#I wish the first half of my story was better written

[urprettylittlething]

In The Shadows

Purge Alternate Universe

Yandere - Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

A/N - Okayyyy I've been working on this for like a week and it's the longest I've ever written for one thing, I had a shoulder injury which is mostly healed up now during the week which hindered my progress a little because I originally really wanted this to get out nearer Halloween time, but oh well TT at least its here now right? Lmao, but I hope you guys enjoy it, I tried my best and lowkey kind of hate it, I wished I could've done more or something, but if you have any ideas around this for a possible part 2 let me knoww, although no promises ;) Consider this a massive thank you story, I now have over 100 followers and the likes and reblogs and comments, you guys, I'm crying, I love you all so much <333333 I love interacting with you guys and your comments on my stories or in my inbox <3333 you all make my day ilysm <3 :( AND IM SORRY I COULDNT HELP IT, they're kind of really mean so its more harsh yandere than the soft you all wanted :( I couldn't help myself its a purge AU TT, but I promise ill make something softer in the future <33 sorry this is so long omfg, but let me know your thoughts pretty please &lt;3 and if you actually read all of this ily

summary - Another purge night is here and you think your safe and sound, but let your guard down and you'll find yourself bound.

warnings - purge, mentions of 'off screen' murder, actual 'off screen' murder, kind of gore but reader doesn't see it, blood, rope, reader gets tied up, gags?, tape over readers mouth, they're actually kind of really mean lol, especially Geto, descriptions of panic, anxiety, overthinking, stalker situation kind of, swearing, crying, brief hair pulling, if there's any more let me know ml <3

genre - Oneshot

wc - 7.2k

~spelling and grammar fixed already~

Edit - the top photo 6/11/23

The tip tapping of fingers on keys echoed around the silent room. The occasional footfalls of people around her walking up and down. Picking up books to further aid their studying would slip past the music playing in her ears when they were loud enough.

Every time she would hear someone being a little too loud for the library they were in she would glance up and shoot a half-hearted glare their way.

They’d never see her but it was the thought that counted. A barely audible sigh escapes her as she brings a hand up to massage her cold fingertips into the throbbing skin at her temple. 

Nervous nibbling was occupying her teeth and lips, chewing away the flesh and creating tender spots her tongue would soon soothe. 

She’d been staring at the same empty document for two hours now. No more than two sentences she was able to come up with before she’d erase them in a fit of frustration.

Abandoned textbooks lay closed behind her laptop, she’d deemed them no use around thirty minutes in, but she couldn't bring herself to get up and search for better ones. 

She was antsy, not able to focus on her assignment due in a week's time. Her brain was all fogged up, too many thoughts going through her mind and yet she's not able to focus on a single one.

The purge was tonight. March 21st. And it was currently 1pm. 

Why did she even bother to come to the library in the first place? Was she hoping to distract herself even just a little bit before she had to hunker herself down in her dorm for twelve hours? 

Maybe. Yes.

Was it working? Absolutely not.

She was too skittish. Overthinking everything that had the potential of happening later and things that have previously happened. 

‘Someone's not going to come and try to kill me just because I forgot to return their pen that one time, right?’ 

The amusing, albeit a little dark, thought did make the corner of her lips twitch just the smallest amount. 

Taking off her headphones after stopping her music, she closes down her laptop and starts to move it into her bag. 

She spares a quick glance around the few tables next to hers as she stands with the library's books in her arms. Her eyes locked with a man sitting roughly two tables down. Slumped back in his seat.

Gojo Satoru. Bright white and fluffy hair paired with a set of dazzling blue eyes. The ones currently peeking over the tops of his round shades that had slid down his nose as he tucked his head down slightly. 

Sitting in front of him and abstracting her view of Gojo only slightly is who she assumed was Geto Suguru. Two peas in a pod and never seen without the other. The long black and silky strands of hair tied up in a half up bun was a giveaway to who he was as well.

Both of them were originally from Tokyo, Japan. Coming over to America over five years ago. Or at least that's what she’s heard from around the place, not knowing them personally. They were the most popular boys in school when she had joined a little over a year ago and they still held the title strong.

She doesn’t think she's ever really interacted with them. At Least not on any kind of personal level. Sure, maybe from a few friends of friends or passing each other in the hallway and being polite to her upperclassmen, but nothing all that memorable. 

Which is why this prolonged eye contact is sending a very noticeable shiver down her spine. The smallest twitch of a smirk on his face and she was breaking eye contact, gulping down the pooled saliva in her mouth as she turned around and hastily made her way in between the towering bookshelves.

Leaving the library after stacking the books she’d previously taken back on the shelves, she hastily makes her way down the long corridors. Keeping her head down, her hands clutched tight on the strap of her bag. She passes very few people in the hallway.

Even after pushing through the doors and trekking her way to the dorms at the end of the path, there were very few people loitering around outside. Some of the people she passed looked like they could be stoned, not that she could really blame them. Some looked a little too relaxed and happy and some were just trying to get to their destination as quickly as possible. Like her.

As the doors came into view, and then the stairs, she slowly began to relax, her fast pace lessening up. Successfully getting to the safest place she could for when the purge would start. 

It was also a massive relief that her two good friends would be staying with her during the twelve hours of horror. Last time she was by herself there had been multiple scares throughout the night. Nothing too big but something she didn’t think she could handle alone again. 

Reaching her door on the third floor she fiddles with her keys for a few seconds before her door clicks open and she pushes her way inside. Closing the door and locking it again for good measure. 

It was 1:43 pm.

A few minutes after she had arrived back at her dorm did she realize she still needed to pick up some food items. Being a broke student meant she had essentially nothing in her cupboards or her fridge. And if she was ‘hosting for the purge’ this year, it meant she had to stock up at least a little bit. 

‘Imagine trying to hide from a killer and your stomach growls, I think I would just die on the spot.’ She thinks, the smallest smile gracing her face. Humour is usually her way to cope in situations like these. It’s either that or panicking and she’d rather try to save that for the main event.

With a heavy sigh and hesitation weighing her limbs down, she slowly puts her shoes and jacket back on. She can make this quick. In and out. Easy peasy. 

With a quick jump while shaking her limbs out to get rid of her last minute hesitation, she quickly opens her door and steps out before shutting it behind her. No going back now. Locking the door behind her, she starts making her way back down the stairs and out the doors, walking in the direction of the food store. 

Her nerves were still playing up though, eyes darting this way and that as if trying to find a reason for her to panic. ‘It’s okay, the purge hasn’t started yet, all those things are still illegal.’ Is what she keeps telling herself while taking a deep breath. But the fact they won’t be in a few hours was still cause for some panic. 

Arriving at the store, she wizzes around, collecting any good looking snack and throwing it in her basket before hastily paying and leaving. The heavy plastic carrier bag hanging from her fingers gave her reason to think she went a bit overboard. 

Her quickened steps and accelerated breathing were all she could hear for a while. Her walk back to her dorm was supposed to be a quiet one, less and less people were loitering around meaning less and less noises to distract her. 

Especially from the new set of footsteps that have appeared behind her.

As soon as her mind clocked the extra set of footsteps there, it went into overdrive. ‘Who is that? Are they following me? No, you're being delusional, they're just trying to get back home. But are they? They just appeared out of nowhere. Are they going to try and kidnap me? Rape me? Stuff me in a van? Drag me down a dark alleyway and murder me?’

Her mind was racing, steps quickening and breathing silenced under the new threat. ‘Oh god, what if they’re stalking me? Waiting until the purge starts to come and slaughter me? They’re going to kill me. They’re going to kill me. What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?’

And then they were gone. 

It barely registered in her mind that the fast paced footsteps from behind her had vanished. A sharp breath escaped her before her head whipped around on a desperate whim. No one. Not a soul on the path behind her. 

Her shoulders sank with relief and a watery laugh broke free from her trembling lips. ‘I’m losing my mind.’ She thought. Even though that feeling in her gut had faded, it never fully disappeared. Her racing heart never slowed and neither did her footsteps. 

Y/n hurried back to her dorm, almost running through the doors and up the stairs to fumble with her keys and quickly burst in. Double checking she locked the door behind her, and then checking every other lock on her third story apartment. Only when she had made sure they were all secure could she finally relax. 

Her body shivering and hands shaking from the after effects of adrenaline. Her breathing is still a little shaky as she pulls a bunch of pillows and blankets into her tiny living room. Pushing her chair and sofa away to make more space as she lays everything out as neat as she could, making the floor a comfy space for her and her two friends to crash for the purge. 

She empties the snacks from out of the plastic bag and piles them in a nice little corner near the TV. A small stack of movies there for when they’re all waiting for the purge to start. Some cards in a pack were also placed there. 

The three of them are wanting to be as quiet as possible while the purge is going on. Everything locked, curtains drawn, lights off, TV with no volume and only subtitles, quiet games to play in case they got bored, etc. 

They weren’t taking any chances. It was doubtful anything would happen, since nothing really ever did in the dorms. No student here would go as far as murdering somebody, everyone mostly stayed inside, not wanting to risk anything. She only knew of a few people that have snuck out before to rob a few stores, or do some petty revenge like smashing someone's car without getting into trouble.

But overall, it was best to remain quiet. They didn’t want to get murdered because the TV was turned up too loudly and attracted some wrong attention. 

It was 5:15 pm.

This is the time her friends arrived. Knocking some made up code on the slab of wood before messaging just for good measure that it was really them outside. 

After unlocking the door and letting her two good friends inside her dorm she swiftly closes and locks it again. Relieved greetings transpire as well as nervous whispers about the purge and some small gossip of who they think would actually go out this year and who are likely to stay inside. 

The three of them start to make their way around her dorm, closing all the curtains and double checking the locks on all the windows and doors. Especially the balcony and front door. 

After they’ve secured the apartment, they turn off all the necessary lights, flicking on a few electrical lanterns and setting them up around the living room, but away from the windows. They’ve left one lantern in the bathroom and one in her bedroom, both turned off, just in case of emergencies.  

The three of them settle in a spread out pile on the blankets she put down in the living room. Some snacks are passed around already and a movie is slotted into the TV, playing as background noise mostly while they talk.

Erica, a sassy but kind of dumb girl, with choppy shoulder length hair that had been bleached and dyed a light green. She's donned in a crop top and sweatpants, comfy.

Don, a friendly giant, very kind in nature but also a little muscly. He has short black hair and a sculpted jawline. He also came in sweatpants and a baggy white T-shirt, also comfy.

Her two very good, and only, friends here. They’re in a few of her classes and all regularly hang out together. 

“So,” Erica begins after her mouthful of powdered donut. “Who do you think is going to actually purge tonight? Like, actually actually. My moneys on them two hotties in my class.” She finishes, wiggling her eyebrows..

Don hums around his half empty soda can. “Yeah, honestly I wouldn't be surprised if they did.”

Y/n pipes up, “Wait who?” sitting up against the sofa behind her, getting comfy like she's about to hear the gossip of a lifetime.

“Oh, Em, G! You haven’t heard of it? You’ve seriously been, like, living under a rock or something.” Erica says jokingly. Picking apart pieces of her donut and eating them. 

Don perks up too. “Really? You haven't?” Y/n shakes her head in denial as Don shrugs. “I get it, it’s mostly stayed in our class, hasn’t spread much further than that.” He says before crawling forward and rummaging around for more snacks.

“So get a load of this right!” Erica sits up too after finishing her donut. Waving her hands excitedly as she tells her latest gossip. “You know them two really hot upperclassmen right?” She draws out her ‘really’ and waits patiently at the end of her sentence for the other girl's confirmation. 

When she nods in slight confusion, Erica continues, “There were some major rumours in class that the two of them were late this one day because they were beating someone up. And I don't mean like a few slaps or hair pulling, I mean punches. You know?”

Y/n nods again, this time with furrowed brows and Erica continues, “At first, I didn’t believe it, obviously. But then, the two of them came into class and I swear there were blood stains on their clothes. Blood stains! Not to mention all the plasters and bandages all over their hands! I just had to believe it then! Wouldn’t you?”

After the end of her long rant she slumps back against the front of the sofa and mumbles incoherently to herself shaking her head while pouting.

Don, who had been listening silently, pipes up, “It was true, I was actually there for once.”

Y/n’s eyebrows raise in disbelief at what she had just heard. Fighting, here? She couldn’t help but to doubt it, if only just a little. Stuff like that has never happened here. Or at least while she had been here. It was just unheard of.

And for an attack so vicious to result in blood being drawn, then there must have been somewhat of a good reason for it. That was the conclusion she came to.

“I mean, there had to have been a good reason for it.” Y/n says, “They’re pretty nice people aren't they? It is Gojo and Geto were talking about here, right? They’re really popular here too.” Her eyes darted between her two friends, looking for more answers on this unexpected juicy gossip.

Erica sighs wistfully, “No, it got shut down pretty quick, which I guess is why so little people have heard about it. God, would I pay to see them fight though. Their muscles must have looked amazing.” 

They stop talking about it after that, Don getting distracted by the snacks and whining about how she didn’t get his favourite. Erica smacking him with a few pillows and complaining how he’s getting in the way of her movie she was barely even watching. 

Their playful banter did little to distract from her inner turmoil. A small shiver went down her spine again. The memory from earlier in the library resurfacing in her mind. Gojo staring her down, the creepy walk back from the shops and now learning the two had at the very least helped in injuring someone.

It could just be because it was purge day, but everything was beginning to creep her out and she was overthinking again. ‘What if he wants to attack me next? What if all of those things were connected and someone really was following me home? What if he wants to kill me? What if both of them want to kill me? Have I ever done anything to offend them? I haven’t, have I?’ She knew these were far fetched and ridiculous, but she couldn’t help but think of them anyway.

Her spiralling thoughts were halted when a stray pillow smacked her in the face. “Oops, haha, sorry.” Erica sheepishly apologized, bringing her hand up to smooth down Y/n’s ruffled hair. Don was laughing in the background.  

Y/n was stunned for a few seconds before replying, “Oh, don’t worry. How about we put something else on? This movie is kind of boring.” crawling across the piles of pillows and blankets to reach the stack of movies.

This caught the other two’s attention, eagerly rushing to the stack as well to try and get first pick. Arguing for a few more minutes before settling on a movie they all loved. Snuggling back into their original positions.

This was how the next few hours went before the announcement appeared.

It was 6:59 pm.

At exactly 7 on the dot, the TV went black before turning blue, the government announcing the commencement of the purge. Big bold letters and ‘Emergency Broadcast System’ and ‘This is not a test’ were displayed on the screen.

They were all quiet as it played out. The mood quickly turned sombre.

“Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted.”

Don gulped.

“Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed.”

Erica huffed.

“Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.” 

Y/n shivered.

“Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7 am when The Purge concludes.”

She released a shaky breath. The announcement ends with “...A nation reborn.” before stopping. The screen turned black again.

No one moves or says anything. Each of them were frozen in an array of emotions. Fear being the most prominent. 

The silence stretched on for minutes. Eerie in its wake, not even being able to hear other people in their dorm rooms like she normally would.

Eventually, after releasing another shaky breath and rearranging herself with trembling limbs, they all snap back into the present. 

Don coughs and Erica shuffles awkwardly. 

“Cards, anyone?” Y/n meekly speaks up. The other two nod as they sit in a small circle. 

It was 7:36 pm.

This was when the first explosion of some kind was heard by them. Each of them froze in the middle of playing their mostly silent game of cards. The noise was distant, but the impact remained.

A scream from a few doors down echoed in the silent space.

They waited with baited breath for any follow up, but when nothing happened, they slowly relaxed. Each of them assumed it was the explosion that must have scared someone. Sometimes it’s better to think of the positive, rather than what that scream could have been for.

A few minutes later a siren bellows in the distance, a few car alarms wail.

Nothing too bad, but knowing that it could mean someone was being murdered out there didn’t give them any ease.

It was 8:02 pm. 

This is when the banging starts. Y/n thinks it could be a few doors down again. Erica thinks it’s below them and Don thinks it’s above them. 

Wherever it was, it was concerning. 

Erica releases a small nervous chuckle. “Maybe someone is just having a good time?” A fake smile plastered on her face to try and mask her worry. Even she didn’t believe her little theory. Not during a time like this, during The Purge.

It was a few minutes later, after they had quietly resumed their game, that footsteps were heard.

Clacking down the hallway. 

1, 2.

1, 2. 

1, 2. 

1, 2. 

They were walking at a leisurely pace. Taking their time. Strolling down the hallway and getting closer and closer.

All three of them looked towards the door, as if someone were to burst in at any moment.

The footsteps slow before coming to a stop. Right outside her door.

The three of them hold their breath, bodies flinching when a light knock rings out into the open space.

Complete silence.

Another knock.

None of them had even noticed the earlier noises had stopped, too focused on the potential threat now right outside the door. Seemingly wanting someone to open up.

Three pairs of eyes dart between each other. Silent questions trying to push their way out without being heard. A few panicked half shrugs and furrowed brows with downturned lips later, another knock rings out.

This time it was a little louder.

Barely audible whisperings of ‘you go’, ‘no you’, ‘fuck no’, ‘who even is it?’ cut through the silence. No one wanted to ask the question. To even speak a hint of it lest it result in it coming true.

Eventually after a solid minute of panicked, almost silent, squabbling later. A frustrated and frightened Erica pushed herself up. Taking a very obvious deep breath. Eyes closed and silently mumbling to herself before taking a few steps over to the front door.

She tried to be as quiet as she could but each step sounded like it weighed a ton. Every creek and every wobble made to sound the loudest. 

Very quietly bracing her hands upon the door, she leant up on her tiptoes. Peeking into the peephole positioned in the centre of the door.

The two left in the pile of blankets still. Not wanting to even breathe in fear of disturbing whatever was happening in front of them.

A sudden screech of pure panic and fear tore from Erica’s throat. Flailing before landing with a harsh thud on the floor beneath her. Scrambling backwards on her hands and feet, keeping her eyes on the door the entire time.

The two startle and immediately jump up, laboured breathing hindering their lungs from the sudden scare.

“What the fuck? Erica what happened? What was that?” Don frantically whispered. His eyes were also locked on the door. 

Y/n also whispered to her, “Who was that? Erica?” her eyes locked onto her friend, not able to bring herself to look at the door yet.

“It was.. Oh god.. The peep..” Erica wheezed out. The fright took too much out of her with her frantic gasps for air.

A sudden bang echoed into the room. A few more followed before they all realized it was coming from the front door. 

Erica screeched and threw herself back into a standing position, rushing for the kitchen and grabbing any sharp knife her eyes first laid on.

Don stood frozen in fear. Not able to move or barely breathe from the looks of it.

Y/n wasn’t any better herself. Downright terrified. This was her dorm. Her dorm. Which means whoever was outside, was looking for her.

The banging persisted, the person on the other side seemingly determined to get in. This proved correct when the handle started turning whichever way it could. 

She didn’t even realize, terror clouding her senses because when she looked back to her two friends, Don had collapsed into himself, wheezing with little air entering his lungs amidst his panic. Erica was cornered in the kitchen, sobbing, tears flooding her cheeks and ruining her mascara she had in place.

The persistent banging stopped for a second. The faint sound of another pair of footsteps approached from the hallway outside. Muffled talking pursued but it was hard to make anything out, between her pounding heart, Erica’s sobs and the slab of wood in the way, didn’t make for easy hearing.

For Y/n, it seemed there was one second of complete silence. No sobbing, no voices, no distant alarms or explosions, no racing heart, no wheezing lungs. Before chaos sprung onto them.

Suddenly the people outside, because there was another person now, resumed banging on the door. But it didn’t seem like they were ‘just knocking’ anymore. No.

They were trying to break the door down. 

She could see it from the way the door groaned and creaked under the relentless kicking. She couldn't quite tell if they were using their feet, or an object, or whatever. 

All that mattered was that they were trying to get in. And they were going to succeed.

“Move! Hide! We need to hide!” She whisper-yelled. Rushing to Don and tugging on his arm to try and get him to move. He stared at her for a few seconds before his brain caught up, registering what was happening around him. The real danger he was in right now.

“Hide.. Oh god..” He panted, sprinting for the bathroom, the first place his eyes had landed on.

With Don now searching for a place to hide, she ran her way to Erica. Still trying to be as quiet as she could, in the little hopes that they would think she wasn’t here.

“Erica, we need to hide! They’re getting in!” She frantically whispered to her hyperventilating friend. Trying to shake her shoulders, even resorting to lightly slapping her face to try and get her attention. She was desperate.

“Please!” The sound of splintering caught both of their attention. Heads whipping towards the door starting to cave. She wasn’t all that surprised, that slab of wood was a shitty excuse for a door anyway.

Erica suddenly sprung up and dove for the piles of blankets in the living room. Trying to bury herself amongst them, taking the knife with her.

And now that all her friends had been taken care of, she ran for her bedroom. Trying her best not to stumble and fall in the dark hallway. 

As soon as her door came into sight, she gently opened it, gunning for her wardrobe tucked into the corner of the room. Not even looking towards the turned off lantern, she didn’t need them knowing her hiding spot from something so obvious. 

It was already messy anyway, so in her frazzled brain she didn’t bother caring where she tossed piles of clothes and shoes in her room.. They’d hopefully think it was like that in the first place.

After quickly clearing a space big enough for her to curl into, she did just that. Situating herself just right, back pressed against the side of the wardrobe, knees tucked to her chest and pressed against the boxes in front of her. She was sitting on old shirts she hadn’t seen for months.

Hearing the door breaking even further, she grabbed any clothes within her reach and threw them over herself. Shutting the door when she was mostly covered, she could have sworn she could hear laughter coming from the hallway.

A loud crash and splintering tore through the air. She knew it was her front door. And now they were inside. 

Her hands slowly went up to cup around her mouth, trying to muffle her breathing as much as she could. Her body froze. Even when she already began to feel muscle cramps settling in, she dared not move. She forced herself to breathe slowly. Every inhale a struggle along with a reminder that she was still alive at this very moment. Even if she was convinced she wouldn’t be for much longer. 

The thought brought tears to her eyes. The original shock wears from her body and settles into something akin to despair. 

Her throat started clamping up, muscles seizing and throbbing with the need to cry. 

It was the thudding of footsteps that shook her out of it. Snapping her half way back into a nightmarish reality. 

She gulped. Closing her eyes and straining her ears for any information they were willing to receive.

Just as she thought. Two pairs of footsteps. 

With every thud of a shoe or a spike in their muffled talking, her body would tremble. 

It remained like this for a few more minutes. The footsteps or talking occasionally pausing. 

It was during one of these silences, where a different sound was heard. She couldn’t identify the exact sounds, just ones of commotion. They were still all muffled. And then she heard muffled yelling. 

It sounded so dulled, between the walls and layers of wood and clothes, she could barely make out anything, her ears straining for any hint as to what was happening. Being left in the dark like this, literally and figuratively, was terrifying her. 

And then this horrible, awful noise carried its way between the cracks in the wardrobe. Crunching. Cracking. Stomps. 

That muffled yelling from before kept getting cut off. Eventually dwindling down into a barely audible groan. Those thuds never seemed to stop either. Never ending, crunching, cracking, and now wet thuds. 

Her brain was trying its hardest to process, to catch up with the information that it has been provided with. 

More footsteps, only one pair, accompanied with muffled laughter. And a more distinct sound traveling through the air. 

A scream.

Even more laughter, hurried footsteps and pleas of ‘no’, ‘please’, ‘don’ts’. 

It was now, with the wet stomps still in the background, her screeching friend, that eager laugh, that her brain had finally caught up.

She was going to be sick.

They’re hurting them. Killing them.

Her friends.

Her body moved out of its own violation. Shaky hands and feet kicking and pushing their way out of the pile of clothes. Wardrobe door swinging open with a creak.

She collapsed out of it. Slumped on the floor, dry heaving. Her lungs not seeming to take enough air in but yet holding in too much. She couldn’t function. Fear overwhelmed every part of her. As well as grief. 

Her ears were ringing and she was left gasping, drool dripping onto the hard floor beneath her as a result of her attempted vomiting. Eyes wide open, blurry when she tapped back into her mind. 

Tears, clouding her vision and dripping audibly on the floorboards below her. 

In the distance she could hear muffled talking. Two men, she could make out more clearly. Not only that, but squelching, wet, gooey noises seemed to mingle in the air. Gurgling was the next before silence.

A minute passed, maybe two before the footsteps started up again. Those goddamn footsteps. 

1.. 2.

1.. 2.

1.. 2.

But they were slower than before. Steady. Taking their time. 

And getting closer.

Her instincts kick in, blinking profusely to try and clear her eyes from the tears, looking up and darting around before landing on the space under her bed.

She wouldn’t have enough time to fix her spot back in the wardrobe. She couldn’t run past them, not even in her best state which she certainly wasn’t in right now. She had considered her bedroom window as an option, but it was locked, which would take time to open. Not even mentioning the fact she was on the third floor, so jumping out would break at least something important. They would be quick to notice as well, and if they came for her, it was likely they would decide to chase her down.

Under her bed seemed to be her best option at the moment, and she was running out of time. Scrambling as quietly as she could, she slid herself directly under her bed, trying to center herself in the middle of it, tucking herself into a tight ball.

The footsteps stopped right outside her bedroom door, she had enough sense to shut it on her way in, thank god. But that clearly wouldn’t be enough to stop them. 

Almost as if the person was teasing her, they slowly clicked the door open. The distinct creak she had grown accustomed to over the months making itself known. 

Her muscles are tense, tightening in the presence of her predators. 

In the dark space from under her bed and in her room, it was obvious when the light from inside the hallway started spilling in the more the door got pushed open. In the vague depths of her mind it registered that they must’ve either turned the hall lights on, had taken one of her lanterns,  or were carrying one of their own.

Her lungs were burning with the effort to keep her body running with the little air she was allowing them to have, all for the sake of trying to keep quiet.

It was all too silent once again, only for a second or two before the second pair of footsteps came towards her. A lot more hasty compared to the other ones. 

Her breath silently hitched, the new person pushed their way into the room, stepping past their company before a thunk was heard. The sound forced her body to startle, jolting her muscles and kick starting her trembling again. An uncontrollable reaction to the fear she was under, the unrelenting motions causing a deep ache in her ribs.

The sound of rustling was now heard. It seemed they were looking for something. ‘They’re going to kill me. They’re digging around for a weapon to stab me with, to bash my head in, to murder me like they did my friends. I’m dead. I’m dead, I’mdeadI’mdeadI’mdead-’

Her racing thoughts consuming her fear riddled mind failed in picking up the sound of the other pair of footsteps slowly creeping round to the end of her bed. 

The person paused, silently crouching down low before a pair of hands reached under.

The sudden tight grip on her ankles followed up by the sudden pull had her screeching. Pure terror flooding her veins. She had been yanked out from under her bed, lying sprawled on the floor and gazing up at the towering man stationed above her. 

Her lungs burned, seizing up before a sickening scream escaped her. Fuelled by genuine, unrestrained horror. 

They had found her.

One of her lanterns they had brought in illuminated his face in a haunting light. The darkened shadows stretching and contorting behind him to create the most grim image for her mind to paint. Not that it was far off.

A foot standing on either side of her hips, straddling her if it wasn’t for his standing position. Hands nestled comfortably back in his trouser pockets now they had done the job of retrieving her. A comfortable looking long-sleeved shirt adorned his figure. Dark splatters starting from the bottom of his shoes and creeping their way up his legs, tapering off into a few spots that painted one of his cheeks.

An easy smile softly ingrained on his face, followed by gentle looking eyes peering down at her if it wasn’t for the malicious spiral she found herself paralyzed in. Dark locks of hair extended down his back, past where she could see from her position, with the top layers sectioned off and tied back into a bun.

His mouth opened and he spoke. “Well, well. Look what I’ve caught for us Satoru.”

Satoru. The other man must be Satoru Gojo, and this was Suguru. Suguru Geto. The most popular guys she knew, the supposedly kindest. And then staring in the library, the walk back from the shops, the gossip her most likely dead friend had told her.

Her body suddenly felt like it was pumped full of adrenaline. Pushing herself up as fast as she could, using the bed as support all the while stumbling over her numb riddled legs. She took off, running towards the open door she so desperately wanted to pass through. 

A sudden arm snatched her from around her waist and she screeched. Pure instinct driving her at this point as she scratched and kicked and flailed in his, Satoru Gojo’s, hold.

The sound of something dropping before his other arm came round, collecting both her wrists in one hand of his. His grip tightened the more she fought. Her body pressed tight against his, her back to his front. His head situated itself on her shoulder, tucking over and pressing his cheek to hers even while she cried and panted and kicked.

She could feel his grin pressing against the side of her face. “Such a pretty little thing we have here. Can’t let her get away so easily now, can we? Not after all the trouble we’ve gone through.” The last part practically whispered into her ear as she turned her face as far away as possible from him. 

A little laugh boasted out from Geto. “Of course not.” He strolled over to them, bending down to pick up what Gojo had dropped in order to restrain her.

Rope.

Fucking rope.

The moment her eyes zoned in and processed what Geto was unravelling in his hands she tried to fight back even harder. Eyes flooding with tears that spilled down her cheeks. Short mumblings of ‘no’ being repeated over and over while becoming louder until she was yelling. 

“Please don’t do this! Let me go! Please, please.. Stop!” She shrieked while sobbing, convinced they were going to kill her or torture her or something horrible like that.

Gojo walked the two of them to the edge of her bed before forcefully pushing her down, manhandling her onto her front and bending her arms to rest pressing against her back.  

She sobbed into her ruffled sheets as she felt Geto fastening the rope tight around her wrists, the rough material digging into and pinching the sensitive skin. Raw and red marks already forming amidst her struggle. 

Her legs still hung off the bed, trying their best to kick and hopefully injure one or both of them, but she knew it was a losing battle. None of her landing blows made them falter in any way.

When her wrists were successfully restrained Geto kept them pressed to the small of her back while Gojo let go and reached down to grab her ankles. Pulling them up and bending her legs at the knees while they both worked in finishing the task of tying her up.

When they finally stepped back to admire the work they’d successfully done, Y/n deflated. Tears soaking into her bed in which she rested on top of. Her lungs still burned, having never stopped. The hogtied position she had been forced into leaving her nothing to work with in terms of escaping. Not that she could think clearly anyway. The distress she was under proved too much.

“Oh, Shh Sh Sh… There, there, sweet thing. Settle down for us now. We aren’t going to kill you.” Cooed, who she could only guess right now was Gojo.

Geto reached forward from his position of kneeling on the bed, gentle soothing pets stroking her hair. Her sobbing tapering off into hiccupped breathing even while flinching with every touch. “There you go, good girl. See that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

He pulled away from her, stepping down off the bed and heading towards the previously discarded bag on the floor Y/n hadn’t noticed before..

Y/n slowly turned her head round, no longer pressed into her sheets. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, swollen from all the crying she’d been doing. Little hiccups and groans left her while her lungs tried to recover. She’d given up struggling right now, it had done nothing but cause her pain as the rope dug and squeezed the skin of her wrists and ankles. 

Gojo piped up from behind her, only now feeling the heat from his legs pressing into hers causing her to flinch. “You know, this would’ve gone a whole lot easier if you had just let us in sweetheart.” She could practically hear the smug smile in his voice. “Look at where you are now, tied up all pretty for us. Ripe for the taking.” He pressed closer to her at that, voice practically dripping with need. 

She whined in fear and started squirming at his words. Panic flooding her senses again for just a second before a sharp tug to her hair had her yelping, halting her movements.

“I thought I told you to quit that.” Geto was back to kneeling on the bed in front of her, his hand gripping tight onto her hair, eyes narrowed. 

Her bottom lip trembled, breaths picking up with every second he glared down at her. 

“Don’t be so mean, Sugu.” Gojo said, a teasing lilt in his voice. 

Geto glanced back at him before humming and letting go of his harsh grip, her scalp burning in turn. “I suppose you’re right. She’ll have plenty of time to learn when we take her back home.”

Gojo hummed and she felt him leaning away from her, hearing him crouch down and fiddle with something from the bag as well. 

“Back home?..” She stuttered, voice hoarse and throat dry.

Geto looked back down at her, amusement painting his face. “Yes. Home.”

“Where..” She started, face formed in a twist of concern and confusion. “Please.. I.. Just let me go. I won’t- I won’t tell anyone, I’ll- I’ll leave you alone, I’ll do anything, please..” She gasped out, tears gathered freshly in her eyes again, voice cracking every few seconds. 

An amused eyebrow raised with the hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth was all she got as a response. 

Gojo had come back, reaching round and fastening a strip of duct tape around her mouth in a sudden flurry of movement. Giving her no time to process what he had done until after he had done it. 

She cried out, the sound muffled thanks to the tape, worried eyes darting around in panic as she tried squirming again for the third time. 

Gojo pressed up behind her once again. “You’re not going anywhere, sweet pea! You’re ours now. We’ve had you picked out for a long time now.” The joy in his voice didn’t fail to put her on edge, his words doing their part in helping the tears gathered in her waterline to finally spill down her cheeks. Wetting the tape situated over her lips.

“He’s right.” Geto replied. Bringing one of his hands up to show what he had collected from the bag a few moments ago. The mobile phone in his hands glowed brightly in the dark room, the lamp from before having been moved, the light now dim.

“We’ll bring you back with us soon enough, but we still have a few more hours to kill before that. And why waste them.” Gojo said, the grin in his voice unsettling her, keeping her frozen in fear.

An easy smile pulled at Geto’s cheeks at that, head tilting to the side to gaze down at their pretty prey. 

“Well what are you waiting for then, Satoru?”

A pause. Smile pulling into a predatory grin.

“Have at it.”

#geto x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru #gojo saturo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere geto #yandere geto suguru #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo x reader #yandere geto x reader

[dduane]

Salutations and good wishes to you. I am an Indie Author seeking to go Pro. Some good advice and guidance might help minimise the mountain of my anxiety about doing this. I know you got your start with fanfiction, but did you find a publisher/agent through that door? [lots sneer at these days. Still] How many rejections did you suffer before you found your place in the literary world? Thanks for your time and sorry for bothering you <3

Hi there! And don't sweat it: this is no bother.

I have to apologize in advance, because my own career arc isn't likely to serve as much of a good example. In terms of how I got into this business, I'm a serious outlier.

Quickest and easiest to discuss: my agent and I got together after my first book was already bought and published. (Which back in the day was seen as a good enough way to go forward, and then still entirely possible.) He was recommended to me by one of my editors, as—like me—he was just getting started in the business: a likely-looking newcomer then scouting new talent. We met up and chatted, and it seemed to both of us that we'd be a good fit for each other. After forty-odd years of working together, we still are.

About the fanfic: (Adding a cut here so as not to carpet people's dashes with wall-to-wall text...)

What writing all that fic did for me—from about age sixteen onwards—was give me a whole lot of practice in getting the initial garbage associated with a story written and out of the way. Best to admit it here: we all have plenty of crap writing in us. And yeah, even long-term professional writers do. Whether you're at the beginning of your career or right in the middle of it, this is what "zero drafts" are for. You tell yourself the story, first time out... and routinely at this stage a lot of what proves to be unusable stuff emerges, and can be discarded in rewrite. (Of course crap writing can also emerge without warning in the later stages of a project, but there are many reasons for that, all beyond the scope of this discussion.) And you learn even more from reworking the material after you've gotten rid of the dross.

During the period when I was executing what might have been, oh, half a million words of fanfic—Trek originally, and then LoTR—and while reading a whole lot of everything, as I'd been doing since I was first allowed to go raid the town library by myself at age eight—I learned a fair amount about writing without realizing it. Some of it was simply about writing inside a set of rules. (Which I hadn't been doing previously: between eight and sixteen I was writing original fiction, mostly fairy tales.) Naturally in fanfic you have to obey the laws of whatever universe you're working in... or even if you wind up flouting them consciously, you do have to be conscious of them. But this work also led me to something that I hadn't really spent a lot of time thinking about: the concept that fiction writing as a whole had rules. I realized I'd better find out what those were.

The best stuff I found out during this period was what I picked up by direct example from other writers, whom I'd immediately start imitating and then sort of leave by the wayside when I found others I liked better; at which point I'd start imitating them. (This being a great way to learn and hone new skills, and to start getting a sense of what a writer's "voice" is and can come to mean. I think every writer does this, to some extent: because it's really, really tough to learn how to write without reading. And the more extensively the better.)

I have to emphasize here, BTW, that the fanfic that came out of me as I started slogging up this learning curve was all almost uniformly terrible. All of it, mercifully, along with my earliest original fiction, is gone now: long since burnt, shredded, composted under many layers of time. Trust me, it's just as well. Gah was it awful! Nobody else ever saw the stuff, for which I thank great Thoth every time I think about it. ...What's interesting, too, in its way, was that I didn't even know that what I was doing was fan fiction. I had as yet no contact with any kind of organized fandom, and it would be a long time yet before "online" was invented. I was working in utter isolation, unaware that anybody else might have been doing the same thing. (And it's difficult to describe the sense of astonishment and joy that hit me the first time I went to an SF convention, saw fanzines for the first time, and found out that I was not alone. All unsuspecting, I'd stumbled onto one of my tribes.)

But somewhere along the line, as the years went by—as I finished high school and went to college, and then from there to nursing school, and graduated and started working as a psychiatric nurse, and kept on writing—at some point, as I started writing original fiction again, as well as fanfic, the quality of the output began to improve. The combination of constant practice and voracious reading of better writers outside my chosen genre was slowly having an effect. Trusted friends who saw this later material started saying, "This isn't bad, you should try to get it published!" But since none of these folks were writers, I didn't pay too much attention to their opinions.

I did pay attention, though, when my good friend and mentor David Gerrold said something similar on reading my first novel in 1976. And when that was bought by the first publisher who read it, I had to admit he might have had something there.

This too, though, is unfortunately also a way I'm an outlier: I haven't had a lot of rejection. (Even in my TV work, where rejection is pretty much the rule rather than the exception.) Speaking very generally, just about anyone I've pitched something to in the prose market has bought it—or if they didn't like the idea I came in with, they've immediately said "But would you like to do this instead?" And often enough, what they've offered or suggested has been something that sounded like fun. That's how I wound up doing the Star Trek: Rihannsu books, for example: they were "instead of" a Romulan dictionary. Paramount essentially ringfenced an entire AU-area of Trek and gave it to me to play in, which struck me at the time as amazing. And continues to do so.

Now all this may make me sound almost unfairly lucky. But things do tend, slowly or quickly, to balance out. Over time the universe has made up for its relative kindness at the rejection end of things by making sure I knew plenty about the non-rejection forms of writer-career pain: projects from which I was not rejected but which went terribly wrong (wheels come off a huge deal just before signing, promised actors or directors fail to materialize...), projects where I did the work but didn’t get paid, or where I was brought on board and then got fired/ghosted unreasonably or for no reason at all, or sometimes (mortifyingly) for quite good reason. And let's not forget how, as what could seem a very pointed shot across my bow when my career-vessel was just pulling out of port, half the print run of that very-much-buzzed-about debut novel wound up being pulped in the warehouse because another, far better-established writer's new book needed the pallet space that mine had been taking up. (insert rueful smile here) Believe me, entropy is running, and will catch up with you one way or another. So make yourself as ready for it as you can.

I don't mean to increase your anxiety. Yet that said: you're preparing to enter a business in which, for a freelancer, at least some level of anxiety is more or less part of the basic ground of being. You are going to have to develop ways of dealing with the everyday forms of that to keep it from routinely derailing your work.

I find it helps a little if you can come to consider this as a modern form of Going On An Adventure. Good things will happen; bad things will happen; and all of these will be in service of building your career. Think of yourself as being on a quest.

Your job now becomes the business of suiting up with the best equipment and advice you can find (ideally not from outliers like me). The web is full of useful pages on subjects such as how to query and how to find an agent.

Here are links to some.

Compare these resources one against another to see how their different kinds of advice seem to stack up, and which ones are the most congenial for you.

Then use this data to start drawing your personal roadmap across the terrain. Get as clear as you can in your own mind about what you're trying to get out of being in this business: what kind of writing you want to do and what results you want to produce. Then set out, redrawing your road map as necessary as you keep moving forward through the new terrain.

And I wish you good fortune on the journey! (Because luck, as you can see from the above, can definitely be part of this... but fortune favors the prepared.)

Meanwhile, get out there and have a blast. :)

#writing #writing advice #fanfic #rejection

[echo-bleu]

Okay but. Geralt with auditory processing issues.

The mutations wreck havok on the senses. Sure, they make his hearing range incredible, but they don’t help with the processing, and he’s constantly hearing everything at once. It’s worse for Geralt than the other witchers because he’s had the Grasses twice. (Or because he’s autistic, duh.)

It’s half the reason he communicates so much with grunts, because most of the time he’s only got half of what the other person said and he just lets them interpret his grunts however they want.

And sure, he’s heard Jaskier sing so many times in taverns and courts and his songs are catchy enough, but he’s never actually managed to catch the lyrics. It’s just all gibberish to him. As soon as there’s the lute, and noise, and they’re in a city or a town so there’s people around, he just doesn’t understand any of it. It doesn’t make his “fillingless pie” comment any less insensitive, but it does give it some context.

Every winter the other witchers will make comments about the songs they’ve heard on the Path, about this or that adventure, and Geralt is just like. That. That’s what the song was about. Oh. Eskel isn’t great at auditory processing either but he’ll ask the bards to play over and over until he’s got most of it, and since they’re songs about witchers, the bards usually comply. It’s nice to hear good news of his brother. Then he’ll tease Geralt mercilessly all winter about it. That’s the only reason Geralt even knows so much of what Jaskier sings.

However, he likes hearing snatches of song while Jaskier’s composing, when they’re camping out in the open or in a forest and there isn’t too much noise around. Then he can actually understand the words, sometimes.

He’s very, very good at pretending he can hear just fine, and he’s been doing for so long, but he does feel a little guilty about making Jaskier think he doesn’t like his music. He just doesn’t know how to explain, doesn’t think Jaskier could get it, because no one ever has. Then while they’re all in Kaer Morhen after the mess with Voleth Meir, the other witchers start asking Jaskier to sing, even though he doesn’t have a lute. They’re all completely quiet during his performances, and every time Ciri or Yen or anyone makes a noise and they miss a line, Eskel will ask Jaskier to start over. (Eskel isn’t dead, obviously.)

And one day Geralt finds Jaskier hunched over a desk, with a pile of parchment beside him and his notebook open in front of him, frantically copying something.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m making copies of my songs,” Jaskier answers. “I’ve actually published the whole songbook in Oxenfurt, you know, but we can’t get it here, and Eskel said that having the lyrics would help, so I’m trying to make enough for everyone.”

Geralt’s mind is boggled because yes, having the lyrics written down would help immensely but he would never have thought to ask, let alone that Jaskier might actually be willing to write them down for him, and what’s that about a songbook? He almost just grunts and leaves him to it, but he remembers that he promised himself to at least try to communicate better with Jaskier after the mountain, so he asks in a very small voice, “Can I have one?”

And Jaskier’s jaw hangs slack for a moment before he coughs and hands him a stack of parchment. “I wasn’t sure you’d want it,” he mutters almost to himself.

“I always want to know what you’re singing,” Geralt says.

Jaskier’s eyes are wide and shining when he hugs Geralt, and his voice cracks a little. “I wish I’d realized sooner that you couldn’t hear it.”

That night he sings his entire song cycle a capella in front of the fire, his eyes boring into Geralt the entire time, as Geralt follows the lyrics along for the first time.

And Jaskier’s songs are really fucking good, actually. Geralt is hardly an expert, but he can see the way he bends and stretches language to make it flow and how he weaves the stories together and he can feel the love in how Jaskier sings about him, about them, and---

Is that what he’s been missing this whole time?

Brought to you by: the long-ass time it took me to get into The Amazing Devil’s wonderful music because I couldn’t fucking hear the words until I sat down and listened to every song while following along with the written lyrics.

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #echo's fanfiction #sort of

[nanamimizz]

tags: written for @prettyboykatsuki in mind. reader is gn, and is a rouge with a thief/street urchin background. marriage and discussion of children. takes place in act 3, spoilers for wyll’s personal quest. discussion of marriage. fluff.

synopsis: you overhear wyll bragging to the children. at first you think nothing of it until you hear him say somethings you weren’t privy to.

Wyll is good with children, a truth not doubted but known ever since you had met the fabled folk hero in the Emerald Grove. It’s something you hardly do not think of, if you don’t want to end up in some sort of frenzy of thoughts better left unsaid. At least for the chapter of life you two are currently in. Maybe, you think as you clutch the wishing acorn the love of your life had gifted you in the palm of your hand, maybe when all this is over you could discuss such things as a family with him. When Wyll is free of Mizora’s hands completely, when his father is safe from all plots and schemes and when the little friend in your head has been cast out - yes, you think, you would like to utter the words of a family to Wyll’s ever so kind ear.

Unlike you however, your intended is not as patient as you can hear him bragging to the tiefling children you have both met and saved in your travels to Baldur’s Gate. It makes you chuff, like a pleased tiger and shake your head oh so fondly as he utters tales of your adventures. As you draw near you can make out the words - he’s telling the tales of defeating the goblin camp leaders. The adventure feels like a lifetime ago but not the phantom ache of the knot on your head you sustained from Dror Ragzlin knocking you well and good on the head.

You hear one of the kids, Mattis with his shaggy dark hair and mischievous eyes that glitter like the gold he covets with his not-so-lucky rings.

“Looks like you don’t do much now, do you Blade of Frontiers?” Mattis mocks, snickering behind his red hand. Wyll laughs good-naturedly, letting the teasing roll off his back smoothly like water off a duck’s wing. It’s something you envy, how Wyll is never riled up by such empty words. Mattis pouts, petulant as he throws another half baked insult at the man.

“And what’s with you letting your allies take such a beating - first Karlach now this? Having a hard time picturing what good you are for Blade?” Wyll huffs a chuckle, a smug smile tugging at his full lips and you stare a little too deeply at how white his teeth are in the afternoon sun.

“Things are different now you see - I have another story for you…” Wyll continues on with the tale of where you fought off Roah Moonglow, a Zhentarim trader who stole all the gold in the common’s people’s coffers; there had been a fatal mistake that you had made and Wyll had saved you at the perfect time. Even had a second to spare to throw in a witty comeback and a brilliant smile your way before the fight continued. Mattis’s face scowled as even he had to admit that the story succeeded in making the Blade appear just as cool as you and Karlach.

If barely.

“So what’s different now? Did you finally know how to hold your own in a fight?” Mattis pouts, conceding that maybe the Blade of Frontiers was more cool than dorky. Wyll grins, brilliant teeth on display at the apple of his cheeks raised.

“I’m their husband now. No one can ever hurt them while I’m around.”

Scratch that. The Blade of Frontiers will forever be corny in the eyes of these tiefling children for as long as you and Karlach live - they even think that know-it-all wizard that hangs around you is cool by default. The children all gag, making their sounds of disgust with Mattis being the loudest of them all. They are quick to disperse, going off to do what children do best in the times they live in and you approach Wyll as they leave.

“Calling yourself my husband now are we? It’s been less than a tenday since you asked me to be yours. Unless we’ve had a ceremony within the same amount of time - I think it’s a little too soon to call you such a revered title.”

Wyll jumps at the sound of your voice, your quiet steps always managing to go under his senses. It makes you laugh a little, how the smallest testaments of your background manage to slip past the hero’s defenses. You watch with adoring eyes as Wyll flushes with a warmth that makes him shine in the daylight as he brings a hand to rub at the back of his neck from embarrassment.

“Please - don’t tell me you heard all of that?”

“Oh yes I did. Every word in fact.”

Wyll hisses in embarrassment, and even then he doesn’t hesitate to look back into your eyes when you gently run your hand on his arm.

“Do you mean that - that nothing can hurt me while you are with me?” You ask your voice soft with tentativeness. He softens, gaze going from embarrassment to an eager honesty simmered with so much affection you neve once thought you would be looked at with. Wyll is a smart man, perspective and he knows what it is you ask - the battles that you have yet to face but will have to as fate decrees; its golden thread dictating every action and word that is to be spoken.

Wyll takes the hand on his arm into his and gazes at you, the brown of his eyes turning golden under the warmth of his words.

“Yes, truly. I may be the Blade of Frontiers sworn to protect the Sword Coast but,” he pauses to lick his lips as if tasting the sweetness of his confession before uttering it to you, “I am first and foremost a blade sworn to you. So whenever our enemies are drawn near, don’t hesitate to point me their way.”

The devotion is heavy in each word spoken, something you had never been witness to - loyalty and devotion only gets you killed in the streets. So it takes you a moment to collect yourself, to pick yourself off the floor from the weight of the goodness Wyll holds for you. You swallow before speaking, your voice thick.

“You already asked me to marry you - you don’t need to lay it on thick.” You say, trying to deflect but Wyll only smiles, eyes fond and gently as he lets his thumb caress the top of your hand.

“I know, I can’t help but be sweet to you. And I swear to the Helm I’ll live up to my word everyday.”

You smile, lacing your fingers with his.

“I’ll hold it to you Lord Ravengard.”

“I hope to exceed all expectations.” His smile is smig but his words are warm - lovinging and truthful. Just as Wyll always is.

#lamb.writes #wyll ravengard x reader #wyll x reader #bg3 x reader #baldur’s gate 3 x reader #tav x wyll #wyll x tav

[professorhayforbreath]

my blog probably gives the impression that i think the show is bad as a whole, but the reason this show frustrates me so much is because it's definitely NOT 100% bad

like... the movies are bad adaptations. everyone knows it. they have some great moments (an embarrassing amount of which are better than the show lol) but overall they are widely considered blatantly bad adaptations. it's easier to make peace with that

the show, however, is far less consistent and i find it much more difficult to wrap my head around. there are parts that are bad and i'm happy to say that with my chest, but underneath numerous questionable-at-best writing choices, there are glimpses of really, really good stuff. the first few episodes had so much promise—percy burning blue jellybeans and praying to sally, the consensus song. these are brand new additions but they're good, they capture the spirit of the story and characters successfully

and sprinkled throughout the rest of the show are other strong choices! for example in the last episode i really liked that they set the betrayal scene during the fireworks, it created a fantastic ambience. i liked that grover left camp at the same time as percy and annabeth so the three of them got to part ways as a trio on half-blood hill

there are good changes being made, but they're almost all small in the grand scheme of things. in my opinion, the bigger, more consequential things are where they missed the most marks, and that prevented me from fully enjoying the show as a long time book fan

when it comes to writing nothing frustrates me more than wasted potential. mediocre writing is one thing, but mediocre writing that could have clearly been so much better is INFURIATING. i don't dislike the show because i wanted it to be a 1:1 recreation of the book, i dislike it because it's just okay when it could have been great. it so EASILY could have been great and i don't get why it's not. a lot of the writing choices are just baffling in their mediocrity, and sometimes technical weakness, when compared to the well written and effective source material. i wish i could have been a fly on the wall in that writers room when they were making some of these decisions, seriously

the cast is phenomenal. their budget is more than sufficient. they marketed it as a "redemption from the movies", as the adaptation that would finally give fans book accuracy. and the show we got is... fine. it's all right. it's not all that book accurate even though it was advertised as such. there's plenty to like but it comes hand in hand with plenty to dislike. it's only natural for people to be disappointed

i know my critiques can come off as venomous but please never mistake my harshness as hating for the sake of it. i adore the original pjo books so i really wanted to adore the show as well, but unfortunately i can't get there yet. "yet" being the key word because there's still plenty of time for this show to pick up the slack, and for that reason i'm glad it got renewed. i don't have the most faith the writers will listen to the feedback but i'm rooting for them to prove me wrong

#going forward i'm going to try to be more diplomatic about this #i'm a cynic and a hater at heart <3 but even i'm annoyed by how much of a bitch i've been lately lol #pjo show crit #pjo tv crit #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo show #pjo tv show #pjo adaptation

[lorablackmane]

It's time for ghosts y'all!! I wanted to make this post once I finished a chapter or 2 of my AU's fic, but I've talked about these lil fuckers so much w/ Teal in the past month I figured it might be best to make a post b4 that so ppl aren't confused in the future.

The premise of this AU is after the night after the King is defeated, everyone is celebrating! ...Until odd things start to appear in the House. A giant bloodsplatter in the Death Corridor and a trail of blood leading from it to the King's room. A shattered shelf and knocked over pot missing it's contents in the kitchen. A frozen body near the storage room.

One by one, ghosts created from the breaking points of Siffrin's wish start to appear, and they're here to stay! For better... or for worse.

Below is how each ghost was made, their wishcraft's scent (I put too much thought into this info so I'm adding it), and a bit about them!

(Cw for the ghost's stories below: death, suicide, allergy attack)

The Stoned - Created in Act 1 - Smells like Copper and Sugar

(This one will get a proper ref later bc this doesn't fully capture him)

Despite their looks, The Stoned is the calmest out of all of them, even though their death was one of the most painful. It happened so quickly and also messed up enough that the Wishcraft couldn't fix most of their body after the boulder disappears... so he can't feel pain anymore. He can't really feel much honestly there's... there isn't many nerves to feel with anymore. The additional lack of bones is a detriment to their ability to move, making them have to crawl around and continuously shift so they won't lose their balance until they get items like crutches and a wheelchair to help.

The Stoned doesn't know the horrors of the House and so are innocent in a way even Bonnie isn't. They never even it made it to the second half of the first floor! So a lot of the things the others talk about fly over their head. The others don't leave them out of talks about the House though! ...Not that the Stoned... really speaks - but it's the thought that counts!! They have their buddy to speak for them, anyway.

Just like how Loop's Wishcraft made their body unique, each ghost has their own lil quirk due to the Wishcraft that powers their bodies. The Stoned has the oddest one: due to their lack of most their bones their body is almost completely powered by Wishcraft that is activated by the air he breathes in. Because of this, he can actually almost flatten himself by releasing all the air inside themself, and will stay that way until he breathes back in. He can't move like that, but it does sometimes come in handy - by releasing some instead of all the air they can make themself slightly more compact to get into tight places!

The Silent - Created in Act 2 - Smells like Saltwater Taffy

The Silent is a fearful one, they remember the pain the House offers but cannot feel it. They only truly remember up to Bonnie accidentally pushing them, however they know so much more. Each time Siffrin touched a tear he gave them the memories of that run, but to the Silent it was less like a memory and more like watching a play. Detached from themself... yet the fear is there. They aren't like Stone who only remembers his death, they know the blessing was a curse wrapped in a pretty bow and the thought that what they see is only a fragment of the loops Siffrin went through... it makes them retreat into themself, especially bc they see their existence as unneeded bc well... Siffrin already exists. They don't need another to bother them.

It's much easier to stay put, to let them become one with the House as the tears intended. They don't need to breathe, to eat, or anything really so it's quite easy for them to do so! For them to just... exist. Hiding in plain sight, like the books hidden on shelves of the House written in their mother tongue. So this is where they stay, until one day maybe people can hear them speak once more. They do occasionally move, mostly when they hear that the Housemaiden's need the area they're in, but only when they're certain no one is looking.

When it comes to fight, flight, or freeze they choose freeze every time... which isn't helped by the quirk of their body's Wishcraft. The Silent can freeze anything up to the size of a medium bowl if they hold it for long enough. The Unseen will sometimes use this to pull pranks on people who upset them, stealing their umbrellas and placing them in The Silent's hold. They find this very petty... but they don't like moving bc a Housemaiden might see them and it is funny so they don't stop the two from doing so.

The Unseen(Left) - Created in Act 3 - Smells like Candied Pineapples

The left one is similar in personality to the Stoned as when they were created Siffrin knews that something was wrong, but still had hope that things were okay. They are an odd one: they see their accidental death as nothing in the grand scheme of things considering how many deaths already happened before them. If anything, he sees his death as a vital piece of showing their love to their family oddly enough! His memory is spotty, but the answer to Bonnie's question is forever engraved upon their skin so none of them will ever forget (even if most cannot see them anymore except outta the corner of their eye). There is a great sorrow in them though, after meeting their counterpart and discovering that there was so much pain afterwards - that like them this fact is engraved into their counterpart... but they'll stay with them, and maybe... they can bring some joy back to the right.

They help keep their counterpart's pranks in check, as unlike the right left remembers how fragile people are and doesn't see them as actors or dolls. Most of the pranks they plan are leaving lil letters with terrible puns around the House. Like you go into the bathroom, there's a letter tied to the handle of the sink. You open it and it says something like, "water you doin, handsome?" Stupid stuff like that, that makes them feel like the funnyjokespunperson they were before everything. A way to reclaim what the loops took from them both.

The Lonely - Created in Act 3 - Smells of Sugar and Moldy Cloth

This ghost is the culmination of so, so many fragments Siffrin left in between those walls. For a long time they did not remember anything besides the motions to get to the King, yet they could never defeat him. They couldn't survive his major attack, no matter what they did. It feels like at one point he could though... wasn't there a way? It isn't until the ghost event that they remember what they lost and while it felt absolute euphoria in that moment, after that the loneliness became soul crushing. The hunger for someone, anyone to be with them hurt so much! ...It made them remember why they forgot their family the first time.

The Lonely's quirk unlike most of the others isn't seared on their skin. No, the Lonely's ability is actually only really useful for dealing with The Unseen - anytime one of the others is in danger or about to do something dangerous they sense it. The Vengeful is constantly ringing this mental alarm, but it can't do anything to help due to it constantly moving so they don't even try with them. The Unseen though, it is often seen dragging them by the ears before they do something like unleash a barrel full of marbles in a hallway.

The Vengeful - Created in Act 4 - Smells of Steel, Salt, and Sugar

It is the culmination of the King's cruelty and Siffrin's agony, a beast made of anger, pain, and sorrow in equal measures. It hates the King both bc Siffrin did and bc it sees him at fault for it's creation as it doesn't know of Wishcraft as it was created right on the line between 3 and 4. That is why it tore his right hand off and stole the gauntlet upon it - a punishment for the action that created it and a trophy for it to wear as proof that, even after such a horrid deed, he didn't win. It runs away from the House and it's former family because of this memory - it cannot confront the people it feels it failed even with the knowledge they survived, that it's sin wasn't permanent. In it's eyes it will always exist. It's eye will sometimes gleam with the same shade as the one that appeared when the world was breaking!

The Vengeful is the only ghost no one is completely sure the location of due to it throwing itself out of the first available window after completing it's mission. It mostly stays in forests or caverns where it can easily hide, only going near towns if someone reminds it of the King. Once it has dealt with said person however it views it needs to, mostly by scaring them, it returns to it's current hiding spot. The Vengeful is a lonely one, but it's not ready to be near people for long periods of time. It's afraid that due to how it was created it'll bring bad luck to those it spends too much time with - how couldn't it? It was created from a person trapped in the middle of an hourglass until they drowned in the golden sands and by a man who saw his will as absolute, who caused so much agony. One day, though, it'll realize that isn't true... but it'll be quite a while.

The Unseen(Right) - Created in Act 4 - Smells like Steel and Sugar

This one is the closest in personality to Loop. It mocks even though it has no voice, they play with the people around it to remind themself they're real. Without the left the right Unseen would be much more dangerous as it is so desensitized to death they have forgotten what is actually dangerous and so some of their mischief has to be tempered by the left one to avoid killing those around them. For a very long time they view others, besides left, as merely actors in a similar vein as Loop, only referring to others via titles if it needs to interact with anyone and left doesn't control the writing pen. As time passes this trait slowly disappears, as the days show more changes like rain upon the rooftops or snow in the gardens, things it long forgot.

Together with their counterpart The Unseen are the ones who were left behind through actions seen as small, but were greater than thought. The ones who cannot be seen without drastically changing the views of ones most loved by the person they once were. And so they stay hidden from sight by their own Wishcraft... but that is a lonely way to live they discovered. The two of them alone cannot satiate their need 4 company. And so they do little things that are easily noticed so they can be seen without breaking their rule: walking around with open, stolen umbrellas or pulling little pranks.

Most Housemaiden's don't talk to them, because they never get an answer they assume they don't like talking. This isn't the case though they cannot tell them that... neither can speak. The left's throat is closed up and the right's is... well u can probably guess why theirs wouldn't work even if they had a mouth to speak with. The Lonely though does speak to them often - it has a chalkboard in the room it lives in inside the House for them to write lil questions or answers on.

#lbwriting #isat #in stars and time #isat spoilers #isat au #Echoes of Loops AU #love these critters so much #they cause so many issues u have no idea #A lot of philosophy scholars will b having a field day exploring the questions these ghosts bring to Vaugarde #Bc that ghost might b committing blasphemy but does it count if they're not in ur religion? Can ghosts even commit blasphemy? #feel free to ask about them btw! I love talking about them if this very long post wasn't any indication

[chillwildwave]

Hello there fellow Disney fans, here's another update onto my "The Wishing Kingdom" rewrite, so here I created a little poster for a bit of promotion and just to get you an idea of what it is going to be: from the poster alone, my version is going to be about the REAL origin story of the famous wishing star with some scrapped elements included like the villain couple, a star boy, the idea of writing your wish on a tree, the village where people ran away from the villains and many more, and with this rewrite, I want to celebrate 100 years of Disney by showing you why it has made such a big impact on all of our lives!

Originally I wanted this to be half animated, half animatic but for some reason this is now going to be half written, half animated which means that in some sections I'll post some chapters with some sections of animation like the musical numbers and in some chapters, the scenes would be fully animated, so I'm looking forward to putting my foot forward into this!

During that time, it was taken to rewrite and redesign the main villain couple, King Magnifico and Queen Amaya, in the movie, I noticed that he had a tragic backstory which wasn't needed in terms of how far Disney villains go, but with a villain couple, they have a completely different story.

All Magnifico and Amaya wanted as their motivation is power, this was because they made a wish to become sorcerors who held all sorts of magic, but the stars rejected it as they feared that their magic would release the dark void which was used to suck all the power from the stars leaving them to slowly dissapear in the darkness, in response to this anger, they went to a cabin where they learnt incantations from a book, but there was one that gave them the power to become the sorcerors they always wanted to be, and with that power, they used it to create the kingdom of Rosas and anytime a few people came to the kingdom, they're immediately brainwashed into thinking that the couple's magic could be useful to grant their own wishes, for better and for worse.

During the story, they don't start off as powerful at first since when they are fostering Princess Asha, they keep their powers a secret by telling her the same story as to how they grant wishes for their people, kinda like they are gaslighting her in a way into believing that they can make other people's wishes come true, but as it progresses we get to see their true colours as to why they were hiding this power in the first place, it was a case of revenge from the star kingdom as they couldn't grant their own wish, with this, it kinda ties with the theme of despite having your wish come true being positive and happy, there is a dark side to it as well, and no matter what happens, you should have faith in yourself to make it come true.

Also, their villain song "This Is The Thanks I Get" will undergo 2 versions, the rewritten version and the rewritten reprise, I feel like the reason for this is because I want to try and give the essence of a true tribute to the villains of the past and the present, the title should be "Our Command" and the context shall be revealed in a few days once I get to it.

@annymation @uva124 @oh-shtars @kstarsarts @gracebethartacc @gracebeth3604 @thisnameisnotspokenfor @rascalentertainments @signed-sapphire @wings-of-sapphire @emillyverse @lunellasflo @mythartist21 @mafik-sun @artist-issues @hah-studios @pinkiemachine @synergysilhouette @tumblingdownthefoxden @kmixon

#wish rewrite #wish reimagined #asha wish #disney 100 #disney concept art #disney wish #wish asha #wish au #starboy #the wishing kingdom au #twk au #king magnifico #queen amaya #animation student #writers of tumblr #artists on tumblr #animators on tumblr #passion project #rewrite #animation #kingdom of wishes #kow au #wish concept art

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

Hazmat Hole 1: Overture

I went back and forth on whether to do the pilot or not, but ultimately decided not to. Pilots are meant to be an episode 0 that isn’t necessary to understanding the plot. I may go back to it after episode 8 if I’m not completely sick of this.

It starts off with a story book narration about how hell started because Lucifer was a rebel or something and just states very vaguely that he had big ideas heaven didn’t like. Also Adam was the first man, Lilith was the first woman but she didn’t like Adam and liked Lucifer better they fell in love or whatever and Lucifer gave Eve the apple and he and Lilith were banished to hell. I wish I could lie and say I was skipping over details but they used more words to explain that in about as much depth as I did there. Anyway. The important part is that Charlie is a princess of hell as the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith and the angels go down to hell annually to purge excess souls.

These two start off annoying and by god I do not see them getting any less so. Charlie is legitimately the most generic Disney Princess rip off I have ever seen in my life, complete with reading books aloud bursting into song. It’s genuinely jarring to hear her swear because you can tell the voice director basically just told her actor to pretend she’s auditioning for the little mermaid. Vaggie is annoying because she’s written like a middle schooler’s first “strong female character”. She’s the emo love interest in a B movie that was straight to video and made by people who don’t actually know what emo is.

Appropriation Deer is literally just here to make wise cracks and occasionally move in ways that make animators cry and deviantart users in 2010 scream in joy.

They could probably cut the budget in half by not having him in the show. Anyway no he is not here to do anything besides whine about how television sucks and emphasize that he’s only there at all because he’s into watching people fail and cry or whatever. He’s very flat as a character since he’s just there to be tumblr bait.

Angel is here and spends the entire episode being sexually aggressive to the point of making everyone there uncomfortable and that’s the entire joke. That’s it. He’s a gay man who says penis and wise cracks and sexually harasses the men in the hotel. Because that is how vivziepop writes her mlm characters.

We get a two for one easy joke with these two. Haha gay man is harassing a man who isn’t gay as well as haha asexual gets hit on but he says no way.

Angel is here because “crack is expensive” and they don’t charge him rent there.

Which he says while drinking a whole bottle of liquor to establish he’s an addict because vivziepop is as subtle as a bull in a China shop.

And thus we are taken to our first musical number. It’s very underwhelming.

Also Vaggie sings like she’s getting over a cold and plugging her nose and trying to do an impression of a duck.

The opening number also leaves me with a perplexing question. Can you die in hell? Do you go to super hell if you die in hell?

And we get our first real sexual harassment/assault joke from a giant slug flasher trying to make Charlie touch him in the middle of a musical number. I’m sure this bodes great for how angel’s abuse will be treated.

I hate that I know this but as someone who did shamefully hate watch sausage party twice I have to point out that Adam here is literally just a rip off of a sausage party character.

Everything down to the voice direction is literally just a rip off of the main antagonist of Sausage Party, the douche. This is probably somewhat intentional as vivziepop was a massive fan of that movie when it came out, but if you’re going to make an homage that borders on plagiarism (this is a joke I’m not accusing her of plagiarism here but it’s giving original character, donut steel), does it have to be from sausage party? Does it really? There’s other movies. Anyway he doesn’t say much, just establishes himself as a douche.

Back at the hotel they start filming a new commercial since Alastor intentionally made their first commercial bad because he wanted to make fun of them and hates TVs just that much. Nothing very interesting happens. Angel is hot horny. Husk doesn’t want to be there. Alastor makes a deal with Vaggie to help as long as she never makes him go on TV again.

We go back to Charlie begging Adam to stop coming to hell and killing demons by the hundreds every year and Adam says no in frankly one of the only songs that I like from this series. Sadly, it’s still terribly annoying and repetitive.

Viv posted meme please clap.

Isn’t this the homophobic character from the pilot? Didn’t realize she was given a male voice to imply she’s either a drag Queen or trans I guess. Great. I’m sure it’s a very artistic and respectful choice and not every other more likely reason this was the casting decision.

The episode ends with the discovery that an Angel was killed during the last extermination so they plan to come back in just six months to kill every demon in hell. I might care if any character established themselves as anything other than a vessel to spout boring exposition and sex jokes for twenty minutes.

And that’s episode one. It’s honestly just boring and all of the explicit language sounds extremely forced and awkward.

0/10, the one okay song wasn’t enough to save it. Too much exposition dumping.

#hazbin hotel #hazmat motel #hazmat hole #owlvid live-blogging

[oops-prow-did-it-again]

New Phyrexia disturbed me - and not how it should have

This is going to be a VERY opinion-heavy post. Before I say anything, I want to make it abundantly clear that I am not condemning the entirety of the New Phyrexia arc, nor am I saying that the people who wrote these stories meant for them to be taken this way. This is just a post getting into why the New Phyrexia arc rubbed me the wrong way again and again, and why it's... kind of ruined my love for Magic, if I'm completely honest.

Also, yes, I understand that New Phyrexia was meant to horrify and unsettle people - but I feel like it unsettled me in ways that they kind of weren't going for. I expect horror to unsettle me and show me some fucked up shit, for lack of a better terminology - but I also was expecting, in the fantasy/scifi horror shit, I'd get some stuff that didn't feel like it hit so close to home.

More under the cut.

First of all, it has always felt as if Magic can never quite decide if Phyrexians are people or monsters. This is worsened in New Phyrexia, where time and time again, we are given reason to think that New Phyrexians are people that are simply heavily indoctrinated from birth. Yes, the glistening oil works in strange ways, and they have somewhat of shared knowledge amongst their entire network, but by and large, you see time and time again, that Phyrexians have individuality. This seems intentional - you are shown from the start that Elesh Norn is an egomaniac, a fool, and that her plans of grandeur are insane. But her insanity shapes this world.

In that way, everyone in this world are... mostly actually victims of her insanity. Ixhel and Urabrask on New Capenna stand out as examples of times where Phyrexians show that they are not the heartless monsters they are made out to be. In Urabrask's first cards, he claims that he wishes the Mirrans to be left alone.

Yet, in ONE, we see time and time again that red Phyrexians and Mirrans are fighting still, Urabrask doesn't seem to be paying that much attention to the Phyrexians, and... frankly, I don't know what the Halo subplot was supposed to be about (forgive me, if this was addressed in passing, I only skimmed the latter half of MOM to see what big things happened, because i was so upset with it at that point I didn't really WANT to read it anymore). Yes, I have read the creators saying time and time again that just because Urabrask doesn't say outright he wants the multiverse compleated, it doesn't mean it's not what he wants, deep down. However... this still harks back onto one idea.

Sapient creatures being born evil.

This is a trope that I LOATHE in fantasy/scifi to my core. I understand that Phyrexians, for all intents and purposes, are created in a monstrous fashion. They are not created in a similar way to people. However, in the end, they still ACT LIKE PEOPLE. They have individuality, free will (yes, even if it is limited by the strict theocratic control of Norn, they still have it - how did Ixhel create, otherwise? How did Sheoldred rebel? Why did Nahiri snap at Nissa to show the skyclaves? Why did Tamiyo freeze upon seeing children?), and whether you like it or not, this makes them people. They are extremely different people, and yes, their existence does present conflict - but they. are. still. people.

I understand how it may feel offensive to real people to call the (rightful) fear and concern towards Phyrexians to be racism, as I feel like that waters down the term. However... again, knowing that Phyrexians are largely a cult that has been severely indoctrinated by Elesh Norn... it becomes difficult not to feel bad for them, and as if they have all been written off simply because they have a terrible leader. It comes across, to me, as another case of fantasy racism; similar to orcs being portrayed as idiot, warmongering beasts in some settings, or goblins being portrayed as stupid people little better respected than animals (and full of antisemitic stereotypes), just with less baggage attached.

It comes across as them having wanted to create a sapient race of people that was okay to bash and throw under the bus, so to speak. And yes, they gave plenty of reasons for why these people needed to go... but ultimately, it still feels like people went out of their way to create a civilization of people and show us justification for exterminating them.

I'm not trying to water down the term racism, but like... maybe I don't know the right words, but you understand why that might be uncomfortable, right?

Furthermore, at the start, I thought the transformative nature of Phyrexians was cool. Hot, even, as plenty others here on Tumblr think. Yes, I always sort of knew it was meant to be horrifying, too... but I also thought that the creators also were making them semi-alluring on purpose. (Look at Elesh Norn in promotional art. Look at her in the ONE trailer!! Look at the email they sent out for Arena on Valentine's Day, for god's sake!) But as time goes on... I start to get this uncomfortable feeling that this borderline sensual, sexual tension the Phyrexians produce is supposed to be PART of the horror.

And that's where things start getting uncomfortable for me. I am a transgender man. I don't know if I like sexualized, different people that transform themselves... being treated as horrible monsters that can't be coexisted with. I know plenty of trans people felt otherwise about Phyrexians; I understand this likely wasn't even the intention. BUT it still felt that way to me, for someone living in a country where trans people are getting more and more hunted on the daily.

Suddenly, it wasn't so fun anymore, to look at Elesh Norn and see her as heehoo sexy dommy mommy everyone joked at her being. It felt, to me at least, like she was a caricature of what I was. Of what people like me are. Monstrous. Out to destroy the world. Egomaniacs who want to force others down our same "lifestyle."

This is not helped by how Strixhaven, despite being an obvious play on Hogwarts & Harry Potter, came back into importance in MOM. They made a new Planeswalker from that plane, even! I loathe Strixhaven, and I was not at all pleased to learn that they have made it more important. The stories from the original Strixhaven set make me uncomfortable, too; Lukka arrives at a tavern and is asking for food, as he is not doing so well, and people comment on how he dresses strange, and when he (not rudely!) tells them they wouldn't know where he's from even if he told them, they react by SHOOTING FIREBALLS AT HIM.

These people saw a stranger. And decided the appropriate reaction was to shoot fireballs. (More on Lukka later, as I'm not done with him yet) but you understand how that might have also been deeply uncomfortable, right? Like yes, it did seem very intentional, to show how unkind the general populace of Arcavios can be... but there never seemed to be any point to that?? So it just came across as people hating a guy for dressing unconventionally for ""flavor"" to the very-obviously-based-on-TERF-school set. Which. WHY?

I also was not blind to how most of the compleated Planeswalkers were the nonhuman ones. Barring Lukka and Jace, every compleated Planeswalker was nonhuman, which I think... was done purposefully, because nonhumans are viewed as inherently more "monstrous" to our primal little monkey brains. (I don't think it was coincidence; there are PLENTY of human planeswalkers, to the point the majority could have easily not been human.) But this makes me uncomfortable too, because it feels like it, again, not only implies that Phyrexians are not people and are monsters (even though they had been given traits again and again that very firmly confirmed them as people), but that these nonhuman planeswalkers are inherently more monstrous, too.

Ajani - leonin. Tamiyo - moonfolk. Tibalt - (half) devil. Nissa - elf. Vraska - gorgon. Nahiri - kor.

And of the human Planeswalkers compleated, they chose Lukka and Jace. Jace, who has had a steep history of being viewed as less than human and little more than a tool (even sometimes by himself, as much as he hates it), and Lukka, who was also viewed as less than human by the society he came from, and was essentially labeled a sick dog to be shot on sight by his home city. (But more on him and why I particularly hate what was done with him later.)

And like... I'm not saying that corruption arcs or that transformation horror can't be done in a tasteful way!! It just started to feel like, as time went on, that this stuff was... malicious. I already was uncomfortable with how Phyrexians were seemingly being set up to be offed or taken out the picture completely (for there being no feasible way for them to coexist in the multiverse), so maybe I was looking for flaws, even where most wouldn't see them. But, I mean.. it just... Idk man. That part, too, gets under my skin.

And Lukka. LUKKA. I loathe what has been done to his character like none other. It is frequent fan interpretation that Lukka is stupid, Lukka deserves everything that has happened to him, and that it's a good thing he is gone. However, having read everything he has ever appeared in, I am so infuriated that even the creators THEMSELVES seemed to have bought into this idea.

For those that don't know, Lukka first appeared in Ikoria: Lair of Behemoths - Sundered Bond, a digital novella. He was born and raised in Drannith, a heavily militarized city, one of three so-called "sanctuaries" that have actually managed to stay around on Ikoria. Ikoria is a world of kaiju-esque mutated, crazy monster animals, and he was raised in propaganda by Drannith's military, the Coppercoats. He is 40+ years old when we meet him; he has served the Coppercoats for half of that, and then another 2 years or so as Captain of a Specials force team. You see, through him, that he's actually a very caring leader and a rather simple guy: he is betrothed to Jirina Kudro, the daughter of General Kudro, leader of the Coppercoats, and his concerns seem to only be getting his team back home in one piece and getting quality time with his wife. He's not perfect, he's rough around the edges, would probably be an asshole to hang out with in real life, but it FITS for the world he comes from.

And then, he accidentally bonds with a winged cat that slaughters 3/4 of his team in front of him, within minutes of each other. General Kudro has kept the bonding magic Lukka experienced a secret from Drannith populace. He believes it makes Lukka "sick." (Need I explain why a leader referring to a group of people as inherently 'sick' is bad??) Even Jirina, for as much as she apparently loves her father, so emphatically believes her father will kill Lukka for this that she helps him escape! the city!!!

To recap, Lukka has his entire world upended from beneath his feet in the course of like, a day. He becomes the public enemy of the city he has defended with his life for years. In his eyes, it is us (the humans of Ikoria) versus them (the monsters of the plane). This is how he has been raised and trained; he did not choose the bonding and is (rightfully!) upset and horrified at it (ONE was incorrect when it said he "always knew he was different;" lukka made no such acknowledgments in Sundered Bond, that was an invention of ONE). He later then meets Vivien, who tells him how her home plane was DESTROYED (um??? Vivien? Why would you tell a man whose life is going to shit about that??) which makes Lukka vow to himself that he will not lose his home.

Later in the story, Lukka learns of a presence in a particular crystal called the Ozolith, and he goes to it. There, for reasons that would take too long to explain, a three-way battle ensues, and an unknown Planeswalker reaches out to Lukka through the Ozolith. The Planeswalker shows Lukka one of the bonders he has met along the way getting killed by a skysail's bolt meant to kill monsters and it is only then that Lukka accepts the power of the Ozolith.

Anyway, saying all this to say... Lukka is a villain, yes. But contrary to popular belief, he is NOT stupid. He is just as smart as anyone would be in the situation he was put into, coming from the world he comes from. He wanted, again and again and again, nothing more than to just go home. He even tried to spin his bonding into a way that Drannith could defend itself, by telling Kudro they should use monsters instead of peoples' lives (but Kudro wasn't hearing it; and the kicker? Drannith would go on to use bonders & monsters to protect the city anyway, after Lukka had been run off the world).

Lukka had a SHIT deck of cards handed to him in Ikoria, and he - REASONABLY - lashed out. It was just that when he lashed out, he had the power of a Planeswalker manipulating him, whispering in his ear, and the power to actually make people listen. He believed his choices were come home and die like a good soldier, or force them to let him come home. Maybe other people fault him for that, but I don't fault him for choosing to live, even if doing so caused much violence and bloodshed.

But yes, he was still a villain, and in Strixhaven, he was relegated to villain again, when people once again presume him to be an Oriq - which he doesn't even know what that is - and finally, he simply decides that if everyone keeps calling him one, he might as well be one. This comes after nearly starving to death and having his new bond, Mila, save his life. Had someone from Strixhaven maybe, I don't know, taken pity on this very clearly struggling guy.... I don't know! I feel like his role in Strixhaven really never would have happened. THE GUY LITERALLY JUST WANTED FOOD AND WATER. I cannot emphasize that enough

Anyway, saying this all to say, Lukka's arc felt like it was headed toward a redemption of some kind. He had been given a raw deal, reacted very humanly but very poorly, and now, the only way he had to go was up.

Instead, we got Vivien shooting him dead. Calling him "lukka-thing." We got Vivien saying nothing as she faces down the man she called a friend and seemingly felt bad for by the end of Sundered Bond and killing him.

As someone from a country that is VERY obviously careening toward more VERY conservative bullshit... THAT PLOT DID NOT SIT WELL WITH ME. It felt VERY MUCH like I was being told "if you are born into shit circumstances or bad things are done to you, and you don't sit there and take it, you will be punished for not simply taking it. And that punishment may very well be death."

I especially did not care for how Jirina seemed to be veering into her father's mindset in the story in MOM. And yes, she was called out for this, but the story also seemed to be trying to lean into this "survival, no matter the cost" vibe, which seemed like it was subtly justifying what she did, since it DID technically work in the end. Vivien's emo ass "but survival is the only law out here now" or w/e it was she said to herself as she killed Lukka definitely didn't help that feeling, either.

It upset me very much to see a character born into a shitty society, given raw deal after raw deal, and then be told that he deserved to die instead of get help. Or worse, that dying WAS getting help. It was "putting him out of his misery." He was "irreversibly changed," and "didn't know better anymore," he "couldn't be helped." That, combined with how compleation started to feel like a very negative allegory for transgender people after a point to me (see near the beginning of this), made Lukka's death feel like rapidfire punch after rapidfire punch to the gut.

AND NOT IN THE WAY THAT IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN! I would have loved to see Vivien upset that she can't get to apologize. I would have loved to see Vivien agonizing over the decision to kill him. I would have loved her maybe showing some more REMORSE over having to do it, even if she did feel it was the only way forward. We have seen that New Phyrexians, especially compleated Planeswalkers, are still themselves, even while compleated, so the fact Lukka had nothing to say to her either felt hollow, too. He thought she was his friend and she turned on him; why didn't he have anything to say about that?

Urabrask being pulled apart at the limbs, then, felt like the final message to me: New Phyrexians are not people, they are monsters, end of discussion. They are not making it out of this. Stop asking/talking about it.

Suffice to say, by the time I got to the story of Elspeth becoming an archangel, everything felt hollow and gross for me. I've seen the promo art of Aftermath showing Nahiri and Nissa at least recovered; I get the feeling most of them, bar Tamiyo, Tibalt, and Lukka, probably have recovered or will recover.

But, frankly, I don't think I'm very invested anymore. New Phyrexia felt like it crossed a lot of lines, and not in the way that I would have appreciated horror to do so. It hit on a lot of sensitive subjects that made it rather difficult to enjoy as mere entertainment. Maybe I am just oversensitive, due to the day and age I am living in, due to the fact I am deeply unhappy with the fact I am forced to live closeted irl and feel hypervigilant of all slights, but it felt very gross to me.

Lukka's death in particular just... sealed the deal for me. I know he wasn't a big deal. Maybe he was always intended to just be a villain that gets killed off. But it's not even necessarily about him, in particular, it was about what his death represented. It was about how he was a product of propaganda and hatred, and how he was never given a chance to be better. it's about how I was told that death was the only way forward for him.

Maybe when I was 12 I would have liked that, but I'm over my obsession with the 'death is the only salvation.' SO MUCH MEDIA uses this trope, and frankly, I'm fucking sick of it.

I want to see people, even some of the most depraved fucking people you can imagine, getting better. I want to see that people can change and recognize the error in their ways. I'm tired of being told to look and see "us vs. them."

I'm not saying that you can't have conflict. But I am saying that if you're going to have conflict of this scale, I would prefer it to be solved in ways that don't essentially boil down to "kill/put away the Them."

Because that fucking blows.

If you've made it this far, I am grateful, but again, please keep in mind that this is the ramblings of a deeply mentally unwell ADHD-addled 22 year old (who is not on and cannot get Adderall right now). Emotional dysregulation IS a big problem I deal with, and the world I live in right now fucking sucks. If you're reading this going "oh my godd, let people enjoy things, you crybaby" then please just... move on? Because I'm not trying to tell people not to enjoy it, quite the contrary I WISH these things didn't bother me so much because I JUST got into Magic, and I would love to keep enjoying it! And Im happy for you if you have tolerance/could enjoy it through these things!

I'm just... sad. I'm very, very disappointed in this story. It was pretty, it was flashy, people clearly put in effort, but it felt like a low blow, all things considered, and worse, it touches literally all aspects of canon and cannot be safely disregarded. Much like War of the Spark, it affects almost everything, and will for a while yet.

#mtg #magic the gathering #magic: the gathering #mtg march of the machine #mtg phyrexia all will be one #march of the machine #phyrexia: all will be one #rambles #long post

[oddinary4bts]

The Forgotten Spaces | ch 3 (jjk)

☆summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

☆pairing: photographer and dancer!Jungkook x dancer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there will be mature content in later chapters)

☆genre: slow (SLOW) burn enemies to lovers, college!au, slice of life!au, angst (oop), smut and fluff

☆warnings: still fighting (sorta?), a little bit of fluff, alcohol consumption, weed smoking, angst, throwing up, cursing

☆word count: 10.2k

☆series masterpost here

☆a/n: new chapter babyyy! As always, thank you to @moonleeai for her help on this fic  <3 best beta reader out there

☆Read What Was Hidden here, the fic that inspired this whole story, written by @daechwitatamic, one of my fav human beings on this app <3 It follows the story of Jo and Taehyung before The Forgotten Spaces

☆☆☆☆☆

For this meeting of our end of the world

It's with you that I want to sing

On the threshold of the memories the dead of today

Them that breathe for us

The forgotten spaces

Je t'écris - Gaston Miron (rough translation by me)

☆☆☆☆☆

Saturday, May 5th

                Jungkook feels anxious. He hasn’t felt anxious like that since the last time he performed on a stage. Even coming here yesterday didn’t feel as bad – maybe because you were the only one waiting for him, and he can’t bring himself to be anxious when it comes to you.

But right now, he knows the full crew is waiting for him, and it feels as if he’s getting crushed by the weight of the universe, like Atlas when he was given the heavens to hold. He wishes he could just turn around and leave, but he made a deal.

He’s not the type to betray his words. So he forces one step in front of the other, even as his leg is killing him, as if it too knows what he’s going to do.

He reckons it’s been hurting since he danced yesterday. But it felt relieving to be dancing for the first time since the accident. Even if it was with you, it felt like coming home.

Maybe because it was with you, in all truth. He knows you’ve never liked each other, but to him it’s always been that kind of relationship where you tease someone because you can. Yes, he once thought you were an entitled rich brat, but he’s known better for years now.

He still feels bad for fighting with you yesterday. But when his leg hurt, he was just taken back to the night of the car crash, and he felt far too vulnerable for his own good.

You’re the last person he wants to be vulnerable in front of.

You haven’t replied to his texts last night. He wasn’t really expecting you to, and he only texted you in the first place because Hobi asked him to do it. Something about making amends, but he didn’t really pay attention to it.

Jungkook sighs as the studio appears in front of him. He’s dreamed of this place for over a year now, and even if he came yesterday, it still feels unreal to see it. To think not all of the world has changed. Maybe he did, maybe he’s changed to the point of no return, but it’s reassuring to see that not everything has.

Like his relationship with you, for instance.

It’s warm today. The sun is about to set, painting the sky in thousands of golden hues, and he has half a thought to stop and admire, maybe snap a picture or two. To breathe for a time, and remember that whatever happens, the sun always rises and sets the next day.

But he has people waiting for him. Friends he avoided for over a year because he’s ashamed of what he’s become.

The thought sobers him up a little, until watching the sunset seems more like it’ll lead to him thinking about stuff he shouldn’t think about. So he heads straight towards the entrance, and thinks of something he could say to rile you up.

Riling you up always makes him feel better after all.

To his surprise, and perhaps even disappointment, you’re not here when he reaches the studio. The five others are, and Hobi informs him that you’re stuck at a family dinner when he notices him scanning the room for you.

Jungkook mumbles that he doesn’t care, before turning towards Heather and Jiho. Heather has a sad pitiful look on her face, and Jiho is holding in a smile. As for Jiho, he knows you probably told him about your fight last night, and Jiho’s always been like a smaller version of you. His eyes go back to Heather, and he’s pretty sure Bridget already told her what happened, and he can only hope she won’t say anything.

He doesn’t really want the crew to know about his leg. Of course, Hobi knows, but Hobi also promised not to tell anyone last year when Jungkook was forced to quit.

So, it’s without you that Jungkook starts to teach everyone the choreography you chose yesterday. He doesn’t dance as much as he did with you, and he does his best not to look at Heather whenever his steps falter. He doesn’t want to see her pity.

It’s mostly the fear of that pity that made him quit without telling anyone. That, and the fact that he doesn’t want to see you satisfied. Because he’s always thought that you would be happy to know he was hurt and couldn’t dance anymore. Something in the way you always frown or glare at him gives it away.

It’s almost ten when you finally join, cheeks flushed red from the fact you had to run from home, as you complain as soon as you arrive. Even if he thought about how to rile you up earlier, Jungkook’s brain is completely empty when you arrive.

So all he can do is nod in acknowledgment before looking away. He sees your frown in the mirror, and it almost makes him smile.

“We’ve been practicing the first part of the choreography while we were waiting for you,” he says, gauging the waters.

“I said I was going to be there at ten,” you let out, looking at Hobi.

Hobi raises his hands in defense.

It makes Jungkook chuckle. “Don’t worry, you’ll just have to stay here longer tonight.”

Your frown turns into a scowl, and your cheeks are not only red because of running now. You’re angry, and probably a little embarrassed. Exactly where he likes you to be.

“I don’t see why, I practiced with you last night,” you point out.

Everyone’s watching the conversation unfold like it’s a tennis match, turning their head from you to him whenever one of you say something. It makes an amused smirk grow on Jungkook’s lips.

“Alright then, show us what you’ve got.” It’s a challenge, and he sends it your way by finally fully facing you. Maybe he shouldn’t have, because he’s struck once again with how much you changed since last year.

Your hair frames your face differently now, and your features look sharper, as if you’ve lost the baby face he’s always known. Your eyes hold the same daggers though, and he thinks about last night.

He doesn’t remember seeing you as furious as you were last night. He’s pretty sure you were extremely close to killing him on the spot, and the thought of it calms him down a little. His relationship with you is fragile as it is, no need to rile you up in front of everyone.

He’s taken aback by his own thought – has he become more mature without even realizing it?

“Bet,” you let out, before glancing once at Jiho.

Jungkook doesn’t miss the way you roll your eyes and Jiho laughs, hiding it behind her hand. It makes him feel stupid, but it’s too late to make you back down from the challenge. If there is one thing he knows about you, it’s that you’re just as competitive as he is.

Maybe even a little more.

“Just turn the music up,” you say nonchalantly as you meet Jungkook’s gaze again.

Your eyes are shining with mischief and it makes a genuine smile grow on his lips. He’s not surprised at all when you reproduce the choreography perfectly. No, he just watches you move – he’s always liked the way your body moves. As if the space surrounding it belongs to it. As if you can’t be contained by your physical body. It’s beautiful, and he believes you are the best dancer he’s ever seen, except maybe for Hobi.

And himself, back before the accident.

But watching you leaves no place for the accident. All he can think of is that you’ve grown more beautiful while he was gone, as if his absence has given you space to grow. And maybe it has, considering that he was always gently bullying you.

He has half a thought that he should stop doing it. Bullying you, that is. But when you stop dancing and you regard him with a superior look on your face, he just wants to remind you that without him you wouldn’t have been able to dance this choreography at all. He doesn’t quite feel like insulting you though, so instead he says, “Glad you were paying attention last night”.

You look smug, and even though you’re way smaller than him you stand proud and tall. It’s cute, and he lets out a small laugh.

That small laugh is enough to shatter the confidence you are carrying yourself with. “What’s funny?” you ask.

He shrugs. “Nothing.”

You eye him suspiciously, before sighing loudly. “What’s the rest of the choreography anyway?”

That’s a question he has an easy answer to, though he thinks it’s better if you wait. Not you you, but all of the team. He wants the first part to be perfect before you dive into what comes next.

“Ah, let’s see you all dance together first,” he says.

The rest of the dance practice flies by, with Jungkook barely needing to guide you all through the choreography anymore. No, with Hobi and you leading the team, it takes little to no time until Jungkook can just sit in a corner and watch, while his mind keeps on planning what should be next. He has a couple of ideas that he’ll have to run through Hobi before telling the rest of you.

While you all dance together, Jungkook absentmindedly massages his leg. The throbbing pain is not so bad right now, but he knows it’ll be as soon as he gets up. Which might be the reason why he waits when Hobi calls dance practice off. Because he doesn’t want to get up in front of the crew, and have them look at him with the same pity Heather’s been throwing his way all night.

Unfortunately for him, Hobi, Jiho and you linger around. Surprisingly, you eventually drift towards him, leaving Hobi and Jiho to the conversation they’re having – something about their favourite restaurant, which coincidentally is the same. They both look excited, and he realizes he hasn’t seen Hobi smiling so much in a long time.

“Are you sulking in your corner?” you ask as you stop next to him.

You hover over him, and he tilts his head back to look up at your face. He wants to tell you to fuck off, only because he really doesn’t think he can get up right now without cursing like a sailor, and he knows you’ve noticed.

“You’ve got a problem against my corner?”

You cock an eyebrow, and a smile forms on your lips. “No, I was coming to tell you you should leave.”

It’s said gently. Not like you said it last night. Confusion falls on his features and he says, “Why?”

The look you throw over your shoulder to where Jiho and Hobi are standing explains everything. Jungkook’s gaze widens, and he lets out a small laugh.

 “No way.”

You don’t know. You don’t know that his leg hurts, so he has no business being angry at you when you kick it. He just freezes, turning to solid ice, as he feels as if magma is dumped on his knee.

“Shut up,” you say, and the only reason you don’t realize you’ve just hurt him is because you’re still watching Jiho and Hobi. “Let’s leave them alone.”

Jungkook gulps, and he takes a deep breath to calm the pain in his leg. It doesn’t do much, and he knows he can’t stand up right now. He needs to find something to say, and quickly.

“Or we stay here and let them go together,” he suggests.

You put your fists on your hips as you look down at him. “Did you shit yourself? Is that why you don’t want to get up?”

He leans his head against the wall, tilting it to the side. “Why do you think I don’t want to get up?”

“Because you haven’t done it yet?”

He reckons he can’t wait any longer. Luckily enough, the small interlude his suggestion has given him has helped with the pain a little, so it doesn’t feel like too much of a challenge to get up.

He plants the right foot firmly on the ground, knowing damn well that if he’s to put weight on his left leg right now he’s just going to humiliate himself in front of you. And then he clenches his jaw so hard he tastes blood before pushing himself up, aiding himself with the wall next to him.

There’s a question burning on your lips. He knows it from the way your eyebrows are almost touching over your eyes. He knows by now that you’re not going to ask it – you’re suspicious about something, but he remembers you for being patient, when it comes to discovering secrets.

He’s always hated how you were able to know everything back then because you were just so patient. He’s pretty sure most of the crew confides in you out of the rest of the group, even though to him Hobi is the right choice. Who would want to confide in a gossiper when Hobi is right there anyway?

Jungkook stands with all of his weight on his right leg. You’re looking up at him now, and he likes that he towers over you: you’re not looking down when he’s standing next to you. You can’t see that he’s not risking putting any weight on his leg at the moment.

Sometimes, he knows he should walk with a cane. He knows it would help him, but to out himself as having a disability? He’s too ashamed to do it.

“Happy?” he asks instead, even as his heart is hammering against his ribcage.

You wet your lips, and his eyes flit to them. You’re smirking when he looks back at your gaze. “You’re adorable.” It’s said condescendingly though, and he wonders if you’re still angry about last night.

You don’t particularly look like you are, but he decides to apologize once more. He’s growing a little tired of all the fighting anyway.

“Hey,” he lets out. He glances over your head to where Hobi and Jiho are still talking, completely oblivious to the world around them. “I’m really sorry about last night.”

He sees you closing yourself off from him. You fold your arms on your chest, shoulders slouching forward a little, and a frown moves on your features. “It’s whatever, Jeon, I don’t care.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I said,” he insists. “It was a little disgusting.”

“You’re always a little disgusting.”

Fucking hell do you know how to rile him up too. “You can’t accept some apologies, can you? You always need to have the last word.” You’re smiling. He realizes you’re smiling, which means you were joking. It makes him shut up, and a pout forms on his lips. “You’re annoying.”

“Apologize to me when you really mean it, Jeon,” you say, and that insufferable smirk hasn’t been dislodged from your lips yet. “We’re not friends, no need to pretend that we are.”

He keeps the pout on for no other reason than the fact you’re looking down at his mouth. “You make it very hard to know what you want,” he complains. “I’m just trying to be decent.”

“Just be yourself,” you say, shrugging your shoulders, as if him being nice to you is not being himself.

He lets go of the pout to play with his piercing for a time. “M’kay then.”

You nod, a satisfied look on your face. You glance at Jiho and Hobi once more, and he follows your line of gaze. “Let’s go now.”

He braces himself for the first step, because he knows there’s nothing he can do to make you change your mind. Surprisingly enough, it doesn’t hurt as bad as he thought it would, and he’s able to follow you. You stop in front of him to wish Jiho and Hobi good night, and he waves goodbye to them before following you out of the room.

“So Jiho’s into Hobi?” he asks once you are out of earshot from them.

You glance at him, shrugging your shoulders. “She might be.”

“I’m pretty positive she has a chance with him,” Jungkook says. “But gosh, after all this time they just now realize it?”

“I mean.” Your tongue darts to wet your lips as you reach the door leading to the world outside. “Some people just take a long time before they realize they have feelings for each other.”

It makes him laugh a little, because to him it doesn’t really make sense. He’s the type who’s always believed that when he’ll meet the right person, he’ll just know.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking.

“Right,” he lets out.

You step outside, and Jungkook breathes in the night air. It’s colder than it was when he arrived, and a little more humid. His damn leg starts to throb again, though it hasn’t really stopped since you kicked it. He ignores it, looking up at the sky to see if there are any stars out. To his disappointment, a cover of clouds hides the constellations from his eyes, and he lets his gaze drop to the cement of the road, and to the orange glow of the neon lights.

He’s put away his camera for the summer, just because he needs a break from college. Visual arts being his major, taking pictures has been feeling like a chore to him lately, but he’s struck that the street is giving an eerie vibe right now, one he knows he’d be able to capture well.

“You know,” you let out, words loud enough to dim the sounds of frogs in the distance. “As much as I hate your guts, I’m glad that you’re back.”

You have a way of lacing insult to compliment that makes him reel inside. He doesn’t know how to interpret the feeling, so he just says, “Your ass needed saving, I’m glad I could provide”.

“I did not need saving,” you grumble. “Just some help.”

He cocks an eyebrow, glancing at you with a no-bullshit look on his features. “What part of the choreography did you come up with again?” he asks teasingly.

“The part where you shut the fuck up.”

He bursts out laughing, and he’s surprised when you join in too. It reminds him that he’s known you for a long time, and even if you’ve never really been friends, you do share some sort of a relationship. Enough so that you can laugh at a dumb joke together.

“Wow, my bad,” he says once he stops laughing.

You look at him, and the proud smile on your lips makes him go brain dead for a few seconds. “Nah, for real, the crew really needed you. I’m glad you came through.”

He holds your gaze, features falling serious as your smile melts into a softer one.

“I’m glad I did too.”

He really is. It feels like he’s in heaven, being able to participate in the act of dancing again. Not by doing it himself, but by having people do what he wishes he could do. It really does feel like coming home.

You walk in silence for a time, listening to the cry of the frogs. It grows louder as you near the small river where they reproduce each year. It reminds Jungkook of spring, and it strikes him how much he’s progressed since last year.

Indeed, at this time of the year last year he was still in his cast.

“Do you think you’ll want to dance again one day?” you ask.

It’s said in a small voice, and he knows you’ve gathered by now that dancing is a sensitive subject to him. He likes how you’re being gentle with it, and maybe that’s the only reason why he doesn’t get offended with the question.

“I never really wanted to stop,” he admits. “Stuff just happened and I couldn’t anymore.”

He’s speaking in the past tense, as if he can dance now. He knows damn well that’s impossible.

“You know, if you ever need to talk to someone about the stuff that happened, we’re all ears for you,” you tentatively say.

It kills the magic of the moment to him. The fact you used “we” instead of “I”. It reminds him that you truly aren’t really friends, and that you won’t ever be friends either.

“I know,” he just replies, and silence reigns around you once more.

Except for the frogs, that is.

You reach the bridge over the river, and the frogs are so loud here it doesn’t really allow for conversation anyway. But even once you’ve crossed the bridge, nearing the intersection where you’ll have to part ways, you both don’t talk.

Jungkook doesn’t think you need to. Silence with you is strangely more comfortable than a conversation. Maybe because then you’re not at each other’s throat all the time.

You near the intersection, and it’s then that you talk again. “How are you getting home?”

He motions towards the bus stop. “I’ll just take the bus.”

You nod, and he watches you as you put your hair behind your ear absentmindedly. “How long of a ride is it for you?”

He shrugs. “I’ve never really paid attention. Maybe forty-five minutes?”

“Oh,” you let out. “I can order a Lyft for you, if you want.”

Your kindness sounds suspiciously like pity, so he declines it right away. “Nah, I’m good. I’ll just listen to some music and think about the choreography. I think I can tweak some parts of the first half to make Scottie use more of his shoulders.”

You hum. “Alright then. Guess I’ll see you around?”

You’ve reached the intersection by now, so Jungkook nods. “See you.”

You hold his gaze for a few more seconds before you nod too, turning around as you start walking towards the rich neighbourhood where you live. If he was closer to you, Jungkook would offer to walk you home. It feels like it’s too much though, so he settles on watching you walk away as he sits at the bus stop.

He’s halfway home when he receives a text.

[12:34 am] You🙄: i’m sure the rest of the choreography will be great

He smiles for the rest of the way home.

Friday, May 18th

                You have been watching your phone for the last hour. It’s been suspiciously silent all morning, even though your dad was supposed to call you on Facetime an hour and a half ago. You’re used to him being late – he’s one of the most renowned lawyers of a big city on the other side of the country. It keeps him very busy, but when he says he’s going to call you he usually does.

So, needless to say, you’re a little annoyed as you watch the minutes go by. You’re on your fourth episode of Attack on Titan when you receive a text, and surprisingly it’s not from your father. You pause the episode, waiting until the text disappears at the top of the screen as if it means it never existed.

You still have yet to save Jungkook’s number. You don’t really want to: you still expect him to disappear once again, and since your fight last week you’ve been a little iffy about him.

Or maybe you’re iffy because you’ve noticed he was in pain last Saturday, trying to pretend he was fine. You have a couple of hypotheses as to why he’s left now, but you’re trying not to think about it too much.

You don’t like thinking about Jungkook.

You sigh, before going to your text messages. You’ve long deactivated the ‘read’ function, so you don’t care: you immediately open his text.

[11:36 am] unsaved number: hey, any chance i could run what i’ve got through u before showing it to the crew tmrw?

You’re appalled, somehow, that he wants to run it through you when he can show Hobi instead. You’re about to tell him so when your phone starts vibrating from your dad’s incoming call. You pick up the call, and your father’s face appears.

He’s sporting his best apologetic smile, and you can see the sun painting his wall behind him. It’s earlier where your father is, and the sun is still far from its zenith, which means it hits the glass doors of your father’s balcony almost perpendicularly now.

“Sorry,” he immediately apologized. “Had a call with a client and couldn’t call you before.”

You’ve missed his voice. You haven’t talked to him in two months, and even though it’s been years of him having moved to the other side of the country, some part of you is still not used to the distance.

“No worries,” you say. “The semester is over now, I’ve just been chilling in my room since I woke up.”

“Don’t you have an internship this summer?”

You let out a small laugh at the stern look on his features. As if he has any authority over you whatsoever. “Yes, it starts at the end of May.”

He nods. “Thought so.” He looks away from the camera, and you think you hear some birds singing. He probably left the balcony doors wide open, enjoying the warmth of the Californian early morning. Last time you went he had gotten a few bird feeders, saying he loves to hear them sing in the morning. The peaceful expression on his features tells you he still does. “What are your plans until then?”

You shrug, and a little like he just did, you look away, towards your own window. It’s sunny outside for you too, though it stopped raining only half an hour ago. You hope it won’t rain again today – it’s been raining way too much lately anyway.

“Just taking it easy,” you answer. “Practicing for the auditions for nationals in July.”

He smiles. “Right. How’s that been going?”

You know there’s a high chance he doesn’t really care. He’s never shown up for any of your dance competitions growing up, and it used to make you feel horrible. Until you were old enough to realize your mother treated him poorly, and being away from her for a few days was always a reprieve to him.

It hasn’t changed now that they are divorced, even if your mother stopped coming to your competitions too.

“It’s been great,” you say. “We’re adjusting to being only six and it’s a challenge, but I think we’ll make it.”

“Haven’t you always just been six?”

He doesn’t remember. You don’t know why he would remember: you only mentioned Jungkook leaving to him once last year when the deed happened, and then did your best to forget all about Jeon Jungkook.

You chuckle. “No, we’ve always been seven. Until Jungkook left last year?”

“Jungkook?” he asks.

“Tall guy, with the sleeve of tattoos and a couple of piercings?” you provide, though you doubt it’ll ring a bell to your father. “He joined the crew at the same time as I did.”

Which almost coincides with the month your parents divorced, actually.

“I feel bad for not remembering, but that’s probably because he didn’t matter, uh?” he says it like a joke, and you roll your eyes playfully.

“He doesn’t,” you agree. Only, he does a little, especially now that he’s become the choreographer.

Especially now that he thinks he has to run the dances through you before showing them to the other members.

“Why did he leave anyway?” your father asks, and he once again glances away from the screen.

You wonder if his new wife is around. From the lack of a three-year-old’s screaming, you assume she went out to the park with their son. Is he looking outside because he’s expecting them to come back soon?

“I don’t know,” you reply. You shrug, even if your father is not looking at you right now. “He’s come back to be the choreographer now, though.”

That attracts your father’s attention again. “Wow, a choreographer. Your crew is getting big, isn’t it?”

He’s only partly listening. Because you’re not quite sure he understood what you just said, but it doesn’t matter.               

He’s not really your father anyway.

“Well, we’ll see if we can win nationals.”

“Where are they held this year?” he asks, and he sounds genuine. As if he might be considering coming.

“Some place near here”, you inform him. “In Chicago two hours away.”

Chicago is the city where he used to take you when you were a kid to see the Christmas decoration. It was something you did just you two, and to this day it is still one of your favourite memories of him.

He’s not your father. Biologically, that is. But he’ll always be your dad, no matter how many miles separates you from him.

“Ah, why did I think it was in California?”

“Because you’ve been wanting them to be in California for the last three years?” you tease.

It makes him laugh, which brings a bright smile to your lips. “They’ve been on the East coast for years now, shouldn’t they come to my side of the country?”

You purse your lips, looking up as if pondering. “Maybe you should be the one coming.”

The suggestion dims the light in your father’s eyes. You know he associates this side of the country with your mother, and with a lot of bad memories. You don’t blame him – she did hide from him and you that you aren’t his biological daughter until you found out yourself through some genetic testing when you were sixteen.

“I’ll think about it,” and it’s synonym to no. You know him well enough. He’s quick to change the subject too. “Do you think you’ll be visiting this summer?”

You haven’t really planned to. Something about seeing him with his wife and son always makes you feel awful. And it makes you feel even worse that you’re jealous of his happiness, that you’re jealous your family life cannot be like that. He deserves it after everything your mother put him through.

You’re happy for him though. You can’t deny it. Even though you believed it was risky for him to have kids considering he’s a carrier of a Tay-Sachs disease gene. From what he’s told you, his son didn’t get the gene, which is a relief, but had you been him you wouldn’t have taken the risk.

“I don’t know,” you finally reply. “It depends how busy it gets with the internship and dance practice.”

He’s disappointed, but he doesn’t say anything. He knows how hard it is for you to come, so he mostly asks out of reflex. He’ll never put pressure on you to do it.

“We’re back!” a cheery woman’s voice says.

You reckon it’s risky for her to scream in the house like that when your father might have been on a call with a client, but love makes people stupid.

He greets her and their son, before resuming his attention on you. “I’ll have to go.”

You wish he wouldn’t have to, but you don’t really have anything else to tell him anyway. So you offer him your best excuse of a warm smile, and a moment later you’ve hung up.

It brings you back to the text conversation with Jungkook, and the unanswered message he sent you. You sigh, and maybe if you weren’t feeling sadly nostalgic about your father, you would have told him to run it through Hobi instead.

For some reason, Jungkook feels like a good distraction though, so you reply,

[11:58 am] You: if u can pull up at the studio some time this evening, yeah sure

He replies almost right away, as if he was waiting for you to text him.

[11:59 am] unsaved number: i’ll try to be there around 9😌

You’re annoyed that he chose such a late hour, especially considering you are supposed to meet up with Jiho for girl’s night – aka clubbing and finding some strangers to kiss the night away. Though you reckon she probably doesn’t really want to kiss anyone now that she and Hobi have started to talk.

[12:04 pm] You: depends how quick u are, i’m going out with jiho [12:05 pm] unsaved number: i promise i’ll be quick, i’ve got something tonight too

You have no idea why he suggested tonight then, but you don’t press him for an explanation. Mostly because you don’t really care, but also because you’re excited for girl’s night, especially considering you missed last week because Jiho had a family dinner.

You can just hope that Jungkook is right on time.

*****

                You will kill him. You will murder Jeon Jungkook. You reckon you should have murdered him last week when you first wanted to – you would have been rid of him already.

No, you had to ask him to leave instead, and now he’s almost an hour late, and you have to meet Jiho at her house in twenty minutes. Her brother is coming with you, and he’s bringing his boyfriend, and you really want to meet the mysterious Felix.

Jeon Jungkook can go to hell.

You texted him when he was only ten minutes late. You know it takes him a long time to get here, so you just gave him the benefit of the doubt at first. But now it’s getting far too late for it to just be the bus, and your blood is positively boiling, enough so that you text Jiho.

[9:49 pm] You: what if we change plan tonight to murder jk😤 [9:50 pm] Jiho❣️: omg i was gonna text u [9:50 pm] Jiho ❣️ hobi sent me this

She forwards a video to you. You furrow your eyebrows before clicking on the video, and loud music blasts out of your phone. You quickly turn the volume down, even if you’re alone in your small studio, and you focus on the screen. It looks like a living room, though the light bulbs have been changed to red. The video starts by showing off Hobi’s face as he’s smiling, and then he starts laughing and turns the camera around.

Jeon Jungkook is shotgunning a beer in the middle of the living room, not caring that half of it spills on the floor. You don’t watch the rest of the video, immediately going back to texting Jiho.

[9:51 pm] You: is he at a FKG PARTY????? [9:52 pm] Jiho❣️: seems like it🙄 [9:52 pm] Jiho❣️: Hobi invited us and sent the vid [9:52 pm] Jiho❣️: i don’t think he knows jk was supposed to go to the studio [9:52 pm] You: HOLD ON?!😳 [9:53 pm] You: hobi invited us??? or invited u😏

Jiho sends a bunch of shy emojis, before adding:

[9:53 pm] Jiho❣️: he knows we’re going out tonight, so us [9:54 pm] Jiho❣️: he might have said he wants to see me tho☺️🫣

You shriek. Loud and clear, and you almost forget how angry you are at Jeon Jungkook. No, if you go to that party, it’s to make sure Jiho and Hobi get together. Jungkook can go fuck himself.

[9:55 pm] You: BITCH HE SAID WHAT [9:55 pm] You: I SHIP THIS SO HARD😍 [9:56 pm] You: is he cool with sungie and his bf coming too?🤔

Jiho takes a moment before replying, long enough that you decide to leave the studio. It’s clear that Jungkook is not going to come anyway, and you’d rather shriek with Jiho than at your phone. Whatever you did last week probably worked if Hobi wants to see her now.

You’ve never been so happy for your best friend in your whole life.

You walk quickly, happy that you chose platform boots for tonight. Jiho’s platform boots, to be precise. You’ve paired them with knee-high socks, a black skirt and a pink corset that hugs your body perfectly. For now, it’s hidden under an oversized gray sweater, and you walk with your head hung low.

It occurs to you as you near the bridge that you should have taken a Lyft to go home, because it’s late and you’re a woman. Luckily though, you don’t see anyone until you get to your neighbourhood, and then you just see a couple walking hand in hand. They offer you a smile that you reciprocate awkwardly, and a few minutes later you finally arrive at Jiho’s house.

Jiho, Jisung and an unknown blond-haired guy are sitting on the porch, and Jiho jumps to her feet as soon as she sees you.

“Bitch?” you say as a way of greeting, right as she jumps in your arm. “He wants to see you?”

She’s nodding happily, but she remains silent.

“She hasn’t shut up about it in the last twenty minutes,” Jisung puts in. “I think I’ll kill her before we even reach that lame ass frat party.”

“The only thing lame here is your attitude,” Jiho throws at her brother as she pulls away from the hug. “That, and Jeon Jungkook,” she adds, looking at you now.

You roll your eyes, but you’re not going to let the mention of him ruin your night. Not when Hobi and Jiho are on the line.

You reckon you don’t even care that Jungkook is at the party. You don’t care that he stood you up, but you’re still going to give him shit for it, aren’t you?

“Let’s not think about this asshole,” you say. And then you move closer to where Jisung and Felix are standing, and you wave to the latter. “Hi, I’m Y/n.”

He smiles and he replies with the deepest voice you’ve heard in your entire life. “Nice to meet you. These two had lots of stuff to say about you.”

You eye Jisung and Jiho suspiciously. “Good things, I hope?”

They look sheepish, and Jisung says, “I might have mentioned the vodka incident”.

“Sung-ie!” you yelp. “It was one time, like eight years ago! Did you tell him about that time we found you naked in a snowbank? You could have died.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Felix lets out, and Jisung charges towards you, probably with the goal of killing you.

It makes you scream as you run away, but he grabs you before you’ve reached the end of the driveway. He picks you up, arms wrapped around your middle, and you kick the air in front of you as you laugh loudly, something between snorting and shrieking. It’s a disgustingly childish sound, and it’s probably way too loud for the peaceful neighbourhood.

Jisung puts you down, even though he probably considered throwing you first, and you spin around with the intention to shove him, but he’s already moved away.

“Do you know the amount of embarrassing stories I can tell about you?” you say, just to be a little brat.

He’s flushed red, and he says through gritted teeth, “Please, not in front of…” he trails off, motioning towards Felix with his head.

“I’m sure Felix wants to know all the embarrassing stories, do you?” you ask towards the guy, and Jisung is running towards you again.

You dodge this time, and he almost falls before you both burst out laughing as Felix just watches with a soft smile on his lips.

“Are they always like this?” he asks Jiho.

She nods. “You put two idiots together and it’s bound to happen.”

“I’m sorry what!” you burst out in time with Jisung, and the group all laughs.

It’s in this childish atmosphere that you all filter into the Lyft Jiho ordered once you arrived, and you talk and laugh together. Turns out that Felix is Australian, and you all tease him for his accent. It’s probably something that Jiho and Jisung have been doing a lot, because he looks at you for salvation until you repeat “naur” in your best Australian accent imitation.

You feel sixteen again, and it’s healing, somehow. For what, you don’t know. Maybe because talking to your father this morning felt nostalgic, and Jiho and Jisung are reminding you that you do have your own family.

The Lyft drops you in front of a house. It’s not on campus, so it’s probably not a frat house. It feels like one though, considering the booming music you can hear even though the windows are closed. You think of the video Hobi sent, and of Jungkook shotgunning a beer.

If there is a frat thing to do, shotgunning a beer seems like it’s at the top of the list. Especially when it’s not done well because, truth be told, you don’t think frat bros are good when it comes to drinking alcohol. They just tend to overdo it all the time, until they’ve made a fool out of themselves. It seems Jeon Jungkook is not an exception.

“So, are we going in?” Felix asks, and a chorus of “saur” answers him.

He’s the kind of person that has an easy laugh though, because he just bursts out laughing in time with you all. You all move towards the house still, and you figure you don’t need to knock to open the door.

As soon as the door opens, the music volume goes up, and you wince as you glance at Jiho. “Never took Hobi for a frat bro.”

She rolls her eyes, laughing a shy laugh. “You know he’s not a frat bro.”

“This is a frat party,” you say, loudly because you’ve moved inside and you don’t think she’ll be able to hear you.

“This is a house party,” she replies. “It’s not the same thing.”

You roll your eyes at her, and then the living room comes into view. It’s not as full as you thought it would be, but there’s still a small crowd gathered around the room. You recognize some of the people because you’ve seen them last week. Bridget and Jo are there, along with Hobi and Jungkook’s friends. There are a few people you’ve never seen before – and you see a couple disappearing downstairs, closing the door behind them.

It makes you laugh, right as Jo and Bridget notice you. Jo waves you over, and you link your arm with Jiho to pull her towards the girl. For now, Hobi and Jungkook are out of sight, so you figure greeting Jo and her friends is the most important thing to do.

You’ll kill Jeon Jungkook later, after you’ve made sure Jiho is all set with Hobi.

“Hey girls!” Jo greets you when you stop next to her. She giggles drunkenly, and you reckon she’s probably a couple of shots in already.

Taehyung is nearby, so you’re not worried about her.

“What’s up?” you ask as you loosely hug her and Bridget.

You’re pulling away from Bridget’s hug when Heather appears. Her cheeks are flushed red with alcohol, and she wraps an arm around your neck and Jiho’s neck to pull you into a tight group hug, shrieking something incoherent.

She’s clearly indulged in alcohol a lot already.

Bridget pulls her off you two, and you all laugh as Heather mumbles an apology.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” she says with her slurred speech.

Bridget winces, before looking at Jo. “You need to stop making everyone drink so much.”

“The semester is over, let us have fun.”

Bridget laughs, shaking her head. “You’ve been dating Tae for what, two weeks? And you’re already changing into a party girl. Kiko is never going to talk to you again.”

Jo pouts. “Kiko loves me, I’m all good.”

You have no idea who Kiko is, so you glance at Jiho. She’s moved to let her brother and Felix into the circle, and she starts introducing them both to everyone. It seems it’s an opportunity for shots, because Jo links her arm with yours to bring you into the kitchen, claiming she’ll need help with the shots. You follow because you like her, and partying with her again sounds like a good time indeed.

You’re halfway done pouring shots for everyone when the door leading to the backyard opens, and Jimin, Hobi and Jungkook come in. They’ve got bloodshot eyes, and it’s easy to figure out what they were doing out there.

You stop pouring as Jimin sees you first, and his mouth falls open in surprise, before moving into a warm grin. He says your name, and he moves towards you.

“How are you?” he asks you, and he lets out a small laugh as if that was the most clever thing he’s said in his life.

Yeah, he definitely is high.

You haven’t talked to him a lot, since you saw him at the bar two weeks ago. He dmed you on Instagram, like he had said he’d do, but the conversation had just naturally died. It had been a friendly conversation though, and you’re happy to see him tonight.

“Clearly not as baked as you, but I’m good,” you reply, and you resume pouring the shots as Hobi and Jungkook just watch you.

They start laughing, which you reckon makes you laugh a little too. It’s awkward, and Jo just surveys the scene with a small knowing smile on her lips.

You’re forced to pour three more shots for the boys – even Jungkook, and you only do it because Jo glares at you when you frown as she motions at him. Jungkook is still just standing in the spot he stopped when he saw you, and he’s got a dumb smile on his lips.

You don’t know if you like the smile. But it’s sort of cute, and better than the infuriating smirk he’s mastered when he’s around you.

When all the shots are ready, you carry them all on a tray back to the living room. Jo helps you in handing them out to everyone, and a moment later everyone downs their shot. You wince at the taste of tequila, and you feel a pair of eyes on you that make your blood curdle inside.

It’s Jungkook, and even though you didn’t mind him in the kitchen, you’re suddenly reminded that he stood you up tonight. You’re going to need a lot more alcohol if you’re to confront him, so you pull Jisung and Felix behind you to the kitchen so you can mix yourself a drink. You settle on gin and tonic while Jisung makes two rum and coke for him and his boyfriend, and then you’re on your way back to the living room when Jungkook appears in front of you. You stop, which makes Jisung bump into you, which makes you spill your drink a little on Jungkook.

He looks down at the wet spot on his shirt, and then up at your face. Even in the red light of the living room, you can still see his blown-wide pupils, and they search your features for a few seconds before going to your drink.

“If you wanted me to take off my shirt you could have just asked,” he says.

“What the fuck?” Jisung lets out. “Isn’t that the dude that ghosted the dance crew?”

You turn toward Jisung, eyes widened in warning. He takes the cue, and he grabs Felix by the arm to guide him around Jungkook and towards the living room.

“That was an accident,” you say once Jisung and Felix are gone. “The last thing I want to see is you with your shirt off.”

He laughs. It sounds more like a giggle – it’s not a sound that a tall guy with piercings and a sleeve of tattoos should make. You’ve heard it plenty of times before though, and tonight it rings differently.

Instead of getting on your nerves, you find it a little cute. Which disgusts you so bad you scowl.

“Damn, all this working out for nothing,” he jokes. He looks down at your glass once more, before finding your gaze. “What are you having?”

You’re sick of the conversation. You’re sick of your little brain thinking Jungkook was cute a second ago, so you say, “Why did you stand me up?”

He has the decency to look apologetic. “My plans started earlier. I texted you, no?”

“You didn’t?”

He seems really confused, with a pout moving on his lips as he grabs his phone in a pocket of his black cargo pants. He looks down at the device, blinking a few times as if to bring his screen into focus. And then he bursts out laughing and he shows you his phone.

“I’m so fucking dumb,” he says in between two sets of laughter. “I forgot to press send.”

Somehow, that is such a Jungkook thing to do that you can’t really bring yourself to be angry at him. No, you really have the proof under your eyes, so all you are is a little annoyed, but you’re not furious like you were back at the studio.

“Gosh,” you let out. “I waited for you for an hour.”

His face falls as he pouts again, big eyes turning apologetic. “I’m so sorry. I can show you the choreography here, though.” He says that looking around, scanning the living room as if he’s making sure there’s enough room. He then seems to reconsider, shaking his head a little. “Well, maybe not in front of everyone.”

“It can wait,” you tell him, and you sip your gin and tonic as you notice Jiho and Hobi talking behind him.

“No.”

Jungkook’s little objection brings your attention back to him. “What do you mean, no?”

“We can go upstairs and I can show you in my room.”

You let out a disbelieved laugh. “You live here?”

“Yes,” he says as he nods enthusiastically. “With Jin, Jimin and Taehyung.”

You don’t know the first guy, but you still purse your lips. “Interesting”.

There’s a small silence as you once again sip on your gin and tonic. Jungkook is watching you carefully, as if he’s growing impatient with the silence, and you cock an eyebrow at him.

“So?”

“So what?” you ask.

“Can we go upstairs so I can show you?”

Another disbelieved laugh falls from your lips. “I’m not going upstairs to your room with you.”

He pouts again, like he’s a child and not a grown-ass man. It contrasts deeply with the piercing on his lips, and it makes you feel weird inside. You don’t like it, and you chase the feeling away with a long sip this time.

“Please?” he asks. “I’ve really wanted to show you.”

You roll your eyes. “Just do it here,” you suggest. “Or outside, I don’t care.”

“But you spilled your drink on my t-shirt!” he insists. “You owe that to me, don’t you think?”

You clench your jaw. He is annoying, far too annoying. But he doesn’t seem like there’s any chance you’ll let it go, and if he really wants to show you, then what’s wrong with going up to his room?

You ask yourself that question at least a thousand times by the time it takes to go from the hallway leading to the kitchen and up to his room. You look back once as you walk up, mostly because you’re afraid someone will see you. You’re relieved when you see no one looking, and you quickly follow Jungkook until you’re out of sight.

You let out a sigh of relief, until Jungkook stops in front of you and you bump into him, spilling even more of the gin and tonic on him.

It takes a few seconds for you to realize he stopped because Jo is in front of him, and the moment she sees you her mouth falls open and she lets out a loud laugh.

“Wow,” she lets out.

“It’s not what you think,” you immediately defend yourself, though you reckon it makes it look a lot more suspicious.

“I just need to show her something,” Jungkook mumbles, with that same pout he’s been using for a while now.

Jo hums. “Right.” She looks at you, before walking around Jungkook. She’s starting to walk down the stairs when she says, “Have fun”.

You take it back. You’re not sure you like her anymore.

You reluctantly follow Jungkook to his room, and you only realize then how warm you’ve been. Because his room is blissfully cool, and the purple LED lights you’ve seen when he called you on Facetime the other day make for a good reprieve for your eyes.

You’re surprised to see his bed is neatly made, and there’s not a single piece of clothing on the floor. For some reason, you’ve always thought he’d be a messy person, but no, his room is pristine. He has a gaming set-up in one corner, and the RGB lights move from purple to light blue in a hypnotizing wave.

And then, you almost drop your red solo cup as Jungkook pulls his shirt off while taking a few steps towards a dresser. The muscles of his back work under his skin as he rummages in a drawer to find a new shirt after having put the wet one in a hamper. He holds a t-shirt up triumphantly, and he turns towards you with the biggest smile on his face.

The front of his body looks just as good as the back, but your eyes stop on a gash on his stomach. A scar, with jagged edges that almost look painful to the touch. It starts on his side and goes down until it disappears in his pants, almost following the V-line shaped muscle to the millimeter.

He doesn’t notice your look. Or if he does he doesn’t care, because he just puts the shirt on, until his skin disappears from you.

That scar didn’t use to be there. There’s no chance in hell it would have gone unnoticed.

“So, I might be a little too drunk and high to perform well,” Jungkook says, as if you’re not looking at him with a horrified gaze, “but I think we could…” He furrows his brows. “Is something wrong?”

You don’t know what to say. You just shake your head no, before mumbling, “Sorry, go on”.

He doesn’t seem like he wants to let it go, but then he shrugs. “You know how the rhythm of the song slowly changes? I think we could use that to make a cool bridge.”

He pulls out his phone, before moving to a small speaker on his night table. He turns the speaker on, and a few seconds later the song starts to play. He starts dancing but stops way before he reaches the part he mentioned in the song.

“This is awkward,” he says, and he laughs. He pushes his hair back, eyes still boring through yours. “You’re right, I shouldn’t be showing you this here.”

“Jeon, I’ve seen you dance a thousand times before, you’re all good,” you say, encouraging him to continue.

“I don’t dance like I used to though,” he points out.

He’s right, but now that you’ve seen the scar you’re afraid the worst scenarios you’ve thought up might be true after all.

“If you’d rather wait until tomorrow then that’s okay too,” you suggest, offering him salvation.

He seems to ponder, and a disappointed look takes over his features. And then they just turn dark, filled with ghosts and demons. The same ones he was fighting last week a moment before your argument.

He sighs loudly, before sitting on the side of his bed. You still haven’t moved from your spot next to the door, and your red solo cup will soon be empty. You need to figure out something else to occupy yourself when the air turns awkward, because it sure does turn awkward now.

Jungkook clears his throat, and then he lets out a small bitter chuckle. “You saw the scar, uh?”

You can’t lie, so you just offer him a small, “Yeah”.

“That one is not even the worst one,” he admits. “I’ve got a big one on my leg, and a smaller one from the two surgeries to reconstruct my knee.”

Your heart is beating uncomfortably in your chest. You’re not sure Jungkook wants to be telling you this, and his defeated form makes you ache. You wish you could take the pain away, but all you can do is stand where you are and listen to him as he keeps on talking.

“We were in a car accident last year? I’m the one that got it the worst. It fucked up my leg. And I almost lost a kidney. The kidney is fine now but uh…” He runs a hand through his hair, and only then does he look at you. You wish he didn’t, because the pure look of despair in his eyes makes your throat constrict as a lump forms at the bottom of it. “That’s why I can’t dance anymore. I even had to relearn how to walk.”

He falls silent. The song is still playing, probably because Jungkook put it on repeat, but you reckon you haven’t paid attention to it since he started talking. You hold his gaze, and you can’t for the life of yourself find any hatred for him in you. Because you don’t know what you would do if dancing was taken away from you.

You would be devastated, that’s for sure.

“I…” you start, but you don’t find anything to say. “Wow, Jungkook.”

He looks down at the floor, and he massages his leg mindlessly. You noticed him doing it last week, but now you know why.

“A funny thing, though, is that I have some metal in my leg now? If I do an MRI it’s going to legit rip from my skin.”

There is absolutely nothing funny in that statement, and you just look at him blankly. “Jungkook…”

He scoffs now, and he sounds like a wounded animal. He is a wounded animal. “See, that’s why I didn’t want you all to know.”

“Why?” you ask.

“Because you think I’m pathetic,” he snaps. “You look at me with that pitiful look on your face and I fucking hate it. It’s already hard enough to deal with the consequences of it all by myself, but having people pity me? It feels like shit.”

He’s getting worked up, and you don’t have time to say anything before he continues, “Like okay, my dream was taken away from me! But who fucking cares, you’re probably just happy because you’ve always hated me, and now you don’t have to deal with me anymore.” He hits his forehead with the side of his clenched fist, as if he needs to knock some sense into himself. “And Bridget told Heather and Heather’s been treating me like I’m a fucking child. Just because my leg is hurt doesn’t mean I’m a fucking child, you know.”

He glares at you, while you just watch with a widened gaze, your mouth a little open from the surprise of his outburst.

“And the worst part is, it hurts. All. The. Fucking. Time. I can’t even walk without it hurting, it hurts so bad some days I can’t even get out of bed. It’s been hurting more since I danced last week as if to say, ‘bro, don’t even dare doing something that you love’. It’s exhausting.”

There’s a small silence, and he’s breathing heavily. He’s really worked up now, and you’re still just watching without knowing what to do or say. Your red solo cup is entirely forgotten in your hand. You don’t think you’ve blinked since he started talking, and the horror of it all has not even fully hit you yet.

“I just want it to stop,” he continues. There’s an edge to his voice, and you realize he might just burst out crying then and there. “And I’m going to be sick.”

He’s barely finished saying the sentence that he bends over, throwing up right in front of his feet on the floor. That shakes you out of your trance, and you gag at the sounds he makes while he’s sick. You turn your head away from him, and you quickly fish your phone out of your sweater’s pocket. All you can think to do is text Jimin, and Jungkook is wiping tears on his cheeks when you glance back at him.

“Fuck,” he curses. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, but you know you’ve gone white. You’re not good with people being sick, and if you stay in this room just a moment longer you’ll be sick too. “It’s okay, Jungkook, you’re all okay.”

“I’m not though,” he says, and he hides his face in his hands.

You don’t like seeing Jeon Jungkook like this. You much rather prefer when he’s being a pain in the ass, as if his only purpose in this world is to be a prick to you. Now he just looks like a broken man, and nothing you’ve learned in your whole life has ever prepared you to deal you with such a situation, especially not one happening with him, the man you’ve always hated.

You’re lucky enough though. Someone knocks at the door, and you quickly pull it open. It’s Jimin, and he’s got a concerned look on his features. It just gets worse when he sees Jungkook, and his eyes dip to the puddle on the floor.

“Shit,” he curses. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” is all you can think to say.

“Can you go get Taehyung?” Jimin asks gently as he steps into the room.

You nod, because you really need to get away before you get sick too. Some part of you feels horrible to leave Jungkook behind but, for your own good, you need to go.

Call it preservation or something.

Prev | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

Oooooof poor Jungkook🥺☹️ I wish I could give him a good hug bc gosh he deserves it Sooo what did we think this week? Did we like it? Let me know!✨

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.

Taglist (strike-through means dumblr is not letting me tag you, my bad):

@chimchimmarie | @pamzn | @sugaluvmyg | @tearyjjeon | @jkclouds | @libra04 | @parkinglot-nights | @ggukieasy | @omnomnomtron | @jichimx | @synnfulqt | @leedoesntknaur | @pornichet | @melodiesforarii | @oopscoop | @nadzzzblog

#thebtswritersclub #the forgotten spaces ch 3 #the forgotten spaces #jjk #jjk fanfiction #jjk fanfic #jjk fic #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook angst #jeon jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader

[ponett]

First New Years Eve anon here! I finished SLARPG after playing it any chance I could get. Literally everything I said held true or got better as the game went on. What a solid game, I felt the love in every moment.

Partway through, I got to wondering what it's like to finish a years-long project. I'm in the process of something like that, and I can't imagine life after The End, so your anniversary reflections post caught my eye. It felt like a future me had written it in a startling amount of ways. (Marketing is so hard ;_;)

A part that really stuck with me is how you described the story growing along with you. There were a few parts toward the beginning that felt distinctly mid-2010s (not in a bad way), but the narrative felt so cohesive that I would've assumed it was planned to the letter. As someone in a similar position, it's comforting to know there was some wiggle room. There's so much more I could say, but maybe not right now.

Wishing you your version of success!

thank you!

making sure the story felt cohesive was definitely tricky since the game was in development for so long. i mean, i knew the broad strokes of the story from the start, including the fact that it would get more serious as it progressed. That Sequence at the end of act ii was planned as a pivotal moment in the game since, like, 2015. but a lot of the back half of the game was only written after the demo was released in 2018, and my creative priorities shifted a lot in that time. so it took some work to make everything line up

i was still tweaking individual lines of dialogue in the script like, days before launch - particularly stuff earlier in the game that i was no longer quite as happy with, just to make sure everything fit together well enough and that things didn't come off as too dated. there are still a few jokes in act i where i'm like "ehh, that isn't as funny as i thought it was in 2016." but what can you do? that's just the linear progression of time for you

actually, if anything, before release i was worried that people would be put off by the darker and more dramatic elements of the game after i'd originally pitched it as being so goofy and lighthearted and cute. i had to fight the urge to insert more jokes into act iv out of a fear that people would get bored if the game stopped being funny, and i worried that people who had already grown attached to the characters through the demo and other preview material would get mad at me if i put melody and friends through the wringer. but thankfully people have responded really well to the more dramatic stuff, and the arc of the game as a whole, like i hoped they would

i'm extremely happy with how slarpg turned out overall, but if i was to write the story today, at age 30, i'm sure a lot of the writing would have turned out different. which is why the new thing i've been kicking around ideas for will probably be more mature and dramatic from the start. but we'll see

#anon #ask #slarpg asks

[devildom-moss]

Hello first of all i just wanna say that i love your writings! Especially on how you write solomon it always gives me butterflies 🦋👌

Can i request something like, an alternate, smutty ending for his recent ur card i forgot the name but its where mc and him watched a horror movie and mc got a nightmare after that so sol offered to sleep together, because it had SO much potential. Gn!mc if you may.

That is all thank you so much for sharing your works with us have a nice day and stay hydrated! ⭐️

Thank you so much. I hope that this Solomon fic will also provide you with butterflies. Luckily, I had this card, so I was able to pull from the original story line better. I'll be honest, my own personally kind of dark-loving and horny brain influenced the first half of this a lot. Anyway, I hope you like it! I'm sorry it took soooo long.

For anyone who doesn't have the card or just wants a useful refresher: Solomon had MC watch a "The Silence of the Lambs"-esque movie with him. They decide to sleep in Solomon's room together because why not - but Solomon has a guest bed, so you sleep in separate beds. MC has a nightmare about Solomon going all Hannibal Lecter on them. Solomon wakes them up (MC was moaning in their sleep), and Solomon decides that they should share a bed to help MC sleep. I picked up the story in the nightmare, because I spell it whore-or.

Solomon - The Gourmand's Main Dish card alt ending (NSFW)

(Solomon x gn!MC)

(NSFW) (NSFW tags: switch(ish)!Solomon and MC, bottom!Solomon, top!MC, light bondage, oral - receiving, Solomon riding MC's cock/strap on, hands free riding, begging, check-in's and overall very sweet sex, a bit of fear-play kinda?, implied intent to cockwarm, me writing Solomon as a loud, moaning mess) (other tags: dark themes, mentions of cannibalism, MC is a little unhinged in the face of dream/evil Solomon, some awkward moments, blood, knifeplay?, some of the dark themes written with a hint of sexiness)

Word Count: +2700

“Try the Demonus, my dear,” Solomon cooed, sliding a chilled glass filled with a sweet-smelling red liquid towards you.

The moonlight shining through the large dining room windows brought a soft cool glow that balanced out the warmth of the candlelight, creating an odd natural white. It left you unnerved, as if when Solomon had woken you up for breakfast, you were still stuck in a hauntingly quiet Devildom night – not that the lighting was ever much different between night and morning in the Devildom anyway. Maybe you just didn’t feel right because you could have sworn you fell asleep in Solomon’s room last night, only to have him wake you up in your own bed. It was all so disorienting that you wished the effects of Demonus worked on humans. You could stand to chill your nerves a bit.

The looming threat of Solomon’s breakfast offer – one that he advertised as a special treat for you – also weighed heavy on your mind. When he brought out what he referred to as “the appetizer,” which he had made a point to whisper into your ear as he set your plate in front of you, the fear of having to politely decline more than one dish came over you.

Admittedly, the dish that Solomon brought out looked surprisingly edible, but you refused to be fooled. The temptation continued as Solomon gracefully brought the fork to his lips. He had even dressed up in a fine suit for the occasion; it seemed a shame not to give him a chance. However, your better judgment held firm as you sipped at the glass of Demonus. Your eyes couldn’t leave Solomon, and the light that reflected off his soft, silver hair only made him more enchanting. His eyes were dark and hungry as his gaze flashed up at you.

“Oh, my dear, what’s the matter?” His eyes softened up, and an off-putting smile formed along his pretty pink lips. “Are you not hungry yet?”

“I’m sorry. I’m not very hungry this morning.”

“That’s a shame,” he let out a gentle chuckle, “but perhaps you’ll change your mind for the main course. I still have to prepare it, but it will be well worth the wait, my dear.”

Solomon pat his mouth with a napkin before he stood and left the room. His return was accompanied by a cold metallic scrape. You turned your head to see him sharpening a large knife as he slowly approached the table. You gulped. His ominous gait and deliberate strikes along the edge of the blade instilled a dread in you that only dug deeper into your chest when you realized that – barring the knife and sharpening rod – Solomon had returned empty-handed.

To your recollection, although you had scarcely taken your eyes off Solomon during the appetizer, there wasn’t another dish on the table. However, you were too afraid to double check; you weren’t sure what would happen if you looked away from him now. Solomon stopped directly at your side, forcing you to stare up at the wicked grin on his lips. You felt frozen in that chair.

“I feel honored that you can’t seem to pull your gaze away from me today. You must be so sweet.” That was a strange way to phrase it, and his words did nothing to reduce your growing unease. The tension in your body was different than the usual nervousness Solomon caused in the pit of your stomach.

“What’s the main course, Solomon?” you asked anxiously, despite the heavy lump in your throat. Somehow, you were already certain of his answer and were just seeking confirmation.

Solomon leaned down to whisper in your ear, “why, it’s you, of course.”

And there it was: confirmation. Solomon dragged the tip of the blade up your thigh. You held your breath and waited for the gentle scraping sound to stop. Solomon continued to drag the knife up your stomach. You squirmed back into your seat, attempting to put some distance between the knife and your body, but that displeased Solomon.

He clicked his tongue and quickly brought the blade to your throat. “Nuh-uh-uh. Please, don’t struggle. I want to take my time carving you up nice and pretty, but if you’re going to squirm, I’ll slice up that soft little throat first. Now, behave, and allow me, my little lamb.”

You let out a shaky breath as Solomon dropped the knife down to your chest. He cut the top button of your shirt off, using the dull edge of the blade to pull your collar back. If only you could get the knife out of his hand without getting injured – but some sick, depraved hope kept you still as you watched Solomon’s wicked gaze light up.

A dull sting accompanied the ring of metal running against a surface and Solomon’s contented sigh. You could feel the blood beading up along the skin just above your collar bone. Solomon kept the knife pressed against your abdomen as he licked along the cut, stopping to suck on your skin. The sting of his saliva and the cut didn’t detract from the pleasure of his tongue and lips on you as much as you would have preferred. A shiver ran up your spine.

It was said that fortune favors the bold; perhaps boldness could preserve you. Somewhat abashed, you asked, “are we going to fuck first?”

Solomon stopped sucking on your skin and pulled away, still leaving the knife against you. He clicked his tongue. “Now, now. Don’t be vulgar. It’s impolite.”

“I’m sorry,” you lied. Annoyance briefly overcame your fear, “cursing is impolite, but non-consensual cannibalism is fine. Understood.”

“MC.”

“No, my bad.” you shut your eyes and sighed. “I misread the situation. Just – listen – go ahead. But if I find out you waited until after I was dead, I’m going to be so disappointed in you. Honestly, Solomon.”

“MC!” Solomon’s voice seemed to echo throughout the room so loudly that you felt the entire house shake. When you opened your eyes again, Solomon was leaning over you, concern overflowing in his eyes. That eerie smile was gone.

You weren’t in the dining room anymore. You were back in Solomon’s bedroom.

“Are you okay, MC?” Solomon stroked your cheek with the back of his fingers. His cool hand eased some of the tension in your body. You smiled up at him, nodding. This was the Solomon you knew and loved. A sigh of relief left Solomon’s lips and his shoulders relaxed. However, his face was more flustered than before, and he was tinted pink up to his ears. “You were moaning in your sleep. You weren’t dreaming about me, were you?”

“I was,” you admitted. “You tried to eat me!”

Solomon’s eyes went wide. “I did?”

“You were going to carve me up and have MC-sashimi.”

“Oh,” Solomon nearly choked on his assumptions. You meant eat literally. Shame and guilt overtook Solomon’s embarrassment when he realized you had a nightmare, and it was probably because he made you watch that movie right before bed. “I’m so sorry, MC. This is my fault. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Can you stay with me – at least for a while?” In truth, you felt better after seeing Solomon’s sweet face again – not that evil, dream Solomon, but the real one. You just wanted to be closer to him. You moved over, giving him a bit more room to join you.

Solomon crawled into bed and turned on his side to face you. “It’s a bit of a squeeze, but I kind of like being so close to you. Maybe we should have slept in the same bed to begin with. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Can you hold me?” you asked. Solomon looked flustered again.

“I actually – well, I can, but,” Solomon tried to find the right words. “I got a bit hard after hearing you moaning so much in your sleep. I’m sorry! It happened before I realized you were in distress. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, but if you don’t mind it, I’ll hold you.”

You chuckled and sat up so you could crawl over Solomon and push him on his back. He was still blushing as he stared up at you. “How could I have been so scared in my dream? You’re being adorable right now.”

You trailed kisses down the side of his neck, catching the faintest tremble of his pulse under your lips as his heart began to race. A stifled moan vibrated in his throat. Solomon was biting his lip just to restrain his need. You weren’t going to give him that, so you kissed him. Even if he wanted to be quiet, you were the only one who was going to bite his lips.

Perhaps the roles were reversed in the real world. You had Solomon captured, and you wanted to eat him up. Your tongue teased him, and his moaning was increasingly desperate. Solomon’s restraint was crumbling. You felt him grind his hips up into you, craving more friction.

“Please, MC,” Solomon whined, “if you keep going, I won’t be able to hold back.”

You refused to heed his warning. Instead, you egged him on. “Then don’t hold back.”

One of your hands dipped between your bodies to rub over the bulge in Solomon’s pants. He took advantage of your diminished support to flip you on your back and straddle your hips. As he dipped down to kiss your neck, you felt his erection rub against your lower abdomen. The tremble in his breath tickled your skin as he made his way down. Solomon stopped at your collarbone and lapped at it with his hot tongue before he started to suck on it.

Your mind flashed back to the way dream Solomon had sucked on you, and a wave of fright washed over you. You pushed against Solomon’s chest gently.

“I’m sorry,” Solomon apologized as he sat back up. “Did I do something wrong? Do you want to stop?”

“No, I don’t. I just. . .” you trailed off. You knew it was silly to be afraid – especially because even when you were afraid in the dream, you were still turned on. It was confusing, and that was all the more reason to want to forget about it and just focus on fucking Solomon.

Solomon could see the worry on your face, and he correctly guessed that it had something to do with the nightmare you had. A characteristically Solomon idea popped into his mind, and, impeded by desire and without a second thought, he offered, “you could let me eat you.”

“What?!” Your breath caught in your throat.

Just as you were about to struggle under him, Solomon got off you with a gentle smile. He walked to his dresser and pulled a deep red silk scarf from the top drawer. You stared at him, cautious and confused. Solomon stood at the foot of the bed, turned his back to you, and crossed his arms at the wrists behind him.

“Can you tie these nice and secure for me?” Solomon chimed with a playful tone. He stood there patiently as you slowly shuffled to the edge of the bed. You took the red scarf from his hand and tied his wrists together snuggly.

“What now?” you asked.

Solomon turned around and looked down at you with a shy grin. He dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed, turning his eyes up to you. “Use my mouth however you want.”

You mouthed “oh” and sat down in front of Solomon. He could tell you were anxious, and he just wanted you to feel comfortable. You wanted the same for him.

“Can you back up for a second, sweetheart?” you asked him, and he complied. You stood up and slid out of your pants and underwear, setting them on the floor on the other side of Solomon’s bed, before you sat back down. You reached behind you to grab one of Solomon’s pillows and placed it on the floor right in front of your feet – a cushion for Solomon to kneel on. He smiled up at you, surprised and delighted by your simple act of care; his heart was melting and threatening to flood his chest.  

When you opened your legs, Solomon took that as permission to approach. He settled into his spot at your feet – between your legs. Those soft, hazel eyes stared up at you, eager and hungry. Solomon wet his lips, looking as if he was about to beg “please.” And he was. “Please, can I taste you?”

He was too cute for words, so you snaked your fingers into his hair and pulled him gently towards you. Solomon nuzzled against your thigh and sucked at your skin softly before he turned his attention to his main course. Between dream Solomon’s sensual attack and Solomon’s cute gestures, you were already aroused.

Solomon moaned with his first taste of you. Gentle vibrations traveled up your body. The room was soon filled with the wet noises Solomon was making and his muffled moaning and whining. Even the feeling of Solomon’s hot breath was amazing. You couldn’t stop yourself from panting and moaning. His mouth was too good.

That hot mouth and skilled tongue was enough to bring you to the edge. Solomon had you twitching and trembling as he continued to swirl his tongue around you through your orgasm. You had to tug his hair and pull him back to avoid overstimulation.

Solomon licked his lips, ensuring every drop made it into his mouth before he swallowed. “You taste divine.”

You bent down and kissed him gently, feeling his slightly swollen lips against yours. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Not so scared of getting eaten anymore, are you?”

“No,” you admitted.

“Good,” Solomon grinned, lust still heavy in his eyes. “But, MC, can you help me now?”

“How so, sweetheart?”

“I want you to fuck me,” Solomon admitted, rubbing his thighs together. You could see that he was still hard. Your eyes softened, and you stroked his hair. Of course you’d fuck him, but Solomon interjected before you could agree. “But you must be a bit tired. So, maybe I could ride you, instead?”

“Can you stand up for me, sweetheart?” you asked him.

Solomon slowly got to his feet for you, and once he was steady, you helped him out of his pants and underwear. His cock nearly bounced up. He wished he could have hidden himself at least slightly.

You left Solomon standing there while you readied yourself for him (either by getting yourself hard again or by grabbing the dildo and strap harness from a box in Solomon’s bedside table). Solomon’s eyes never left you, eager to feel you inside of him. As you applied lube, Solomon’s eyes followed your hand’s slow strokes. He had been patient all night, but it was almost too much.

“Are you ready for me?” Solomon asked – a desperate plea to let him ride you.

You laid back in his bed and told him, “Go on.”

Solomon kneeled onto the bed and crawled over you. His hands were still tied behind his back as he lowered himself onto you slowly. A pretty whimper escaped his parted mouth. He was already unravelling by the time he took you all the way, but he wanted more. He needed it. You watched Solomon’s brows knit together and his eyes shut as he bounced on you. The sight was too sexy; you couldn’t leave all the fun to him.

When you bucked up into him, Solomon responded with sweet whining. His stomach flexed and his back arched. You took that as an invitation to slip your hands up his shirt and rub his chest, teasing his nipples. His moaning grew louder and more desperate. Solomon’s precum began to drip onto your stomach. Maybe you should thank Diavolo for ensuring that you had no neighbors or housemates to disturb.

“Keep fucking me,” Solomon moaned, “I’m so close.”

You obliged him. As you watched him inch closer to climaxing, you felt comfort in knowing that this man could never hurt you. It was too easy to reduce him to the slutty, moaning mess that he was now. Solomon came all over your stomach. His face was flushed as he stared down at you and the mess he made. You reached behind him to untie the silk scarf, which he then used to wipe you clean.

It was clear in the way that Solomon grinned – blissful and affectionate – that he had no intention of letting you go anytime soon. “You should sleep in my room more often.”

#anon #ask #requests #solomon #spice tier #gn!mc #obey me #obey me solomon #solomon x mc #solomon smut #obey me smut

[wetcatspellcaster]

I saw you respond that you a very much not an SJM fan 😅 fair enough but I did want to ask what books/series you did like or would recommend that are of a fantasy/romantasy vibe!

lmfao, i am destined to become known for my parasocial enmity with the wingspan lady on this hellsite.

I don't read stuff with the same vibe as SJM all that often anymore. I used to read a lot of paranormal romance but the heteronormativity of SJM clones was upsetting me, so I've turned more towards the romance genre or just straight up fanfic these days.

So these recommendations might not be the perfect overlap but-!

Books with Fey Romances that are good

Holly Black, for all your fey needs. Tithe is the OG (and if you like sad men with white hair, have I got a blorbo for you!) but The Cruel Prince is her most popular series, that most people have read. The Darkest Part of the Forest is also an amazing standalone novel with a bit more creepiness than the other two. Not very explicit sex.

Olivia Atwater's Half A Soul and Ten Thousand Stitches are regency romance novels with fey associations, the first book is about a girl under a fairy curse and the second is about a fairy himbo trying his best at being a fairy godmother. No sex, that I can remember.

Heather Fawcett's Emily Wilde's Encyclopedia of Fairies. I've talked about this book a lot. If you like my fanfic, you will like this book, because this book was written for Me specifically. Not very explicit sex.

The Falconer series by Elizabeth May. This is the closest in this list to what SJM writes, only this is. um. better. Much sex, but also just... 'what if we started an apocalypse together, and the guilt meant I was scared to touch you, but we've got nothing else to live for now so why shouldn't I just do it?'

Fantasy Books with Good Romance

T Kingfisher's Swordheart and Nettle & Bone - both standalone novels. Swordheart is just Howl x Sophie dynamics, if Howl was a martial class, and also. A sword. Some sexiness.

Uprooted by Naomi Novik (if we count the love interests as both the hot sexy wizard man AND the protagonist's gal pal). Some sexiness.

Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia. If you like your immortal/mortal romances, this is a pretty stellar read tbh. Some sexiness.

In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan. This is such a fun book just generally but the slowburn of a 7 year high school romance sent me a little feral actually. Some sexiness.

Daevabad trilogy by S.A. Chakraborty. Now, this one is a little bit evil bc its an epic fantasy trilogy that is quite dense, and the romance is amazing but it takes a WHILE. *I* can write an evil slowburn, but there is nothing more evil than what happened in these books bc everyone is so fucking repressed. Alternatively, The Adventures of Amina Al-Sirafi by the same author, which cut to the chase a lot quicker, romance-wise.

Fantasy Books that are 😌😌 sexy 😌😌

The Dark Days Club by Alison Goodman. This is my favourite paranormal romance I've read in recent years, and they don't even have sex but I'm putting it here because um. they did. to me. That's what happens when you write a regency romance where if a woman takes of a man's coat they have 37 horny thoughts about it in real time. Imagine if Darcy and Elizabeth for P&P were also fighting demons at the same time as falling in love (not metaphorically. literal demons.)

Mating the Huntress by Talia Hibbert. Talia Hibbert's books in general fucking slap but I wish she'd written more paranormal romance than just this ONE story bc um. This was. um. Good.✌️

A Marvellous Light and A Restless Truth by Freya Marske. Freya Marske is also a popular fanfic author, and it shows with the way she writes sex.

That Time I Got Drunk and Saved a Demon by Kimberly Lemming. This author is the one who went briefly viral bc she accidentally has a book cover with Astarion on it lmao. This book was the first in that series, and unfortunately it wasn't for me (dragon shifter porn, I did *not* know going in) but the sex was really, really well-written, if that's something you could be into.

#asks #anons #book recs #look i say this with full acceptance that she is popular and i'll never win. but i don't even consider SJM fantasy.

[underforeversgrace]

wrong paper

DannyMay2023 Day 19: No Backspace Challenge

title: wrong paper

words: 665

Summary: Mr. Lancer gets an assignment from Danny that is not right.

DISCLAIMER: This is no backspace, no spell check, no auto capitalization, and no punctuation shortcuts. I'll probably provide a better copy later on because ya girl can't fucking spell. Or type. Or write. Some of the crossouts are my fuck ups. Some are for flavor. ...to hide all my fuck ups.

~~~~~~

Mr. Lancer streched tiredly, blinking sleep from his eyes as he pulled the next essay towards him. Not for the first time, he considered asking Ishiyama to allow him to o go over basic penmanship in class, how could absolutely none of these children write legibily? At least they were workingon a creative writing course so the papers were varied and interesting for once.

Eve i Or at least… some of them were. Thus far, Dash had written about a football star with superpowers, Paulina about marrying a superhero, Mickey wishing he was a superhero…

living in a town with an actual superhero probably influenced some of these papers, if Lncer had to take a stab in the dark.

The next paper he pulled ou was one with a lot of smurdged and crossed out text, no name a t the ti top. The hanwriting was familiar, at least. Mr. Fenton certainly had a… unique version of chicken scratch.

Lancer frowned at the paper as he began to read it. this… didn’t look like the ‘Write A Story’ assignment he’d assigned.

The sear words indicated as much, vulgar languageLancer had never heard Fenton use.

Man, I am so fuckingover this shit. Mr. Popular Asshat shoved me into a locker FOUR times today. I’m so ecsawus exhaush exhausted. I’ve shoved at least 15 ghosts back into the Zoe at Zone this week. It’s Wednesday. Wednesday!!! Skulker has come for my pelt four times alone. 

Oh I forgot the date - it’s Jan 23 26 2005.

honestly I should be working on my stupid paper for English class for Lancer. But what stoy could story can I possiblytell that isn’t less ridiculous than my actual life? or whatever the phrase is. My life is everal way too wild, more than anything I could imagine up.

Like… I’m a half dead teenager. I’ve been dead for nearly a year and no one’s noticed. I fight for my life everyday. I’m a superhero with a secret iedentity and best freind/sidekicks - though if I eevr called them sidekicks to their faces again I’m getting side-kicked in the face. I’ve even got extra bonus points! My parents want to dissect me, I’m failing school. Hell, I’ve even got an evil alternate timeline version of myself that caused the fucking end of the world.

The TV shows make it look so easy. so do th e comics. I’m so tired. I’m only 14, I’m not supposed to be atri sk atrisk at risk of getting murdered daily. Well, not this high of a risk. I don’t want to live like this. But if I stop fgihting, trying, I’ll be dead within a week.

It isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair and neither is death.

Still, might be a cool story idea.

A teenage slacker who gets electrocuted by his parents invention, dies, and get brought back halfway. Turns into a ghost and saves people while his human life seems to wither and die around him. Is constantly hunted and villified when he just wants to help.

Yeah. My life as Phantom would make a hell of a story, wouldn’t it?

Lancer stared at the paper in confusion. It certainly sounded like a wonderful fictttitious story… but somhow it didn’t seem like fiction. It seemed more like a journl entry.

Lancer turned to his computer, pulling up the local news website. It wasn’t hard to find an article about Phantom, he was in the top three stories.

PHANTOM SAVES 13 FROM OFFICE FIRE

Lancer studde studied the article, blowing up the picture of Phantom’s dace. Of Danny Phantom’s face. He opened up another screen, pulling up the student files (complete with pictures). He pulled up D. Fenton’s file, several alerts coming up about truancy, tardis, tardies, absences, missed assignments n fa and failing grades. Lancer enlarged the human boy’s photo and sat it side by side wth the one of Phantom.

Change the coloration… and these two were identical.

Oh no.

Ohno.

Oh no.

#grace writes #danny phantom #dannymay2023 #Dannymay #Challenge: no backspace #Ya girl tried #She rly did

[starsopinions]

We NEED to talk about Loki: Where Mischief Lies

Written by Mackenzi Lee in 2019, Loki: Where Mischief Lies is in my opinion an amazing book and has way better representation than some other Loki content (not naming names but *cough* Loki season 1 *cough*). I never see people talk about this book which is honestly such a shame because it has some great storytelling. It does not get the recognition it deserves and if you are on the fence as to whether to read it or not, let me give my perspective!

(Only very small spoilers ahead, no big plot points.)

The characters

Loki in this book has me in an absolute chokehold. I’m sorry the heels? The nail polish? The Everything?? No, but for real, I think it does a really good job of portraying Loki in a new light but he still is Loki, he has the same humour and acts like how I imagine Loki would in these situations. In the book, Loki is a teenager and I think it would fit right into the MCU. I like how it gives a new spin on his character but it is still recognizable as the Loki we all know and love. I really like Amora’s character as well, I can’t say too much without spoiling but I like the way she acts in the second half of the book. And then of course we have Teo, he is amazing, he is literally everything to me. He is really kind and in every scene he wasn’t in, I wish he was. His relationship with Loki is so fun to read and I love how it develops over the course of the book. 

The plot

It honestly feels like a fanfic (in the best way possible). I can’t say much without spoiling (sorry aargh) but it felt unique to other superhero stories. It was so lovely to read something innovative and new and not the same old superhero story we are used to. I also enjoyed the way the plot was set up and how it slowly escalated. I love how Loki’s chaotic personality, Amora’s manipulative tendencies and Theo’s kindness reacted and impacted different scenarios. 

Representation

I really like how Loki is presenting himself in a more feminine way(nail polish, heels, his behaviour). My little headcanon is that this is him discovering himself and exploring being gender fluid for the first time. I also really like how his sexuality is actually explored, unlike in Loki, where it is not just mentioned and then ignored. I obviously can’t say much without spoiling but if you have read it you know what I’m talking about.

These were my thoughts without any spoilers (I wish I could say more)! I hope you will give Loki: Where Mischief Lies a chance if you haven’t already, I promise you will like it! Thank you for reading and have a great day<3

#marvel #mcu #loki #lokius #loki season 2 #loki series #loki where mischief lies #book review #book recommendations #loki laufeyson #the avengers #sylki #thor

[laurfilijames]

All week I told myself that on Sunday, I was going to write all day.

I opened my laptop up for the first time in two weeks. I haven't written a word since I finished editing Expensive and tried for over an hour to work on my series Like My Dreams.

I thought about it all week and have been so eager to continue it, only the words won't come.

I know it's not for lack of passion or wanting to; I think about this story (and all the other ones) constantly.

I've been trying to deny some feelings for a while, or chalk it up to getting too much in my own head, but today it's come down heavier than ever and what is ultimately responsible for blocking my creativity and turning my love for my stories from thoughts into actual sentences.

I'm lonely.

I've never felt so alone.

The Charlie fandom seems to be relatively non existent, or just extremely quiet.

I have no space. No where I fit in.

I'm on the outskirts, trying to find a spot, constantly seeing if there is a way I can have a place for my ideas, stories, and even friendship, and have it hold some value to the others I'm around.

The more I post on here, the less I feel seen.

Engagement on this platform has reduced drastically across the board, and it's effecting so many artists.

It's not about numbers. I'm sure some of you are probably thinking "your last fic has over 100 notes". Yeah. It does. Almost all of those notes are likes, and more than half the reblogs are my own.

What I'm seeking is engagement. Conversation. A likeness and kinship started by a common interest that blooms into simple conversations and thoughts shared.

Comparison is a bitch. I see so many people living the Tumblr life I wish to have. Asks, comments, reblogs of teasers and moodboards for upcoming fics screaming of excitement and praise and how eager they are to read it. People dropping everything they're doing to read the latest chapter of their friend's new fic.

I realize the many reasons why I'm in a different position than they are, but lately it's been screaming at me louder than ever that I'm lacking something meaningful or whatever I'm doing on here isn't enough.

I've tried creating a buzz around my stories. I am aware that most of the time I write for unpopular characters with a smaller fan base, so I set the bar lower but am still left feeling inadequate even when I write for the popular ones. Whenever I've shared snippets of WIPs in hopes to gain some excitement from my readers, it falls short. Usually it'll inspire me to keep going, to write better than ever and make this next fic The Best One that makes me so happy and excited to get out. (For Charlie, I'll say, and write something I'm so unbelievably proud of) and then sometimes it makes me wonder if I should bother continuing at all.

I know I am not owed anything by anyone and no one is obligated to read or comment or anything of the sort, and I am beyond grateful for the comments and support I do receive, and the friendships I've made, old and new.

I'm not exactly sure what I'm getting at here, I just needed to write it down and "talk" it out.

I've been battling the decision to continue writing but not share it. I don't want that to happen, because as much as I write these stories for myself, a lot of the fun of it comes from being able to share it with all of you.

Nothing dramatic is happening. I'm not leaving, and I will be writing again because I'm not at all done with what I have to say about these characters, I just felt this needed to be said and already feel a little lighter by sharing it.

Write your stories, comment on your favourite fics, scream with your mutuals about a photo or gif that inspired something in you, tell your writer friends and writers you've never spoken to but love their stories just how much you do... I promise it makes more of an impact than you know. 💗

#personal