong, as Chaewon spoke up next.

“Ah… I can’t believe our big scary Hye is this whipped for Y/N!” Giggling, she poked Hyejoo and wiggled her eyebrows, making the other girls laugh too. Eventually, Hyejoo couldn’t keep it in, joining in and setting off your laughter too. The girls eventually let up on the jokes, letting you both know it was all in good fun and they were actually very happy for the both of you.

“Even though you may be disgustingly cute, and absolutely whipped for each other, we’re so proud of you both, you know.” Vivi spoke, earning agreements from the other girls.

“For real, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Hyejoo as happy since she’s been with you, Y/N.” Heejin added. Hyejoo was blushing insanely now, her face heated up as she looked down at her plate. You thanked the girls, chatting away and watching as the previous conversations were picked up again. Only you and Hyejoo were silent now, so you turned to face her. 

“Hey, Hyejoo.” You said, getting the girl’s attention from where she was sitting beside you.

“Hey, Y/N.” She replied, her face still red. You knew she didn’t do well expressing herself, especially in front of so many people. Reaching under the table, you found her hand and laced her fingers with your own.

“I kinda like you.” You replied, earning a wide smile and a laugh from your girlfriend. She squeezed your hand lightly as a thank you, before leaning in to whisper something in your ear.

“I kinda like you too, Y/N.” 

Your smile grew as you kept your hands interlocked, picking up your chopsticks to take another bite. You couldn’t help but let the butterflies overtake you as you felt smitten with the girl beside you. Even after being together for so long, those words still brought you so much joy and happiness. As you pondered the powerful feelings for the girl beside you that were currently clouding your mind, you couldn’t help but hope for many more days like this to come your way. You, Hyejoo, and all the girls. They completed you; they were your happiness.

#olivia hye #hyejoo #son hyejoo #olivia hye fluff #olivia hye imagines #olivia hye scenarios #loona #loona fluff #loona imagines #loona reactions #loona scenarios #loona olivia hye #girl groups #kpop girl groups #girl group scenarios #girl group reactions #girl group fluff #girl group smut #kpop idols #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #kpop smut #kpop

[beccathebiscuitbaker]

✨DEH Fic Recommendation Time✨

I haven't ever done this before, but there's a first time for everything! All of these stories have made me feel more connected to the fandom and I have enjoyed each of these!

🌻 remember be by @vividxpages 🌻

After a car accident, Connor lost his memory of the most important person in his life. Evan and him were supposed to get married, but since Evan is practically a stranger again, both of them have to figure out how to move on together. - Will Connor give Evan a chance and fall in love with him all over again? Or is there too much hurt and loss to rebuild their relationship again?

Read it at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30056553/chapters/74017983

🌻Wherever You Stray I'll Follow by ZoeWithNoY on ao3 🌻

But wondering wasn’t going to do her any good, so Zoe takes a deep breath and forces herself to get up from the edge of the tub and walk to the counter. On the count of three she would look.

One. It was going to be nothing, she had nothing to be freaked out about. Two. She was being crazy, working herself up into a tizzy for no reason. She was just stressed. Three.

And Zoe can’t believe it when she sees two lines on the test and the dark circle around pregnant.

She reads it over and over again, her hand covering her mouth stifling any sound that might escape even though no one was home to hear it. How was this test positive? How was this even possible?

Read it at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31239377/chapters/77217626#workskin

(Also someone please let me know if they have a Tumblr I didn't find any links)

🌻So if you're lonely, Darling you're glowing (If you're lonely come be lonely with me) by @maybe-i-should-try-harder 🌻

"The dude's in love with you, you know that, right?" Connor said, with this- smirk, weird smirk. a hurt smirk? plastered on his face.

Evan gapes at him like a fish "Um- Jared? N-, No, No! He's just my- family friend."

Connor barks a laugh at that, Either that or Evan's red face.

"Are you serious? Oh my god. Try kissing him, See how he'll react then."

And that's how our dear Evan Hansen, Kisses Jared. That's his impulse. A terrible one, really.

Read it at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28793862/chapters/70612806

🌻The Pact by @clytemenestras 🌻

“I wish that anything I said mattered to anyone. Let’s face it, would anyone notice if I disappeared tomorrow? You, you wrote that. You meant that.”

Evan swallows, the motion getting caught in his throat. He lifts one pathetic shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I mean,” he says softly. “Yeah.”

“So why haven’t you done it yet?”

[Complete.]

Read it at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32930518/chapters/81727933

🌻omissions by @kachinnate 🌻

He lifts his good hand, pressing his fingers against his cheek, trying to retether himself to the ground in literally any way he could. He’s fine. He’s fine.

He was fine.

Even if Jared hadn’t been at his locker this morning.

(Or: Jared is dead, and Evan isn't sure how he's allowed to feel.)

Read it at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25029880/chapters/60614626

🌻The Sudden Obliteration of Expectation by JuietRose on ao3 🌻

The majority of Evan’s thoughts after falling were not very coherent. Most of it was fairly obvious and to be expected after failing to kill yourself: there was the realization of what happened, the crushing sense of failure, and the pain. The pain was blinding. His head spun and it felt like gravity was working in reverse. But all of that was still preferable to what came after he went numb.

Read it at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24356497/chapters/58735132

Okay, I know this was a lot, but I can get behind damn near every ship in this fandom and wanted to provide a variety. Love to all the writers and everyone who actually looked at this!

#dear evan hansen #connor murphy #evan hansen #treebros #jared kleinman #kleinsen #zoe murphy #bandtrees #deh #fic recommendation #broadway #dear evan hansen movie

[randomnameless]

Worst Mom, Agarthan woobification and the Lords supporting each other, is this really the golden route everyone wanted?

Golden as it will make a lot of money, anon.

I don't know if this leak is true, or if everything will happen this way, but I never hid that FE16 in itself... or the plot points it tried to tackle never interested me.

Even ignoring Flamey's hit on her classmates, the second the Lonato Chapter came up a lot of people knew a Golden Route wasn't meant to be, because Flamey and Dimitri's ideals and visions of the world are completely irreconciliable.

@nilsh13 already pointed it out regarding the Church - this has never been a war of "muh ideals" or technological progress over stagnation or whatever, Rhea and the Church do not oppose Flamey because of her ideals, but because of the means to reach those ideals - if her "reforming the world to put in place a muhritocracy" is the only taken into account and not the "pointy ears should be obliterated because they are not humans" - something that actually echoes a certain other country - who always allies with said Church.

If Edel doesn't want to conquer Fodlan to get rid of Lizards, MAGA and put her "reforms" in place, is she still Edel?

And if this Edel is really in FE16W, will the "blonde dude by her side" really agree with her ideas, or will Dimitri oppose her and her "ideals"?

Do you need to twist in a pretzel every character in FE16 to make FE16W's golden route function?

Thales apparently received leather pants, so we have a clue about the answer.

What truly interested me in FE16 was not the story the plot focused on, but the rest. The latest FEH FB with Niime and Fa lampshaded it, what is the place of dragons in a world ruled by humans? How are dragons and humans supposed to interact?

Can it work like Elibe, where coexistence will be sought after even after a war and people will be able to live together in a village? Or like Archanea, where 2000 years later a dragon is still seen as an Oracle and gets to interact and make friends with people?

Will the Nabateans have a place in Fodlan ? Can they?

Instead of dealing with this question, afaik, FE16W brings a new conflict between two deities, and sidelines Nabateans, or worse, wants to compare them to the people who ordered a genocide and used humans as guinea pigs.

Nabateans have been nothing (again, afaik) but kind to humans and tried to live peacefully with them, and were genocided by said humans. Nonetheless, they still try to help them.

Agarthans... manipulated humans to wage war on Fodlan, sow chaos and desolation, are responsible for a genocide more than 1000 years ago and behind the duscurian one in the modern times, they used children as tests subjects to the point of making some lose their mind, they routinely transform people, against their wills, in Demonic Beasts... Agarthans showed nothing but hatred and contempt at humans and Nabateans -

And while I always appreciate lore, the new game gives them leather pants? We will focus on Worst Mom (my thoughts about Sothis sadly never evolved) and her Agarthan alter ego and her followers, and not on the "trying to do their best" Nabateans who were already shafted in the base game?

I wonder, will this game try to push for the "peaceful coexsitence" angle from an agarthan point of view, and not from the genocided tribe of nabateans who still try to live with human and do not turn them in demonic beasts for funsies every saturday?

FE16 is already a mess because it tried to woobify Flamey, as a result its messages aren't understood and it feels flat (something FEH tries to correct).

Are we really going to woobify Thales in FE16W?

#FE16W #FE16W spoilers #anon #replies #salt #worst mom #well she has a mention so #maybe i'm so salty because there are no fics to sate my thirst #as they say if you can't find it write it #but my real life agenda doesn't agree with this :( #and let's say the FE16 section of Ao3 is... tedious to work through #between people forgetting to tag OOC or people really believing the Aeneid is canon

[chicgeekgirl89]

Home is Us

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Owen Strand, Judd Ryder, Tommy Vega, Mateo Chavez

Summary: In the aftermath of the condo fire, Carlos and T.K. seek comfort in one another. Post ep for 2x12 "The Big Heat."

A/N: This is my rather belated post ep for 2x12. And it would not have happened without @bluenet13. Literally. I agonized over this SO MUCH and she listened to all my whining and didn't let me cut the part about Marlon Blendo so I owe her everything.

AO3

The night air was cool and still, the stars sparkling brightly in the sky, but the stench of smoke obliterated any sense of peace or calm. T.K. could feel Carlos’ hand gripping his shoulder with bruising force as they burst out the front doors and onto the lawn, both of them gasping and coughing.

Tommy came running toward them. “Are you all right?” she asked urgently, eyes and hands searching for damage. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m, I’m okay,” T.K. choked out. “Carlos?”

He shook his head, coughing violently. “I’m fine too.”

“T.K.!”

His dad came charging toward him, wrapping him up a fierce hug. “Oh my god,” he breathed into T.K.’s hair and then his other arm was pulling Carlos in too, squeezing them both with every bit of strength he had. “Are you boys all right?”

“We’re good, Dad,” T.K. said, even though he was shaking violently, adrenaline coursing through his veins so fast he felt lightheaded. “What the hell? How did you guys even know we were in trouble?”

“Raymond said something earlier today and I just put the pieces together,” Owen said. “I’m so sorry, I should have figured it out sooner.”

There were sirens screaming up now, ambulances and firetrucks, and Tommy put a hand on Owen’s shoulder. “Okay, there will be time to talk about this later. Right now all of you need to get checked out by the paramedics. No objections,” she said quickly when several mouths opened to protest. “A little oxygen never hurt anybody. Come on now.”

T.K. moved follow her and then realized Carlos wasn’t behind him. He turned to find his boyfriend still rooted to the spot, staring straight ahead at the burning building. “Babe?” T.K. reached for his arm.

Carlos startled at his touch and cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

He was quiet as they sat on the back of the ambulance, answering questions with yes or no answers, eyes and body listless as they checked him over for injuries. T.K. had never seen his boyfriend look so small. 

They were both given oxygen and then Tommy reappeared, blankets in hand that she wrapped comfortingly around their shoulders, her mom tendencies coming out in full force. “Is everyone else all right?” T.K. asked, pushing his mask to the side.

“They’ve all got some first and second degree burns, but they’ll heal up all right. How are you two doing?”

“It could have been a lot worse,” T.K. said. 

“Carlos?” Tommy asked, her eyes softening and taking on a new level of concern.

He met her eyes and nodded. “I’m okay.”

She looked at him a moment longer and then reached out to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m going to go check on the guys. You two stay right here and do as you’re told, got it?”

It wasn’t long before the paramedics released them with instructions to take it easy, stay hydrated, and head to the emergency room if they experienced any concerning symptoms. T.K. was still in disbelief that they’d escaped so unharmed. It was nothing short of miraculous, if you believed in that kind of thing.

Carlos spoke as they walked away from the ambulance, his voice quiet. “I should uh, I should call my parents,” he said.

“Do you want me to do it?” T.K. asked.

Carlos shook his head, already pulling out his phone. “No. No it’s um, they should hear it from me.”

He dialed, taking a shaky breath as he waited for someone to pick up. “Hey Dad.”

The conversation was painful, even from T.K.’s end. He couldn’t make out Gabriel’s words through the phone, but he could hear the unbridled fear in his voice. Carlos on the other hand sounded almost monotone, relaying the story and pertinent information in painfully exact detail, but without an ounce of emotion behind it, slipping back and forth between English and Spanish as he explained.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so upset before,” Carlos said, when he hung up.

“Yeah.” T.K. looked at his boyfriend who seemed to be refusing to look back. “Carlos? How are you doing?” he finally asked. 

“I’m good,” Carlos said, eyes darting toward him and then away. It was clearly a brush off and they both knew it. So T.K. waited.

And then he watched as his boyfriend broke in front of him, anguish and fear spilling out like a wave until they were both clinging to one another as Carlos’ quiet sobs wracked his frame over and over again.

“Shh,” T.K. soothed, struggling to provide some kind of real comfort when he felt so raw himself. “Breathe. We’re okay. That’s all that matters.”

“I should have known, I should have made the alarm company come out today.”

“Carlos listen to me, none of this is your fault.” T.K. pulled him in tighter, desperate to do something to ease his pain.

“If I had just looked around, if we had waited ten more minutes to go upstairs—“

“We had no way of knowing.”

Carlos pulled back, still shaky. “You can’t really believe that. There’s always something. I should have done better.”

T.K. cupped his face in his hands. “Baby why are you beating yourself up over this so much?”

“Because I’m supposed to protect you!” Carlos said, the words coming out on a ragged sob. “That’s my job. To keep people safe. And when it came down to it I couldn’t protect you. The person I care about most in this world I couldn’t—”

T.K. used his thumbs to wipe away some of Carlos’ tears, clearing his throat, trying to keep his own tears at bay. “Listen to me. We’re a team, remember? We protect each other. You and me. Not just you.”

Carlos shook his head, face still contorted in misery. T.K. pulled him back in again and pressed a kiss to his hair. “It’s okay to be upset. But you cannot blame yourself for this. This was not your fault, do you hear me?”

Carlos nodded against his shoulder, but T.K. wasn’t completely convinced his words had gotten through.

Carlos took a shuddering breath and stepped away, wiping at his eyes and T.K. watched the wall go back up; the one Carlos had carefully constructed around him that meant he was always completely even-tempered and never out of control. “We should uh, we should go check on your dad and everybody. Tell them thank you.”

“Yeah, sure,” T.K. said, feeling like he probably should be saying something more, but unable to find the words.

Carlos was already moving toward the group gathered at the back of the ambulance and T.K. had no choice but to follow him. “You guys all right?” T.K. asked as Judd pulled him in for a side hug.

“We’re just glad you’re both okay,” Judd told him. “Everything check out with the paramedics?”

“We both ate a little bit of smoke, but we’re okay,” T.K. said. “Honestly though,” he swallowed hard, “we probably wouldn’t be here without you guys. So thank you.”

“You’re just lucky your dad drives so fast. I didn’t know he had it in him, what with him being such a city slicker,” Billy said with a chuckle.

“My driving is impeccable and I always drive the exact speed limit. Except in emergency situations,” Owen said, casting a look at Carlos.

Carlos managed to scrounge up half a smile but didn’t say anything.

A truck came screeching to a stop just behind the ambulance and Gabriel Reyes jumped out. The man looked truly shaken, eyes wild as he ran toward them. “Carlos! Mijo are you all right?”

“I’m okay Dad,” Carlos told him as they hugged.

“Gracias a Dios. You’re all okay?” Gabriel asked, looking around the group.

“We got out just in time,” Owen said. “Minor injuries only.”

“Which is more than we can say for the condo,” Judd said. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t do more Carlos, he had that place rigged up good.”

Carlos shook his head. “You did everything you could and we’re…” he swallowed hard and T.K. could tell he was blinking back more tears, “we’re very grateful.”

“Have they taken your statements yet?” Gabriel asked. 

“Yeah, about half an hour ago,” T.K. said. Officers had come around while they were still sitting at the back of the ambulance and written down what little they knew. Nothing like telling complete strangers that you hadn’t realized your house was burning down around you because you were upstairs having sex with your boyfriend. 

“Then there’s no reason you need to be standing around here,” Gabriel said. “You know the ranch is open to you both. Your mother is worried sick, she would be very happy to have you.” He turned to look at Owen. “But perhaps you would rather be closer to work? The ranch is a bit of a drive.”

“Well of course you’re welcome to stay at my place,” Owen said. “There’s plenty of space and Buttercup would love to have you around. But I’m sure Andrea wants you close to her.”

Gabriel shook his head. “I think they’re better off here in town. Andrea will understand. There will be a lot of paperwork to deal with in the coming days, they need to be readily available.”

“Well of course, but I’m not sure how much I can provide in the way of hospitality right now. The investigators didn’t really clean things up when they left,” Owen said meaningfully.

“Not a problem,” Gabriel said, taking out his phone. “I can have a crew there in the morning. It should never have taken this long in the first place. You know sometimes they drag their feet on these things.”

“Oh it’s no problem,” Owen said, waving him off. “Worth it in the end.” 

The dads debated a while longer before they decided an exhausted T.K. and Carlos would stay with Owen for the time being to be closer to work and to their former condo for whatever overhaul was necessary. By that point neither of them really cared where they ended up as long as there was a shower and a bed waiting for them. 

Owen elected to stay at the scene with Gabriel so Judd drove Carlos and T.K. home. Neither of them said much, still in a state of shock and Judd was mindful enough not to try and fill the truck with conversation.

The house was dark, Mateo asleep for the night. Buttercup looked up as they came in and gave half a tail wag before settling back down again.

“I think I left a couple sweatshirts and pairs of pants here,” T.K. said, searching through the drawers in his dad’s guest room. 

“Mmhmm,” Carlos said. He’d sunk onto the end of the bed and was staring blankly at the wall. 

“Hey,” T.K. stopped his search and went to him, cupping his face in his hands. “Why don’t you go get in the shower? I’ll find us something to change into and bring it to you.”

Carlos nodded tiredly and disappeared down the hall. T.K. stood for a moment chewing on his lip. He felt lost, adrift, trying to process and deal with his own feelings of grief and stomach churning worry, and Carlos seemed miles away. T.K. didn’t know what to do except to try and meet his physical needs.

He managed to scrounge up a pair of sweats and a t-shirt he thought would do the job. They might be a little tight, but at least Carlos wouldn’t be sleeping in the stench of his smoky clothes.

T.K. knocked softly on the bathroom door before stepping inside and putting the clothes on the counter. “You all right?” he asked.

Carlos sniffed and cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

T.K. gathered up Carlos’ soiled clothes from the floor and dumped them into the washer, intending to add his after he had his own shower. He heard the water turn off and a minute later the bathroom door opened. “I’m done,” Carlos called softly down the hall.

“I’ll be quick,” T.K. said, switching places with him. 

The water felt good and he watched as soot and sweat and ash slithered down the drain. He took longer than he meant to, almost lulled to sleep by the soothing pound of the water against his back. Eventually it grew cool and he turned it off, stepping out to try and squeeze into a pair of sweatpants that belonged to his dad and a t-shirt he didn’t recognize but had found in the clean laundry.

T.K. left the bathroom still toweling off his hair. He crept quietly toward the guest room; Buttercup didn’t even move as he stepped over him in the hallway. Opening the door he winced when it squeaked, fully expecting to find Carlos completely sacked out in the bed, more than ready to join his boyfriend in blissful sleep.

Instead he found the room empty and a spiral of fear shot through him so fast it took his breath away. “Carlos?” he whispered, as if the man would suddenly materialize from a dark corner or the tiny closet. 

When there was no answer he turned and went back the way he’d come, stepping over Buttercup again, searching the kitchen and the living room before he made his way to the back patio. “Hey,” he said softly when he spotted Carlos sitting on the edge of the outdoor sofa.

Carlos didn’t respond and T.K. felt his worry grow heavier. “Carlos?”

His boyfriend’s shoulders hitched slightly and T.K. walked around the patio furniture to find him hunched over, tears streaming down his face. “Oh baby,” T.K. said, dropping to his knees, hands frantically reaching for him. 

“I’m sorry,” Carlos said hoarsely. “I just…I can’t…I’m trying to pull it together but—”

T.K. slipped onto the couch next to him and pulled him into his arms. “You don’t have to be okay,” he whispered, his own throat thick with emotion. “No one expects that of you.”

Carlos’ voice was hoarse and broken. “I’ve never needed saving before. Not like that.”

“Most people don’t,” T.K. said.

Carlos looked at him, eyes red and swollen. “You were amazing in there. I was…I was panicking and you knew exactly what to do.”

“You’re a police officer,” T.K. said, resting his head on top of Carlos’. “I wouldn’t expect you to know what to do in a five alarm fire. Just like you wouldn’t expect me to know what to do in a shootout.”

Carlos sighed and leaned into him. T.K. bent over and kissed his forehead. “We should try and get some sleep.”

Carlos shook his head again. “I can’t,” he said hoarsely. “I just keep thinking about it over and over again. I’m sorry I’m such a mess—“

“Hey, you don’t need to apologize. Everything you’re feeling is totally normal.”

Carlos swallowed hard. “I know it was just a house. But it was mine. It was the first place I felt like I could be myself. And then you came and it was our home and I—“ Carlos bit his lip and shook his head. “It’s all gone.”

“But I’m not,” T.K. said twining their hands together. “I’m right here. You’ve got me. And I don’t care where we are as long as we’re together. Home is us.” He stroked his thumb up and down on Carlos’ shoulder.

His face sobered as he took a really good, long look at Carlos. Exhaustion and fear still radiated off of him. He looked defeated. Empty. “Let’s at least try to get some sleep,” T.K. said softly, brushing a still-damp, curl from Carlos’ forehead. “We’ll figure things out in the morning.”

He pulled Carlos to his feet and they walked hand in hand back to the guest room. Carlos looked at the clock as he got into bed and groaned. “I have a shift in five hours.”

“You’re not going to work today.” T.K. told him. “They’ll understand.”

Carlos slid down the bed onto his side, leaning up on his elbow, his free hand finding a home on T.K.’s hip. “I meant what I said before. You were incredible tonight T.K. You saved us.”

“I’m pretty sure my dad, Billy, and Judd saved us,” T.K. told him.

Carlos shook his head. “I’m serious. If you hadn’t been there—“

“But I was,” T.K. said firmly. “I was and we’re fine. We’re…going to be fine,” he amended, because god knew there was nothing fine about them right now.

Carlos was quiet for a moment and then laid down all the way so they were face to face. T.K. shifted so they were even closer, needing to feel the warmth of Carlos against his own body. “I don’t think I can sleep,” Carlos said.

“Then we’ll just lie here together,” T.K. told him softly. 

They locked eyes, both of them breathing together in the silence, just being together, holding on a little tighter than normal. “I can’t stop seeing it,” Carlos finally whispered. “I was so scared T.K. What if I’d lost you?”

“You didn’t,” T.K. said softly. He leaned in and pressed a tender, reassuring kiss to Carlos’ lips. Carlos didn’t respond so T.K. nudged him gently with his nose and then kissed him again.

It was slow at first, Carlos still drowning so deeply in loss and anxiety, but as T.K. continued to silently encourage him he began to reciprocate. First just one kiss, and then another, this one a little deeper, until they were completely pressed up against each other, hands searching for bare skin, shared breath moving between parted lips. 

Things grew heated and T.K. could feel the increasing desperation in Carlos’ kisses so he smoothed a hand soothingly down his spine, pulling back from him just a little bit, forcing him to slow down. “It’s okay,” he murmured as their lips broke apart and came back together. “I’m right here.”

Carlos responded by matching T.K.’s slower kisses, following him rather than leading.

T.K. reached between them and slowly undid the drawstring on his boyfriend’s sweatpants. Carlos broke off the kiss. “Are you sure?”

T.K. nodded, moving his hands underneath Carlos’ shirt, helping him pull it off over his head. They both needed this, to touch, to feel, to reassure themselves that they were alive, that this might have changed their night, but it hadn’t change them. 

Carlos started to roll on top of him, but T.K. gently pushed him back down until he was the one on top, chests and hips pressed together, a reversal of their positions from just hours before. Carlos’ hands landed on T.K.’s back, their eyes locking, both of them seeking comfort in the physicality of being together.

“We’re okay,” T.K. said, as much for himself as for Carlos.

Carlos nodded and then closed his eyes as T.K. began pressing kisses into his neck and chest. “We’re okay,” T.K. murmured soothingly every time his lips left Carlos’ skin. “I’m going to say it until you believe it. We’re okay. We will be okay together.”

                                           XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

T.K. woke up in the morning legs still tangled with Carlos’. It took him a moment to remember why he had a pounding headache and his muscles felt tight. Right. Burning condo. Smoke inhalation. Mad dash for their lives.

Carlos was still deeply asleep, for which T.K. was grateful. His boyfriend had drifted off in his arms somewhere around three am and T.K. had quickly followed. He managed to extricate himself without waking Carlos and pulled on some clothes before he headed out to the kitchen in search of painkillers. 

Sun was just filtering in the windows, the day already bright and clear. It was incredible how the world could continue to turn, even when everything had just crashed down around you. T.K. found some Advil, leaving it out on the counter, knowing it was likely that Carlos would be in need of some too. Then he moved their now clean, damp clothes from the washer to the dryer. They’d need to go out today and get some essentials. 

“T.K.?” Mateo asked in surprise as he appeared at the base of the stairs.  “I thought you and Carlos made up?” He paused and frowned in confusion. “Is that my shirt?”

T.K. sighed and launched into an edited version of the night’s events. “Dude,” Mateo said when he finished, a stunned look on his face. “Man that sucks. I’m glad you guys are all right.”

“Yeah, us too,” T.K. said.

“And listen, my house just totally blew up too. It was a rental, so not quite the same, but if you guys need help with any part of this process just let me know. You can borrow my car or laptop or whatever you need.”

“Thanks Mateo,” T.K. said gratefully.

There were footsteps on the stairs and Carlos appeared, eyes bleary and swollen, curls a disheveled mess. There was still a heaviness about him, but he looked better than the night before.

“Hey,” he said, wrapping an arm around T.K.’s waist and giving him a kiss, lingering slightly longer than their normal morning peck. “Hi Mateo.”

“Hey Carlos. T.K. told me about your place, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s definitely not ideal,” Carlos said with a sigh.

“Did you sleep okay?” T.K. asked.

Carlos nodded, then winced. T.K. reached for the bottle of Advil and poured him a glass of water. “Thanks,” Carlos said, swallowing down two pills.

“Did you call your captain?” T.K. asked as Mateo grabbed a protein bar and vacated the kitchen to give them some privacy.

“Yeah he’d already heard. Told me to take the time I need.”

“Good,” T.K. said.

The dryer buzzed. “That’s our clothes,” T.K. said, getting up to retrieve them. “At least you can put on a shirt that fits.”

He tossed Carlos his shirt and pants. Carlos stared down at them, a frown on his face. “You okay?” T.K. asked.

“Why did you throw a shirt at me?”

“What?”

“Last night. We were about to be burned alive and you made me put a shirt on.”

“Oh,” T.K. thought for a second and shrugged as he folded his sweatpants and set them on top of the dryer. “I don’t know. I guess I just…panicked. I was thinking that the temperature drops here at night and I didn’t want you to be cold when we got outside.”

“Our condo was hot as hell, but you were worried I’d be cold?”

T.K. bit his lip and shook his head, a sheepish smile growing on his face. “I don’t know, like I said I panicked. It was the first thought that came to me.”

“Well it was a good one,” Carlos said, slipping his arms around T.K.’s waist. “Standing out there all night with no shirt on would have been pretty uncomfortable.”

T.K. threaded his arms through Carlos’, hands coming to rest on his lower back. “You doing okay this morning?” he asked.

“Better,” Carlos confirmed. “Thank you. I think I just…needed to let it all out. I’m sorry about last night. My head was…”

“Hey,” T.K. shook his head. “No more apologies. No one has anything to apologize for, right?” He brushed a hand over Carlos’ cheek. “Do you want coffee? Or a smoothie?” His eyes went wide as a thought hit him. “Oh no!”

“What? What’s wrong?” Carlos asked, concern dropping over his face like a cloud. T.K.’s distress was so sudden and visceral that he pulled back slightly, eyes searching T.K.’s frame for some kind of injury.

T.K. felt his chest growing tight as anxiety gripped him. “Marlon Blendo! Oh my god, my dad is going to be so upset!”

“Whoa.” Carlos cupped his face in his hands. “I’m sure your dad will be okay. Blenders are replaceable.”

“Carlos he really loved that blender,” T.K. said seriously. 

Carlos chuckled. “Here I am, wondering all night long how we’re going to get through this and how you can be so calm when the world has literally gone up in flames, and now you’re losing it over a blender.”

“He was a really good blender!” T.K. pulled away from him and ran a hand through his hair as he took a few aimless steps, more thoughts striking him. “Oh my god my hoodies!”

“I will buy you new hoodies,” Carlos assured him.

“They won’t be the same,” T.K. groaned.

“Is this you finally freaking out?”

“I am not freaking out!” T.K.’s breathing had increased rapidly as panic spiraled through him. The sense of calm control he’d felt for the past twelve hours slowly started to slip away as reality set in. “Oh my god I’m totally freaking out. I can’t freak out, you’re freaking out! We can’t both be freaking out!”

“Hey,” Carlos cradled his face in his hand. “We’re okay? Remember? And if you need to freak out and lose it, that’s all right. It’s your turn. I’ll pull it together for a couple hours and you can melt down.”

“I don’t want to melt down, I want my shirt with the blue stripes on it. And that bergamot candle your parents gave us as a housewarming gift. Oh my god, Carlos all your spices from the market!”

“Come here,” Carlos said, pulling him into a hug, one hand holding him firmly around the waist, the other settling on the nape of his neck, thumb moving back and forth in a soothing motion.

T.K. let his forehead rest against Carlos’ shoulder, feeling more grounded by the strength of his boyfriend’s arms and the softness of his fingers. “Thanks,” he mumbled. 

T.K. took a breath as the weight of everything began to land on his shoulders. Losing their home. Almost losing each other. God, how was he only now feeling how terrible it all was? He’d truly thought he was okay until this very second. “We’re going to make it through this, right?” he asked. He’d been so sure last night, but now…

Carlos pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “Yes. We are.”

                                       XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A/N: When I started writing this, did I think it would end up in the boys having soft, sweet "we're so glad we're not dead" sex in Owen's guest room? Nope. No I did not. Is it all @bluenet13's fault that it happened? Possibly. Or possibly they're just too sexy and they couldn't help it. Idk.

#911 Lone Star #911 LS #Tarlos #Carlos Reyes #TK Strand #Tarlos Fic #2x12 #The Big Heat #Post Ep #Home is Us #Emotional Hurt/Comfort

[lucemferto]

WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT TECHNOBLADE (or A Narrative Analysis of the Dream SMP Doomsday Event) - Script

Heyo! Per request I am posting the script to my video of the same name here on tumblr. I must warn you that just reading the script will probably not give you the full experience, so I would encourage you to watch the video (linked above).

There might also still be a lot of grammatical errors in the text, because I don’t proofread.

Okay, so! I don’t want this to turn into a reaction channel OR a Dream SMP channel for that matter! I am planning on doing a big dumb, way too long analysis video on the Dream SMP which will – at my current pace – come out in five years. I am already way too late on this one.

Spoiler Alert for the Doomsday Event that took place on the 6th of January in the Dream SMP. Surely the worst thing to take place on the 6th of January 2021 … I’m sorry, what’s this about the Capitol?

In case you don’t watch the SMP and need context: The Dream SMP is a Minecraft Multiplayer Server, that, throughout the last year, has transformed from a normal Let’s Play to an ongoing new-media series streamed by multiple high-profile streamers such as Dream, TommyInnit or Technoblade. It comes complete with script – by which I mean loose bullet points – and story events. It has attracted a large fanbase specifically invested in the story and less so in the actual gameplay content. Like I said before, I will probably do a big video on the Dream SMP at some point in the future.

The storyline is long and complicated and trying to explain it all would take up the majority of the video and there are other channels who have already done a much better job than I could ever hope to do, so give them a watch. I’ll try to summarize all that is pertinent to what I will talk about in this video.

Okay, let’s speedrun this summary. Cue the music!

Major Players here are TommyInnit, a founder of the independent nation of L’Manburg, Technoblade, an anarchist who was deep in conflict with L’Manburg, Tubbo, Tommy’s best friend and current president of L’Manburg, and Dream, the ruler of the Kingdom of the Dream SMP (even though he is not the king, but we’re not going to get into that right now). Tommy had in the past been exiled by Tubbo for endangering L’Manburg’s shaky peace with the Dream SMP. Tommy had then teamed up with Technoblade, who was hellbent on destroying L’Manberg after some prior altercations – more on that later.

Tommy and Tubbo came into conflict during a festival set-up to celebrate the friendship between L’Manburg and the Dream SMP. After punching out their feelings, Tommy came to the realization that his friendship with Tubbo was more important than his vendetta against Dream and those who exiled him. Techno took that change of heart badly and teamed up with Dream to destroy L’Manburg … and that’s exactly what happened.

Techno and Dream, with little to no opposition, obliterated L’Manburg with no hope for recovery leaving its inhabitants stranded hopeless and alone.

… And that’s what you missed on Dream SMP!

Okay. So, usually I just put whatever thought slime drips out of my mouth hole into your subscription box. But then I asked myself: “Am I not taking this a largely improvised nonsense story from a bunch of 16–24-year-olds a little too seriously?”. And then I remembered. I’m a pretentious bitch. I made an 18-minute video explaining why the popular commentary YouTuber memeulous is secretly the time travelling Anti-Christ, REASON HAS NO SWAY OVER ME!

So, like the English Major drop-out that I am, I will present you with two theses, which I will then combine into one … supratheses! That word doesn’t exist, I just coined it, it’s mine! I am very smart!

[I know words, I have the best words!]

 Thesis #1: The Fandom focuses too much on Character Analysis in Favour of Narrative Analysis

The Dream SMP is truly something special. It is uniquely singular in how it tells a story of this scope through its chosen medium. While there is an overarching script that lays out the plot points of the future, each of the 30+ streamers on the SMP are their own cameraman, director, writer and actor. You cannot watch “the Dream SMP” – if you attempted that, you would be 80 by the time you caught up to the Doomsday Event. You have to choose whom to watch. You have to choose your focal point character.

Because by the way the story is told and consumed – aka in such a compartmentalized fashion; you watch one streamer and get one character’s perspective – it has sort-of unintentionally conditioned fans to look at the SMP and its characters less as one coherent story with messages and themes and more as sports teams they can root for. You’re Team Techno or Team Tubbo or Team Tommy or Team JackManifoldTV (formerly known as Thunder1408) and every other side is in the wrong! It’s like Twilight for a decade old children’s game about virtual Lego!

Okay, I’m exaggerating, but the amount of discourse perpetuated by and revolving around so-called “apologists” – a terrible term that unfortunately has caught on – is really not something that I think is good for how we interact with the story of the Dream SMP.

The Dream SMP is discussed a lot on character-based level, which is, like I said before, hugely advantaged by the way the story is consumed by its audience. With traditional, visual media such as film for example, the audience can be made more aware of what messages the narrative might try to communicate on a narrative level without the need for an explicit narrator to tell you the moral.

As an example, in a movie you could have a smash-cut from the Butcher Army’s discussions about neutralizing the danger Technoblade poses to Techno being nice around villagers or taking care of animals. This would communicate on an extradiegetic level, that the Butcher Army is in the wrong with their assumptions. Alternatively, you could contrast Techno’s declarations that power corrupts and that Tubbo’s administration is cruel with Tubbo choosing not to punish Ranboo for his association with Techno – thus the narrative would communicate that Techno’s view of Tubbo and by extension the government is one-sided and not true to reality.

Stuff like that helps the viewer understanding a story holistically and manages to communicate stuff like themes and morals without having to solely rely on in-character logic and argumentation, which, as Ghostbur put it so eloquently, is comprised of a bunch of unreliable narrators.

Character analysis is great if we want dive deep, if we really want to give a character flavour and understand their motivations. It helps make the universe feel like it is alive, like it’s real. But – and this might be a shocker for you – it’s not real. It’s written. It is construction – and as such, in its construction, it has messages and themes and morals, intentionally or unintentionally.

By being so focused on specific characters and their individual journeys, viewpoints and motivation we really run the risk of not looking at the bigger picture and fail to see what the overarching narrative is actually communicating. And we may also fail to understand how characters might or might not fit into the overarching narrative.

Speaking of which …

 Thesis #2: Technoblade experiences very little Meaningfultm Thematic Conflict

Okay, let’s talk about Technoblade. I’m sure I’m not going to get any hate for this one.

I want to preface by saying that I don’t watch Technoblade’s streams; I catch up though clip channels and summaries. I’m mainly watching Tommy, Tubbo and Quackity – which is honestly already more than I can handle – but I want to be clear that while I’ll try to be as even-handed as possible – like I explained previously – the way I consumed the storylines will undoubtedly leave me with some bias.

Also, needless to say, I’m talking about the character Technoblade, not the actual content creator, unless I specifically say so. That should be obvious.

Now, I’m not doing a Technoblade character analysis, because that would be hypocritical of me – seeing how I just bitched about the overwhelming amounts of character analyses in the fandom – but I’ll try my best to summarize what is necessary.

Technoblade’s interesting in that he is a very static character – at least inwardly – he doesn’t change much. He is very steadfast in his beliefs and ideals and has very little introspection. He doesn’t question himself; he doesn’t waver, he is never in a bind about whether what he’s doing is right or wrong. He is very much a parallel to early TommyInnit – who, of course, famously said “I’m always in the right”.

And I want to emphasize that I mean this in no way as a critique of Techno’s character. A static character provides a nice contrast to more dynamic characters and can balance them out. It can also be utilised by the writing as a character flaw – which is what I hope content creator Techno is going for.

Like Techno doesn’t have a lot of empathy in the sense that he is particularly skilled at or interested in trying to see the viewpoints of others. There is never an attempt to reconcile, for example, the goal of the Pogtopians to reclaim L’Manberg and install another administration with his desire for an anarchist society. This is also compounded with his overreliance on violence as the only tactic for conflict resolution – Techno has a whole thesis statement about violence being the only universal language. I’m sure you’ve heard the quote.

And lastly, what really drives this all over the edge, is his all-or-nothing approach when dealing with the enemy – he is not so much eye for an eye as he is – to use another biblical example – you make fun of me for being bald and I’ll sic two bears on you that maul and kill you and 41 other children.

There’s also the open and completely unacknowledged hypocrisy of a self-described anarchist working together with a man that installs and dethrones Kings with his every whim – someone who – and I cannot stress this enough – hits about every box when it comes to the definition of tyrant.

So, what I’m saying is that Technoblade is the Dream SMP equivalent of Dick Chenney. C’mon you know it’s true! He will bomb that freedom into your country whether you want him to or not. That’s some cogent political commentary in the year 2021.

Okay, so now that I’ve outlined his character, what kind of conflicts does Technoblade face. Well, it’s mostly physical or external. He fights a lot whether it’s against Quackity or Sapnap or bodying Karl Jacobs five times in a row. And – with the exception of maybe Sapnap – none of it is challenging. Technoblade is the best PvP-Player on the server – there really isn’t much tension to be had from a purely physical fight.

So, how are these fights supplemented emotionally. Well, internally there is not a lot going on. As I said before, Technoblade isn’t really an introspective character. Even during his shouting match with Tommy there’s not a sense that Technoblade is wavering or unsure of himself in the way that Tommy is. He exposits that one of the reasons, he acts like he does is that he feels dehumanized; that people only use him like a weapon and then discard or even try to neutralize him once he’s no longer useful.

But that is not something that Technoblade has to grapple with – it’s not conflict for him, it’s more conflict for Tommy. Technoblade is self-assured in that he’s a person and not a weapon – it’s almost like there was a character arc there, where Technoblade self-actualizes and breaks away from the people that want to use him. But we didn’t see any of it. Technoblade unleashes the withers; then he goes into retirement because he wants to be, I suppose, and then he returns to violence as a reaction to the Butcher Army. There is a story of vengeance here, but not any conflict about being used. There is never a point where we see Technoblade come to this realization or comes to assert himself.

In season 1 there’s never a push from Pogtopia where the narrative frames them as exploiting Technoblade. He fights with them of his own volition, he gives them weapons and armour of his own volition. Nobody pressured Techno into procuring their inventory for the fight. And in Season 2, he’s the one to approach Tommy about their potential partnership – he is in the position of power here, explicitly not Tommy.

Like, I’m sorry, if this ruffles some feathers, but I really don’t see this arc where Technoblade is being used. There’s a story of misunderstanding and maybe co-dependency – but not of dehumanization. This entire line of thought seems to solely reference that moment, where Tommy says to Sapnap “I have the blade” during one of their wars – which, to base an entire emotional arc around that without any further set-up, is, and I’m sorry to say that, incredibly flimsy.

Okay, so we covered physical and emotional conflict? But what about conflict on the narrative level? Well, that leads me to my suprathesis …

 Suprathesis: The Narrative is Unclear on how it treats Technoblade … and that’s Not Good.

Here’s a Hot Take: The narrative of Season 1 treats Technoblade way less sympathetically than that of season 2.

Let me explain. The narrative of Season 1 revolves mostly around Wilbur and Tommy. The emotional fulcrum of the overall narrative is Wilbur’s rise and fall from Grace – and Tommy succeeding him as symbol of L’Manberg’s “special”-ness. Now I will talk about all that more in detail, when I talk about Season 1 of the Dream SMP. So, you’ll just have to go with me on this one for now.

Technoblade, by contrast, doesn’t really have much going on thematically in Season 1. He mostly exists as a sort-of utilitarian character – he is an accessory to make story beats happen. Like him executing Tubbo doesn’t open up any sort of thematic conflict involving him – on a character level it sets up antipathy between him and Tommy and it grants us some insight into how he operates with his violence speech – but on a larger-scale narrative level it really just shows how far Wilbur and Tommy have drifted apart in how they react to the event.

His biggest contribution is during the Season 1 finale, but even there he plays second fiddle to Wilbur. Not just because Wilbur does way more destruction with his explosion than Techno does with his Withers, but also because Wilbur had an emotional and thematic climax to his arc and by extension the entire storyline. Like Techno’s is a cool moment and very epic visual but in terms of thematic relevance, his Theseus-speech is really more set-up for Season 2.

And Season 1 is very unambiguous about L’Manberg being good and Tommy’s ideals ultimately being morally justified – I mean, they have a whole speech about it in the end and it was built-up throughout the entire Season – Techno is cast in a … less than sympathetic light. He is, if not a villain, then definitely an antagonist.

But with Season 2 the narrative is either uninterested in or not very clear on exploring Technoblade’s flaws.

Like ask yourselves: is Technoblade’s character ever consciously challenged by the narrative? Are his actions ultimately shown to not be in the right? Are his beliefs about government and power ever called into question? Are the negative consequences that his actions cause ever shown to be larger than the “good” he does?

I think what exemplifies this the most is how the Butcher Army event played out on December 16th. Now, during that event, the Butcher Army, which was comprised of Tubbo, Quackity, Fundy and Ranboo, managed to apprehend Technoblade, who at that point was living the quiet retirement life, and tried to have him publicly executed – without trial.

Now, smarter people than me have pointed out that the Butcher Army had a bevy of in-character reasons that can justify or explain their actions. And that’s definitely interesting, but as I said before, I want to get away from that and look into how the Butcher Army is treated on a narrative level. Because this is one of the few instances where the otherwise grey-loving Season 2 has some very clear narrative intent when it comes to morality.

The Butcher Army is very deliberately framed as almost cartoonishly corrupt and violent. They very forcefully investigate Philza, mock him and then put him under house arrest – and there’s just no remorse in the script even from normally sympathetic characters like Tubbo.

Compare and contrast with the Tommy-exile scene, which is also an act of moral ambiguity and is treated as such. And things get even worse once the Army arrives at Technoblade’s abode and attack him after he softly tells them that he has left that live behind him. They then proceed to take his horse hostage, mock him and execute him without fair trial – and I haven’t seen it but from live commentary I gathered that Techno really played up the whole softie-schtick before the Butcher Army arrived. I mean, before the big Technoblade vs Quackity fight, Quackity had whole villain monologue for Christ’s sake.

And even afterwards, the Butcher Army really plays up the corrupt angle with Tubbo proposing a festival as a guise to publicly execute someone. And again, I know that on an intradiegetic there’s nuances and it’s not really comparable to the Red Festival, but in combination with what the audience has seen up until that point and with how much it feeds into the already established themes of history repeating itself and becoming like your predecessors, it really does not paint a pretty picture of the Tubbo administration.

You can feel the heavy hand of the script on your shoulder, which is a feat seeing how – as discussed before – that’s not something that can be easily accomplished in this medium.

And that is what I mean when I say that Technoblade is not really challenged by the script and is in this case even emboldened by it. Because after this whole ordeal the thought of Technoblade taking revenge by destroying L’Manberg doesn’t seem like such an extreme response to the viewer – even though in my opinion, it is.

As of right now it is too early to say how the narrative will judge Technoblade’s actions in the future. Will they be framed as extreme but ultimately justified or perpetuating a cycle of ever-escalating vengeance? Will we ever see a government that’s not just at best misguided and at worst completely awful?

Ultimately, I believe and hope that Technoblade will be challenged by the narrative, mostly because a character that cannot, believably, be physically challenged, who doesn’t have any meaningful internal conflict about what he’s doing; and who does come out on the other side having everything he always believed in be proven completely in the right by the narrative, would be incredibly boring. Not just to watch but also to play as.

As it stands now, if the destruction Techno, Phil and Dream inflicted upon L’Manburg is framed as ultimately in the right, I would find it personally a distasteful message to send. I would ultimately say that the “correct” way to counter corruption in government is to completely obliterate the entire country. Like we’re not talking simply disbanding the government – that’s not what Doomsday was – we’re talking complete and utter annihilation. And that would be cynical and depressing. Like, call me a big softie, but even bothsidesing this argument would be bad.

Like, I’m not calling for Technoblade to be transformed into or treated a monster like Dream. But I personally feel like the narrative needs to acknowledge that the Doomsday was something that was taken way too far and that it ultimately brought more harm than good. And Technoblade needs to held accountable by someone who is not a cartoonishly corrupt government-official or who is in conflict with him anyway, like Tommy.

I thought Philza or Ranboo could do that but seeing how their storylines are progressing I don’t believe that will be the case. But who knows, maybe Captain Puffy will come through for us. We stan a Queen.

 Conclusion

So, yeah, I made this entire video just to air out my grievances with how one-sided the mode of analysis is in the fandom, because no person actually involved with the production of Dream SMP will ever see this.

But after everything I am cautiously optimistic, that content creator Technoblade knows what he’s doing. He has talked in the past about how his character is a bad guy and he loves his Greek myths. After all what’s more Greek myth than hybris being rewarded with punishment? [Technoblade never dies] That bodes well for him.

Also, this isn’t the video I promised at the end of the last one!

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