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capybar00stash · 10 months

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schmol gabriel may never-finished sketch

i just watched some edits of him and he's still !!!! too underated !!!! people should make more malignant edits, draw him more, anything !! (stream malignant 2021)

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selkiefinalist · 6 months

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putting in a request for 3, 5, and 17 for the ask meme. (with a bonus...if you have one you haven't been asked but want to answer free space) -patrichornkissed

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

oof, i’d have an easier time ranking them by least favorite. limiting myself to hockey fandom and acknowledging that recency bias likely plays a role here, and also acknowledging that i’m still too deep in post-posting anxiety re your fth fic to really evaluate how i feel about it. but i’d have to either go with that one or made up, which just gave me so much sheer happiness on so many levels.

5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?

back in 2020 when i was just acclimating to hockey fandom i had this idea for a sidgeno post-retirement divorce fic, where sid struggles with retirement, they get divorced, he renovates an entire house in cole harbour, other things. i wrote that pairing exactly once for a fest and found it simply too stressful to ever consider attempting again. slapping this under a cut so as to give you a lil snippet but wow i just opened the doc and there’s a lot more there than i remembered:

Tanger called the night before Sid’s big lunch with Geno, since hockey players were universally the nosiest people Sid had ever known, retired or not.

Sid was at Kent Building Supplies looking at miter saws, which would have been a good excuse for ignoring the call. But it would also be a good excuse for ending the call early if necessary, and he was pretty sure it was going to be necessary.

“Hey, Kris.” He ducked out of the tool aisle. The tool aisles were always busier than the rough plumbing department, with its hundreds of bins of mysterious fittings and tubes. Sid loved rough plumbing.

“You picked up.”

Sid tried not to wince at the tone of surprise there. He talked to Kris pretty often, as far as he knew. “You called me,” Sid said. “What’s up?”

“Not much. What are you up to?”

It was always like playing chicken when someone was calling about Geno — or about Sid, and how Sid was doing in the aftermath of Geno, which was still about Geno in its own way. Who would say it first?

“Looking at PEX fittings.” It wasn’t gonna be Sid, not this time.

Anyway this fic was really just going to be about my extensive knowledge of old home renovation and all those parallels to aging and working on a relationship.

17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?

oh dude for your fth fic alone there was: horse race schedules, love is blind seasons three and four, who was at shattuck when Nate was also there, EJ’s dog names, traditional foods of finland, what do seaside cafes look like, what is the word for how a barnacle clings to something (sessile), big lakes by Winnipeg, big lakes by Denver, spring leaf out schedules for Denver, average temperature in Anaheim in March, types of seals and how long they can hold their breaths under water, the list goes on and on and on

#replies #patrichornkissed #what is writing?#i don’t know her #meme thing #rip to my 2020/2021 wips #there are so many #hockey rpf

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melodybottles · 1 year

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my friend missy asked me to fill out an art summary for the year! because a. lot has changed about my art over the course of 2022 (pretty much entirely in the second half...)

the june & september pieces were chosen bc, fun fact, they were the Only things i posted during those months according to my archive! as for notable milestones...

i got my tablet at the tail end of july, so anything from august on was drawn with that instead of with a mouse!

and i switched back to lineless art after two years of decrying it back in october :'D now i. don't think i'll ever look at lineart ever again at this point...

i still have some pieces i want to get out before the month ends, so stay tuned for those! and everyone who's been following me this year, whether you were around to watch any of this change in real-time or if you came by pretty recently, thanks for being here <3

#this was technically a 2021 art summary meme also but it framed my art way better than the 2022 one so i used this instead haha #i still have a ways to go because i want to learn things like more complex colouring and lighting and of course. Doing Backgrounds #i also want to get better at pushing and pulling at things like proportions and diversifying body types and things like that #but in general i think i'm at the point where i'm creating the art i dreamed of making when i was younger! and that makes me happy.#postings #side note it is very funny to look at how little i've posted previously esp considering like. how i ended up picking jun jul & sept bc uh.#in the past 3 months i have posted 25 drawings on here and i have six wips i plan on finishing before the month is out...#lineless boosted my productivity up 300%...

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ugh-yoongi · 2 months

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the very last thing i decide | pjm

(or, the one in which a love exists that's easy and instinctual as much as it is painful and self-destructive.)

✘ PAIRING jimin x f. reader ✘ SUMMARY you learn what it means to love with blood on your hands. ✘ GENRE hitman/assassin au; angst, smut ✘ RATING explicit. minors dni. ✘ WARNINGS they are both hitmen (hitpeople?) so there's all the content that goes along with that: violence, death, mentions of blood (a lot) and weapons, murder, but no explicit gore. everyone is morally grey at best and downright psychotic at worst (especially yoongi). reader gets stabbed. no one knows how to be a functional human being. swearing, smoking, light smut (penetrative & oral sex), miscommunication and unrequited love but not really, i drop a classic tumblr meme in a line of dialogue. ambiguous/hopeful ending!! some of the themes here are kinda heavy and i am not entirely sure how to tag them so if you have any questions pls don’t hesitate to ask! ✘ WORDCOUNT 12k ✘ LISTEN TO manchester orchestra - telepath ✘ THANK YOU i cannot remember everyone i’ve showed this to over the years. @the-boy-meets-evil for looking this over and brainstorming with me today. @hot-soop for always being a help. @effortandmore because you told me an embarrassingly long time ago this was worth finishing. and i’m pretty sure i also sent this to @jihopesjoint at some point too. i did a quick edit of this on my own, but after nearly three years i just wanted it posted and out of my wips so i'm sure i missed things. pls ignore them. ✘ AUTHOR'S NOTE fic drops two days in a row?? who am i?? i started this in may 2021 and it was supposed to be a simple pegging fic. i abandoned it bc i was convinced no one would want to read it. between today and yesterday i have written thousands of words and made it across the finish line. i hope you like it. the violence is a metaphor for love or whatever.

[37.5665° N, 126.9780° E | Seoul, SOUTH KOREA]

Jimin’s hair had been red the first time he met you.

How fitting, he thinks, considering he’s currently bleeding out on a table.

Well, there’s still a bit of fight left in him. He hasn’t lost consciousness yet, which he assumes is a good sign; he can still hear Hoseok barking out orders quite clearly. The edges of his vision are fuzzy and the pain in his abdomen is sharp and unrelenting, but he still has enough brain power left to wish he’d died instead.

Because you’d saved his life. And now he’s further indebted to you.

(Jimin never leaves a debt unpaid, but he’s not sure how to make even on something like this.)

Jungkook and Taehyung are fetching supplies faster than Hoseok can ask for them. Two pairs of frazzled, spaced-out eyes. Four sets of trembling limbs. Namjoon’s wearing burn marks into the floor, his cuticles bloody and nearly worried to the bone since he can’t keep them out of his mouth.

And then there’s you.

Sitting cross-legged in a chair as you scroll through your phone. Jimin’s blood is still drying on your hands, leaving smears as you drag your thumb back and forth across the screen, and this doesn’t seem to faze you one bit.

Behind you, Yoongi takes a seat at the piano and starts playing Toccata and Fugue in D minor, and Jimin simply cannot die like this. He can’t die on a wooden table in a room with a piano on which Min Yoongi is playing Baroque organ pieces.

“What is this, a fucking funeral?” Hoseok snaps, though there’s a desperation creeping into his tone that Jimin does not like, does not want to hear. “Cut it out, Yoongi.”

Said man staunchly ignores the doctor, transitioning flawlessly into the fugue. Jimin barely hears the tinkle of your laughter but he hears it all the same, and he wants to pretend it doesn’t calm him, bring him back down to earth when he starts drifting too far away. But you do, and it does, and all he can think about is: will you miss him if he dies? Will it take you long to wash his blood from your hands?

Hoseok’s absolutely incensed, pushed to the limits of his stress at the thought of not being able to save Jimin’s life, and Jimin appreciates this, really, but not when Hoseok pushes two gloved fingers deep into the wound in his stomach so hard all he can do is cry. “Yoongi—”

You snort. You don’t even look up from your phone.

Namjoon, for all his leadership and stoicism and poise under pressure, is just as frantic and panicked as the rest. It’s not everyday one of his people is inches from death ten feet away from him. Most people usually die in the shadows. Kim Namjoon has faced down death more times than most, yet watching the life slowly fade from Jimin’s eyes is too much even for him. “Yoongi, please—”

But the fugue keeps going, tempo change after tempo change, the two pillars of this organization spiraling completely by the time the coda starts, unfocused and sweating and praying. To gods they don’t believe in, to hope, to chance—whatever and whoever might be listening. Jimin usually loves hearing Yoongi play. It’s the only thing that humanizes him, and Jimin had spent so many restless nights shoulder to shoulder with him on that exact bench in the blue hours of the early morning, hypnotized by the way the older man’s knobby fingers moved across the keys.

This is it, he thinks.

Jimin’s going to die with Toccata and Fugue in D minor playing in the background.

He’s imagined his death so many times. Stupid not to in this line of work. Violent, quick and painless, in his sleep, drawn out and gory, a message. And in all of those scenarios, it’s either jarringly silent or there’s someone screaming. Usually him, sounding much like he is now, two fingers stuck in his gut. In all of those scenarios, Min Yoongi is never playing Bach as everything fades to black.

You sigh. “Shut the fuck up, Yoongi,” you say, your tone as blasé and inconvenienced as ever.

Shocked at your audacity, one of Yoongi’s fingers slips and hits the wrong key, something dissonant and metallic as it rings out. But the music stops all the same, the silence nearly giving Jimin whiplash. Now he can hear the clinkof Hoseok’s tools, the squelching of his wound, Jungkook’s desperate pleading for him to just be alright, please God, just hang on. He wants the music back. He doesn’t want Jungkook’s crying to be the last thing he hears. Doesn’t want the sound of his own organs imprinted into his memory.

“What’d you say?” Yoongi asks, because no one talks to him that way. They wouldn’t dare. Most people try not to talk to him at all.

But you do.

And, inexplicably, Yoongi listens.

You roll your eyes. “You go deaf in your old age? I said shut the fuck up. Hoseok’s two knuckles deep in Jimin’s fucking stomach and you’re over there having your little Amadeus moment.”

He bristles. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Yoongi repeats, and Jimin can’t see him, but he knows his eyes are narrowed, lips pulled back in a snarl, fists clenched at his side.

“Oh, princess,” you coo, and Yoongi’s fury is palpable, permeates every inch of this place, overrides all the fear and anguish. “I’m talking to you, baby. I know Jiminie’s busy trying not to die and that’s stressful for all of us, but please do try to keep up.”

Jimin hears the flick of Yoongi’s switchblade. Then he hears him say, “Please let me fucking kill her,” in that lazy Daegu drawl of his, like forming full words are beneath him. Not worth the effort when they’re directed at you.

Still seated, you uncross your legs and, through blurred vision, Jimin watches you grab Yoongi by his belt loops to tug him closer, grab the wrist that holds his knife and press it to your own throat. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Yoongi. Be a good boy and make it hurt.”

Jungkook’s near hysterics at Jimin’s side. “What the fuck is wrong with you two? He’s dying!”

Jimin tries to say I’m not, Kookie, I’m okay but the pressure on his abdomen is too intense. He can barely breathe, and Hoseok’s still digging around, still looking for that stupid fucking bullet, had to do something and do it quick so there’d been very little anesthetic and finesse, and he’s silently screaming for someone to just comfort Jungkook, tell him everything’s going to be okay, but instead—

“Serves him right for being a fucking idiot,” you say, words muffled by the knife still pressed to your throat. “What a painful, permanentlesson in not forgetting your fucking vest.”

“Stop it!” Jungkook sobs, fingers ghosting along Jimin’s matted fringe.

Yoongi’s still scowling. “Just say the word, Joon-ah. I’ll make it quick.”

You actually laugh at that. The kind of full-belly laugh Jimin would kill to be able to produce. “You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

Someone snarls. Probably Yoongi. “You’d look so good gutted on the floor like a fish,” he replies, and if Jimin knows him at all, he knows he’s got that dreamy, faraway look in his eyes. The one he always gets when he’s about to kill—the one that makes him so unhinged and dangerous. “Left there to bleed out and die all alone like the trash you are.”

No one’s survived that look before, but you just grin, as if being on the receiving end of it is nothing more than another simple inconvenience. “Do it, then,” you prompt. “You’re so big and bad, yet here you are, waiting for Namjoon’s permission like some kind of pathetic fucking dog.”

“I’m no one’s dog.”

Your eyes slowly flick over to Namjoon. “No?” you ask, smile widening as Jimin watches you drag your heeled foot up the inside of Yoongi’s calf, his thigh, stiletto coming to rest in the center of his sternum. “That’s a shame, princess. That pretty neck of yours was just made for a collar.”

There’s no doubt in Jimin’s mind now that he actually died back in that penthouse and is now residing in whatever level of hell is watching you give his associate a semi despite him being a millisecond away from murdering you.

Yoongi would do it, too. No hesitation. You’ve been on his shit list for as long as Jimin can remember, and you’ve been daring him to put his money where his mouth is and just kill you already for just as long.

Taehyung groans. “Can you two just fuck already so the rest of us can be spared of this?”

You click your tongue, tone melting like butter. You’re fond of Taehyung, soft on him. “No can do, angel. Yoongi here knows I only have eyes for our Jiminie, and god does that hurt his little feelings.”

Your wicked smile gives away nothing—whether you’re telling a bold truth or just unnecessarily needling Yoongi further—but Jimin’s caught off guard and chokes on your words nonetheless.

Hoseok’s forceps still digging around in his stomach, there’s a quiet hurrah of triumph as he finally locates the bullet. Jimin feels nothing as he retrieves it and plucks it out, a reverberated clank! as he drops it into a kidney dish, your words the anesthetic he’s needed as they play on a loop in his head.

When he finally blacks out, either from the pain or the adrenaline or both, it’s your face that greets him. He never gets the chance to tell you why he forgot his vest.

[64.1466° N, 21.9426° W | Reykjavík, ICELAND]

Jimin’s hair is blue when it happens the first time.

It’s November. Namjoon has sent the two of you to Reykjavik and it’s dark all the time, the midnight hue of his hair blending into the impenetrable nighttime that surrounds you. Jimin works best like this—out of sight, part of the shadows. He’s light on his feet, lithe in ways no one else is, not even you, and he’s impossible to anticipate under the cover of darkness.

That’s why Jimin always takes care of the appetizers.

It’s your job to clean up the main course.

The two of you are two halves of the same lethal coin, working together flawlessly after years of carefully honed practice. Jimin slams an unsuspecting man’s head into a wall and you’re right behind him to put a bullet in it.

It’s just how it goes.

And he trusts you. He has to, otherwise he would’ve gotten taken out years ago. You’re not always in his line of sight, but he always feels you, senses your movements before you’re even on your feet. The times it’s gone wrong—and it’s gone wrong so many fucking times, despite how cautious and skilled the two of you are—you’re always right there to catch him before he even hits the ground. Just like a ghost, as if your only purpose in life is keeping Jimin safe and alive.

(It isn’t, but it sure feels that way.)

Tonight it’s another hit carried out in an overpriced penthouse overlooking the northern shore. You’re in and out, don’t waste a second more than you need to. Jimin doesn’t spare a glance at the carnage left behind. Nothing he hasn’t seen a hundred times before. All blood bleeds the same, but he still wonders, foolishly, if his looks different to you. If it feels wrong when it stains your hands and seeps into your clothes.

Jimin has never been covered in your blood before, but he likes to think it would.

The two of you don’t speak until you’re in the quiet safety of yet another hotel room, chain lock thrown across the door, deadbolt secured. A small arsenal of weapons is retrieved from ankles and waistbands and cleaned and packed away meticulously. Jimin’s the one who makes the call to Namjoon, tells him in code that the job’s done. You’ve barely broken a sweat, but under the fluorescent light of the bathroom, Jimin can see a small smattering of blood just along your temple when he closes the distance between you.

Someone else’s, of course.

Anyone who made you bleed your own blood wouldn’t be a quick, clean kill. Jimin would make sure of that.

There’s less to be done about the half-inch scar in the hollow of your throat—a pearlescent reminder of the twin scar he has just below his navel; a callback to the day your devilish mouth said the words Jimin can’t stop thinking about.

“No can do, angel. Yoongi here knows I only have eyes for our Jiminie.”

Maybe it’s stupidity. Maybe it’s the feral, years-long build up that’s been simmering between the two of you—low enough to keep warm, contained enough to never evolve into a rapid boil. Maybe Jimin’s just finally desperate enough to go seeking out answers to questions he’s far too scared to put a voice to.

(Really, Jimin knows it’s adrenaline. Nothing more than chemicals. The two of you high on it, heads floating above the clouds. Powerless; or, at the very least, indifferent to stop the very clear path that’s unfolding on the ground below.)

But, god, he needs to know.

Needs answers.

Needs to know if there’s even a chance you feel it, too: the magnetic ebb and flow the two of you have been dancing around for years. If you see how fondly he looks at you. If you have any idea how easy it is for him to get lost in you. If you know he’d let someone put a bullet between his eyes before he placed his life in the hands of anyone else.

Jimin knows he loves you. He’s known it for a long time, just like he knows all those other things that are second nature to him. Loving you is easy and instinctual as much as it is painful and self-destructive.

At least that’s what he’d thought. Until your devilish mouth said those devilish words and sent him into a tailspin he’s yet to recover from.

You have to feel it. God, can’t you? The way the air crackles between you. The way his skin ignites with a simple look from you. The trembling of his fingers at his sides, desperate to just reach out and touch you—fingers that have been bathed in blood, that have taken life. Fingers that now just want to graze softly across your cheekbones, catch on your bottom lip. Fingers that want to hand you the world on a silver platter. Jimin would do anything for you, give you whatever you wanted. You wouldn’t even have to ask.

Can’t you feel that?

He needs to know.

Jimin is composed, elegant. He kills with grace and still maintains as much of his softness as he can. Isn’t ruled by emotion the way Yoongi and Jungkook are. But now, as he teeters on the edge of the unknown, all he wants to do is jump. Wants to buck all his training, all his resolve and forethought, and jump.

“Did you mean it?” he asks, voice thick. Fingers curl into the expensive silk of his shirt just so they have something to do—something to keep them from reaching out and touching you. “Back in Seoul.”

You’re the smartest person Jimin knows. When you ask, “Did I mean what, Chim?” he knows you’re fucking with him. Dragging this out. You know exactly what he’s asking and he knows you’ll never give anything away so easily.

“What you said to Taehyung,” he answers.

You tsk, eyebrows raising in intrigue. As much as Jimin trusts you, as well as you know him, know all those dirty, dirty secrets he’d never tell anyone else, he’s never been so bold with you. “That those long fingers of his would look good wrapped around my throat? Yeah, I meant that.”

Jimin’s jaw clenches at your taunt. “Don’t play games with me.”

A smirk graces your lips. “Trust me, sweetheart,” you say, voice sickly-sweet as the affection starts popping at the last seams holding him together, “if I wanted to play with you, there’s nothing you could do to stop it.”

With Jimin pressed into the wall behind you, you turn to meet his eye in the mirror. Another smile, teeth bared as you run your tongue across your lips, and this one is his undoing. Makes his cock twitch in his dress pants. Makes him bold. “Do you want to, then?” He takes a step forward—close enough to smell the gunpowder stuck to your clothes, your hair. Close enough for the sulfur and metal to sting his nostrils each time he breathes you in. “Do you want to play with me?”

You love Jimin. Maybe it’s a trauma bond or the implicit, unwavering trust the two of you have in one another, but you know you love him limitlessly. But you also know you can’t love him the way he loves you, the way he deserves to be loved by someone, which is why your mask slips as you say, “I can’t give you what you want, Jimin.”

You try to make him understand that. Really, you do—because Jimin is the smartest person you know, and you know he’s thought about every possible consequence down to the most minute detail and has decided this is worth it anyway. You want to believe in something the way Jimin believes in you, even though he’s wrong. You want something worth throwing all of this away for.

Maybe it’s Jimin, maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s just been so fucking long since someone has looked at you with any gentleness in their eyes at all that when Jimin meets your gaze and says, “I don’t want anything more than you’re willing to give,” you take his hand and jump, too.

And there’s nothing gentle about the first time.

It’s all raw, urgent need, Jimin trying desperately to convince himself it’s more than it is while you convince yourself it’s less.

It’s the two of you finally giving up and giving in, letting yourselves be pulled taut by that invisible string tying you together.

It’s Jimin’s sharp intake of breath when you fully step out of your clothes, the sight rendering him immobile. Whatever plans he’d had before seeing the curves of your body, all the scars from years of working by his side, the mottled yellow-greens and purples from the bruises lining your skin—he has no plans now. Can barely think. Wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away from you with a gun to his head.

It’s the final bricks of the wall he’d built around himself—around his heart, around all those words and feelings he’d never put a voice to—crumbling into ash at his feet. Now he knows he can’t go back. Can’t return to a reality where this isn’t his truth. Where there’s no you and him, him and you. Where it’s just a physical exchange, a give-and-take, tit for tat.

And god, he knows he shouldn’t think like this; knows he’s keeping the truth buried somewhere deep behind lock and key.

…But now that he knows how it feels to move inside you, what else is he supposed to do?

You’re everywhere. Clenched around him. Your taste on his tongue. The feel of you on the pads of his fingers. The smell of you making a mockery of all logical thought. No—no, he can’t do a goddamn thing to stop the avalanche now it’s started.

“Fuck,” he whines, fingers digging into your hips. The soft skin he finds purchase in such a contrast from your hardened exterior, but Jimin knows. He knows you, knows the person behind the mask, sees straight through you each time it slips.

What stared back at him had always been just out of reach.

Taunting him.

Screaming come and get me, come make me yours, come and fucking take what you want.

Until now.

Now it’s tangible. Now it’s breathy, fractured moans that echo off tile walls. Now it’s the sound of his name thatleaves your lips like a prayer. Now it’s the sheen of sweat that covers both of you. Now it’s nails scraping down his back, tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

(And Jimin won’t tell you this, but those red welts are proof that this is real, this happened, and later on when he’s alone, when his mind is working overtime, he’ll look at them and he’ll smile. Because they’re real. Because this happened.)

Now, it’s the way blue becomes his favorite color. Because he can see his reflection in the mirror as he unravels and comes to his own demise as he spills inside of you; can see the fluorescent lights reflecting off the hue of his hair.

Jimin’s hair is blue when he realizes he’s in love with you.

[34.6037° S, 58.3816° W | Buenos Aires, ARGENTINA]

Jimin is blond when Namjoon sends you to South America.

The details had been scarce: a diplomatic advisor with a rap sheet of human rights violations that have been continuously swept under the rug and his equally-corrupt lawyer. A candid photograph paperclipped to another manila folder, Namjoon a fan of all those old cliches. Likes being a little cheeky that way when he can get away with it, because god knows he can’t get away with much, doesn’t have much of a sense of humor.

It’s a simple job. You and Jimin will have it dealt with in a matter of hours. Less if you’re lucky and the universe is agreeable. But the humidity sticks to your skin, has sweat seeping into your clothes and rolling down your temples, and if there’s one thing you can’t stand it’s the heat. Makes it hard to think. And Namjoon—Namjoon, who makes sure all of his agents want for nothing—is a cheap bastard. Rarely approves nice lodging, says it’s too risky despite your arguments to the contrary, that people don’t care what you do when you have money, so you’re stuck in some shithole motel room with an aircon unit that keeps blowing out stale, warm air.

And maybe you shouldn’t, maybe you should be more cognizant of Jimin and all his feelings, but it’s fucking hot, so you peel your shirt over your head and undo the button of your pants. Sit on the edge of the bed and try to think about anything other than the temperature, how it’s starting to prick uncomfortably at your skin.

Jimin clears his throat, keeps his eyes glued to the disgusting carpet. “Got a text from Seokjin-ssi,” he says, words strained. “Looks like they’ll be solo jobs.”

You groan. Leave it to Seokjin to change the plan at the last minute. “Tell Kim Seokjin he’s a useless piece of shit.”

“Done. Anything else?”

“Tell Kim Namjoon if he ever sends us to South America in the summer again I’ll kill him myself.”

Jimin has a laugh like an anodyne. A laugh that takes all those broken, bleeding parts of you and soothes over them like a balm. “Seokjin-ssi says he’s not passing along that particular message.”

“Tell him he’s a bitch, then.”

“He’ll kill me if I say that.”

“He hasn’t done field work in years and he’s probably too vitamin D deficient to leave the basement. He couldn’t even kill a fucking rat.”

There’s another laugh. More forced, less tinkling. You recognize it right away, the sound of anxiety. Solo jobs aren’t common for the two of you. For Yoongi and Taehyung, sure, but not you and Jimin. You’re a team for a reason, and though you’re more than capable of getting this done and out of the way, it doesn’t feel right. Settles in your gut like something rotten, knowing you’ll be without Jimin.

And you know he’s thinking it, too. How he turns the burner over and over in his hands, as if there’s some combination of words he can send back to Seoul to get Seokjin and Namjoon to reconsider. Plans don’t change often; not like this, anyway. These have been declared solos for a reason, and that’s a thought you can’t linger on too long.

“Are they leaving it up to us?” Jimin nods, still not meeting your eye. “Do you have a preference?”

He shrugs, tossing the phone on the small table in the corner. Nothing else to be done. “Not really. What do you think?”

“Nah, don’t care, either. Just toss me one.”

Santiago Aguirre… 47 years old… Resides in a high-rise luxury apartment in Retiro…

Your eyes skim the file, study the black and white photograph of the lawyer. Read over the list of all his high-profile, degenerate clients and all their high-profile crimes. You read about the previous attempts on his life, the seemingly never-ending list of people who want him dead. Your eyes go back to his photograph, frowning at the smug look on his face. What stares back at you is a man who thinks he’s invincible, who thinks a penthouse apartment on the top floor and a security team in the lobby means he’s impervious to harm. A man who has made money off people just like him: dirty, corrupt, hands stained red.

“Okay?” Jimin asks, looking up from his own file.

He’s so striking. So safe. And you know what he’s done, giving you the hit he thinks is easier, willing to risk himself on a solo mission to ensure you make it out. There’s no guarantees in this line of work, in life in general, but Jimin’s brand of selfless love is certainly one.

So you just nod, knowing someone slimy like this can quickly go sideways, and decide you can do the same.

“I’m gonna get ready,” you say. “The plan is the same as all the other solo jobs. Get in, get it done, get out as quickly as possible. Lay low. Don’t come straight back here.”

Jimin rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Anything else?”

You exhale. Try to quiet the nerves roiling in your stomach. Barely resist the urge to press a lingering kiss to Jimin’s forehead before you swallow hard and say, “Yeah. Stay alive.”

It comes out more like a plea.

—

You’re good at your job.

Rarely feel much guilt over it, either, which—well, you’re not sure what that means. That something is permanently broken in your psyche, probably. Being able to take life so easily and without remorse. It’s not natural.

Kim Namjoon is a man who plays God, is the one who decides who gets to live and who has to die. His word is the only law you adhere to. And that’s… that’s something. Makes it less burdensome, takes some weight off, because Kim Namjoon wouldn’t accept a morally-ambiguous job. He wouldn’t ask you to put your life on the line for some petty bullshit.

This is how you’ve lived for the last four years. Four years of blindly following Namjoon’s word, of being a good little soldier and doing whatever is asked of you. Four years of being responsible for not only your own life, but Jimin’s as well, just as he is for yours. Four years that have served you well, all things considered.

Until now.

Something about this job hits you hard. Doesn’t settle quite as quickly as the ones that have come before. For the first time, you’d looked down at the lifeless body at your feet and couldn’t stop the trembling, could barely quell the nausea. Thought what the fuck am I doing, what kind of life is this for the first time. Thought back to that day four years ago when Kim Namjoon saved your life and offered you a job and wondered, for the first time, what would’ve happened if you’d said no.

Now, as you suck on a cigarette, legs dangling off the roof of a building looking not far from collapse, a new thought:

Would Namjoon let you go if you asked?

He’s taken care of you. For four years you’ve wanted for nothing. Have socked away more money than you’ll ever be able to spend, even if you live to a thousand. You could go anywhere, become anyone, and no one would suspect a thing. There’d just be you and a million lifetimes’ worth of transgressions, alone under the weight of all that burden; alone, except for all the ghosts that come to greet you every time you close your eyes.

Doesn’t matter. Namjoon might be willing to let you go, give you the chance to salvage something from this life in the name of normalcy, but Yoongi would gladly put a bullet in your head before he let you disappear with all his secrets.

Doesn’t matter.

You stub out the cigarette and put the butt in your pocket. Make your way down to the street. Stay under the shadows—just visible enough to redirect any suspicion shot your way. You pretend to take a call, flawless Argentinian Spanish falling from your lips as you tell the imaginary person on the other end all about your fucked up day at work. How your manager never gets off your ass, doesn’t trust you, thinks you’re too fucking stupid to run a simple executable.

No one spares you a second glance.

Not here, on this nondescript street in a nondescript Argentinian neighborhood, and not when you stumble into the tiny lobby of your shithole motel. The poor kid behind the desk doesn’t even glance up, just mutters a good evening, miss under his breath that you return in a voice far too high-pitched to be your own.

Better to be seen and be unremarkable than draw attention to yourself trying to stay invisible, you figure.

The cameras in the stairwell are broken so you take the steps two at a time. Pull the room key from its place inside your boot, happy to no longer have it digging into your skin. Pause just long enough to make sure you don’t hear anything on the other side of the door before you’re unlocking it with your free hand wrapped around the trigger of your gun.

It’s empty.

Of course it is.

Jimin stashed the burner in a place no one but you would think to look. You text one simple word to Seokjin—Hey!—and you get two in return: Who’s this?

You know who it is, you fucking dickhead.

It takes a few seconds, but the reply is a simple—

Sorry.

Then you toss aside the phone and float in the darkness of the room. There’s nothing to do but wait, because you don’t dare to do anything alone. There’s sweat and blood and fuck knows what else stuck to your skin, your hair, but you can’t risk taking a shower. Can’t risk the water dampening your senses. Can’t risk being cornered in a moldy bathroom, only one way out. Can’t risk doing anything alone. Can’t take a fucking shower.

It’s this thought, more than anything else, that has your body flushing with rage.

What kind of life is this?

Namjoon had never mentioned repaying your debt. He’d never insinuated you owed him anything at all for saving your life, but you know something like that never comes for free. Namjoon doesn’t do anything just because. Has no goodness in his heart to do anything in the name of it. Watching Jimin nearly die in front of him had been the exception to his usual nature; a rare slip-up by an otherwise detached, uncaring man.

Still, whatever you owe him has surely been repaid by now. Tenfold, if the bloodstains along your collar are anything to go by.

It’s time for Namjoon to let you go.

—

Something is wrong.

Two hours have ticked by and there’s no word from Jimin. No word from Namjoon or Seokjin, either, which is the only reason you’re still in this nauseating motel room and not out on the streets searching for him. Solo jobs don’t go like this. The two of you are always in and out, tragically efficient. Back to where you started and then back on a plane, nothing left behind except a singular bullet hole and another fragmented piece of your conscience.

You’ve had a lot of jobs go wrong, but never two hours.

You’re about three minutes from coming out of your skin. Sick to your stomach with worry, anxiety weighing you down like an anchor. You wouldn’t be able to go out searching for Jimin like this even if you could, and there’s no point in dwelling on that, examining it further. All you can do is wait.

It’s another hour before you hear the click of the lock. You’re nearly on your knees in relief, but you stay rooted to the flimsy mattress. Try not to think about how you’ll have to sleep on it, even though you’ll be up half the night with residual worry. All those lingering ghosts.

Jimin doesn’t say anything, so neither do you.

[55.6761° N, 12.5683° E | Copenhagen, DENMARK]

Jimin’s hair is orange when you go to Copenhagen.

Not for a job, just to breathe. You wanted to see the city at Christmastime; Jimin’s never been.

You crack a joke. Point out buildings of similar color, have him stand in front of one as you take a picture. Everyone smiles when they pass the two of you on the street, Jimin’s eyes fond even though he rolls them as you pose him how you want. Still stands against an apricot-colored wall and flashes a smile and a peace sign, cheeks pink from the cold. Does a good job of pretending the two of you aren’t here just for fun, that this is something more.

It’s not.

The two of you fucked in a hotel room in Reykjavik and haven’t spoken a word of it since.

You nearly lost your mind over him in Buenos Aires and haven’t spoken a word of that, either.

Instead, his hand finds yours as the two of you walk around Tivoli Gardens. You marvel at the lights and Jimin marvels at you. You share mulled wine and spiced doughnuts. Jimin tries to drag you on the swings but you plant your feet and refuse, laughing through your refusals. As dangerous as your lives are, motion sickness might be the most. He gets his revenge and poses you in front of a giant nutcracker, then again in front of one of the endless Christmas trees.

Jimin pays for the two of you to decorate honey cakes. You’re surrounded by families with shrieking children and palpable adoration, and it’s all you can do not to wonder if anyone you’ve taken out had ever had something like this. Something that makes your soul warm; something that still lingers in your bones years later.

The two of you take a selfie when it starts to snow. It stings when you have no one to send it to, so it just lives in your phone. Maybe it’s enough.

On another day, Jimin holds your hand through Torvehallerne. This time you marvel at him while he marvels at all the food, eyes wide each time he turns to ask if he should buy something. You always say yes and he always shares, and it’s all you can do not to think about why you don’t have to budget yourselves. Why you’re able to walk through the market and buy whatever you want; how you could buy every item for sale and it wouldn’t make a dent.

(You pick up small trinkets for Taehyung and Jungkook. Not because you want to, but because it feels nicer than remembering that you have no one to buy gifts for. Not really. Not anymore.)

Jimin wants to ice skate, so you do. He holds your hand then, too. More out of necessity than anything else, and he has none of his usual grace. Someone hands you a free cup of hot chocolate, just because. Jimin pouts and then it’s his hot chocolate. It’s all you can do not to kiss away the whipped cream on the corner of his mouth.

Back in your lavish hotel, after countless days have blurred together and Jimin’s fresh from a shower, skin flushed, you finally ask yourself if it’s worth putting up such a fight. If it’s really all that bad to care for Jimin and be cared for in return. If it’s all that bad to be someone else, just for a little while: someone with a normal life who makes a normal living and has a normal capability to love. Someone who isn’t damaged beyond repair.

That will never be you. Not fully, and certainly not in this lifetime, but maybe it could be, a little.

“Jimin,” you say, because you need to try. Jimin loves you in ways you’ll never understand, and you want to be better for him. “We should talk.”

Your voice is small and hesitant, and Jimin hates it. Sees trouble where there’s only vulnerability, so he misreads. Shakes his head. Takes a risk and stands between your legs at the edge of the bed—yours, because there’s two—as he tilts your head back, thumbs pressing into the contours of your cheeks. The scar still sits in the hollow of your throat, and that version of you feels so far away. That life feels so far away.

There’s no violence here. There’s no blood, no fugues. There’s just you and Jimin, whose voice is small like yours when he shakes his head and says, “You should kiss me instead.”

The second time is nothing like the first.

Jimin moves delicately. Feels like silk lace, tastes like spun sugar. Moves both his mouth and his body fluidly, no hesitation, yet he still takes his time. Still pauses to look at you with endless devotion; with awed reverence. Makes a map of your body and marks all his favorite places with his lips.

“Tell me what you want,” he says. Speaks the words against the skin just beneath your ear. “Anything. I’ll give you whatever you want, just have to ask.”

What you want isn’t tangible, isn’t possible, so you stay quiet. Thread your fingers through Jimin’s hair, gasp when he mouths along the column of your throat. Jimin reserves all his softness for you. Bathes you in it. Would kill anyone to keep it that way.

So you say, “Want your mouth,” and let slip a quiet moan when he gives you what you’ve asked for. When he situates himself between your thighs and sucks and licks until you’re writhing, making a mess, grasping fruitlessly at the sheets, his hair, his shoulders, only calming when his hands find yours and your fingers interlock.

Jimin mouths at you until you’re trembling. Until you’re needy and desperate, hips moving on their own, fucking yourself against his face. Until nothing exists except the heat in your belly, the stars behind your eyelids, the heady, fucked-out sound of Jimin’s voice as he talks you through it, murmurs praise against your cunt.

Jimin mouths at you until you forget.

This isn’t your life. This is not something you can have.

But, in the grand scheme of things, what does it matter? You’ve made peace with death, and there’s only one of two ways it’s going to come for you in the end: by Namjoon’s hand or someone else’s. So what does it matter?

This time, Jimin fucks you slow. Kisses you with your taste still in his mouth. Thumbs over a hardened nipple just to see what earns him a reaction, and what you truly want is more time—something else that’s impossible.

Jimin’s hair is orange when you think you might be in love with him.

[ 48.8566° N, 2.3522° E | Paris, FRANCE ]

Jimin’s hair is pink when—

“Sit,” he says, gesturing to the toilet.

Soaks a washcloth in warm water. Wrings it out. Stands in front of you, and there’s water dripping onto the floor and Jimin doesn’t care, doesn’t seem to see anything in this moment except for you, your hands covered in someone else’s blood, and he reaches out, gently grabs your wrist. Palm up. Someone else’s blood. Everything smells like copper and iron. Looks too surreal beneath the fluorescent lights of this hotel bathroom for your mind to make sense of it.

There is care in the way Jimin cleans your hands. There is tenderness in the way he both refuses to see what you really are and the way he’s the only one to ever see you so entirely, when you look down at the blood he’s washing away and all you can see is stigmata. When all you see is sin.

“I know you don’t love me,” he says, and there is a conviction in his words that stuns you into silence. “Not the way I love you, anyway.”

That tenderness is still there as he says this. As he presses the wet fabric into the meat of your palm, wipes the stains away, and the warmth is as calming as it is undeserved. It feels like something forbidden. It feels like salvation and condemnation all at once, like whatever sick depravity permeates you is contagious, will take over Jimin, too, just from touching you.

Jimin is close enough to reach out and touch. Close enough to see the violence that he exists in alongside you: the rips in his clothes, the scars that decorate his skin. Close enough to know he smells sickly-sweet, just like death. Your hand shakes as it reaches for him and never follows through. Doesn’t want to contaminate him.

“I do,” you finally say. Whatever is in your voice is not conviction. “I can’t.” You suck in a breath, try to steady your breathing. This is where it all comes crashing down, you think, because in all the years you’ve done Namjoon’s bidding, you’ve never cried. You can take life so freely and without thought, but you cannot love Jimin. “Someone like me isn’t capable of it.”

Jimin pauses, the washcloth stuck in the space between your ring and middle fingers. “And who is someone like you?”

Water is still dripping to the floor. Serosanguineous: blood tainting something untouched. Not something one thing or another but both, watery-pink. Looks like Jimin’s hair. “I’ve killed a lot of people,” you answer. “More than I can count. More than I can name. More than the ones that come to haunt me at night.” Your free hand moves to your chest, covers your heart. “There’s nothing here, Jimin. I’m not sure there ever was.”

The washcloth drops to the floor, and all that blood belonging to a man whose name you never bothered to learn before you put a bullet between his eyes finds a new place to rest. “I think,” he begins, clasping your unclean hand in his own, voice dropping to a whisper, “you forget, sometimes.” You gasp as he places your palm to his cheek, drags it across his face, smears a stranger’s blood across his skin. “That we’re the same.”

Jimin is always overwhelming, but the love he has for you is even more so. It consumes you entirely, embeds itself beneath your skin, makes a home, would tear you apart, body and soul, to return to him.

[ 47.4979° N, 19.0402° E | Budapest, HUNGARY ]

Jimin’s hair is lavender when it all goes to shit.

“You’re being followed.”

Seokjin’s voice is garbled through the earpiece, tinny and metallic, and you roll your eyes. Some things don’t need to be said, because you’ve known someone was following you for the last three blocks. Average height, black peacoat, close-cropped haircut. Not the kind of person that’d stand out here, and that’s exactly why you’d sent Jimin in the other direction.

“No shit,” you respond in Hungarian, because you already know the man following you doesn’t speak or understand it. “Give me somewhere to go.”

It takes Seokjin a few moments to run the translation. “There’s a side street up on your right,” he answers. “It’s tight, but there’s an alleyway at the end. You can buy some time if you’re quick.”

“Where’s Jimin?”

You pass a vendor selling lángos and duck into the street behind the stall. Just as Seokjin had said, there’s a small alleyway up on the left, and your footfall is near-silent as you break into a sprint to reach it. “Safe,” is all Seokjin says.

You take a second to steady your breathing, knowing you’re good on time—the man following you was close enough to know where you’d turned, but, if you’re lucky, not much after that. That plays on a loop: if you’re lucky, if you’re lucky, if you’re lucky. What is luck, what does it look like, in a life left entirely to chance? In a life with no guarantees?

You tuck yourself away, focus on Seokjin’s metallic breaths. Think about his basement in Seoul, why he’s in it. Ask, “What happened in Addis Ababa?” because it feels important to know.

There’s not much you know about Seokjin’s life. Whatever happened in Ethiopia had been before your time, reduced to hushed whispers and gossip fodder after your arrival. No one spoke of it, Seokjin especially, but every now and then something would slip in the same way weeds grow in sidewalk cracks.

A job gone wrong. A bombing at the consulate with Seokjin inside.

His reply is simple, words spoken carefully: “I loved someone once, too.”

He can’t see it, but you nod nonetheless; an answer that doesn’t require a response, because you know. It’s enough to fill in the rest. What Seokjin’s trauma looks like. Why he doesn’t do field work anymore. Why he prefers the solitude of the basement, rarely a sound beyond the electric thrum of the server racks.

Who had gone in to retrieve him, and why Yoongi has the scar over his eye.

“You loved someone,” you conclude, “and he would’ve been willing to die for you.”

“Yes,” Seokjin says, and it’s like the word’s been punched out of him. Sounds like something repressed, something left to rot in the darkest corner of the world.

Love, to Seokjin, looks and sounds the same as death.

“I think most people spend their entire lives searching for a love like that,” he continues, and if you could see him you think he might look dazed, off-kilter. You think he might be an avatar. Seokjin is prying his ribcage apart, unwrapping the barbed wire from his heart, saying I once was in love and this is all I know of it. “But, to me, in this life, it’s a prison. Once someone is willing to die for you, how do you keep them alive? How do you—I kissed that skin. I worshiped it. I pressed my lips to it with whatever softness was left in me. How do you look at that same skin and know you’re the reason it’s mangled?” He exhales, all tremor. “You can’t. You can’t.”

You know this all too well. You know what it feels like to look at Jimin and know, intrinsically and subconsciously, that you wouldn’t even hesitate. You’d take and give life to keep him alive and safe. You know that when you exit this world at someone else’s hand his face is the last thing you want to see.

You know it’s a liability.

You know it’s a target painted on your back. Between your eyes.

You know there’s nothing left to say, that this particular conversation has run its course. The two of you sit in an amicable silence, and you hope Seokjin can hear the life that surrounds you, however mundane. Hope he can hear the lángos vendor trying to hawk his goods; hope he can hear a city 8,000 kilometers away; hope he can hear these regular, everyday people going about their lives and remember there’s hope beyond his four walls.

I think you’d like it here, you think, but you don’t dare to say it aloud.

Time passes in a meaningless blur. Could be minutes, could be hours. No one’s come to kill you, so you reckon you’ve long since been in the clear. And maybe it speaks to Seokjin’s idea that love is a prison, because you know something’s happened to Jimin long before Seokjin speaks it into existence.

You’re up and out of the alleyway before you’re told to move. Have no idea where you’re going, but you’re racing through the streets of Budapest with a panic you haven’t ever felt in your life. Feels like quicksand; feels like molasses; feels like you have to wade through all the blood you’ve spilled, now congealed, to get to him.

“Where am I going?” you demand. Your lungs are on fire. In the split-second of silence it becomes a desperate scream. “Seokjin, tell me where the fuck I’m going!”

“The—fuck, the wa-warehouse up on your right.” You can’t think about why he’s crying. “I don’t—I don’t know wha-what’s there, you need to be careful. Please, you have to—”

Twenty seconds and you’ll be there, you’ll be with Jimin, you just need to keep running. You need to keep your head on straight. Remember your training. Remember you’ve built a life in a viper pit.

A man in a uniform is unloading a shipment around the back of the building. Faces away from you, bent at the waist. Takes very little effort to smash his head into the stone exterior and knock him unconscious, pocket his badge. You can’t get stupid now. Tell Seokjin to make sure all the cameras are cut, ask what floor when you shut yourself inside the freight elevator, unwilling to take the stairs and run into anyone who might be waiting. All the way to the top, he says, so all the way to the top you go.

—

Over the course of your life, you’ve made peace with death. Have stared it in the eye more times than you can count. Have dealt it out, evaded it, shook its hand.

You are wholly unprepared for the sight that greets you.

Red. Everything is red—the walls, the floor, what used to be a beautiful parquet pattern in the wood. In the center of the room: two bodies, maybe three. Not much that’d be able to identify them beyond a pile of teeth, no saying whose is whose. Slaughterhouse scraps.

And this is not—Jimin doesn’t work this way. Isn’t his MO. Jimin’s kills are elegant and neat, topped with a bow. What you see before you is ultraviolence. It is unhinged, it is fury, it is a complete loss of control. It’s what love looks like to Jimin, because he sits at the very edge of a rotted chair, legs crossed. Face streaked with blood, clothes covered in it.

“Jimin,” you say, because what else is there?

He tilts his head to the side, smirks a little, looks at you beneath his lashes. Eyes that used to find you across a room and calm you. Eyes that have locked onto you in the throes of pleasure. Eyes you’ve seen yourself reflected in, bathed in love and adoration.

Eyes that now contain nothing.

“Jimin, what the fuck happened?”

He removes his gloves with his teeth and doesn’t flinch away from the taste of iron. “They said they hurt you,” he states simply, “so I did what needed to be done.”

“What—” Nausea claws at your throat; for the first time, it’s all too much. This isn’t Jimin. This isn’t your Jimin, who smiled as you posed him against apricot walls in Copenhagen, who took a bullet to the stomach to protect you and never, ever told you. This is not the Jimin who wasted the last of his goodwill on loving you. “What did you do?” you whisper.

He rises to full height and it makes you flinch. You are scared of Jimin for the first time in your life: scared of who he is in this moment, what he’s capable of. And he sees it, lets that brand of anguish overtake him. Reaches for you before he decides against it and lets his hand drop to his side. Says, “I would never hurt you,” as if the words could brand themselves into your skin so you’d never forget.

“No, you’d just—” You squeeze your eyes shut. Don’t think about how one of the men nearly embedded into the floor was the one trailing you earlier.

Instead, you think about Seokjin: Once someone is willing to die for you, how do you keep them alive? You think about: How do you look at that same skin and know you’re the reason it’s mangled? You think about: In this life, it’s a prison.

You drop to your knees. Let the blood seep through your clothes and into your skin, undeserving of shying away from it.

Namjoon should’ve let you go.

You think about the men in front of you. Who they were, who they loved. The grief all of this is going to leave behind, and it becomes impossible to breathe. You grasp at your throat, think about all the times you’ve been strangled and who’d been there to cut the rope. There is no limit to Jimin’s devotion, and you understand now, how it drove Yoongi to madness. How he loved someone so much he would’ve retrieved their corpse from a building and how that same person can no longer bear to look at the damage they’d caused.

“This isn’t love, Jimin,” you choke out.

He stands in front of you. Stigmata. You’re worshiping at the altar of some kind of devil. At least his hands are clean when he places his fingers beneath your chin, forces you to look up at him. “What is it, then?”

“Destruction.”

A quiet huff of cruel laughter. “See, this is the difference between me and you, darling.” He takes back his hand, runs it through his blood-streaked hair, and your chin sags to your chest without his support. “Because I already knew that. Because I have destroyed myself every single day loving you.” He squats down, eye-level, and he says, “I need you to listen to me when I say this, sweetheart: you do not love me the way I love you, because I would do worse. When it comes to you, there is nothing on this earth I would not destroy to keep you safe.”

He clears his throat. Collects whatever’s in his mouth and spits onto one of the bodies. “If this is enough to have you tucking your fucking tail between your legs, then go, because this doesn’t even scratch the fucking surface.”

You can’t bring yourself to say anything, and sometimes that says it all.

Jimin presses a kiss to the top of your head. Makes a call. Cleaners will be here soon, he says, better get going.

You watch him go.

[ 37.5665° N, 126.9780° E | Seoul, SOUTH KOREA ]

Jimin’s hair is black when Namjoon calls the meeting.

He takes the seat across from Namjoon’s desk because they don’t meet like this often. Assignments are usually manila folders slipped under doors, hushed whispers in hallways confirmed with a nod or a text on a burner phone. Assignments are not last-minute assemblies in conference rooms and offices.

But the way Namjoon is looking at him, with his clenched jaw and a gaze that’s meant to look barbed to anyone who doesn’t actually know him—Jimin doesn’t need to ask what this is about.

Had he bothered to look, he would’ve known by the way you stood in the far corner of the room, face obscured by the mid-afternoon shadows. Yoongi’s close to you, for some reason: dressed head to toe in black, perched on a lateral file cabinet, using a metal corner to sharpen his switchblade. Just like a harbinger of death. Some sort of fucked up omen, a warning that’s come too late.

Didn’t I tell you this would end badly, he hears Yoongi taunt in his head. This is what happens when you lay with trash.

Easy for Yoongi to say when he doesn’t know what it means to be cared for by you. Doesn’t know how it feels to give in to the freefall and plummet at your feet, stripped back and laid bare. Doesn’t know how it feels to kiss secrets into your skin like constellations, to map his tongue along every unspoken confession.

Easy for Yoongi to say, because he doesn’t have to survive the aftermath. Doesn’t have to feel the heartbreak, the agony of having you and watching as you slip through his fingers. Yoongi doesn’t have to struggle just to breathe, doesn’t have to endure the nights staring at the ceiling, watching as the daylight creeps into the corners of his vision. Doesn’t have to watch you looking so unaffected.

“Jimin.” Namjoon’s tone is flat, needlelike.

Behind him, Yoongi chuckles lowly. “What?” Jimin asks, his gaze trained on the painting behind Namjoon’s head. Looks like one he’d seen in Berlin, the time the two of you had gone just because and spent an afternoon ducking in and out of museums to escape the rain.

When he closes his eyes, he still sees the raindrops stuck to your eyelashes. The beads of water rolling off the sleeves of your leather jacket. How blinding your smile had been. The laughter in your voice as you ordered beer after beer after beer for the two of you in flawless Berlinisch. A brief, fleeting glimpse at normalcy. At the kind of life the two of you could have if you were just… different. Lived different lives. Were different people.

“You’ve gotten sloppy.”

Namjoon’s words are a cold bucket of water. Snap him back to reality, yank him back to the present where he’s forced to leave those river-lined streets behind. You’re silent and Yoongi’s still snorting laughter. “Okay,” is all Jimin can bring himself to say.

Jin had gotten sloppy once, too, and Namjoon stuck him down in the basement to work logistics. Might not be so bad, Jimin reckons. He’d be away from you, spared of this fucking misery. “So you know that’s unacceptable.”

Jimin just shrugs, resigned to his fate, whatever it may be. “I’m reassigning the both of you,” Namjoon continues. “You’ll both have new partners for your next assignments, since you clearly can no longer be trusted together.”

“Who?” Jimin manages to choke out.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, clearly having expected an argument. “You’re being sent to Shanghai with Jungkook. You,” he says, turning his attention to you, “are going to Moscow with Taehyung.”

She’s fond of Taehyung, Jimin wants to say. But you’d been fond of him too, once upon a time, and that’d only ended in heartbreak, so who fucking cares.

They’re cruel, the tricks Jimin’s mind plays on him. How he convinces himself you look pained. How his fingers wring together at the thought of entrusting his life in the hands of someone else, someone new. At your life being just as at stake; at Taehyung being tasked with keeping you alive. Would you die for him, too, the way you’d always told Jimin you would for him? Would Taehyung take a bullet to the stomach to keep you safe the way Jimin had?

Even more cruel is the way you scoff, pushing yourself off of the wall as you fold your arms across your chest and say, “That’s bullshit, Kim Namjoon.”

No one talks to Namjoon that way except you.

Yoongi’s knife stops twirling. Just like a bird sensing a storm, senses on high-alert as he flicks his gaze over to you. “I’m sorry?” Namjoon says. “What part of Jimin losing his mind and nearly outing all of us seems like bullshit to you?”

“Hm, let me think,” you retort, a manicured finger tapping against the hollow of your cheek. “The part where you’re reassigning me for someone else’s mistake?”

Which part was the mistake? Jimin wants to ask. Needs to know how much you regret. Was sleeping with you the mistake? Falling in love with you? Getting too caught up in all these daydreams and letting reality get away from him?

“This organization is more important than Park Jimin getting his goddamn dick wet,” Namjoon snaps. “Keeping all of you safe—keeping you alive—is more—”

You scoff. Take an entire container of gasoline and pour it right on top of Namjoon’s flammable ire. “Then perhaps you’d be so kind as to explain to me why Min fucking Yoongi can fuck damn near everyone in this establishment, yet I have to sit here and listen to your goddamn mouth—”

Jimin doesn’t think Yoongi even knows his arm is moving.

There’d just been the trading of barbed words. His own name being spoken into the ether. Yoongi’s arm moving away from his body, switchblade clasped tightly between his fingers as he plunges it into your flesh.

Jimin watches it puncture your arm in slow motion. Feels the bile in his throat, the heat in his belly. Looks first at Namjoon whose jaw has gone slack, skin pale, as he stammers over words that won’t come. Then he looks at Yoongi—expects to find shock or guilt but finds only a muted disinterest and flared nostrils.

Finally, he looks at you. Watches the white cotton sleeve of your shirt slowly turn red and sticky-wet. Watches as your lips move around syllables and vowels and consonants Jimin can’t decipher.

“—fucking piece of shit, this is my favorite shirt! I’ll never get all this goddamn blood out of it—”

Jimin thinks he hears Yoongi say you deserve it. But Jimin isn’t really thinking much as he clambers out of his chair and moves in Yoongi’s direction. Doesn’t think at all as he lets instinct take over, lets adrenaline steer him headfirst into yet another bad idea.

He’s always known there’d come a day he’d be face-to-face with the sight of your blood. Had always known it’d come from someone else’s hand. Had always promised himself that hurting you would be the last thing anyone ever did.

Jimin has his fingers wrapped around Yoongi’s throat and he finally understands it—the joy Yoongi finds in taking life.

“What’s the matter, Jimin-ah?” Yoongi taunts. Jimin tightens his grip. Suddenly hates that fucking scar across Yoongi’s eye. “You’re never on clean-up duty. Always make your girlfriend do the dirty work. Finally grew some fucking balls, huh?”

“Fuck you,” Jimin says stupidly. Can’t think of anything more to say. Not that he needs to. Wrapping your hands around someone’s throat sends enough of a message, he thinks.

Namjoon’s still tongue-tied as you yank Yoongi’s blade from your arm, immediately pressing your other hand over the wound to stem the bleeding. The sight of your blood is making Jimin dizzy; the smell of the iron hanging in the air. All he wants to do is choke the life out of the man in front of him, but more than that, he just wants to hold your hand. Wants to comfort you, even though he knows you don’t need it. Not from him, not from anyone, but he still wants to. Wants to press his lips to the sweat at your brow.

And Yoongi can see it, too, because he starts laughing. It’s an odd, fractured noise. Jimin isn’t sure if he’s ever heard him laugh before, decides he also hates the way it sounds. Feels all wrong watching it leave his crooked smirk. Makes Jimin’s stomach plummet to the ground.

“Oh, you’re fucked, aren’t you?” Yoongi teases around Jimin’s slackened grip. “You weren’t just fucking her, you’re in love with her.”

Weird how Jimin is the one with his hands around someone’s neck and feels like he’s the one suffocating.

[ 31.2304° N, 121.4737° E | Shanghai, CHINA ]

Jimin watches the life drain from an innocent woman’s face and feels nothing.

Jimin watches Jungkook cut a man down and feels even less.

When it’s over, he cleans up wordlessly and doesn’t eat for three days.

[ 37.5665° N, 126.9780° E | Seoul, SOUTH KOREA ]

Jimin’s hair has faded to brown by the time he returns from Shanghai.

The more complicated job had gone to you and Taehyung. Jimin had tried not to take it personally. The Russian hits are always unnecessarily violent and Jungkook still isn’t fully trained. There’s still a phantom pain in Jimin’s stomach that warns him of the consequences of taking on more than he can chew. So, sure, Shanghai had gone fine, but his mind had been nearly 7,000 kilometers away the entire time.

Good thing he’d returned to Seoul unscathed, too, because he’s sure Namjoon would’ve eliminated him without a moment’s hesitation if he’d fucked up again.

But Shanghai had only served to prove the leader right. Jimin can’t work with you anymore. Can’t focus, can’t stomach the violence, can’t keep his goddamn head on straight.

He sighs as he glances at Jungkook to his right. Jimin had watched him murder two men in cold blood not even thirty-six hours ago and now he’s doe-eyed and sucking down his third banana milk of the morning. It really makes his head spin, being paired with this grown-up infant of a man now instead of you, but for all of Jungkook’s apparent shortcomings, he’d kept Jimin alive. He isn’t dead.

And then you walk in with Taehyung and he wishes he was.

Because you’re laughing and Taehyung’s got his arm slung around your shoulder and you look happy. It’s the kind of happiness that should be contagious, bloom warmth in his chest, but it doesn’t. It just takes the last frayed strand of hope he has and sets flame to it.

You don’t look like you miss Jimin at all. Don’t look like you’ve lost sleep or skipped meals.

“Didn’t take you long, did it?” Jimin says, because he’s wounded and lashing out. Not because he means it.

You must know he doesn’t, too, because you don’t react. “Watch your mouth, Park Jimin,” Taehyung warns, because he doesn’t know, and this only sets Jimin off more. You don’t need defending. Or had you, and Jimin had simply thought it wasn’t his place to provide it? That you wouldn’t want it?

“Or what, Kim Taehyung?”

Taehyung is cherubic. It’s part of his charm, one of many reasons why he’s so effective. If you’re looking to die, you look for the guy who looks like Yoongi, not the one who smiles wide and warm like Taehyung. So when he sets his jaw and pokes his tongue into his cheek and says, “Or I’ll cut your fucking head off, you stupid fuck,” your attention is finally piqued.

“I’m so sick of this,” Jungkook wails, banana milk tossed carelessly in the trash. “All of you need to get your fucking shit together!”

Taehyung rolls his eyes at the same time you pretend to inspect your nails. “Is that why you’re so temperamental, Chim?” Taehyung prods, looking every bit the pretentious, murderous angel he is. “Because you got sent to China on a babysitting mission while the grownups did real work?”

“Fuck you,” Jungkook snaps, rising to full height. “I’m not a fucking child.”

“Oh? Could’ve fooled me.” Taehyung’s words are razor-sharp and smell like kerosene. “Tell me, then: were you on babysitting duty? Had to look after our precious little Jiminie while he nursed his broken heart?”

You sigh, full of faux-exasperation, and place a gentle hand on Taehyung’s forearm. Dig your nails in just enough to be a warning, and if Jimin hadn’t been looking he’d miss it: the way Taehyung deflates instantly, anger dissipating like smoke, back in control. Just because you’d touched him. Just because you were there. Jimin knows that touch, how it feels to be under your control, and it makes his chest ache. Makes everything feel like it’s sitting wrong in his stomach, and he’s either going to be sick all over Namjoon’s overpriced fucking rug or wrap his hands around Taehyung’s throat the way he’d done to Yoongi.

He’s out of his goddamned mind; he feels untethered. Helpless. Like it was always going to end like this, and maybe Jimin knew that and had just ignored it. Maybe now he’s paying the price—maybe he’s finally found something he can’t afford.

Jungkook’s still going off, nasty gaze set on Taehyung because he’s the only one playing along. They’re exchanging words Jimin can’t make heads nor tails of. Words he doesn’t care about. Words that ring empty and hollow because they sound nothing like the way you say his name. Shapeless, unlike the way your lips move around those syllables.

“Jimin,” you say, the sound finally registering and bringing him back down to earth. All he can do is stare. “Can we talk?” Taehyung and Jungkook are still trading barbs.

Wonders how he got here. Looks around the room and wonders if each and every one of them is destined for this same fate, this madness. Wants to tell you why he forgot his vest, why he was three hours late in Argentina. Wants to grovel and beg and leave this place and never look back.

More than anything, he wants to know what it feels like to actually be human.

So he shakes his head. Tries not to be haunted by the way your face falls at the rejection.

There is a scar on his abdomen and a scar on your arm that both tell the same story. There is a man in the basement who is in love with a man above ground and is too weighed down by guilt to do anything about it. There is a man here who plays god, has soldiers to do his bidding, and there is very little here that Jimin has only for himself.

The two of you will have that conversation, but he needs to be human, first.

[ 34.6901° N, 135.1956° E | Kobe, JAPAN ]

This is a waste of your fucking time.

Whatever Namjoon had thought would be here doesn’t seem to exist. Yoongi can barely tolerate you on a good day, threatens to stick a dagger in your neck at least twice an hour, but the more time the two of you waste chasing ghosts, the closer he comes to unraveling entirely.

“Stop fucking staring at me,” he snaps, blowing the smoke of his cigarette right in your face.

You tut. “But you’re so beautiful, Yoongi, I just can’t help it.”

He digs his switchblade from his boot. Makes a show of flipping it open. “I can cut your fuckin’ eyes out of your skull,” he intones. “Maybe that’ll help.”

In your ear, Jimin’s laughter rings like crystal.

Ricochets off of all the corners of Seokjin’s basement, makes the echo sound warped through the earpiece. “Please tell Yoongi-ssi to keep an eye on the man with the shaved head. In front of him, roughly sixty degrees to his right.”

You relay the message. Watch as Yoongi transforms—sharpened gaze, rigid posture, disappears into the shadows. More apex predator than man. “And me?” you ask.

“Backup,” comes Seokjin’s voice. “We haven’t found your mark yet.”

You hum. Pick up the cigarette Yoongi left behind and stick it between your lips. Smoke it nearly to the filter. “You got it, boss,” you tease, just because it flusters him.

“I’m—that’s not—knock it off.”

Exhale. Stub out the cigarette. Butt in your pocket. “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Jimin says, and his voice is soft, sounds like spun sugar. “Stay alive, all right?”

Jimin’s hair isn’t dyed at all.

if you've read this far: thank you so, so much! i am more appreciative than i can put into words. this is very different from what i typically write, but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.

i would love to hear your thoughts if you have any. <3

#jimin x reader #jimin smut #bts x reader #bts smut #jimin imagine #jimin scenarios #jimin fanfic #jimin x you #jimin x y/n #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts x you #bts x y/n

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manonamora-if · 6 months

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New Pinned post. Old Navigation Post.

Hi, I'm Manon. And I create Interactive Fiction for fun. Sometimes in French, sometimes in English, and in both when I can. Currently a dozen playable games in various state and free templates and guides.

I post weekly dev logs about my project progress. I also write reviews of IF games (@manonamora-if-reviews).

I also made a whole resource list for Twine (guide, macro, templates).

Ask me stuff about stuff :P

If I'm not there, I'm also in a bunch of other places (cause nothing is forever with social media), where I'll post updates about stuff. I also have a carrd about this. But really, I'm usually most on the IntFiction forum or the @neointeractives Discord.

Website: on neocities (i'm trying to set up a RSS feed)

Blog: manonamora (WordPress)

itch.io: manonamora

Cohost: manonamora

Mastodon: manonamora (on gamedev)

Pillowfort: manonamora (IF group)

Discord: I'm on a bunch of different IF-related servers, if you see a manonamora with this icon, it's probably me. 🤫

Note: not all links above are as active as here currently, but they will start to be more from now on, because I don't want to rely on one place only to share news. This was always going to happen, but now it's concrete.

My IF games are playable on itch.io, listed on the IFDB (for reviews), with some backed up in the IFArchive. I sometimes post code on GitHub.

Other Tumblrs: @crimsonroseandwhitelily (sideblog IF), @neointeractives, @neo-twiny-jam, @seedcomp-if

Since 2021, I've released a dozen of projects or WIPs, most of those being Interactive Fiction pieces. While the majority have been made with Twine (SugarCube), I've been testing other formats and programs.

I've also created templates and coding guides for SugarCube, as well as prompts. Both templates and prompts are free to use under the CC-BY license.

All projects and relevant links are listed under the cut.

In alphabetical order...

-> Crimson Rose & White Lily [In Progress] A multi-chapter interactive court intrigue story, set in a fantasy world inspired by the Victorian era and 18th century French Court, in which you navigate a world you have no recollection of. Tumblr | Game Post | Play CRWL | Rate CRWL | Tag

-> DOL-OS [Remastered] A sci-fi puzzle interactive game, in which you investigate inside an old computer machine. Game Post | Play DOL-OS | Rreview DOL-OS | Tag

-> Exquisite Cadaver [Released/Re-writes] A surrealist interactive word game based on the 'cadavre exquis' game. Game Post | Play EC | Rreview EC | Tag

-> Goncharov Escapes! [Remastered] A short quick-timed-event interactive game based on the Goncharov meme. Game Post | Play GE! | Review GE! | Tag

-> La Petite Mort [Remastered] A short puzzle interactive game, where you help Suzette, a 8-year-old get ready to meet her grandmother Game Post | Play LPM | Review LPM | Tag

-> Meeting the Parents [Remastered] An interactive story about going through the hoops of meeting your partner's parents for the first time. Game Post | Play MtP | Rate MtP | Tag

-> P-Rix - Space Trucker [In Progress] A Sci-Fi slice-of-life interactive game, where you play as P-Rix, a space trucker, delivering a strange parcel to a Mr. E. Game Post | Play P-ST | Review P-ST | Tag

-> SPS Iron Hammer [Released] A short sci-fi/mystery interactive story, set aboard the SPS Iron Hammer, where nothing is as it seems. Will you continue your content life or delve into the conspiracy? Tumblr | Game Post | Play SPS IH | RATE SPS IH | Tag

-> The Rye in the Dark City [In Progress] A noir-detective interactive story with the twist. A strange case lands on Detective Rye's desk. Will you take it and save the dame? Game Post | Play TRDC | Review TRCD | Tag

-> The Roads Not Taken [Released] A short parser-like game about choices. Play a being about to go through The Ritual, where you will have to make a choice, shaping the rest of your life. Will you take the correct one? Game Post | Play TNRT | Review TNRT | Tag

-> The Thick Table Tavern [Released] A chill bartender simulator set in a fantasy setting. Mix drinks, talk to trope-y patrons, get coins and fulfil your dreams! Game Post (temporary) | Play TTTT | RATE TTTT | Tag

-> The Trials and Tribulations of Edward Harcourt [In Progress] It all started with a letter... A Lovecraftian Interactive novel with a strange mystery and a plea for help from a former acquaintance. Game Post | Play TTATEH | RATE TTATEH | Tag

Other Smaller Projects:

À la Campagne [English, Hypertext]

Clarence Street, 14 [English + French, Hypertext]

Collision [English + French, Hypertext]

Entre-d’œufs coquilles [French, temp English, Parser-Choice Hybrid]

In the Blink of an Eye [English + French, Hypertext]

Intersigne [English + French, Hypertext]

Le Diner [English, Hypertext]

Le Jeu de la Dévotion [French, Hypertext]

I also published free assets and guide...

-> 100% Good Twine Sugarcube Templates I design UI for fun and release them as template when I feel like it. Currently Available: Simple Book (Landscape), One Page (Portrait), Space/Tech (Portrait), VN-lite RPG (Portrait) Also available: Ready-to-Use Tweego Folder, Setting Template. GET YOUR TEMPLATE | RATE TEMPLATE | Tag (x)

-> The ChoiceScript to SugarCube Guide Created for ChoiceScript creators wanting to make the transition to SugarCube (Twine), the Guide contains all code equivalence between the documentation, and potential useful add-ons. GET YOUR GUIDE | RATE GUIDE

-> 100% Good Twine SugarCube Guide Created as an alternative to the the SugarCube (Twine) documentation. The guide is organised by code proficiency. GET YOUR GUIDE | RATE GUIDE

-> Promps

Chonky Chicken (French + English)

Mission: Anti-Romance (English)

SeedComp! Meta Prompts (English)

The last book you'll ever write (English)

The last seed at the end of time (English)

The templates are prompts are under the CC-BY license (free use with crediting).

#manonamora #manonamora-if #navigation post #interactive fiction #interactive games #games #indie dev #promo post #interactive story #choice game #twine game #interactive novel #cyoa #assets #guides #links #projects #update #ask me anything

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oathkeeperoxas · 11 days

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ooh Event Horizon please? for the wip ask game?

wip game ask meme

yesss, the SecNav Ice fic!! I'm trying to only focus on one long fic at a time, but after I finish the omega Ice long fic, this one is definitely next up. There is a LOT going on in this one, and also I made myself care about Bradley during some of the drafting of it, which is pretty funny ahaha. It's set in 2021, five years after TGM, but there are a few changes going on, the least of which is that Ice is still around 👀

There's going to be both Bradley and Ice pov throughout this, so sharing some of Bradley and Natasha since I'm actually quite fond of what I've gotten down for them so far

“Is this Captain Mitchell?” Phoenix is holding a photo where Rooster must be seven or eight. He’s on Mav’s shoulders, and Mav is grinning at the camera, aviators on, while Rooster has his arms thrown up in victory. He remembers that afternoon – there’d been a race down on the beach for the fastest pair of father and son. Rooster had been sulking because he couldn’t race, because he didn’t have a dad– Mav had grabbed him, tickled him until he’d been crying with laughter, and had swung him up onto his shoulders. “Let’s show them how it’s done,” he’d said, all lean lines and fiercely competitive spirit, and they’d taken their place and they’d crossed the line first. His mother had taken the photo. He’d forgotten the memory, until seeing the evidence of it in Phoenix’s hands. “Yeah,” Rooster says, reluctantly. “This is his house.” Phoenix’s eyes whip up to him. “Captain Mitchell’s house?” she asks, and she’s not stupid. Not by a long shot. She looks back at the photos of Rooster’s prom and high school graduation, the beginnings of his moustache on his face even then, and then looks back at the photo she’s holding. “This kid is you, isn’t it?” Numbly, he nods. What else can he say?

Send me a title from my wip list, and I'll tell you about it!

#my writing #so many chewy character dynamics in this fic augh #secnav ice #icemav

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wangxianficfinder · 1 year

Text

In the mood for...

~*~

1. ITMF A) cheerleader Wei Ying!! And any game player lan zhan!!

B) Wei Ying appreciation!!Long fics appreciated. @whateverweilanlovechild

1A)

drop the game by martyrsdaughter (E, 28k, wangxian, modern, romantic comedy, fake/pretend relationship, sports, cheerleaders, flirting, sexual tension, dom/sub undertones, compulsory heterosexuality, crossdressing, dub con, under-negotiated kink, consensual non-con)

leave all your love and your longing behind by ScarlettStorm (E, 143k, WangXian, Modern AU, no magic, Meet-Ugly, Panic Attacks, autistic lwj, neurodivergent wwx, the neighborhood asshole dog, if you’ve met one then you know, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Minor Angst, major shenanigans, Happy Ending, for everyone including the asshole dog, Eventual Smut, switch rights, Sex Toys, horny yearning, Masturbation) Wei ying is not a cheerleader anymore during the time of fic, but he used to be a cheerleader. Further, over the course of the fic he does some cheering and some gymnastics and lan zhan comes very close to having an aneurysm about it. (link in #3)

There’s a whole Sports AU compilation

1B)

some things go forward by everythingispoetry (T, 73k, WangXian, Modern AU, Hospitals, Teenage Drama, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Happy Ending)

Waiting for Spring by thievinghippo (E, 130k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, slight angst, Happy Ending, for a baseball fic, there’s not a lot of baseball, Sports, Baseball)

🧡 I Don’t Want to Debut! by countingcr0ws (G, 56k, WangXian, Modern AU, Reality show, Idols, Actor LWJ, Forced Contestant WWX, Tencent’s 2021 Idol Producer)

~*~

2. I'm in the mood for... A wangxian / yuri on ice crossover fic. Like, wei ying getting over his fear of dogs with the help of makkachin? A wangxian victuuri double date??

prompt meme time, anon, you're effectively out of luck with already posted stuff. there's Son of a - ! by katnor (M, 604, Victuuri, Flirting, Jealous VN, jealous LWJ, Oblivious KY, Crack Crossover, KY's Stamina)

and ch 8 of Rivals AU Bonuses by lily_winterwood (Not Rated, 20k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Social Media, Multimedia, Worldbuilding Bonuses)

and if you read Spanish then

Love is in the Ice by Nimirie (Not rated, 2k, WangXian, Victuuri, Yuribek) and Bajo el árbol de cerezo by Zahiel (E, 83k, WIP, Victuuri, Yuribek, WangXian, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Rape/Non-con Elements, Russian Mafia, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Angst with a Happy Ending, Romance, Forbidden Love, Mpreg, Miscarriage) look promising

and

Заходит солнце скоро by fandom Kumys 2020 (fandom_Kumys_2018), Neitent (T, 21k, Yuribek, Canonical Character Death, Background Character Death, Drama & Romance, Dead People, Jealousy, Hotels, Dracula Influence/References, Mysticism, Suspense) same if you read Russian, by which I mean these three don't look like multifandom ficlet collections. that's it, that's the sum total of works on AO3 that are both Yuri On Ice and MDZS/CQL.

~*~

3. Hi! Not looking for a specific fic but instead I was wondering if you have any fics in mind that are about LWJ dealing with anxiety disorder/social anxiety or generally being iffy about social situations. :') It could be in modern setting or canon compliant, both are fine. I just would love to find a fic where dealing with anxiety is one of the important parts of the story (doesn’t have to be the main focus). Thank you in advance!

in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 48k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, cloud recesses, NHS & LWJ friendship, developing relationship, LWJ pov, minor injuries, autistic LWJ, implied/referenced child abuse, aka YZY warning, genius WWX, light angst, hurt/comfort, WWX protection squad, WIP) I think this one should fit? it's been a while since I've read it and I tried skimming it to see but it's a bit long so I'm not sure😭 regardless it's still a great read!

Falling Headlong by floraidh (T, 35k, wangxian, modern, college/university au, skater au, first meetings, first kiss, getting together, autistic LWJ, drunkji)

untitled by brokke_inactive (T, 5k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, autistic LWJ, sensory overload, angst, snapshots, non-graphic animal death)

My Boy Builds Coffins by enbysaurus_rex (Not rated, 48k, wangxian, canon divergence, coffin maker au, YLLZ WWX, autistic LWJ, falling in love, hurt WWX, pining, deathscapes, farmer LWJ, burial mounds settlement days, tenderness)

💖 Minding series by WithBroomBefore (G, 85k, wangxian, canon divergence, what if WWX got therapy and recovery post-sunshot, trans LWJ) part three of the minding series by withbroombefore. Lan zhan is uncomfortable with social situations with the wider cultivation world and the jin in particular because he is frequently misgendered. Happy ending.

For a Good Time, Call by ScarlettStorm, 1st in series (E, 170k, wangxian, modern, getting together, pining, porn, onlyfans au, sexworker WWX, minor angst, mental health, therapy is good)

Many happy returns. by orange_crushed (E, 25k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), Implied/Referenced Suicide, Past Suicide of a Parent, References to Depression, Anxiety, Therapy, References to Anti-Depressant Medications, Escort Service, Loneliness, Everybody’s Abandonment Issues, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Moving In Together, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, Hopeful Ending, Recovery, References to Escorting/Sex Work but No Actual Escorting/Sex Work)

sunflowersfield, this fic writer has lots of fics where Lan zhan deals with social anxiety

~*~

4. Hello!! Do you know any fics where WWX discovers that it was LWJ who kissed him in Phoenix mountain? Thank you!! 💜

There’s A Molester On The Loose At Phoenix Mountain!! by sweetlolixo (G, 3k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Humor, Crack, Romance)

~*~

5. Hi mods! For the next ITMF I'm looking for fics where it's shown that WWX was raised by Madame Yu! I feel like that fact doesn't appear enough on fics... So some stories where he has habits or things he learned from her, things he says, something he inherited from her or she gave to him, something like that :) Thank you!! @jiangclaritybell

the field meets the wood by astronicht (T, 7k, WangXian, BAMF WWX, slight whump, Ritualistic Self Harm, Canon Era, Tang Dynasty style, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, salt economics, Post-Canon, [Podfic] the field meets the wood by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona), [podfic] the field meets the wood by jellyfishfire) includes a list of the now-dead women WWX has learned from, including YZY

there are *two* stories about WWX, wielding Zidian, as the Violet Spider, a feminine-presenting superhero-of-sorts:

Anywhere you want, just not home by androktasia (T, 28k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Superheroes/Superpowers, Spiderman AU, Secret Identity, Grief/Mourning, Loneliness, Angst with a Happy Ending, Romance)

and

let your colours bleed and blend with mine by ravenditefairylights (T, 13k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Superheroes/Superpowers, Spiderman AU, Secret Identity, Angst with a Happy Ending, Romance, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Crossdressing, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, There Was Only One Bed, Fluff)

❤️ I Started From the Bottom/And Now I’m Rich by x_los (E, 57k, WangXian, WWX/Others, Mutual Pining, Marriage of Convenience, Arranged Marriage, No Sunshot Campaign, Fix-It, WQ Lives, Transmigration, Time Travel, Weddings, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy, Black Widow, Protective Siblings, Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, Sugar Baby, consort, Politics, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Crack Treated Seriously) in chapter 3 pre war looks at yiling laozu wwx and realizes that he stole like half of his character from mme yu. It is. A more serious fic than it appears to be XD

~*~

6. Hi! Do you know any fics where wei wuxian's parents are alive but it still is based off the actual canon plot?

From the Warm Sun by sunshine_sparrow (T, 58k, WangXian, CSSR & WWX, CSSR & LQR, Discussion of Rape, Period-Typical Sexism, Mostly CQL but probably some MDZS too, Cángsè Sǎnrén Lives, Madam Lán Lives, Qingheng-jun lives, But WCZ Still Dies, Fix-It, Happy Ending, All Soft and Very Little Angst, the wens live, Yīn Iron, Good Person MY, Good Person LQR) only has Cangse Sanren alive if that counts?

Home is where your heart is Series by R95irth (T, 1.3M, CSSR/WCZ, JFM/YZY, WangXian, ChengQing, XuanLi, 3Zun, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Horror, Nightmares, Family Fluff, Found Family, Good Parents YZY and JFM, Consensual Underage Sex, Slow Burn, Slice of Life) Also, I hven't read this one but it looks promising

The Return of Cangse Sanren by milesofheart (T, 52k, WIP, WangXian, CSR/WCZ, Canon Divergence, CSR & WCZ Live, Angst with a happy ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Burial Mounds days, BAMF CSR)

~*~

7. itmf wangxian with no miscommunication happening in canon timeline if possible, but fine with aus too

hey I just met you, and this is crazy by KeriArentikai (E, 9k, WangXian, POV Outsider, Woke Up Married, married in vegas but with a twist, (the twist is that they totally meant to), Getting Together, Love at First Sight, LWJ Has a Canonically Big Dick, Size Kink, Dirty Talk, Coming Untouched, Unrealistic Sex, Wangxian Speedrun)

~*~

8. I've read stories many about EmperorLWJ/EmpressWWX but can you find stories where it is EmperorWWX/EmpressLWJ? Thanks

The Last Concubine by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 13k, WangXian, Royalty AU, Emperor WWX, Concubine LWJ, LWJ Whump, Forced Marriage, Starvation, Non-physical spousal abuse, Fluff and Angst, Doing the Wrong Thing for the Right Reasons, Happy Ending, WWX Takes Care of LWJ)

travelers through the empty gate by stiltonbasket (M, 44k, WIP, WangXian, Royalty, Emperor WWX, Mistaken Identity, Poor LWJ, Bookshop owner LWJ, Intrigue, Court Drama, Forced Marriage, Confused WWX, POV Alternating, Parenthood, Misunderstandings, Empress LWJ, Requited Unrequited Love, Fluff, Humor, Married Life, Angst with a Happy Ending)

A Flourishing Kind of Love by masked (E, 12k, wangxian, concubine LWJ, gardener WWX, court intrigue adjacent, historical inaccuracy, identity porn, romance)

Like wet earth after rain by jalpari (E, 20k, wangxian, bottom LWJ, getting together, prince WWX, emperor WWX, courtesan LWJ, identity porn, angst, pining, genre-typical worldbuilding)

Every River to Its Sea by knightcaptain (E, 17k, wangxian, emperor!WWX, courtesan!LWJ)

catch this manic rhapsody by anatheme (E, 23k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Emperor WWX, Power Dynamics, AU where the Yiling Patriarch became the First Emperor of the Cultivation World, he calls LWJ his Concubine Lan and baobei, Switch WangXian, Mutual Pining, Immortal WWX)

Conquering the Emperor by catbrainedschemes (E, 21k, WangXian, Historical, Imperial China, Emperor!WWX, General!LWJ, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Historically Inaccurate, Misunderstandings, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Light Angst, Slow Burn, Happy Ending)

Silver & Silk Series by farawayanddreaming (M/E, 55k, WangXian, Established Relationship, Emperor WWX, Concubine LWJ, Implied/Referenced Sex, Light Bondage, Devotion, No Plot/Plotless, vibes only, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX)

~*~

9. Hello, can you recommend plot heavy stories in AU setting? Like the plot is about politics, crimes, coup de etat, spy, assassinasion? It doesn't matter who's top/bottom.

mountains, we met by fruitys (E, 79k, WangXian, Historical, The Handmaiden (2016) Fusion, Enemies to Lovers, Misunderstandings, Secret Identity, Touch-Starved, Sharing a Bed, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Angst with a Happy Ending, falling for the person you’re supposed to be swindling: the love story, getting revenge on the people who manipulated you: the saga, and some cws……., Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Mental Health Issues, Emotional Manipulation, Blow Jobs, Rimming)

An Elegant Solution by giraffeter (E, 205k, niewangxian, canon divergence, arranged marriage, friends to lovers, fix-it, everyone lives au, courtship, polyamory, smut) Canon-divergent au, super plot-heavy, incredible story.

🧡 Rule Number One: Never get attached. by KizuKatana (E, 130k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O, Criminal underworld AU, Fluff and angst, Crime boss LWJ, Rouge criminal genius WWX, Explicit Sex)

Wei Wuxian’s Guide to Hacking for Fun and Profit by ArgentInferno (T, 150k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, modern cultivation au, Hacker WWX, neurodivergent wangxian, Therapy for the win, Fluff, Shenanigans, LWJ isn’t good with feelings, Fighting against corruption, Talisman-based tech, Getting Together, Slow Burn, shameless flirting)

🧡 some life yet unspent by Fahye (E, 28k, WangXian, Background XiYao, Spy AU, Modern AU, 007 LWJ, Q WWX, Fluff and angst, Mutual pining, Injuries, Canon typical violence)

Duel of the Twins by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 29k, WIP, WangXian, Star Wars Setting, Science Fiction, each chapter is intended to be a whole movie within a trilogy, Canon-Typical Violence, Mild Gore, mild body horror, Mentions of Suicide, But only in passing, please take that major character death warning seriously, Angst with a Happy Ending, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Angst)

Hiraeth by cherrywhiskey (E, 155k, wangxian, modern, fluff & angst, friends w benefits, pining while fucking, falling in love, separation, getting back together, angst w happy ending, second chances, food as a metaphor for love, canon-typical Jiang family dynamics, fighting)

Pearls For a Funeral by ElDiablito_SF (E, 30k, wangxian, noir au, 1940s san francisco, rich widower LWJ, gumshow WWX, case fic, all the noir tropes)

~*~

10. Hiii do I have any fic recs in which wy hides his identity as ylp or just hides his use of demonic cultivation in general?

the identity shenanigans comp might have a few

This Tornado Loves You by FeelsForBreakfast (M, 8k, WangXian, Horror, modern cultivation au, Pizza Hut, Humor, Mistaken Identity, Modern with Magic)

Hear a song this deeply by so_shhy (T, 87k, wangxian, modern cultivation, music, kid fic, action/adventure, canon typical JGY behavior, slow burn, fluff & angst, happy ending)

Crazy, Rich Cultivators by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 13k, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern Cultivators AU, Idiots in Love, Misunderstandings, POV LWJ, his started as a crazy rich asians au but quickly got away from me, light moments of angst but mostly shenanigans)

~*~

11. Hi! I think this may be a In the mood for a fic so I wanted to know if there’s any fic where both Wwx and lwj die and are brought back ((no time travel and no modern setting tho)) also angsty

~*~

12. For "in the mood for" could you please recommend fics where lwj and wwx have a lot of...romantic tension? Basically a fic about how they are slowly starting to get more and more affectionate before they have established their feelings for one another. Like they get SO CLOSE to just kissing but they hold back a little? Thank you for your work!

speeding up my heartbeat by plonk (Not Rated, 24k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Gyms)

(I feel like this is hard because we all calibrate tension differently! I hope these recs can help!)

and there was only one tent by detectorist (E, 21k, WangXian, Modern AU, Canada, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Camping, Outdoor Sex, Blowjobs, Frottage, Car Sex)

The answer has always been yes by Magnolia822 (E, 6k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Bisexual Male Character, Frottage, Sexual Tension, Unsafe Sex, Getting Together, There Was Only One Bed)

Your Blood on My Lips (tastes like a kiss) by scarletwanlian (E, 12k, WangXian, Modern AU, Vampires, Blood Drinking, Roommates, Monsterfucking, except it's monsterxmonster, Multiple Orgasms, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering, Dom/sub Undertones, Coming Untouched, Sexual Tension, Resolved Sexual Tension, Humor, (or at least attempts lol), PWP, Vampire Sex, Vampire Bites, Banter)

Our Eyes on the Road by etymologyplayground (E, 22k, WangXian, Modern AU, PWP, Getting Together, Road Trips, Intimacy, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Humor, Banter, Oral Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Hand Jobs, Car Sex, Hotel Sex, Dirty Talk, Rimming, Coming Untouched, Sexual Tension, Come Eating)

Linger in the Sun by etymologyplayground (E, 39k, WangXian, Case Fic, Intimacy, Curses, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting Together, Romance, Sexual Tension, Scent Kink, m.. maybe??, its not as intense as a kink, wwx Loves To Teach, Fluff, Scars, Sharing a Bed, Nonverbal Communication)

Our Song by gusucloudbunny (T, 14k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, straight boy wwx, bisexual wwx, Heteronormativity, Sexuality Crisis, coming out to yourself, comphet, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Alcohol, Music Majors)

New Habit by Medegela (E, 10k, WangXian, Modern AU, Pining, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, and they were ROOMMATES, straight boy wwx, Touch-Starved LWJ, Light Angst, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Dirty Talk, Flirting, and lots of hugging, Texting, mentions of lwj/others)

~*~

13. Hi!!! For the mext itmf can you recommend me a fic where wq and wwx is a friend (or bestie)? I like it when those two work together like a mad scientist or care with each other. It can be a story about that or their friendship only in the background. Thank you!!!

Always Be Closing by betts (E, 32k, WangXian, divorcing QingXian, Modern AU, America, Office, Kid Fic, Drunken Kissing, Semi-Public Sex, Sexting, Divorce, Falling In Love, Bank Robbery, Secret Relationship, Co-workers) it's a divorce fic between them with end game wangxian but I love how despite they're past they're still such good friends.

The Ballad of Hanguang-Jun and The Yiling Patriarch by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 40k, WangXian, ChengQing, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Burial Mounds Arc, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Humor, kinda just crack, Misunderstandings, POV Outsider, Crack Treated Seriously)

Magical Mishaps by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 96k, wangxian, modern w/ magic, hogwarts au, misunderstandings, happy ending)

this Tumblr fic by hunxi-guilai WQ pounces upon WWX to deliver a medical hand massage (in part with the intent of teaching him to return the favor.)

Core-Thieving Hand by x_los (T, 5k, WangXian, WQ & WWX & WN, Body Horror, Fullmetal Alchemist Vibes, Nuclear Horror Vibes, Found Family, Neon Genesis Evangelion Vibes) showcasing WWX and WQ (and WN!) as Science Siblings; canon diverges in the middle of the core transfer, with the result that core research takes an even darker turn that nonetheless winds up saving more lives; an examination of the terrible decisions scientists face in wartime and living with the repercussions thereafter

💙 Wish I could forget the taste of your skin and the feel of your hands pinning me down by KizuKatana (E, 63k, wangxian, WQ & WWX & WN, modern w/ cultivation, getting back together, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, case fic, pining)

sort the whole thing out by el_em_en_oh_pee (T, 5k, WangXian, Epistolary, Relationship Advice, Advice Columns, Everyone Is Gay, (or bi. or trans.), Background Relationships)

sacrifice by quillifer (E, 9k, wangxian, ABO, heat/rut, bottom LWJ, omega LWJ, top WWX, beta WWX)

A Match In Hell by MxModern (E, 7k, wangxian, rape/non-con, modern, ABO, alpha LWJ, omega WWX, crime boss LWJ & WWX, enemies to lovers, rape, extremely dubious consent, dark wangxian, dead dove do not eat, suicidal thoughts, breeding kink, violence, semi-public sex, under-negotiated kink, light bondage)

We're Sex Positive In This House by MxModern (E, 9k, wangxian, modern, ABO, omega WWX, alpha LWJ, virgin LWJ, anal sex, mating cycles/in heat, light dom/sub)

Myopia by rustycol (M, 67k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, WQ Lives) Water Margin crossover; WWX, WQ, and WN are living incognito among a band of nomadic smugglers; they share quite a bit of medical, cultivational, and forensic shoptalk, including the Western theory of the Four Humors and how it compares to the Yin/Yang model. Unfortunately hasn’t been updated since June 2019

~*~

14. Hey! Can you rec some more stories of WangXian where WWX is living in CR with LWJ after being engaged/married. I'm kinda looking for angsty stories, so I guess I'd like to see WWX trying to adapt but gets punished for breaking the rules and becomes depressed. Thanks!

Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Mourning Robes by Starlight1395 (T, 17k, wangxian, No Sunshot Campaign, Arranged Marriage AU, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Depression, dissociating, Mild Blood, Fluff, juniors idolizing WWX like he deserves, slowburn between WWX and Cloud Recesses, Hinted smut, Jingyi has a CRUSH, Supportive JC, Mojo’s Post)

Finding a Home by Duochanfan (T, 8k, wangxian, arranged marriage, light angst)

What Comes After Love by Rainbow_Horizon (T, 17k, WangXian, POV LWJ, Protective LWJ, LWJ Has Feelings, POV WWX, Sad WWX, Jealous WWX, Módào Zǔshī & The Untamed Combination, Post-Canon, Insecurity, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Break Up, Separations, Healing, Husbands, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, marriage issues, Marriage Proposal)

call my name (but only if you mean it) by sortablue (E, 27k, WangXian, Different First Meeting, Canon Divergence, Sexual Harassment, not between wangxian, Arranged Marriage, Strangers to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, WWX POV, Protective LWJ, Protective WWX, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Slight Role Reversal, Hopeful Ending) similar to Concord but goes in a slightly different direction

~*~

15. i have read "𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘴 " by naqaashi and it's simply my favorite mdsz fic. the new chapter five has just made me more insane for this fic. i'm searching for more fics with a similar plot i.e. time travel au where both wwx and lwj have returned to the past, BAMF wangxian, and not cultivation world friendly, very character critical

~*~

16. Hello again! It’s been a while but I hope everyone is doing well. For the next ITMF, could i get more stories where someone finds wwx wandering around either poor or sick after canon and takes him in? Like something similar to Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller or Story-Shaped by lingering_song. I’d really appreciate it, thank you 💜 @jikcf

hunters seeking solid ground by Attila (E, 23k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, discussion of canon character death, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Getting Together, Yearning, Literal Sleeping Together, Really Excessive Amounts of Hurt/Comfort)

Achievement Unlocked 🔓 by UseMyMuse (E, 49k, wangxian, ABO, transmigration, crack, sassy system, canonical character death, kidnapping, accidental child acquisition) Not exactly what was asked for, but the same vibe! Wwx dies in canon and transmigrates to another world with ABO genders. He wanders around as a lone cultivator until lwj picks him up. :)

a grain of millet drifting by RoseThorne (T, 7k, NHS & WWX, Assassination Attempt(s), Introspection, Regret, Travel, Post-Canon, POV Third Person, POV WWX, Ghosts, Reconciliation, Exhaustion, Pining, Pre-WangXian) I have one that might count. Nie Huaisang sends someone to shadow wwx, and protect him from assassins.

~*~

17. Hello, do have have some recommendations on fics where a) wwx is adopted by hualian from tgcf? Or b) fics where everyone around wwx is very protective of him yet he doesn't realize that or he doesn't feel like he deserves it? Thankss @scorpionical

17A)

Narrative of Strength by MeltedIceAngel (T, 34k, WIP, WangXian, HuaLian, Canon Divergence, Adopt WWX, Found Family, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective XL, Protective HC, Adoption, Kidnapping, Attempted Kidnapping, Serious Injuries, Angst with a Happy Ending, TGCF)

the hearth series by eccentrick (G/T, 65k, WangXian, HuaLian, Found Family, fluff with plot, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Disabled Character, Ableism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs, slow burn found family, Adopt WWX, Married HuaLian, Post-Canon TGCF, Kid Fic, TGCF Spoilers)

🧡 The Red Ribbon by Xiao_Hua (M, 21k, WangXian, HuaLian, Canon Divergence, Ghost City, a bit of beefleaf, Immortality, Cultivation Partners, Juniors, XL and HC find a child who happens to be WWX, Fluffy wangxian, WWX is a Supreme Ghost King, First Time, TGCF)

Crown Prince Hua Wuxian by Bluemoonstarlight (G, 19k, WIP, WangXian, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, JFM and YZY Bashing, Bad Parents JFM and YZY, JYL Lives, Cultivator JYL, Supportive JYL, Protective JYL, Good Sibling JC, Protective JC, HuaLian Adopt WWX, Canon Divergence, Fantasy, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Sunshot Campaign, Grandpa JW, Grandma MNQ, Abusive JFM, Abusive YZY, Grandma BSSR, BSSR is WWX's Grandparent, WWX is BSSR's Disciple) a revised version of Crown Prince of Heaven and Ghost City, for anyone who’s missing that one

17B)

could you find a way to let me down slowly, if you're leaving baby let me down slowly by ravenditefairylights (M, 36k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Reveal, Implied/Referenced Sex, Miscommunication, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Hurt WWX, Mutual Pining, Unreliable Narrator, Self-Esteem Issues, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Protective Siblings, Trauma, Slightly dubious consent, courtesy of drunk sex, Inventor WWX, Genius WWX, Phoenix Mountain, Chronic Pain, Getting Together, Fix-It of Sorts, One Braincell Trio, PTSD)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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cafecliche · 3 months

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fic writer meme!

[RISES FROM THE DEPTHS] I'm here!! Thank you so much @uhuraisgay and @englishsub for the tags, and also for reminding me that I've missed Tumblr

1. how many works do you have on ao3? 50 even - which was more than I thought!

2. what's your total ao3 wordcount? 187,448

3. what fandoms do you write for?

My fic-writing impulses come along like cicada seasons, except without any regularity whatsoever: I do a lot of dabbling in a lot of fandoms, I can never really tell if something's going to light my brain on fire. Most of my fic output came from Yuletide for a long while (I loved the grab bag aspect and writing little treats for small fandoms, but then my holidays got busier), and then Yuri on Ice and MDZS were my biggest fandoms by far, especially MDZS. I've written Yuwu recently, and I'd love to write some Trigun, LoZ, or Mysterious Lotus Casebook one of these days.

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

grow

the only way out

The Guests of Cloud Recesses

detente

bespoke

And the soft animal is our runner-up at #6!

5. do you respond to comments?

I usually don't unless it's a request or a question, but I read and treasure every one.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I am too tender for Bad Endings for the most part, but my canon-verse Nie Huaisang fic after me comes the flood does not end in a particularly good place for anyone involved. (But even then, we know it gets better for him eventually... albeit at the expense of several bystanders)

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I tend to write pretty gentle, occasionally LIGHTLY bittersweet happy endings (that's the cafecliche guarantee baby) but part of me wants to say 'the only way out' (and probably 'the yunmeng accords' series in general) here. I tend to write fic when I want to play around with the emotions or relationship dynamics that can already be found in canon, so 'the yunmeng accords' is probably as close to a fix-it as I'm going to get.

8. do you get hate on fics?

Not usually! I was part of the Great MDZS Anon Hate Train of 2021, but that was the worst I've ever gotten by several magnitudes - the vast majority of commenters are fabulous.

9. do you write smut?

Not yet! It's not off the table, though.

10. do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you have written?

I actually don't think I've ever written a crossover! The closest I've ever gotten was when I look over my shoulder, but even that's 'Wangxian in a Conjuring-esque ghosthunters in love situation' and not really a formal Conjuring AU.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

I've had plagiarism brought to my attention a couple times, but truly just a handful. I still remember getting a message on FF.net that someone had ripped off a line from my Black Lagoon fic. The SCANDAL of it all.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

MDZS is the first fandom where I've gotten translation requests, which is always so cool! To my knowledge, I've had fics translated into Russian, Spanish, and Ukranian.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but brainstorming fic concepts with my brilliant friends is one of my favorite thing in the world.

14. what's your all time favorite ship?

omg ever? Well Victuuri and Wangxian have been the ones that really lit my brain on fire (if I own the Nendos, it's serious) but let me also throw it back to Fakir and Ahiru in Princess Tutu. That is ROMANCE.

15. what is a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I would have really liked to have one more entry to 'the yunmeng accords!' I had a couple of ideas that I really liked, but nothing that caught fire quite enough to dive into it. That said, I am currently working on something short and Yunmeng Shuangjie-related, at the very least...

16. what are your writing strengths?

Emotional through-lines, pacing, and that sweet, sweet catharsis. I'm drawn to particular fandoms when they leave me with an emotion that I need to break down over the course of several thousand words, and I know that shows through in my writing.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Choreography! I'm not a very visual thinker, so sometimes it takes me a while just to figure out how to block the characters in a given scene. I also have a lot of trouble getting into a draft until I figure out the voice, which, when it comes to fanfic, will either come to me extremely easily or not at all.

18. thoughts of writing dialogue in another language in fics?

Yeah, absolutely! (But if you don't speak the language, do your research!)

19. first fandom you wrote for?

[rubs my temples] an X-Men crackfic.

20. favorite fic you have written?

Oh my god. WELL. 'grow' and 'the only way out' I think are the best fics I've written, and 'when I look over my shoulder' and 'the soft animal' are also extremely close to my heart. But 'detente' might be the favorite child. It just gushed out of me.

I think a great many of you have been tagged at this point, so sorry for any double-tags, but: @bluecrystalrainingdaggers @tigerjpg @floofyfluff @vinelark and anyone else who'd like to go for it!

#hi! I'm still here #writing meme

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englishsub · 3 months

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fic writer meme!

i was tagged by @microcomets and @cairoscene :) thank you friendz

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

22, which is both more and less than i expected.

2. what's your total ao3 wordcount?

529,320

3. what fandoms do you write for?

i've branched out in recent years; like my fellow taggers, i write for fewer fandoms that i'm in. food takes ages to cook and even longer to actually commit to. i started with mdzs/cql and tgcf before moving to shl/tyk, though now i mostly write trigun and video game fic.

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

爱不释手; never let me go

总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near)

花无百日红; the flower that withers

在此恭迎夷陵老祖; to yiling laozu, the great and venerable

蓝色生死恋; a blue love (to live and to die for)

me 🤝 cair wangxian monopoly

5. do you respond to comments?

not usually - if the comment jumps out in some way or asks a question about podficcing i might, but i generally don't. i read every single one and hold them close to my heart, though.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

LOL it's an open ending but the implications are pretty clear - 美丽的日子; beautiful days

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

most of them end happy, except when they don't :)

8. do you get hate on fics?

not really. i did for a stint back in 2021 when that anon was going around but it was honestly very funny for me.

9. do you write smut?

sometimes.

10. do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you have written?

just the one time, not usually. it was a threadfic - a mdzs/tgcf crossover where wwx was raised by hualian instead of the jiangs.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

yeah. the good ole ctrl+f+replace of names. i remember they even stole my author's note. i'd said something to the effect of "i have to go study..." (i was in high school) and they added "which i didn't even end up doing..."

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

yes and i think fic translation is so cool!

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope.

14. what's your all time favorite ship?

EVER?

pirates of the caribbean will/elizabeth.

but it's honestly a rotating rotisserie throughout life of my fav ships depending on what i'm hungry for at a given moment. it's 2024 and i'm back in ff7 hell, for instance.

15. what is a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

歃血; blood oath, and it pains me deeply to admit. not because i have any measure of anxiety about returning to it, or feel any pressure, but because it genuinely had one of my favorite premises and setups, was super gory and horrific, and i'd packed in every crazy trope i love into the outline. i was really excited about. then the fandom imploded and i can't look at it anymore.

she's my white whale. i'd finish it for @megafaunatic alone.

16. what are your writing strengths?

atmosphere. payoff. saying things are like other things. i understand this is annoying for some people though, which is fair.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

i put off every single sex scene in a fic until i had written everything else, such that i had to sit and write 10,000 words, spread across three scenes, of sex. worst week of my life.

internal logic, because i think it's so obvious in my head that i forget to explain it in words on the page.

i think i always can improve on character voice. that's an eternal work in progress.

18. thoughts of writing dialogue in another language in fics?

it's cool. probably good to consult a native speaker if writer of the fic doesn't speak it, though?

19. first fandom you wrote for?

christ. harry potter, by hand, in pencil, in an a5 notebook.

20. favorite fic you have written?

recency bias compels me to say by the time the apocalypse began, because i worked my ass and head off for it, and i ended up really happy with how it turned out. sci-fi's not really my wheelhouse.

i have a huge soft spot for my clj arranged marriage fic, 双命; twin fates, because i had such a blast writing it. and 总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near) will always be special to me, because it was like taking a huge, glittering, orgasmic shit.

i believe quite a few people have already been cross-tagged but i will tag you guys again for fun: @yuebings @cafecliche @dcyiyou @vinelark @floofyfluff @ziusik

#i love these ask memes

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katyspersonal · 3 months

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😨 🤥 🕷️ 🌌 about your oc Geranea :з

Thank you for asking about her!! I still really need to draw a proper reference of her hunting outfit and weapon, but for now 80% of my WIPs are visual references and it is slowly destroying me т.т

(Asks from this ( x ) meme)

😨 FEARFUL - when scared, do they go into "flight" or "fight"?

'Fight' reaction is her default! If this is some kind of a wild predator animal (or, a dangerous beast, more appropriately to the context), she will fight without a second of hesitation, and very furiously so! It would apply to dangerous people too, like someone trying to rob or attack. She is that kind of person whose body just "knows" how to fight the exact second there is a reason to. If the threat IS too much for her to take on however, she also soon measures it and knows to run.

It applies in less drastic contexts, too, like someone making her scared or anxious in simply conversations. She defaults to scolding a person that alerted her, angrily, blushing and with her fists balled, and if she realises she picked a dangerous opponent in a conflict (like, say, starting a quarrel with people like Brador or Alfred) she will retreat. It is like a second nature, sensing whether default to fight or make an exception and fight. She has good "instincts"!

🤥 LYING - are they good liars? do they have tells to show they're lying?

Geranea is an okay liar when not a lot is at the stake, she could tell a small lie to keep someone's secret or get them out of trouble but would not lie for a personal gain. But when she got sent into Research Hall she had to lie, a lot. She needed to swipe various tools to help herself and others, avoid various chemicals and procedures, even help the patients that still could be saved...

Her face is not the most emotive (I swear her only expressions are 'tired' or 'angry' xD), but it is her body language that gives her lying away. When the cost of her lie being found out is high she blushes up to her very ear tips, hods hands in fists and overall looks stiff and tense. And, well, you don't want to attract unnecessary attention of cunts like Micolash or Brador of all people.... Since this is so inconvenient, Geranea tricks her own body by 'omitting' rather than straight up lying; comforting herself with how she technically says the truth actually helps her to relax and no longer look suspicious!

🕷️ SPIDER - what is their biggest fear? do they have any irrational / mundane fears?

She has quite generic fears of heights and the dark that not even much more horrifying Yharnam experiences weeded out! She will also dwell quite strongly if she had near-death experience recently (like for example someone's weapon JUST missing her head). The fear of ghosts, however, became a thing of the past after she had to fight several! Previously, they were the exception of her 'fight' reaction, the girl was screaming and running away! I guess it is too bad that she can't punch the height or the darkness in the face, then. xD

After leaving Research Hall by herself at last, her biggest fear became being found and returned to it. She still saw nightmares about it even since Research Hall, from her knowledge, got shut down and retooled into an "Orphanage". Even with her kindness, she tries to 'not think too hard' about the fact that most likely they experiment on children now, only to not deal with feeling like returning there and saving whoever she could is her duty.

🌌 MILKY WAY - what was the inspiration behind your oc? what was the first thing you decided about them?

Damn, the story of her appearing is actually such a good memory for me, oh my god! I first thought of her back in Summer 2021! Remember how I told that sometimes I am sitting and minding my own business but random memories about Bloodborne lore bits simply 'appear' in my brain, like if I caught a radio frequency? Well, one day, my brain randomly grasped at the link of "hmmm, Valtr's helmet is missing one eye, he curses "freakish slugs and mad doctors", Yamamura was spyoning on dark Healing Church business as he is a summon for Living Failures, Valtr helps fighting Laurence and Ludwig.... I need to check whether Eye Pendant looks like an eye, ONE SECOND-"

youtube

So yeah! I also was and still am 'Valtr has both eyes as we are allowed to see' truther but back then it looked like canon rather than just one of the interpretations for me, so that sorta helped x) I decided whoever owned the Iron Helm previously was missing an eye, for the reason of Research Hall taking it, sought Valtr's help (as a cop??? xD) with their shady business and was significant enough in Valtr's life to make her associated item a symbol of League's mission!

.....and this was just me trying to look like I was super planned from the start lol. x) BEFORE this tangent, I already fell for guilty pleasure of wanting to make an OC deceased member of the League, just ask @val-of-the-north! I loved the concept of her dealing primarily with plant-like "filth", since flowers and alike in Bloodborne are a symbol of reaching for the skies for salvation and many corpses, especially in Hunter's Nightmare and Dungeons, sprout mold or flowers from their bodies. They grow from blood, everyone's blood has human dregs, blablablabla.

But after the Research Hall idea I soon decided to combine the characters into one! Again, back then, existence of previous Iron Helm owner felt extremely apparent for me, I was a sweet summer child (literal summer lol) yet to learn just HOW few things in Bloodborne are indisputable :/ And I wanted to breathe life in an "mentioned character" (in Iron Helm description) more than I wanted an OC, at least back then! ...then I screwed myself over with the idea that maybe this helmet is Djura's wielder helmet (it even misses the same eye!), and THEN I screwed myself over more thinking that maybe two-eyed Valtr we see is a snapshot by "Flora of the Moon and the Hunt" of his most efficient stage of life. And THEN Val had to battle me on still keeping Geranea because I deserved one (1) break from fiddling with "the most reasonable" theory instead of just taking it easy fdhfhds

She also was a she from the very start because I just like female characters, but initially her hair was black. I always associated her with cyan/aqua color though, especially darker tones. I guess dark red hair felt like a good contrast in the end!

Thank you for letting me talk about Geranea!

#bloodborne #bloodborne oc #ask replies #geranea #damn does she really have a cool title to go with her name? I dunno #doodles

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lil-shiro · 3 months

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𝗙𝟭 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵𝗶𝘃𝗲/𝗻𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗴𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻

Links to easily go back to content you’re looking for. Mainly Lance (as you may know me by now), but you'll find others + I’ll have them linked below. I’ll keep this going during the upcoming season as well.

𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲𝘀 Bahrain / Saudi Arabia / Australia / Japan / China 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 𝘀𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 Race highlights / Interviews / Miscellaneous / Silly season / Pre-season testing / Pre-season / Drive to Survive S6 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲𝘀 Bahrain / Saudi Arabia / Australia / Azerbaijan / Miami / Monaco / Spain / Canada / Austria / GB / Hungary / Belgium / Netherlands / Italy / Singapore / Japan / Qatar / US / Mexico / Brazil / Las Vegas / Abu Dhabi

𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 𝘀𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 Race highlights / Interviews / Misc (WIP) / Summer break / Winter break / Secret santa

𝗣𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵𝗶𝘃𝗲 2022 / 2021 / 2020 / 2019 / 2018 / 2017 / 2016 / 2015 / 2014 / 2012

𝗗𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗜 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁 Lance / Fernando / Yuki / Esteban / Alex / Kevin / Valtteri / Zhou / George

𝗠𝗶𝘀𝗰. 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝘀 𝗜 𝘂𝘀𝗲 F1 Newspost -> Articles, updates, news etc. F1 analysis -> F1 meta, data etc. Media -> Videos, gifs, art, links F1 lore -> F1 history

𝗦𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗼 my fics / my edits / my gifs / my memes

𝗙𝗼𝗿 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝗳𝗼 Checked pinned info first. Please read my about or send me a DM/ask. I'm constantly updating these tags.

#pinned info #navigation #archive #work in progress

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writeblrfantasy · 5 months

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lila's 2023 writing wrap up!

we continue my yearly tradition of taking stock of what i wrote this year!! this year was a little different, in two big ways: the first was that i spent months editing and proofreading and publishing two books.

the red king's mystical suitors, which is out now

and the lover with five names, which drops january 23rd!

as well as managing all the work of being a self published author. (tldr it's no joke! not for the feint of heart! i feel a bit like the meme of the boy drowning!)

the second reason was that i spent a huge amount of time writing fanfiction this year, which was huge for my mental health but not forgiving when it came to original books. these two things combined means that i didn't spend as much time drafting new books as i typically do. not something i'm unhappy about, or am ashamed of, just a change! without further ado:

projects i finished this year:

skyriders (73k)

jack of fools (65k)

queen of crowns (74k)

the night auction (73k)

and 230k of fanfiction across 3 different fandoms! (hannibal bullet train and loki if you're wondering. if you want my ao3 then message me lmao)

unfinished things i wrote this year:

king of aces (51k)

weavers (17k)

untitled wip i called art gays: 12k

daybreakers: 11k

miscellaneous other 10k, let's say

projects planned for next year (a fun addition because i almost never end up going through with what i have planned, fun to look back on from the previous year)

the night auction sequel

secret wip #1 (mlm romcom)

secret wip #2 (sapphic romance)

secret wip #3 (no hints on this one)

i tried out secret writing for the first time this year, too! won nanowrimo for the first time since 2019, and it worked an absolute dream! 10/10 would and will do again.

(edit: realized i actually did win nanowrimo in 2021 and 2022. i'm an idiot)

until next year, everyone!

GENERAL TAGLIST: @worldbuildng @muddshadow @nikkywrites @47crayons @directionoftime @chayscribbles @magic-is-something-we-create @rodentwrites

#pax i expect to see you in the notes with the tally aljdsf #writing #writeblr #original fiction #my writing #writer #indie author #writing wrapped ?#if anyone else wants to do this i would love to see your lists!#it's such a good way to remember how much you've accomplished

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sirenspells · 4 months

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WIPs and abandoned projects (March 2021-December 2023)

Info on each one (as well as what the songs/audio sources are):

The song playing in the intro and outro is Dianthus Nardiformis from the Dreaming Mary OST.

19: March 2021. Okay so this one's not actually a work in progress. I made this on my 19th birthday, the joke being that the singer just says 19 then it ends. I think I thought it was kinda dumb so I didn't end up actually posting it. Also features a sona I had before Cress that I never really got attached to, so she was barely used. Song is 19 by Old 97's.

Lonely Holiday: July 2021. This has the honor of being the first OMORI mv I ever attempted. I started this on a whim while bored out of my mind dogsitting for a couple weeks, and I kinda just lost interest in it. Dunno if I'll go back to it. Song is Lonely Holiday by Old 97's.

Numb: July 2021. Another one I started while dogsitting, and another one I kinda just lost interest in, but I absolutely want to revisit it someday because it's an idea I've had for a while and still really want to do. Song is Numb (Linkin Park Cover) by Robyn Adele Anderson.

The Artist: December 2021. I stopped working on this one because doing everything manually frame-by-frame got really annoying and I started to hate working on it. I dunno why I did the zoom in manually but it looks bad, lol. The entire MV would have been just this verse of the song because I thought it really fit Basil and Omori. Tbh I still like how this looks and I may come back to it. Song is The Artist by The Hush Sound.

Higher: February 2022. It's the animation meme. I actually posted this wip a while ago but I'm still gonna include it here for completion's sake. This was really just storyboard practice, so I don't have much of an interest in completing it beyond this. It's Omori Strikers AU (my omori x persona 5 crossover au) and it's basically about Omori's identity issues due to being Sunny's Shadow. The quality's really bad on this one, for some reason iMovie refused to export it in a higher quality than this, I don't know why. Song is High by SIVIK.

Little Sunbeam: February 2022. This MV would have centered on the omari au, and beyond this it'd switch to Mari's pov and take on different palettes. Doing that text effect made working on this very annoying and would make my art program lag a lot so I lost interest in working on it. I might revisit this one, though I'd have to rework the original idea I had now that my perception on the common omari au has changed lol. Song is Little Sunbeam by Eleisha Eagle.

Nightmarish: April 2022. This MV would technically be a remake of one I made in 2020. Same song, same color palette, but with a completely new media. Part of wanting to work on this is wanting to spread Dreaming Mary propaganda cause I love it and I think people who like OMORI will like Dreaming Mary as well. Also I love this song. I definitely wanna go back to this one at some point. Song is Nightmarish from the Dreaming Mary OST.

Keep You Safe: July 2022. Like Higher I also posted this wip before but will still include it here. I absolutely want to go back to this one someday because I still really like the idea I have for it. Fun fact, for those who remember this piece, that was based on this MV, but it's not like you can tell based on what's shown here. Song is Keep You Safe by The Crane Wives.

Four Walls: August 2022. Amnesiac Omori MV, what would have been his youtube introduction if I hadn't stopped working on it and then made When Am I Gonna Lose You. I think I kinda just lost interest in this one, though I wanna go back to it at some point I think. Song is Four Walls (The Ballad of Perry Smith) by Bastille.

Someone Gets Hurt: January 2023. Amnesiac omori again babey!! Animatic that would have taken place after he regains his memories, where he's basically really angry and lashes out at Sunny and Stranger. Might revisit this one. Song is Someone Gets Hurt (Reprise) from the Mean Girls musical.

Uhh some shitpost: February 2023. Silly thing, it's a shame I stopped working on it before it actually got to the main funny part. I dunno if I'll go back to this one. Audio from @/tylergaca on twitter.

Jealous: March 2023. Animation meme. It would've been about Sunny and Mari in my pmd au and the leadup to the incident. It took me a while to get that second shot right and I still really don't like it. Do wanna revisit this one cause I love angst surrounding these two so much I love them in pmd au GRAHHH. Song is Jealous by Eyedress (slowed down).

Stranger lipsync test: May 2023. This was way too difficult as a lipsync test so I gave up on it, though I still like the animation for it. Also this is a pretty good contender for headcanon voice for Stranger I'll be real. Audio is from Persona 5 Royal.

Propaganda: August 2023. Amnesiac omori au storyboard that I do actually wanna make into a completed thing. This is very spoilery so my master plan is to not explain what's happening. Muah hah hah >:3c. Also once again iMovie exported this in a really bad quality for some reason. Song is Propaganda by Kill J.

Alter's Rant: December 2023. One more amnesiac omori animatic for the road. Once again it's really spoilery but it's basically Alter and Omori's final confrontation. I have more done than what's shown here but I wanna keep it a surprise for when I finish it, which should hopefully be soon >:3c. Also this one also got hit by iMovie's low quality curse. Song is Eva's Rant from Bring It On The Musical.

#woe. wip compilation be upon ye #siren art

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lynaferns · 1 year

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So I was looking through my gallery and found this thing I drew in 2021 and Idk, thought on share it.

I'm putting the translation under the image.

English:

Me as a kid: When I'm older I'll draw really good and I'll make a really cool story and I'll make an anime of it and they'll do memes and I'll have my own fandom and-

Me now: Imma put boobs on a planet.

There is also a jar half full of water with a straw.

I'm finding more old stuff, there are SO MANY wips actually that I never finished it kind of makes me want to redraw them but I should prioritize other things first.

#this drawing is actually referencing one specific oc I have

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