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incognit0slut · 11 months

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Right Kind of Wrong (6)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part summary: she is taken aback as the student becomes the master. wc: 4,3k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content (this part includes masturbation, forced orgasm, a little squirting, female and male oral), graphic details of murder

a/n: SMUT ALERT! If you like sexy stuff then you can just read this, but reading previous parts is better for context :)

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

SPENCER HAD WITNESSED MANY THINGS THAT LEFT HIM IN A STATE OF WONDER. Certain books or poetry. Certain buildings, art, or places. Specific moments that left him in an overwhelming sense of awe. But no amount of experience could prepare him for the view right at this moment. It felt as if he wasn't worthy enough to marvel this splendor sight of a woman.

Was comparing her to a masterpiece of fine art too excessive? Although he couldn't help it, with the way she was sprawled along the couch with knees spread apart, she seemed to be all source of beauty and perfection. His eyes trailed across her glorious body; adorning every curve, every line, and every inch of her skin.

His body ached to touch her, to feel her hot skin underneath his fingertips, yet he wouldn’t dare himself to reach out. This was her moment, he realized. She was laid out in front of him on her own accord, wearing nothing but a coy smile and a certain spark in her eye. Who was he to interrupt a woman basking in her sensuality?

"So, is this some kind of a lesson?" He slowly asked after a moment, his tone provocative and full of meaning as he paused and licked his lips. "If you must know, I'm a very fast learner."

Her eyes were focused on his mouth, those plump lips now glistening slightly from where his tongue had just wet them. "A lesson, a show... you can think of it as anything you want." Then a taunting smile played on her lips. "I only need you to pay attention."

His gaze swept over her wet flesh, flushed and swollen, the slickness glistening from her core made every part of him swell. "You've had my full attention ever since I saw you that night. You're all I think about."

She felt herself crumbling at his confession. Her heart hammered against her chest, the charge behind his words spreading warmth throughout her body that had nothing to do with her arousal. "Don't say things like that, Dr. Reid."

"Why?"

Because I think I could fall for you.

She swallowed the thought away and focused her attention on this moment. Sex. That was what she should be thinking of, not the way her mind was going into a spiral of admiration that had nothing to do with physical attraction. Nothing else should matter when the man sitting a few feet away from her was looking at her as if she was his favorite meal.

"On second thought," she decided to say, her fingers slowly moving across her thigh. "Words are good."

When he didn't respond, she continued, her hand slipping between her legs. "Words can be an additional sense to stimulate the brain that goes beyond—" Her fingers softly pressed onto her clit. "—touch."

"That... is true," he softly agreed, his breathing more shallow as he watched her fingers moving in a circle motion. "The brain is the most receptive erogenous zones in the human body."

"Exactly. Now tell me what you're thinking."

There wasn't a moment of hesitation as he answered, "How beautiful you are."

She couldn't help the genuine smile forming in her mouth. "What else?”

She really was a sight. Chemicals suddenly flood his system, making his head pound and chest restrict, his blood entirely redirecting south. He gulped as she quickened the pace on her clit. "How I want to be the one touching you right now."

"Yeah?" She readjusted her position to spread her legs wider, wanting to give him a better look at her glistening flesh. "Tell me how you would touch me."

He could feel his body tightening with arousal. "With my hand."

She bit on her bottom lip, trying to hold her amused laughter. "I think that's already a given." Then she gently sped up the motion of her fingers, her voice coming out breathless as she whispered, "You can do better than that, Spencer."

There was an intense warmth that spread along his body. Hearing her call out his name as she pleasured herself gave him a certain control of the situation. It honestly felt exhilarating to be the reason of her arousal. He was the one she wanted. He was the one to have the privilege to behold her whimpering in desperation.

He then leaned forward, a new sense of power in his voice. "I want to run my hands all over you. I want to taste you." She hummed a response, eyes locking with his. "I want to see you writhing as I map your body with my tongue."

He noticed how receptive she became to his words, her body squirming as her fingers pressed onto her clit harder. He took it as an encouragement and kept on going.

"I want to put my head between your thighs. I want to be the one sucking on all that wetness." His tongue swiped along his bottom lip as his gaze traveled down the slickness dripping between her legs. "Look at how soaking wet you are, taking pleasure in my voice as you desperately play with yourself."

Y/n believed Spencer was a smart man. She also believed it when he said he was a fast learner, yet actually hearing his erotic suggestion while he watched her so earnestly drove her over the edge. Her other hand slid across her breast, pinching her aroused nipple as she continued the erratic movement of her fingers. Her eyelids dropped at the sensation traveling through her body.

"I want to make you feel good until you can't breathe," she heard him say, his voice growing more strained. "Until you can't see, until you can't think of anything else but the overwhelming pleasure I will give to you."

She whimpered out a desperate sigh. The snarl of pleasure that tore itself from his throat at her desperation was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. This glorious feeling of knowing she craved him, that she needed him as badly as he did was indescribable it gave him more power.

"I want to ruin you in the best way possible."

She inhaled sharply, time standing still for a moment. Her eyes then snapped open, landing on him splaying his hands over his knees. Her insides wrenched. Her chest was heaving as her fingers slowed down while she tried to register the refined yet filthy words coming out of his mouth. "Well, aren't you quite the poet."

She saw him shrug his shoulders with a bashful smile curling on his lips. "I read a lot."

A breathless laugh escaped her mouth. "Of course you do."

Then her eyes skimmed across his face, noticing the way his eyes glazed over her. His gaze was a slow pull, a gentle tug at the edge of her consciousness. It was evident in the way her body responded, her core alight with the fire he had been patiently building, throwing more fuel over it with each second that passed.

"You're so pretty," he gently spoke, raking his eyes along the span of her exposed body. Then he couldn't help himself as the next words slipped out of his mouth without much thought, "Put a finger inside yourself."

She tensed for a slight moment before she relaxed. "Giving me orders now?"

"I want to see how tight you are."

Her breath hitched at his words. There was a moment of silence as she slipped a finger into her entrance, her body quivering at the pressure. She moved it slowly, feeling the slickness of her walls clenching around her finger that she let out a moan.

"Add another finger. I know you can take it," he ordered, almost drooling at the sight in front of him. His gaze roamed her flesh, drinking in her naked body, the line of her neck, the peak of her breasts, the flare of her hips, the way she writhed with the pressure of her fingers, and her moan—god, the noises she made. It grew louder as he told her to go faster, her body quivering when he remarked that she was not fast enough.

"You can do better than that, Y/n."

She let out a loud gasp at the sound of her name, her back arching away from the couch, her eyes instantly locking with his. She felt so light-headed, so hot, so unbelievably wet. She started to come aware of everything. The feeling of her fingers digging into her soft flesh, continuously swirling against her heat, and the way his eyes soaked in her every movement. She could feel the weight of his stare and it was enough to throw her over the edge, her fingers moving at a quicker pace.

"Are you close?"

"Yes," she confirmed, her legs beginning to burn as she felt herself getting closer to the steady rhythm she had created with herself. Small whimpers slipped through her lips as she felt the familiar sensation tightening in the pit of her stomach, her mind already losing focus of her surroundings.

"Stop touching yourself."

His sudden voice pulled her back to reality, eyes narrowing in his direction. Somehow she managed to halt her movement as she watched him slowly rise from his seat, striding across the room with leisured yet determined steps. Then he positioned himself right in front of her, standing above her so that she had to tilt her head upward to see his face.

"I'm a man of my word." He slowly lowered himself, dropping down to his knees. A slow, sinful smile snuck its way along his lips as his hand grazed the satin span of her thigh. "I do want to ruin you."

She made a little noise, halfway between a sigh and a moan as a long finger brushed featherlight over her sex. Her fingers slowly slipped away as her eyes trained on him, watching the way he carefully slid a finger between her wetness, feeling his callused pad swipe along her slick folds. And when she thought she couldn't get more aroused than this, he proved her wrong by closing the distance, his mouth wrapped around her throbbing clit.

He grunted in delight as her slickness dampened his jaw.

"You taste so sweet," he murmured, and she felt the warm gust of his exhale into her heat. It made her walls flex just as his tongue dived inside her. She leaned back and writhed as he eagerly licked between her slit, wrapping his arms around her thighs, holding her in place as he devoured her hot flesh. She faintly looked down at him and found his eyes boring into hers, watching her intently as he wrapped his lips around her sweet spot and sucked every inch of her like a man starved.

She closed her eyes, her fingers tangling in his thick, untamed hair as she felt another wave of pleasure hit her. His tongue was pressed flat up against her, lapping at her eagerly before moving to twirl around her clit deliciously. She could feel her high approaching, thighs already trembling and he found that to be the perfect time to pull her in closer by the thighs, wrapping his arms securely around them to bring her core closer to his face.

Feeling her body shake, he wasted no time, tongue furiously licking against her and sliding the muscle in and out easily. His growl rumbled against her wetness as she spasmed, her face a mess of sweat and tears as he lapped up her folds, his tongue sliding into her and pressing on the walls. It didn't take long for her to moan out his name as the sensation struck her body, his hands firmly supported her convulsing body over his tongue to help ride out her high.

She pulled onto his hair with both of her hands, moving her hips against his face as he continued to groan and lick her through her climax. Utterly dazed and covered in a sheen of sweat with a pleasant tingling sensation traveling throughout her body, she watched as he slowly straightened himself, grabbing onto her arm and pulling her into a sitting position.

Then he didn't wait anymore longer as he buried his face in her chest, mouth circling onto her hard nipple. Shoulders tensing, she grabbed a handful of his hair. His tongue was lapping eagerly while his hands roamed her breasts greedily, trying to grab as much of her as he possibly could.

She was dizzy with feverish need, pulling him closer to her chest, getting herself drunk on the caresses against her skin. It wasn't until she felt fingers sliding into her pulsing, sensitive heat that she let out a desperate moan, louder than she intended to.

"Spencer," she whimpered, her body starting to shake again. "What are you doing?"

"Giving you pleasure," he murmured against her skin. Then he proceeded to prove his words by thrusting his fingers steadily into her while his thumb rubbed onto her clit. Her hips buckled while her hand fumbled everywhere in search of something to hold before gripping it along his wrist, a familiar yet stronger sensation pushing through her body for the second time.

This high was fast. It was consuming her so much that she could already feel the coil in her stomach, her mind going blank. She arched her back, instinctively shoving away a bit from him, but he moved closer, rocking his fingers in and out of her body at a more rapid pace, almost violently.

"That's it, I got you," he growled in a rich, rounded tone, slamming his fingers into her. "You can take it."

The pleasure suddenly exploded inside of her, sending her over the edge as she cried louder than before, the sensation sweeping her up into orgasmic bliss and leaving her panting heavily. The feeling was all-consuming, overwhelming in all the best ways. She let out a sob as he eased her through it, kissing her breasts while her thighs shook around his arm.

Her breathing slowed as she came back down to reality and she reached out her hand for him. There was a coy smile on his lips as he sat beside her, pulling her body into his arms as he gently hooked a hand under one of her legs, placing it on top of his thighs.

She might not be as smart as he was, but she could tell exactly what he had in mind.

"Spencer," she hissed, throwing him a pointed look. But her protest trembled as he gently kissed the corner of her lips, traveling along her jawline before he buried his head in the crook of her neck.

"I think you can give me another one."

A hiss of pleasure instantly flew out of her mouth as she felt him thrusting two fingers inside her swollen flesh. There was no mercy in his sudden movement this time, curling his digits inside her vigorously, the sensation had her legs shaking all over again. She could hear how drenched she was, the slick sound of him driving into her echoed around the room, followed by a harsh, loud sob ripping through her throat.

The heel of his palm pressed against her clit as he continued to curl his fingers inside her. Her thighs tightened around his hand, trying desperately to push him away from the overwhelming sensation. Her body was already shaking from the sheer number of times of pleasure, unsure that she could take much more.

"I-I can't—" She begged him, her fingers wrapping around his wrist, trying to pull his hand away but instead the vibrations began to ripple throughout her body. Her eyes rolled back as her mouth dropped open, no longer able to speak as a loud squeal left her lips, the sound distorted by the pleasure surging through her body. “P-Please. I can’t.”

"One more—just one last time."

She cried out and huffed breaths in her nose as his fingers curled and started to rock almost violently forward, swinging hard against a spot deep inside her. Her eyes went wide, feeling something entirely new, like nothing she had ever experienced before. "I-I can't, it's too much—fuck."

"That's it. Such a good girl." He growled, panting with exertion, using the strength of his whole arm to push in and out at a blistering speed. "You look so pretty like this."

"I-I'm going to make a mess—" A panic cry left her mouth, her whole body tensing. Her grip tightened around his forearm, reveling in the flex of his tendons as he rocked his fingers inside her violently.

"Then make a mess." He kissed the side of her neck. "Come on, make a mess for me."

He was forcing out filthy, squelching noises from her body and all she could do was lean into him, wordlessly panting needy noises. Then his thumb circled around her clit, pushing it up into her body so harshly she was gripping onto his arm for dear life. She couldn't take it anymore, her body shaking as the intensity rippled along her core.

And then it suddenly came to her—so intense, so violent, sweeping her away as she almost blacked out at the force of pleasure. She could hear his distinctive voice, triumphant, then turning into lavish praise as she screamed, focusing on a sudden pressure in her gut before a strong gush of liquid surged from her body. He watched her tremble and held her close to him as she screamed out his name, his fingers continuously circling her clit roughly.

Y/n had never felt a pleasure so intense until now. Her body was spasming, her legs were shaking, and her eyes were closed shut. She held onto him desperately and felt his heart beating under her palm as he kissed the side of her head, gently muttering praises as he helped her ride out the tide of pleasure convulsing in her blood. And when every drip of liquid escaped her body, she finally let out a sigh, her head falling against his shoulder.

The silence was calm after the wave, but his voice slowly filled her head with a hint of triumph. "So, did I do well?"

She was tired; utterly, delightfully tired. But she wasn't in the place to hear him gloat. Her eyes slightly trained on him, and hating the smug look on his face, she slowly turned her body towards him. She bit her bottom lip to stop herself from smiling as she pressed her lips on his cheek, softly, barely even touching it, before she trailed her lips down his jawline, stopping on the crook of his neck.

"I.." He breathed out, his voice sounding strangled as she felt his grip on her hip. "What are you doing?"

"Just reciprocating your words." She then opened her mouth, her tongue slightly tasting his skin. "I want to ruin you too."

Her parted lips were hot against his skin, his eyes fluttering close as she softly sucked on the spot below his ear. He let out a soft whimper, melting into her touch. What was it about neck kisses that made them feel so good? Was it the tingles that ran down his spine through to the soles of his feet with every kiss? Was it the feeling of intimacy clouding his thoughts?

Y/n wasn't even fully recovered from the pleasure still strumming in her system but she found herself reaching over, sinking onto her knees in front of him. His eyes went wide momentarily. Realization hit him as he understood what she wanted, what she wanted to do to him, his eyes studying the determined look on her face.

"A-Are you sure?" He asked carefully, sliding a hand into her hair. "Because if you change your mind, I'm more than fine."

She dragged her eyes up to his body, lingering for a few seconds on the vest he was still clad in and caressing the blush dipping along his neck before settling on his face. "I think it's only fair. Besides," she muttered, giving him a sly smile, looking into the passion brimming in his eyes. "I really want to suck you."

He grunted at her words, leaning onto the couch as he watched her. She wanted to bask in the warmth of his gaze, the utter devotion in his eyes as she settled between his thighs. She leaned closer, raking her nails over the contours of his legs, the material of his pants rippling under her fingers.

Biting her lip, she slid one hand over his bulge. He let out a sharp breath, desperately whispering her name as she unbuttoned the belt around his waist. Her movements were slow, lingering the anticipation in his tensed muscles. And after fumbling with his belt, he finally helped her, pulling himself out of the confinement of his pants.

She sighed in satisfaction. God, he was beautiful. He was thick and solid, warm and long with a slight curve. Veins dance along his length and she traced a finger up to the flared head, before dipping her head, her lips following. The droplet of wetness on the tip looked too nice to be ignored and her head completely emptied as she leaned in and licked it up.

He grunted weakly, out of amusement or desire, she didn't know—maybe both. Humming, she wrapped one hand around him and stroked him slowly. A pause settled between them before she finally took him fully in her mouth. He was all salt-tinged mixed with something undeniably him, his taste bursting on her tongue. She kept swallowing him down, her jaw stretching wide as she struggled to get every inch of him inside her, wrapping her hand around what was left.

"Y/n," he groaned between ragged breaths as her mouth wrapped around the girth of his thickness. He had his hand buried deep in her hair, holding it up in his grip when she tightened her hold on him, squeezing him gently. The added stimulation made his eyes roll back, a masculine sound of pleasure resounding in his throat. "You're unbelievable."

The compliment and the urgency in his voice made her wonder how much she was able to make him lose control. She swirled her tongue around him, swallowing him back down as she give him a rough, firm pump. She hollowed her cheeks and greedily inhaled him. His smooth, warm length slid across her tongue and he hit the back of her throat. The vibrations traveled down, shooting through his veins and he almost came apart right there.

"Shit," he rasped out, tugging on her hair as his hips jerked up, and she gagged, rearing back off with a cough, eyes watering. "You're taking me so well."

She couldn't stop the proud smile forming on her face. She was the one who made him lose control—the one who could awaken the dumbstruck look in his eyes. Her mouth enclosed around him again and she repeated the movement, trailing down his cock with her tongue, hands twisting back and forth, lips sliding back down until she had every inch of him in her mouth. He took her head in a tender hold and slammed her face down, his hips flexing to meet her.

The low wet sounds of her gagging meld with his gravelly broken moans were so erotic. She glanced up at him, brow-raising mischievously as she moved her head in a rapid motion. He panted another hoarse sigh out, his chest heaving as he inhaled a lung full of desperately needed air, hips jolting upward.

"I can't hold any longer," he whispered hoarsely.

He was on the edge of his release, she could feel him pulsing in her mouth. The mixture of intimacy and pleasure overwhelmed his body, and instead of pulling away, she only grew more aggressive in her attempt, sucking harder and tongue pressing firmer. Her efforts were rewarded by the hot ropes of liquid hitting her throat. His head was starting to spin, stars danced behind his eyes as he felt her swallow everything he had to give, save for the small dribble past her lips as she unraveled her mouth around his shaft.

She smiled up at him, enjoying the way he was leaning back after his bliss, and despite how heavy his body felt, he used a thumb to wipe away the line of liquid on her mouth. "I think we both are very much ruined."

She let him pull her up, settling himself on top of his thighs. His wide hands engulfed her face before he brought her down to him, capturing her lips in a soft, searing kiss. He kissed her with every ounce of power he had. Kissed her as he had daydreamed about so many times. He kissed her as he had never kissed anyone before, and it was messy and rough and probably looked horrific from a different point of view, but it felt right.

Then he pulled away, yet kept his hold on her. She carefully resigned herself, feeling completely in the moment with him, her eyes lost in his lingering gaze as she scanned over his features. His eyes appeared darker in this light of the room and angle, but she could still see the softness of them.

He suddenly reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The unexpected action had her freeze above him. It awfully felt too intimate, but on the other hand, it felt... somewhat peaceful. Calming. Serene.

And at that moment, she suddenly became aware of their surroundings, of what had took place. The way she was naked and perched on his lap. The way he was mostly fully clothed. The way they were trying to catch their breath.

Then her knee grazed against the deadly weapon still attached to his hip and she jerked, becoming aware of who he was, who she was supposed to be. This unexpected turn of events was already a slight curve in the dynamic between an authority and somebody who was involved in a case.

An unsettling feeling suddenly weighed in her gut as she studied his face, pushing and pulling her consciousness as if she was stepping into a pit of regret… into something that was unforeseeable—into something that wasn't going to end well.

>> NEXT PART

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PLEASE READ: If any of you asked me to be added and you're not on the list OR you want to be added in the future, please comment on this post so I could see it. But make sure your blog can be searched by anyone or I can't tag you. Thank you :)

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scatteredskittless · 2 months

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Greetings fellow human, I recently found you and I must say, I love your writing and especially the layout of the posts.

I might also suggest an Idea for you with Alastor.

How 'bout a very passionate painter reader getting their nightly inspiration and staying up all night, also listening to loud music. And maybe being a little messy with the paint, like it somehow ending up on the face or different unusual spots.

Would love to see you write it in whatever form you prefer. Hope to read something from you soon.

And keep in mind, you're doing a great job and keep being amazing <3

Alastor x Painter! Reader

A/n: Omg I used to paint a lot and the places said paint would get?? How it ended up like literally all over me I’m not sure 😭😭 Also thank you so much !!

Warnings: None :3

Fluff✔️ Comfort❌ Angst❌ Smut❌

📻𖤐 Alastor finds you very talented and enjoys getting to see all of your little creations and masterpieces !!

📻𖤐 Bonus points if they’re a bit disturbing or dark, he’d love stuff like that (“Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable” — Cesar A. Cruz)

📻𖤐 The only thing he isn’t particularly fond of in regards to your passion, however, is how little sleep you’re getting because of it.

📻𖤐 Your sleep schedule is completely fucked because of how often you get inspiration while trying to go to bed at night, because of course you just have to get up and go paint it every time.

📻𖤐 Oh and how messy you can get whilst you paint… which Alastor doesn’t actually mind as much as he wants you to think he does.

📻𖤐 He can shake his head and tut about it all he wants but he can’t deny the fact that getting to clean you up is something he enjoys doing for you.

📻𖤐 Plus, it’s always entertaining to see all the peculiar places the paint ends up on you each time he does. From your cheeks to your arms to more unusual places like your ears… it genuinely never does get old in his eyes ♡

It was another one of those nights. You were lying in your bed, trying to get some sleep and all of a sudden you got an amazing idea for a painting !! You couldn’t help but get up to go bring your ideas to life on a fresh canvas :-)

You went on with your usual routine, playing some music as you got your stuff all set up. Once everything was ready, off you were into your own little world as you painted away at 2:30 at night

Fortunately and unfortunately for Alastor, your room was right beside his. The walls were quite thin in the hotel.. even so, the loud music blaring wasn’t exactly hard to miss but it was even harder to fully relax with it playing.

You usually stopped your painting at around 7 or 8 in the morning so he figured this was going to be a long night….. he sighed to himself and went back to reading for a while (or at least attempting to for around 10 minutes or so.)

Eventually he did recognize a song you had playing, you’d played it for him before. It was after his time but he did quite like the melody

That’s when he got an idea of his own. his undying grin growing slightly as he bookmarked his book, set it to the side and made his way next door to your room.

He knocked on your door three times, waiting outside of it patiently as he heard you set your painting materials down. His ears twitched slightly.

Once you answered the door he waltzed inside cheerfully, not giving you a chance to speak or ask why he was here.

“Salutations my dear!! Up to the usual, I assume?” Alastor would ask, taking a curious look at the canvas you had been working on before glancing back over at you.

You gave him a smile and nodded “Yeah.. got a little inspiration and wanted to paint it before I forgot it.”

“Hm. Well, would it be too much to ask to pull you away from your work for a while?” He raised a brow as he tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, offering you his hand; offering a dance. And honestly you weren’t too surprised.

With a giggle and the grow of your smile, you happily took his hand and let him pull you closer to him as you two began to dance to the song playing in the background, your little masterpiece-in-progress long forgotten as you swayed with your favourite Radio Demon.

Please do not repost, translate, or plagarize any of my fanfictions/headcanons/writing without permission ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞

ᯓ★ Scatteredskittles

#asks open #alastor x reader #alastor headcanons #alastor fluff #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel headcanon #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #fluff

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silaswritesthings · 4 months

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MORE SCARA X YANDERE! FEM! READER OLEASE‼️‼️

Summary: You wish you could wish Wanderer a happy birthday but how could you without revealing the extensive research you performed on his background to be able to possess sensitive information such as his birthdate?

Starring: Wanderer/Scaramouche

Genre: Yandere,

Warnings: stalking, reader is a Yandere

Author’s note: i get really happy when i get asks so thank you sm!! I would’ve posted this yesterday but life happens. Enjoy!!

Word count: 1.3k

A good book remains a good book whether it’s displayed before the eyes of the most respected curators of the world or among millions of books in a local library. To you, Wanderer was a good book. He was an arrangement of words and colours, brought together to form his masterpiece that he kept hidden under pages of silence and mystery.

There was nobody who knew of him who felt like they knew enough, and among those people was you; who knew the most about him but not enough. It would never be enough.

“What will it be this time?” Wanderer said from beside you. “Psychology, true crime or crime fiction?”

You wanted to be a bit greedy, to keep him in a decorative box in your room only for your eyes to see. Why? Because Wanderer was beautiful; beautiful in the way he handed you your library books as you checked them out like he was giving you treasures beyond human imagination. He was beautiful in the way he spoke about various things he’s read about, sometimes his voice would lull you into a trance during the entirety of his rants about the lack of historical accuracy in fiction, and you would hang onto every single one of his words until the sudden snap of his fingers bring you back to reality.

He was too perfect, therefore Wanderer was uncontainable. So much that you wished to contain him. For the time being, you could only do that by taking pictures of him while he wasn’t looking.

“Surprise me.” You said after feigning contemplation. You leaned against the shelf behind you and waited to see what he would do next.

He narrowed his eyes. “No.”

“But I want to extend my reading palate.” You challenged. He watched you for a second and another before sighing and asking you to follow him and so you did.

Upon your arrival in another library section, Wanderer had presented you with two recommendations; with one book in each hand he began to explain the contents of both books.

His voice was quiet, as expected since you were in a library, but you did not miss the way his voice would lower whenever someone walked by. You noticed a long time ago that Wanderer was a very private person but you didn't think there was anything wrong with your display of affection, it was only admiring someone with limited boundaries. He did, however, have rather strict boundaries and you knew there must be some you've violated or crossed by now, you've been stalking him… No, you've been watching him. Admiring him. You like him so you're more observant with him than with others, because he's interesting. Is this how he sees it as well?

“The latter sounds very interesting.” You said, after he concluded his explanation, pushing down your moral dilemma. He hummed in acknowledgment and pushed the book against your chest as he walked past you to return to the front of the library, but just before your shoulders brushed he paused, regarding you with a gaze you couldn't perceive.

“Are you free this evening?”

Your heart leaped to your throat and you were unable to think of an appropriate reply; I always have time for you- no, that sounds too desperate. What about ‘time with you is time well spent’- no, that's too artificial!

“Yes- I mean- sure, yeah.” You glared at the ground because your anxiety was very easy to pick up on. Your thoughts shifted from your embarrassment to the pressure on your chest decreasing, Wanderer had let go of the book and was making his way to the front of the library. His ears were bright red and you wished you hadn't forgotten your camera at home that morning.

________

Pictures of Wanderer in various places and scenarios were scattered all over your bedroom walls, each picture was surrounded by at least two sticky notes with your thoughts and observations concerning the picture written down in the neatest handwriting you could muster.

There was the picture of Wanderer when he first started working at the library, his shoulders were sunken as if there was an invisible force weighing him down. The two notes accompanying this picture pointed out how this was a week after he moved here, and the fatui were rumoured to have increased their activity because they were in search of someone.

You scanned a few other shots from that day, the urge to just watch the original surveillance video from the day was difficult to overcome. Not Nearly as difficult as it was to gather all the information you had on Wanderer, from how he had been running from the fatui: a Snezhnayan organisation deeply rooted in the political and economic systems of various nations, to how he was of inazuman origins and closely related to the Raiden Shogun- but you didn't know how. Not yet, at least.

Your wondering thoughts halted when you came across a picture you took the previous week; Wanderer looking directly into the camera with an irritated expression. You couldn’t fight off your smile, it was the first time you had taken a picture of him with his consent and this was progress. You treasured this picture because it was evidence of how far your relationship with him had come. Will he allow you to take more pictures of him like this? Or even better, will he open up to you about his past soon?

Speak of the devil, your phone rang and when the screen flashed on, the caller ID belonged to Wanderer and so you picked up.

“Hello?”

“Is there anything you’re allergic to?” No time for formalities, this was the Wanderer you knew and loved.

“Not any that I know of.”

“Great, then let’s agree to meet in 40 minutes.” Wanderer said, but you knew this was only him being considerate of you- or at least you assumed as much, because you could hear the hum of various conversations in the background. He definitely wasn’t home.

“That’s perfect,” you said, but your voice had quieted as you scanned his pictures in your room. How would he react if he found out about this… quality of yours? Would he be upset? Would he hate you? Those possibilities could scare anyone, but you’ve found yourself being drawn to all of Wanderers reactions whether good or bad. What you really disliked was no reactions from him at all- or perhaps dislike was too strong a word; could you really dislike anything about him?

Your gaze shifted to a picture you contemplated burning because of how terrible it looked, you had taken it in a rush but despite the terrible quality, it grew on you just because it was Wanderer. There was no need for better reasoning, that was more than enough.

Wanderer’s voice had softened when it filtered through the previously quiet line. “What’s on your mind?”

You hummed as you mulled over your response, “I’m just wondering if there was any special reason you wanted to hang out today.” By now, your attention had shifted to the middle of the wall beside your door where you had stuck a note written in bold black letters ‘3rd of Jan’: his birthday. Today. He hadn’t told anyone the real date of his birth, probably because he was trying to hide his previous identity as ‘the balladeer’ but no Information about him would ever be out of reach for you.

“There’s no special reason,” he mumbled. “Just felt like spending time with a friend today.”

The corners of your mouth tilted, his voice had always sounded pretty and no matter how many times you heard it you would never get tired of it.

“Then allow me to get prepared.” You finally said, ignoring the flutter in your chest.

“I trust that you’ll be here on time, 34 minutes left.” His voice was back to being monotone and sarcastic.

This filled you with amusement, and you decided to tease, “You trust me?”

He went quiet for a second and another, then finally he replied. “I always have.” He ended the call.

You held your phone to your chest as you gazed at his pictures again and thought, would he still trust you after seeing your room like this?

It didn’t matter. Even if he didn’t know you knew… Happy birthday, Wanderer <3

#silaswritesthings #silas #genshin impact #genshin x you #wanderer x reader #anemo supremacy #genshin wanderer #happy birthday wanderer!!#genshin impact wanderer #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader

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guardkeywolf · 1 year

Note

Cod boys seeing their artist male readers art when they get back from a mission and they are just relaxing and they decided to ask him to see his art book since they never saw it and male reader says yes and they look through it and Is shocked how nale reader makes things so realistic.

It's... Beautiful Y/n...

Hello @gamersansblog ! I am SO SO SORRY this took so long!

I hope you enjoy it!

If there was anything that was needed after a tense mission, it was relaxation. When the boys got back from dealing with another terrorist, Laswell gave them so well needed time off and they used every second of it. Not only that, but a good friend of theirs also swing by as well.

Y/n was seen quite frequently at the 141's base, so just about everyone knew him.

Y/n was an artist who liked to sketch around their base sometimes.

The man loved making realistic drawings of them if he had the chance. Usually after 141 returned from their missions the man would be waiting there, doodling in his sketchbook. The others were quite interested to see it the first time they caught on to him being around and Y/n was more than happy to show them.

Inside, there were multiple pictures. Different mediums used, charcoal, pastel, water color, even some good ole' oil paintings. The man was very deserve in his style so he usually had a different instrument when he swung by.

Today, Y/n said he wanted to draw Price, the others a tad bit jealous that their Captain got the lucky honor of being Y/n's model but went with it nonetheless.

While Price finished the last of the paperwork he had, Y/n sat there on his couch sketching away with his graphite pencils he brought today. Though most would find the sound annoying, Price found it comforting as he heard Y/n's pencil rub against the multi-media paper. He could hear the difference between each stroke. Light and Hard.

He couldn't help but chuckle when he also looked up to see the others watching the man from behind as the man drew their Captain.

"Don't you boys have 'ork to do?" He hummed as he went back to doing his own.

"I don't mind them, Captain. After all, they were curious to see just how I manage to make it so realistic," Y/n chuckled to himself.

Price looked up and saw Ghost staring in awe at the paper, eyes widened at the probably nearly finished masterpiece. Gaz and Soap did the same as they watched over Y/n's shoulder, taking in each movement the man made as he worked.

It must have at least an hour that passed or so before the Captain heard Y/n's sketching come to a stop when hearing the "oos' and "aahs" of his men.

"Jesus Y/n, tha's amazing..." Soap said as he gazed at the photo.

"Agreed Johnny..." Ghost complimented as well baffled by the amount of detail that went into the sketch.

"Captain...you gotta' come see this, sir...it's.. it looks just like you," Gaz spoke as he looked upon the breathtaking piece.

"Guys please, your over exaggerating..." Y/n smiled up at them before walking over to the man.

Y/n turned the sketchbook towards the man slowly, smiling as he watched the man's eyes light up.

Price looked up to him, eyes full of curiosity making the artist chuckle again.

"That's...that's bloody beautiful Y/n... think I may frame it in 'ere."

"Thank you..." and he meant it.

"No problem, Captain..."

If you enjoyed reading this please feel free to REBLOG with the TAGS on!

Tags make it easier to navigate yall's Tumblr pages!

Thank you for reading again!

-Guards

#cod modren warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap mactavish #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #captain price #john price #cod #cod mw2 #cod x male reader #guards writes

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drangercore · 2 years

Photo

Love and Other Historical Accidents by @pacific-rimbaud

Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy never intended to blow up their life's work, but that's rather what they've gone and done. Now they're trapped 200 years in the past, with a broken Time Turner, a missing snuff box, a handful of overly-eligible daughters, and a House-elf in a cable knit cardigan. It will require the combined power of their keen intellects to get them home, if they'd stop arguing long enough to use them. As it turns out, history is just one damned accident after another.

Fandom: Harry Potter

Relationship: Hermione Granger x Draco Malfoy

Art by @gingerhuneybee, @jjuuppiter, @jaxxartbox, & yours truly

My first fanbind!

L&OHA is an impeccable story and is so very dear to me. This was the fic that made me go “I want that on my shelf!”, so here we are.

keep reading for more binding info and to see my gushing on the fic.

QUICK SPECS

153,854 words | 571 pages | 5″ x 8.5″

Binding Method: 3 Piece In Boards Bradel Body Font: Adobe Caslon Pro Decorative Font: IM Fell English

I am very proud of this book, having accomplished many firsts with it. My first book that I rounded and backed, sewed double-core endbands on, painted the edges, and used toner reactive foil and HTV on!

ON THE STORY

Sighs. What more can I say? It’s simply brilliant. A unique multifaceted story with incredible dynamics, clever foreshadowing, great character studies of Draco and Hermione, and such beloved original characters. It’s comedic and refreshing but it also takes on grief and goodbyes, and heartbreak. It’s fucking romantic and also So nuanced. I dislike stories that spoon-feed every little thing about the character, so the parlor tricks on this one? Ate every crumb of it. It was filled with implications and was misleading in the best sense. You’ve got to be an astute reader to catch some things the first round (which I definitely wasn’t).

While it doesn’t entirely shy away from typical lovey-dovies, the regard for mundanity and the inconsequential, I just find more inherently romantic. The exploration on time travel and the vivid prose further underscores the depth of PR’s talent. She captures so eloquently, the mind of an extremely logical person in a very illogical experience. I saw myself in Hermione so many times. The story demands to be read again and revels upon doing so. Pacific Rimbaud is such an incredible writer *sobs* all her works are simply a masterpiece.

That said, this beautiful story deserves to be turned into a physical book.

DESIGN PLAN (or lack thereof)

This is my first fanfic project and my third book overall which I must say was quite a leap considering my very little binding experience. I think the demon small niggling part at the back of my head got the best of me and positively thought she could make a relatively fastidious book despite the lack of skill. BUT nothing can stop me when I am overly enthusiastic about something, thus began my 2 month research, soaking up every gobbet of binding info in reach. As far as my book binding journey goes, gathering supplies was the hardest part lol. Bookbinding is not a common hobby in the Philippines so it was tedious to to look for materials and/or to settle on alternatives.

I credit 70% of the 4 month stretch of this project to my indecision. The novelty and sheer excitement with a new hobby, I think, divested me to properly conceptualize heh. I redid my typeset 1 billion times because I kept switching softwares: Word→ Pages→ InDesign. I probably have 8 versions of the typeset that will never see the light of day. Anyway, I did finally get the stuff done. Here’s my little design dump:

Nothing symbolic about the design really. I just worked around elements I thought were appropriate with the regency era and time traveling aspect: vines/ flowers and the time turner. I tried to reflect PR’s elegant writing in the book so hopefully I did it some justice. I added my fave works for this fic too and even drew fanart myself, here are some of them:

BINDING

I watched DAS bookbinding religiously during my research phase and I knew then that I wanted to someday follow his in-boards 3-piece bradel tutorial, but it wasn’t supposed to be so early on in my binding journey. One look at this book however threw me off course. It was incredibly ambitious of me, so I guess I deserved all the stress I endured in the process. I was supposed to trim the edges in between glueing the spine and rounding/backing, but I only had my poorly sharpened Php145 wood chisel to finish the task. That and nursing the finger my chisel wounded took enough time for the glue to dry, so I was fiddling with a stiff textblock the entire time after. I learnt along the way that a blow dryer and bone folder will be your best friends (and plenty of patience). I’d also like to apologize to my neighbors if you heard any hammering at 1am 😳

The covers were... finicky. For some reason, midway, I decided to make either covers differently, and all to the good because the one made following DAS’ tutorial ended up slightly warping. DAS’ was with two 1.25mm boards glued together, while my experimental one was with a single 2.5mm board of which I peeled layers off of to reduce its thickness in half as needed. (see pictures below for reference)

A lot of how the book looks like now is either born out of impulse or a desperate remedy. The book in turn is very gold. Chapter headers were impulsively foiled with gold laser reactive foil (so much for illustrating the headers only to cover them up haha *eye twitches*).

I accidentally stained the edges while smoothing with black sandpaper so I covered the mess with an admix of Sakura acrylic paint in black and Liquitex acrylic ink in iridescent gold (Paint order: 1 layer gold- 2 thin layers black- 3 layers gold).

I am very proud of my sewn endbands as this was my very first attempt at doing a double-core. I used DMC cotton threads in cream (712) and gold (E3821). Below is a close-up because why not. (as you can see, I had some flaking on the paint, luckily this was on the bottom edge so I fixed the issue on the more visible sides.)

I don’t like the bookcloth selection where I’m from (if there’s anything at all) so I made my own with pastel blue eco-ramie cloth, flour paste, and 80gsm paper. I ordered my fabric online and the shade was too icing-like. It looked tacky so I bleached to lighten. The white cloth also came from the same fabric which I bleached till it paled to white.

Titling was one of my biggest worries because majority of binders I saw were using a cricut to cut HTV. I almost entertained the idea of cutting it manually or even painting or embroidery, but to my luck, I found a local shop that offers vinyl ! cutting !! service !!! I sent them my design and they cut and weeded the vinyl for me. I chose white for the title and metallic gold for the vine detail. I messed up applying the word “historical” though, but let’s pretend i did it on purpose for the vintage feel.

Four months of faffing later, I have this story in corporeal form! Overall, I’m overjoyed with the outcome and I’d like to thank PR for the opportunity to have such a wonderful story on my shelf (and free to be read by anyone!)

If you made it this far, thanks for reading!

#love and other historical accidents #laoha #l&oha #pacificrimbaud #dhr #dhr fanfiction #fanbinding #bookbinding #dramione #my books #dramione fanart #fanfiction #fanfictionbookbinding #fanficbookbinding #fanficbinding #bookbinder #harry potter fanfiction #sting and snout bindery #buzzing books

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redheadspark · 4 months

Note

Can i have prompt #6 with Benedict Bridgerton?

A/N - I do like this request! Thanks for requesting this, my friend!

Funny Thing

Summary - Beneditc's childhood crush comes back, and Eloise calls him out because of it

Warnings - Just some fluff

“Benedict, we need to discuss this nonsense,”

“It’s not nonsense, sister, I wish not to discuss it any further,”

“Truth be told, your own scowl and bitter energy must be addressed before our guests are to arrive,”

That made Benedict look up from his sketch pad, seeing his younger sister with her book in hand waltz over to plop down on the chair next to his own in their sitting room. He saw the smirk she was giving him, to which he snapped his sketchbook shut and stuck the pencil in the back of his ear as Eloise spoke up again with the smirk even heard in her voice.

“Tell me, dear brother, when was the last time we spoke to the Hamptons?” She asked Benedict, who was thinking to himself for a long moment. It has been some time since the Hampton family has had relations with the Bridgerton, given the fact that they had to move away with their father’s new business opportunities that were on the other side of the country. In fact, the Bridgertons and the Hamptons grew up as neighbors, their parents were cordial with one another, and the children played together. The Hamptons had 4 children, 2 boys and 2 girls. You, being the youngest girl and the third eldest, was close in age with Benedict and was more of a tomboy and willing to get dirty compared to your elder sister. Nonetheless, your childhood as neighbors and childhood friends was amazing and filled with laughter.

Benedict, like the rest of his siblings, felt his heartbreak when you and your family had to move away. He was almost a teenager at the time, already developing feelings for you around the same time your father shared the news with his own father about his new job. He thought of you as someone filled with adventure, not wishing to be the dainty flower that your mother wanted you to be, and you were never afraid to speak your mind. Holding back was never your nature, and Benedict found that enduring and perhaps attractive.

But as time went on, he found other girls and young women to fan the flame that was deep inside of him. But one afternoon, reading the paper in the social section merely because he was bored and looking at future galleries and upcoming events, he recognized a name.

Your family name. You all were coming back to your old stomping grounds for a few balls.

“Back when we were teens,” He replied, Eloise grinning as Benedtic shrugged, “You were far too young remember them,”

“Oh, I remember them far too well, especially the certain young daughter who made you trip over your own feet and fall face first in the mud,” Eloise reminded him, Benedict instantly throwing the pillow that his elbow was perched out in her direction. Thankfully, she ducked it just in time as she laughed, Benedict huffed and shot up from the couch, moving over to place his sketchbook on the mantel as Eloise spoke again.

“Benedict, we all knew you liked her,” She explained as Benedict scoffed.

“I never liked her in such a manner, merely as a friend,” He reasoned, though his sister was not buying it for one moment.

“Denial is not an attractive trait, Benedict. I should now, being the reader and all,” She advised him as he looked over his shoulder and glared at her, “Come now, I’ve heard she has taken to the arts and is quite good at identifying an original masterpiece and a fake. Being in a male-dominated field, I must say that is quite amazing and an eminence feet to conquer at one’s age.”

“I don’t wish to discuss it anymore,” Benedict said in a scoff, though Eloise eyed him in suspicion.

“Sounds like someone is still horning some pent-up feelings—“

“I do not want to see their face, hear their voice or their name for that matter. Stop talking about them,” Benedict said in a warning tone, but there was no real heat in it. He was defensive of course, merely because he had no clue as to how he was going to act in front of his old childhood friend and old crush. He merely never had someone as close to his heart as you, no one who seemed to know Benedict deeply and with affection. Other women tried to come close, and although the pleasure was amazing at the time, he still never felt that kind of affection when he did with you.

“Denial is a funny thing, brother. But it won’t last forever,” Eloise advised him calmly. Benedict could hear the sincerity in his sister’s tone, knowing that Eloise would never steer him wrong since she admired him as her older brother. As much as a pain that she was, Eloise still had pearls of wisdom that she would bring to her family in times of need. Maybe she sensed that he was using denial to hide the fact that he was nervous about seeing you, and she saw right through it.

Bless her.

“Ah, there you two are!” Benedict and Eloise looked over to see their mother and Matriarch, Violet Bridgerton, waltz into the room with two people behind her. Benedict knew it was the Hamptons, both himself and Eloise stood tall in greeting as your mother and father smiled at the two siblings, “I must have missed the pair of you. Our guests have arrived,”

Both Benedict and Eloise walked over to bow and shake hands with your parents, who smiled widely in greeting.

“I hope your travels were in your favor, Sir Hampton,” Benedict said to your father.

“Quite pleasant, actually. My wife and I are glad to be back at our stomping grounds,” your father replied, then looking over his shoulder, “You remember my daughter?”

Benedict looked, and his breath was instantly lost.

You were walking down the hallway in a mint green dress and curls in an elegant bun. The highlights in your hair, the softness of your skin with a hint of blush on your cheeks, even the infamous smile that Benedict knew you’d had all your life was etched on your face. You were taller, the twinkle in your eye and your smile as you two locked gazes at one another. No longer was he thinking of the young girl with gangly elbows, the young girl who could outrun him tenfold in a foot race.

He saw you as an ethereal being with the same smile that shined like the stars.

“I do,” Benedict replied in a breath as you approached him, bowing slightly as him as he did the same. When you two locked eyes again, it felt as if you two were young again. But it was different, the smile on Benedict’s face was infectious as he found his voice once more, “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Lady Hampton,”

“The same to you, Mr. Bridgerton,” You replied, Benedict, feeling his heart flutter from hearing your voice.

Eloise merely grinned, hiding her giggling behind her book.

The End.

January Prompt Session

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #benedict bridgerton angst #benedict bridgeton x female reader #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction

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sionisjaune · 4 months

Text

2023 Fic Reader Wrapped!

1. Fic that made me laugh

new rules next week by @onadarklingplain | George/Alex

Technically posted in 2022, but I will never forget the freak in the excel sheets mug. It is seared into my mind.

2. Fic that made me cry

must be nice where lovers go by @litafordvsferrari | Nico/Jenson

This fic came out when I was at my tenderest and hit me right where it hurts... as fucked up as the concept is, the vegas princess cake au is somehow very heterooptimistic to me. An all time favourite.

3. Fic that gave me a story hangover

dip it low | Lewis/Miles

This fic won me over on the Lewis/Miles front. And afterwards I clicked on the tag wanting more... but alas this is still a rare pair. Anonymous author of dip it low please know that you have written a foundational text.

4. Fic I want to discuss book club style

show you what you need to live by @loveisworry | Seb/Lewis

We need to talk about the psychology of Seb in this fic. And Nico in his glass supervillain prison playing chess and reading Proust. God, this is an all time favourite.

5. Fic that got me a little flustered

breathe deep by kangeiko | Lewis/Nico

Sometimes I'm just in the mood to read het, and this one always satisfies.

6. Fic by one of my favourite authors

Sing Myself a Lullaby by @kritischetheologie | Nico/Lewis

C will forever be a favourite because I can click on anything she writes and trust that I'll like it. Sing Myself a Lullaby/the urbp is her late 2022 masterpiece and a brocedes must read.

7. Fic I reread more than once

polaris by @grideon | Seb/Lewis

Easily my favourite grideon fic (although all are amazing). Hot and cozy and joyful... such a comfort read. Honourable mention to a sense of proportion which is also unbearably hot and hilarious.

8. Fic I sent to everyone I know

To the Victor Belong the Spoils by @powerful-owl | Max/Daniel

It is absolutely unbelievable that this epic was written in six months. We are so infinitely lucky that Em popped up in our corner of fandom. One of my friends is a huge Hunger Games fan and I've been bothering her about this one for months. I'll convince her eventually...

9. Fic that made me fall in love with an author

hall pass. by @eyes-likepilotlights | Nico/Vivian & Nico/Lewis

Lima is my new fav! Everything she writes is so smart and clever and packed full of feelings. This fic got me in a wag mood that I have yet to write anything about...

#fic rec

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vagabond-umlaut · 7 months

Text

Fall Versus Foliage

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader; Geto Suguru Makes His Debut; Takes Place Between Star Plasma Vessel Incident & Death Of Haibara; Fluff, Very Little Angst, Humor & Drama!! Contains Spoilers. Canon-Compliant. [Geto's Already Spiralling Here.] [I Hate Canon.]

Oneshot From Series: One Day, Three Autumns

Your Best Friend is Gojo. Gojo's Best Friend is Geto. Your Mortal Enemy is Geto.

"Oi, you six-eyed cellar spider! Where the fuck you hidin', huh?"

Wrenching the shoji door open, you charge onto the backyard of your home, wading through the tall grasses overcrowding your so precious lawn. Somewhere from behind, someone calls your name in an overly frantic tone— paying them no attention, you proceed forwards, wrath coursing through your arteries and veins– colouring your vision with a furious shade of red.

Honestly speaking, this isn't how you envisioned your weekend going. You were under the impression you might be able to get some indeed very much needed rest these two days— maybe with some fun too in the mix, given how you invited your friends to this tucked away home you've in the countryside.

Then again, you never envisioned someone gobbling your Neapolitan ice cream– the entirety of it– did you, now?

"Hey, Gojo," you holler once again, eyes roaming in search of the bane of your existence, when you suddenly stop at the sight before, only to increase the speed of your attack within the next instant. "Oi, Satoru!" you yell, clenching then relaxing your fists as you march towards that messy mop of white hair partly obscured by the tree trunk its owner's leaning against, "You gone deaf or— huhhh? What the fuck is this??"

Were anyone from your family there right now, you'd have received an earful for such a horrendously unladylike language— you shove every thought of your stick-in-the-mud family members out your mind into the lake nearby, opting to focus on the masterpiece before instead.

Though you're much too unsure, which of them two the masterpiece is.

Must it be the striking painting staring back at you, the woman's eyes carrying fondness yet mystery in their depths while her lips curve in a visibly coy smile, sweet yet cryptic?

Or must it be the striking painter snoozing beside his work, tiny quiet snores leaving him while his head lolls to the side, those black shades sitting tad precariously on his nose?

A muted exhale leaving, you force your shoulders to slump down and relax, your hands reaching forwards to carefully pluck his glasses off– only to still and tense up, registering the presence of another person.

Very intolerable. Very obnoxious. Another. Person.

Suguru offers you an easy smile from where he's propped up against the tree beside Satoru's, an open book lying in his lap. You manage a barely civil smile in response, gritting out, "Why the hell are you here, huh? Never took you to be my 'Toru's watch dog... Senpai."

Even if the boy does detect the disrespect in the term of address you throw in as an after-thought, he makes no comment on it– wearing a smile as placid as before, and replying, "Never took these lawns to be out of bounds for me either— but here are we. Thinking things only to be proved wrong later on. Funny little coin—"

"I'm rather good at reading people," you cut him off, eyes narrowed in a glare as your teeth clack against each other in your attempts to rein in your bubbling irritation and rising volume: Satoru's asleep; he must not be disturbed at any and all costs– "and I think Ieiri-senpai prefers your company to Iori-senpai's when she's smoking. Why don't you go, have a smoke with her, yeah? They're in the other wing of the house."

Or, perhaps, in the same wing of the house adjoining these very same gardens— but you don't add that. With the fewest words spoken, you want Suguru to be gone the quickest, the farthest from Satoru— who seems too delicate, too vulnerable, too breakable in such a state— an uncomfortable shiver slithering down your spine on noticing that tiny scar at the back of his neck, you drag your attention away from him— to the second boy watching you: visibly delighted; tangibly intrigued.

You will your annoyance to be doused: your best friend's asleep; 'Toru Must Not Be Disturbed— his best friend leisurely flips over to another page, though his eyes drift to the new page only for a moment before returning to study you— albeit without the sliver of interest his hawk-like gaze always carries when settling on a hapless girl doomed to be his prey for the night— you observe this with an inward sigh of relief.

Be it for you or for Satoru, you never quite like those who try to come between the two of you friends. You suppose, the white-haired boy is not very fond of such folks either. That pathetic boy who tried to give you an equally pathetic rose in your third grade, still carries remnants of the thrashing your friend had given him on hearing your complaint – you know, the white-haired boy is not very fond of such folks either.

Suguru chuckles softly. "You..." he pauses for a little, seemingly in the search for the right words, then resumes, "You're not good in dealing with feelings, are you? Especially not where it concerns people close to you, right?"

It takes you two seconds before the meaning behind his words spring to life. You clench your fists to keep yourself absolutely rooted there, vision growing red yet again.

"Are you trying to tell me what I think you're trying to tell me, Geto?" you query quietly, nails digging deep crescents into the skin of your palms. Suguru's face morphs into an unrushed grin, smug and ugly. You reckon one of your nail's finally broken the skin of your left palm.

The Curse Manipulator shrugs. "That depends on what—"

"Being mean to you isn't me not knowing how to handle my emotions or some shallow shit like that," you cut him off, unclenching your fists and letting the air brush over the red-hot indents in your palm, "Being mean to you is me wanting to be; and you better not be expecting me to change that anytime soon, 'cause I won't–" A barely-heard mumble on kikufuku makes you pause. Throwing a sideways glance at the boy mumbling, you return your focus to the other boy, eyes fixed in a hard stare.

"I hate you and I'm so not the type to be polite with someone, only to bitch about them later on, behind their back— so I'm gonna continue hating you to your face— and I don't care what you might have to say on this, so you better save your breath, yeah?"

A moment of tense silence follows your question, broken not too long after by the black-haired boy's incredulous statement, "I never meant that to refer to myself. I was speaking on your feelings for–" He grows silent suddenly, eyes darting to Satoru for a brief second, before they return to you. Cheshire cat grin back in every bit of its dastardly glory.

"Feelings for someone close to you translates to your hatred for me– hm?" he says, throwing a momentary glance at Satoru yet again, grin unbudged, "You are one very weird girl, you know that?"

"Oh, yeah?" you snap back without missing a beat, "You might not be knowing this— but anger and hatred are equally valid feelings as any other— and regarding the matter of you being someone close to me?" you let out something between a scoff and a sigh, shaking your head, "You're one of the five other faces I see from my age group, at school everyday. Of-fucking-course, you're someone close to me. I'll be kind of upset if— Have you ever been told, your grin is low-key terrifying?"

Your genuine question earns one very hearty laugh from Suguru– it grows tempered soon enough, however, when you pointedly glance at your sleeping friend then shoot the other boy a glare. Sharp. Mad.

The latter smiles at you, shaking his head. "You're really one weird girl —perhaps the weirdest of them all..." he says, wiping a tear away from his eye, shoulders still shaking from his subdued laughter– "However, I can't help but wonder..."

You shift your weight to one foot, the other tapping an impatient tune on the ground as you stuff your hands into your jacket pockets. Smile dimming to grow a touch of honest curiosity, he asks, "You say, anger and hatred are valid emotions, but don't you feel they might burn you from the inside out, consume you and every bit of your life, leave your world in smoke and ash— don't you feel ashamed when you're feeling those? Helpless– miserable when your anger and hatred tears at your insides? Teasing you, taunting you— cursing you?"

It takes you few moments to grasp the entirety of Suguru's question; and when you do, you can't help but feel sorry for him— Though you know better than to offer something as trash as sympathy to another.

Not when it cannot retrieve the lost, resurrect the dead.

Not when it cannot remove the scars– seen and hidden.

Not when it cannot... let your 'Toru sleep without reliving the sight of millions of maggots swarming over him, weak, dying, dying, weak— YouNeedToMakeGetoLeaveNOW—

You fake a yawn, flexing and extending your legs, one at a time.

"Jogging, fencing, complaining, being mean, napping— these are my usual go-to's whenever I feel too overwhelmed by negative emotions," you answer, features made into one of nonchalance then add, almost as a mumbled after-thought, "or when any emotion confuses me too, to be honest. Kicking the wall or the source of your distress helps me too, yeah."

"So... violence is always an option, hm?"

A chuckle moves to fall past your lips— you push it back– misgivings standing where humor should be– when you catch the way Suguru's eyes gleam in the shade granted by the drifting clouds— though that gleam doesn't seem to be gleaming to you. One might accuse you to be unfairly prejudiced against him— but you know you aren't letting a smidgen of those biases tint your vision now.

You know that gleam in his eyes is anything but funny. Anything but light. Anything but good—

The Curse Manipulator rises from his slouch on the ground, sending you another of his easy smiles, though it no longer feels as harmless as it used to, earlier. Your feet move a few steps towards Satoru— in response to your instinct to shield the boy or your desire to be within his comforting aura— you're not very sure, which.

Suguru's smile grows, gaze flitting from his classmate to you. "Thank you for inviting us here. All of us really needed this break after... what happened last year," he says, volume dropping to a whisper, "Thanks a bunch, kid."

You just nod your head in response, fighting the urge to rush to your friend's side— the other boy lets out a muted chuckle, feet moving a couple steps away from you, before he stops and points at the piece of drawing lying before Satoru, held down by a stone paperweight. It is the one you gifted him, many years back at a beach, you recollect.

A tad too tickled statement startles you back to the present.

"Your 'Toru's made his 'sweetness' the subject of that portrait there... think, he fancies her or something?"

Not sparing said portrait a glance, you frown up at him. "But it seems to be of an older woman, Geto. Are you trying to suggest Satoru sees me as someone older than her age?"

"Maybe," he shrugs. You observe him for a moment before looking at the fast asleep boy again— dread and dejection filling every small bit of your body, slow yet so steady—

Satoru sees you as someone much older than your age. Satoru never tells you, he'll be drawing your portrait— but he has told that bastard best friend of his, everything. Said bastard best friend keeps being a hindrance, putting a spoke in your and Satoru's eons old friendship— not to mention those way too disturbing vibes he was giving off some time back— Bloody hell, Satoru also ate your ice cream up, didn't he?

"You seem to be overwhelmed with emotions, kid," the black-haired boy comments, still standing in the same place as he was, watching you attentively with hints of a smirk, "What are you planning to do?"

Honestly? You don't know. You're mad. You want Suguru to leave you two by yourselves for some time. But, you don't know how to— okay, no, wait–

Kicking something never not solves your issues... Besides, all of your friends– yeah, even this bang-haired asshole, keep themselves away whenever you and Satoru fight, so...

Stamping down the glee blooming in your heart, you throw Suguru a very unimpressed glance. "What can one ever expect me to do, eh?"

And that's the last thing you utter, before you stomp right up to your best friend, and ignoring the tiny flicker of regret, deliver a sharp and well-aimed kick to his leg— eliciting a yelp from your poor 'Toru– but, at the same time, kicking your oh-so-splendid plan of protecting your friendship, off as well.

[But, in case this plan fails? Something, the sweet half of yourself is a bit too sure, will happen— Shut the fuck up, you goody-two-shoes!!—

Simple!! You'll buy Satoru three– no, five– tubs of that Neapolitan ice cream. Offer to complete his homework, plus massage his shoulders as an apology for hitting him. And pout at him, trembling lips and big teary eyes and all that jazz, and—

Gojo Satoru will be best friends with his sweetness in no time, again!]

I do not own the characters used. Divider is by @cafekitsune. Please do not plagiarize or translate or repost this. Hope you enjoyed reading this! 😊

Please interact with This Post to be added to the series taglist! ❤️

Masterlist

Satoru calls his future S/O sweetness, but trust me when I say— Suguru's S/O will be the sweetest of them all. Stay tuned for the next oneshot in this series, my loves!!! 🥰

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thefallofruins · 5 months

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Hello, I am a failed writer who can only write 600 words per month therefore I must share a little something with you I wrote:

Maybe you were right.

Maybe Nanami had done enough for the world already. But in times like these, how could he simply run away? How could he abandon those who grew to be dear to him? There was a small part of him that wished he could, that yearned and screamed at him to abandon it all - to be selfish.

Maybe you were right.

All the man wished was to be far far away from here, from it all. Into your loving arms, with no worries. Small mundane things such as cooking together, passing small kisses to each other through out the day. Yearning for your caring embrace and gentle touches - simply, to be loved.

Maybe you were right. Unfortunately, he would never get the chance to tell you how right you were.

He could only hope that you could forgive him for not listening before.

did I cry like a baby while reading this? yes I did. I'm sad now. And don't ever call yourself a failed writer, everyone has their own pace, and no matter the pace..in the end, it will be a masterpiece. For sure.

Nanami had done enough for the world— he tried to convince himself so. But the truth is, how could he possibly abandon the one who held him sane throughout it? The one who offered him a gentle warmth amidst the chaos that was his life, the one who was his home, his love, his very sanity itself.

He had given the world enough. But never you. You deserved so much more, so much more than he'd ever be able to give. He wishes he could tell you, a moment of desperation in his eyes. He wishes he could melt away this scene and be with you and you alone. To be able to hold you more, hear your melodious laughter, to join you in the creation of delicious meals on a lazy, cozy morning.

It's too late now. It's too late. He doesn't even want to think about the look on your face when you'll hear the news of him. All he sees is a little vision— nestled in his arms is you, a book in his hand, a warm cup of tea. It's home. He's home. Maybe it's a just a vision to put his mind at ease.

It's late now. Maybe in another life, in another world, he will see you again. He swears, the last few beats of his heart witness so— he would never, ever, leave you.

line dividers: @/firefly-graphics

#nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami angst #jjk angst #jjk x reader #ruins posts #ruins asks

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yessa-vie · 7 months

Text

fic recs list (on going) ❣

→ IMPORTANT. the list is divided between completed (P. 01 || P. 02) and on going, most of them are Stray Kids because there's a considerable amount of those and most of them are smau.

→ TBR LIST ❣

→ LAST UPDATE. 15.01.2024 (dd/mm/yyyy)

LIST BELLOW THE CUT!

→ SYMBOLS. [♥] favorites || [⌨] smau || [✎] written || [✉] smau with written parts || [★] MDNI (reader's discretion is advised, sensitive and suggestive topics, not only smut) || [❄] new ones ||

ON GOING ❣

→ HELLO STRANGER. (@tasteleeknow) [♥][★][❄][✎]

- Lee Minho. - soulmate au! stranegrs to enemies to lovers. the story is basically: "you are gonna suffer, but you'll feel happy about it" because this story is just THAT GOOD. - 09 chapters. - i'm so mad at myself by the fact that I JUST REALIZED I DIDN'T PUT THIS MASTERPIECE IN HERE! also, when i started reading it, had been a while since it had been updated and i was so sad about it bc i thought it had been abandonned, but then i recently saw it being back into posting so i just binge read it all over again and i fell in love with this story like it was the first time. it's just so beautifully written and how she portraits the different types of love and the friendship between reader and hyunjin is so wholesome, and let's not forget hyunjin and minho's one! i think this is a must read type of story, it's just incredible on so many levels i can't even begin to fully explain it unless you read it!

→ TRESURE. (@cybrsan) [♥][❄][✎]

- Jung Wooyoung. - ATLA au! enemies to lovers. cliffhanging after pretty much every chapter, but I love it regardless. eventual smut, but none so far. - 06 chapters. - ik ik, shocker another universe au and i'm already in love and dreading to every update! i think by now i'm pretty easy to figure it out, but honestly, Michi did such an amazing job and she's such a good writer that its just IMPOSSIBLE not to read her work and love every single one, but this on tho, she really out did herself and I'm dreading for another update everytime I remember is still on going, but I promise is worth it!

→ GROWING PAINS. (@roomsofangel) [❄][✎][★]

- Choi San. - grumpy x sunshine. strangers to lovers. opposite attract. - 04 chapters.

→ JUST LOOK AT ME. (@ppiri-bahng) [❄][★][⌨][♥]

- Hwang Hyunjin. - mature content. strangers to friends to lovers. camboy!. uni au. - 04 chapters.

→ CONNECTED. (@sky-yuna) [❄][✎][★][♥]

- OT8! Stray Kids. - 23 chapters.

→ NEVER HAVE I EVER. (@desayunho) [❄][✎][★][♥]

- OT8! Stray Kids. - mature content. please read the warnings before reading. - 04 chapters.

→ STAR LOST WITH YOU. (@hyunjinspark) [♥][★][✎]

- Hwang Hyunjin. - strangers to friends to lover. SLOW BURN!. idol verse!. mature content. - 18 chapters. - idk why it took me so long to start this, but i said it once and i'll say it again, i would literally read her grocery shopping and thank her for it, if this story ever turn into an actual book or tv show, it will LITERALLY explode (in a good way), this story is perfect on so many levels i don't even know where to start, just go read it, you won't regret it!

→ NEPO BABIES. (@ilovehimyourhonour) [♥][✉]

- Yang Jeongin. - smau with written parts. rich kids au. idiots in love. - 15 chapters + lots of bonus chapters. - by far one of the two best Yang Jeongin fanfic I've read so far, i'm seriously in love with Jeongin and reader in this story and already suffering to what's to come.

→ WRITTEN IN THE STARS. (@lovestay-channie) [♥][⌨]

- Bang Chan. - smau. modern harry potter au. enemies? rivals? to lovers. - 05 chapters.

→ SYSTEM ERROR. (@moanz111) [♥][✉]

- Choi San. - smau with written parts. uni smau. rivals? enemies? to lovers. - hiatus? - 17 chapters.

→ WAITING FOR US. (@kkami-writes) [♥][★][✉]

- OT8! Stray Kids. - smau with written parts. themes that may be triggering to some readers. soulmate au. - 49 chapters. - this is SERIOUSLY incredible work as well, Kaia is honestly like taking such complex story line and putting in such a beautiful and thoughtful way i have no words, and i literally fell in love with this story so so much!

→ INCEPTION. (@remedyx) [♥][★][✎]

- OT8! Ateez. - fantasy. mature content. soulmate au. - 37 chapters + bonus. - oh god, where do i even start with this one? like, i knew i could find an ateez fic as incredible as most of the stray kids one that i've seen, but this one... i was shocked to say the least in the best way possible. if you like fantasy, worldbuilding, romance, angst, slow burn, this is literally for you, this story is just >>>>>>.

→ ENCHANTED TO MEET YOU. (@f9clementine) [✉]

- Lee Minho. - smau with written parts. strangers to friends to lovers. magic au. - 23 chapters. - the cliffhanging that this story gives... that's all i'm gonna say, bc i'm way too eager to find out how it turns out and it's sooooooo good how she developed the relationship btw Minho and the reader, i'm sat waiting for the next chapters.

→ INSTEAD OF YOU. (@sluttywonwoo) [♥][★][✎]

- Lee Minho. - strangers to friends to lovers. best friend's brother. mature content. - 35 chapters. - THIS. FUCKING. STORY. I LIVE FOR THIS! like it's so fucking good in so many ways that i can't even begin to describe, just do yourself a favor and go read it.

→ I SAW YOU IN A DREAM. (@forgottenfourr) [✉]

- Yang Jeongin. - smau with written parts. soulmate au. uni au. idiots in love. strangers to friends to lovers. - 38 chapters.

→ CATS GOT YOUR TONGUE. (@tr0p1cal) [♥][✉]

- Lee Minho. - smau with written parts. mature themes?. strangers to friends to lovers. idiots in love?. - 16 chapters.

→ CHIT CHAT. (@gyuworm) [✉]

- Hwang Hyunjin. - 11 chapters (on hiatus).

→ HOME MADE DYNAMITE. (@mangiverse) [⌨]

- ?? ATZ. - 06 chapters.

→ MAMA MIA. (@mars101) [⌨]

- TBZ Bermuda Line. - 24 chapters.

→ WORD OF YOUR BODY. (@dvbkie099) [★][✉]

- Lee Minho. - 17 chapters.

→ THE END ZONE. (@collisvng) [⌨]

- Seo Changbin. - 01 chapter.

→ LIQUOR LIPS. (@maeleelee) [♥][★][⌨]

- Lee Minho. - 18 chapters.

#fic recs #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic recs #stray kids #stray kids recs #stray kids fanfic #kpop fic recs #tbz recs #yv.recs

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dramioneasks · 2 months

Note

Hello! Do you have recommendations for fics where Draco holds Hermione in captivity but to protect her or because he secretly loves her (he doesn’t want to hurt her) ? I really loved “The auction” and “Fire” by sycadelex. Thank out in advance for all recs! ^^

Secrets and Masks - Emerald_Slytherin - E, 75 chapters, Words: 465,554 - 9 years after the battle of Hogwarts, the war still rages on and everyone is much changed since their days at Hogwarts. Hermione is the most lethal soldier in The Order, spending her days on rescue missions to free captured Muggleborn slaves and fight on the front line. For years, she’s been meeting in secret with a spy within Voldemort’s ranks to exchange information. But, when she’s captured and made prisoner at Malfoy Manor, of all the dark and evil ways she’d envisioned Malfoy would torture her, she never quite imagined anything this horrific. (I just wanted to make it abundantly clear that I was originally inspired to write this fic after I read the masterpiece that is Manacled, so I would like to thank SenLinYu for her amazing work! The memory searching aspect of Manacled is what inspired me, and although I have adapted that, (and also made Draco head Death Eater, because… ya know… we all love it when he’s Voldemort’s right hand man 😅😉), Secrets and Masks will be a very very different fic all together.)

Captured - HiraethsHome - M, 44 chapters, Words: 175,704 - Hermione will do anything to save those she loves, including giving herself over to the Death Eaters as prisoner. But when Draco abducts her in an effort to bait Harry Potter and return to the Dark Lord’s good graces, they’re both surprised to find that while neither can give the other what they want, maybe they’ll be able to find what they need.

Resolve by MeropeReads - E, 42 chapters, Words: 175,309 - Harry Potter is dead. Hermione finds herself once again taken prisoner at Malfoy Manor- only this time, the young heir could not stand by and do nothing. Acting on impulse, Draco hides Hermione within the manor under the nose of the other death eaters. Keeping her as his secret, he struggles to find a way to help her escape without getting them both killed, and she plots to find a way to take down the death eaters from within. Slow(ish) burn Dramione taking place right after Harry loses the final battle of Hogwarts. I hope this story finds it way to people who love the couple as much as I do, and to people who are giving Dramione a chance for the first time. Thank you for reading!

Malfoy Manor gone wrong By: Miamii - T, 43 chapters, Words: 119,682 - Dobby’s rescue mission wasn’t as successful as one hoped. Ron can’t free Hermione before the Dark Lord arrives and has to flee without her. Hermione is left at Malfoy Manor with the Dark Lord and his absurd ideas of punishment for the Malfoys for Potters escape. This story follows the storyline of the book up till chapter “Malfoy Manor” in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Left Behind by Lifespassion - M, WIP - When the chandelier crashes down at the Malfoy mansion Dobby apparates without one member of the group: Hermione. Suddenly Draco finds himself doing things he never imagined just to try and keep her alive. “What if?” scenario SLOW-BURN DRAMIONE. Dark-edged love story. Rated M: Full trigger warning Within. (UNDER REViSION)

Manor of Conception by psiphifan - E, 25 chapters - For not identifying Harry, Ron and Hermione at the manor when they are kidnapped by snatchers, Malfoy must serve his punishment in the strangest of ways. This shame will forever haunt him and the Malfoy name forever. The new relationship that develops is not what anyone expects, however.WARNING: Detailed depiction of rape in the second chapter. Please do not read if this bothers you. You have been warned (I hate to say it, but it’s been categorized as such.)

Broken Chainsby Leave it at that - M, 16 chapters - After Ron and Harry fail to rescue her from Bellatrix, Hermione is trapped in Malfoy Manor. Now she has to face Voldemort alone, but is she completely alone? Suddenly she is bonded to Draco. Then Draco and Hermione wind up somewhere they never imagined they’d be- bonded for life. Set during DH. EWE.

I Need You by DarkEyedDreamer - E, WIP - Hermione was unable to escape Malfoy Manor, and it seems the Death Eaters have a very specific plan for her to end the war. Until then, she’s left in Draco’s care. But the Death Eater himself is a little wary towards his cause, and Hermione is very convincing.

Blood Red By: Fluticorns - T, 29 chapters - When the golden trio is taken to The Malfoy Manor they make a desperate escape, forcing them to leave Hermione behind. After almost a month will Draco decide to save her or send her back to the dungeon? A Dramione! DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Harry Potter. You can check my wallet I have all of ten dollars to my name.

-Lisa

#anonymous #war #au #kidnapping and imprisonment [hermione]#hurt and comfort

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ruan566 · 4 months

Text

Am I the only one fed up with the constant comparison between mdzs and tgcf?

When I first found out about tgcf I checked the comments to see how it was recieved by the other readers and oh my Xian Le! The whole review section was filled with people saying that it wasn't on par with mdzs! Mdzs was the first danmei book I read (couldn't ever finish it I just can't read after the confession scene I did not like the romance part a lot) and while it isn't my favourite I liked the plot so I kept myself away from tian Guan ci fi. And then after 2 years I saw its donghua airing and I thought if a donghua was being made then surely it couldn't be that bad and that was when I actually fell in love with the masterpiece this book is. I wouldn't mind if people had any actual complaints about the book but just because it's theme are not similar to mdzs that's insane. It's like you hate a mango for not being an apple. I'd like to hear everyone's opinion since I've seen this happen for way toooo long and heard absolutely no one complain against it, so is it just me who finds it problematic?

(Sorry for the rant it's just been upon my chest too long.)

both the books are brilliant in themselves and have their own shortcomings. I've never been much of a fan of mdzs but it's plot it's characters and their motivations are brilliantly written is something I would never counter. Tgcf on the other hand is not so based on people's motivations rather their reactions. How they react in certain situations and what those reasons cause. As much as I am in love with tgcf it has its own shortcoming but the very reason I love tgcf is that even with those shortcomings it makes itself a very very enjoyable and through read.

Both the books may appear similar at surface but they have very very different themes. As I said previously mdzs is more on people's motivations to do what they must. It's like you have to do what you must to survive it raises questions such as if you did what you did to survive then can what you did really be condemned since that at that point of time was the only thing you could've done. So condemning that is not right.

While tgcf on the other hand is more based on the reactions people have with their own situations and then those reactions affect things. It raises questions as what is truly correct? How do you condemn someone when what they did was truly justified by their point of view during the time that decision took place. Do you punish them? But if they were not even aware of those matters then how can they be at fault? Being oblivious while cannot be a defense in law it's a huge set back in life.

(Sorry for the rant~ haha I swear there's something wrong with me just can't seem to stop typing about books once I start.)

(I posted this on reddit too but ....people just don't stop the comparison, in a very unhealthy way.....)

#hualian #mdzs #hua cheng #xie lian #tgcf #wangxian #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #tian guan ci fu #heavenly official's blessing #mxtx

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olderthannetfic · 3 months

Note

I've spent the past few months accumulating "Want to Read" books on my Goodreads, and decided that, with the new year, I was gonna start tackling them.

The first one I read was The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo because I kept seeing people talking about it as a masterpiece, an absolute must-read that was gonna revolutionize my entire life.

Well... besides the writing style being bland as hell ("I went there, and then I went there, and because I was so pretty and had tits so huge, everybody loved me immediately." You can tell me I'm wrong, but I dare you all to go read the free sample on Amazon and tell me that that's good, expressive writing. Not even the most highlighted Kindle parts can save it), the bisexuality of the main character was written worse than how very inexpert writers treat it in their fics.

Evelyn keeps telling the reader that she's bi, but by the end of the novel she has loved only one woman and that was it. Never had any other female lovers, never felt any kind of interest in any other woman.

And although many people might say "Oh, it's romantic!", I just think it's childish and lazy.

Not only it's a missed occasion to actually represent bisexual women in a non-fetishized light, but it's also a repetition of the stereotype that sees bi people as not really being bi, since they're able to fall in love with people of the opposite gender plenty of times, but with the same gender they can only have their one soulmate and that's it. And it's also a wasted occasion to create more in-depth female characters. Besides Evelyn and her wife, the other female characters were pretty much only hinted at, and even between the two of them, most of the conversation revolved around men too.

Like, I don't know, maybe I'm demanding too much, but I despise seeing novels receive critical acclaim and shit for things that fics are made fun of for.

I haven't read it. I remember it being hyped up and people gushing over how surprising some twist was, so I poked through some goodreads reviews. They were the usual undiscerning puff pieces and I got distracted by something or other. Honestly, it sounded like a lot of other litfic with buzz. Not really my genre.

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uneducated-author · 8 months

Text

I got a present from a student of mine, a beautiful hardcover copy of 'Howl's Moving Caste' and I'm so happy, but it does remind me of what 10 (AND A HALF) year old me did when she found out that it wasn't in my local WHSmith.

Full of rage and vitriol I knocked on the door of every classroom in my school (I was a renowned introvert, so this was EXTREMELY out of character) and politely asked if anyone had a copy. I received Many Many Many rejections. Inconsolable I lay in the library and wept. Then, like a beacon from the dark, the librarian miraculously told me that when I'd asked earlier she was mistaken and 'oh, I think we have it actually! It's just in loan'

I've looked back in this moment with the benefit of hindsight and realised that the librarian, who knew me as the girl who'd hide from bullies in the reading room and spent lunch hours organising books, must have elected to specially order the book for me, and it makes an already sweet moment even sweeter.

But a week later, I was distraught again. The winter holidays were coming up. I would loose access to the only library that had this treasure. I was holding Diana Wynne Jones masterpieces in my hands, despairing against my upcoming tragedy, until it came to me. The perfect solution.

I just had to write the whole book.

'Oh you fool, you could not write three books in a week'

I could sure as hell try.

I was in a frenzy. I would shovel breadsticks into my mouths and fervently write at lunch. I stayed up late and wrote by torchlight.

(Honestly, I probably could have written by lamp, but torchlight felt more dramatic and I lived for the feeling it evoked.)

I wrote in my reading class, permitted because I'd finished the list of books and the assorted quizzes. I wrote in friday PE because the friday teacher never took attendance and nobody cared if a young girl had locked herself in the bathroom for an hour, scribbling away.

I learned how to write with my left hand, but I was too slow if I wanted it to be legible, so I worked through the pain.

So? Did I finish? Was my fervent effort rewarded? Books had to be returned to the library on Thursday so I didn't even have Thurday night. Would the fortnight be enough?

Sort of. I finished my transcription of 'Howl's Moving Castle' and 'Castle in the Air' but couldn't move on to the final book in the trilogy. Hence started my winter vacation. I poured through the story, luxuriating in the rereading. I impressed my mother with my skill in making whipped cream, turns out mixing is much less intensive than furtive writing.

And on Christmas, I opened a beautiful collection of three paperbacks. I reread those books until I could recite swathes from each, and memorised the whole first chapter, which I'd murmur to my younger cousins.

I passed those books down to a younger girl in the neighbourhood, who passed them down to her sister, who gave them to a friend who lost them on a holiday. I have no idea where they are now.

But I have a book, from a student who loves reading where she used to hate it, and revels in a story with happy ending and good characters.

I don't know if there's some greater meaning to this. But I love the story, and it's come back to me. And my wrist almost hurts remembering almost 100,000 words for this story, but I can't help remember how much I wanted it.

Sometimes I think 'do I have that passion now? Is there anything I'd care about to that extent, until it hurts, until I hate it?'

I was so foolish, but so so alive and that week feels impossible. I talked to strangers! I transcribed a book! I didn't give up, not for a second!

(In fact two years later I did the same thing for Good Omens, transcribing the copy at my library over the period of a whole Summer. I purchased a copy a year after that, and gave it to a friend last year.)

I'm proud, of what ten and a half year old me did. Not because it was specifically moral, or impressive. Because of how much she loved something that she resolved to do anything to keep it with her.

The frantic handwriting is unfamiliar to me. It's spidery and smudged. The paper seems unbelievably thin, and the script uneven and unlevelled. A whole chapter has been lost to water damage. I barely have any of the book memorised. I keep it all the same because ten (and a half) year old me would weep if I lost it.

A heart is a heavy burden. But I poured mine into a strangers words, and then into those pages. I can't give them away.

#howls moving castle #howl pendragon #sophie pendragon #good omens #not sure what this really counts as #storytelling?#important to me

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foundmywei · 1 year

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Boreo Fanfic Recs

Here are my favorite boreo fics, I will be updating this as I read more. Enjoy!

(last updated on 12/05/23)

Masterpost

sunday morning (and i'm falling) by thenewgothicromance

post-canon

(11,424 words | Not Rated | Chapters: 1/1)

“How long will he be staying with you?” Mrs. Barbour asks him one evening, when he mentions that Boris will be picking him up after dinner.

“I’m not sure,” he tells her, keeping the details, as always surrounding Boris, as vague as possible. “Just until he figures something else out.”

Mrs. Barbour clicks her tongue at him.

“You have such a kind heart, Theo. Be careful you don’t let him take advantage of you.”

you are my sweetest downfall. by punkrockdog

post-canon

(22,530 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

There's nothing wrong with sleeping with his best friend of almost ten years on a regular basis.

If Theo tells himself this enough, he might start to believe it.

a symphony of love in several movements. by theweakestthing

post-canon

(29,364 words | Mature | Chapters: 5/5)

It reminded him of the version of Musée Rodin’s The Kiss that sat in the Tate’s collection, pockmarked and scarred from sitting in a parlour among soldiers during the war, but still standing as a testament to the carnal desires of two lovers. Twisted around each other, hands on the bed between them, their positions almost exactly mirrored that of the sculpture. The thought that together they could be a work of art pushed Theo forward.

Alternatively titled: Theo Decker needs to get his shit together.

the red sun by thefinnkinnie (orphan_account)

vegas era

(2,705 words | Not Rated | Chapters: 1/1)

Theo slid his tongue across his lower lip, considering the choice. Sober, he would be safe. These thoughts in his head, about Boris, about feeling for the first time since the museum, they would disappear, tucked away in some fold of his mind, and Theo could sink back into his soft non-existence. He was nearly there anyways, close enough he could taste the gray on his tongue like cotton balls. It would be so easy.

And yet.

something in a major key by boxedblondes

post-canon

(7,454 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

“Why the fuck is it so busy?” Boris asks some hours later, twinkling lights a messy rainbow swirl around them, late December cold starting to eat a hole through Theo’s less-than-ideal camel’s-hair coat.

“It’s four days until Christmas, you idiot,” Theo says. “You should have had your weird holiday epiphany like a month ago.”

sound formed in a vacuum may seem a waste of time (it’s always been just the same) by theparadigmshifts

post-canon

(3,750 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

The year after Amsterdam, Theo follows his conscience; Boris follows Theo.

Neptune by pavlikovskyslittlebird

post-canon

(40,202 words | Mature | Chapters: 14/14)

Post Amsterdam, canon divergent, book and movie references.

Theo tries to figure things out while buying back the changelings.

"I must be a poster child prodigy

Thread by thread I come apart

If brokenness is a work of art

Surely this must be my masterpiece

I'm only honest when it rains

If I time it right, the thunder breaks

When I open my mouth

I wanna tell you but I don't know how

I'm only honest when it rains

An open book, with a torn out page

And my inks run out

I wanna love you but I don't know how"

Neptune-Sleeping at Last

Selling a Fake by argylemikewheeler

post-canon

(35,522 words | Explicit | Chapters: 3/3)

Theo didn’t fly home right away; he stayed in Antwerp and together, he and Boris flew back to New York. They start over, two troubled teenagers all over again. They’ve replaced scorching Vegas summers with chilling New York winters. It was never about the place anyway.

They’re together-- they’re something-- but Theo still struggles to be open to strangers passing by.

(PLUS an extended part two/epilogue to give us more comforting boyfriends and less internalized homophobia for Theo!)

overlap by rosekings

Antwrep

(12,886 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

“Promise me you’ll come. Eventually. Just…come see me. Sit still with me for a while.” He holds back everything else he wants to say. Get a place with me. Run the shop with me. Laugh and make dinner with me. Let me wake up next to you every morning and not have to worry if I’m never going to see you again.

“I promise.” Boris says it like it was already obvious, something that didn’t even need to be said. “Of course I promise.”

You're coming back and it's the end of the world by BalalaikaPattycake

post-canon

(89,940 words | Mature | Chapters: 17/17)

We spent hours joking and laughing at the bar over a bottle of vodka, our heads together, just like we had done as boys. Trying to convince myself that the only reason I was holding my hand on his shoulder, giggling in his ear, my face mere inches away from his, was because otherwise he wouldn't hear me over the music, even though he was the one doing most of the talking. I had been drinking considerably less than normal over the past few months, so it didn't take me long to start feeling disoriented and weirdly courageous, the mass of people around me blending into each other, becoming unidentifiable like droplets of water in an ocean, with only Boris standing out as a steady beacon of light.

Set after the book ends, Theo and Boris meet again after a year and half.

And Nothing Has Changed by WhyDoesEverythingHappenSoMuch

Amsterdam

(8,361 words | Mature | Chapters: 1/1)

“Potter, maybe you have one more drink and then try and tell me you are ‘not in the mood.” He raised a hand again, but before the waitress saw, I grabbed him by the leather-clad forearm and pulled his hand back down.

“Boris, I'm engaged.” I tried again in vain to make him understand the significance of that.

“Sure, but you are here with me, drinking with me, and you are going to get to know some very good girls with me.” I hadn’t realized, but somehow his fingers had ended up laced with mine.

___

Boris and Theo's first night in Amsterdam they wind up in a bar and Boris can't seem to get off the topic of how unfair it is that Kitsey is cheating. Boris thinks Theo should have his own extramarital fun too.

To quote Donna Tartt, "matters progress"

to remember your mouth, how it tasted true by nosecoffee

post-canon

(6,422 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

(i don’t smoke except for when i’m missing you)

Theo got it into his head that the cigarettes would start the chain reaction that would send them to early graves if they weren’t careful, all spouted into the darkness of Welty’s room, while Boris perched on the windowsill.

And yet, he had grinned and put out his cigarette on the ashtray there, and said, “Then of course I will stop.”

Which was so lovely at the time. It was significantly less lovely when he found Boris smoking in the bathroom three days later.

Repression is just a Love Language Best Ignored (Looking at you, Decker) by Lemonyfreshness

post-canon

(92,031 words | Mature | Chapters: 16/16)

It's a year after "The Incident," as what Theodore Decker liked to call it, that one strange turn of events in which his childhood best friend had come to reconvene and it had been interesting to say the least...But now he was back in the real world. And broke. And high out of his mind. And depressed as ever. Theodore Decker isn't one to naturally listen to reason but maybe he will when once again his morally-grey best friend with attachment issues comes back to save the day. Or at least try in his own way. Wish him luck.

Find Other Muses by deadspy

post-canon

(38,844 words | Explicit | Chapters: 6/6)

Theo folds and unfolds the old postcard from Boris. GREETINGS FROM KANSAS! it reads, same as it always has, but now it just feels like a taunt.

Ten years after Amsterdam, Theo and Boris find themselves, and each other, in the most unlikely of places.

philophobia. by theweakestthing

post-canon

(36,292 words | Mature | Chapters: 11/11)

philophobia [ fil-uh-foh-bee-uh ]:

(n.) (from Greek "φιλέω-φιλώ" (love) and "φοβία" (phobia)) the fear of falling in love or being in love. The risk is usually when a person has confronted any emotional turmoil relating to love. This affects the quality of life and pushes a person away from commitment. A negative aspect of this fear of being in love or falling in love is that it keeps a person in solitude. It represents certain guilt and frustration towards the reaction coming from inside.

Theo knows what the problem is, but that doesn't mean that he's going to do anything about it.

Little Bird by redborya

Amsterdam

(19,376 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 6/6)

With The Goldfinch retrieved (and returned) Theodore Decker is left in Amsterdam wondering where to go and what to do from there. It seems simple enough at first. Return to New York, marry Kistey, and continue on his life as he had before. Boris, however, suggests the complete opposite.

The Before, After, and Forever by makkachincrossing

post-canon

(13,893 words | Explicit | Chapters: 4/4)

“The attack at The Met… That wasn’t the first explosion it had survived.”

“No?”

“No, a gunpowder factory exploded nearby Fabritius’ studio, killing him and destroying nearly all of his paintings,” I took a breath, unsteady. “But The Goldfinch… The Goldfinch survived.”

A hand on my shoulder. Long fingers, a firm squeeze, grounding me to earth. “You survived too, Potter.”

I looked to him, eyes aching behind my glasses.

“Life exploding around you. You survived. You, too, are Goldfinch.”

corrina, corrina by curlymcclain

(12,821 words | Mature | Chapters: 1/1)

canon-divergence, boris follows theo to new york

Seeing him here, in New York, surrounded by the deep browns and golds of Hobart and Blackwell, is so alien to me I have to repress the urge to pinch myself like a child would after a dream. It looks incorrect, him standing here. Like someone has taken a pair of scissors to my memories of him, cut him out of his rightful place on the abandoned playground, and pasted him sloppily into a corner of my life where he doesn’t belong. Has it only been a few weeks? It feels like ages longer, like it’s been a decade, like we’re different people trying to see what exactly we liked about each other so much way back when.

But then he says it again- “Potter.”- and that feeling vanishes as quickly as it arrived.

“You came,” I say dumbly.

He gives a cheery smirk that I don’t believe. “Promised I would.”

fragile (that much he could admit) by successsionhbo

(12,592 words | Explicit | Chapters: 1/1)

post-canon

Theo has been having nightmares after his trip to antwerp. Boris comes for a visit

heaven help the fool by BucketofWater

(12,140 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 2/2)

vegas era + post-canon, soulmate AU

He knew why. He wished that he did not but deep down he knew. They both did, at one point or another. Maybe not in words, but it was between them all the same. The way that they knew that the sky was blue and how the sun-warmed sand burned like fire. Theo loved Boris and perhaps, although he was a fool to believe it, maybe Boris loved him a little bit too.

Alternatively: the soulmate au in which every significant person in your life leaves a smudge of colour on you.

I've got the story of us written (on my skin) by Thegoldenfnch (I_write_fanfiction_sometimes)

(18,017 words | Mature | Chapters: 5/5)

all eras, soulmates AU

My mother didn’t like to talk about the marks. I still don’t know if it’s because hers had all failed her (her first love didn’t love her back, her life-friend died, and her Life Partner, well, Dad didn’t believe in soulmates) or if it was for some other unknown reason. Maybe she just couldn’t answer the questions I’d asked, like why mine were all the same. After I was around eight I stopped asking, and by the time I was ten I’d stopped telling people. They never seem to know what to say. It was only when I got older —after my mother died, but before my dad came back— that I realized why. People never know how to react to what they view as a tragedy.

------

or: No one talks about soulmarks, Theo is in denial about many things (as he usually is), and Boris never says the things that actually matter

A retelling. Now with soulmarks.

a study in inevitability by EdieFalcoRising

(14,523 words | Explicit | Series - 3 works)

post-canon

One time Theo leaves, one time Boris leaves, and the one time they make it work.

And twice more our paths crossed through the night by liminalweirdo

(2,506 words | Mature | Chapters: 1/1)

Antwrep

Takes place immediately after the end of the novel, in Boris's flat in Antwerp. Theo muses on the things they did as teenagers, and the tension between them finally reaches its breaking point. Almost.

I'm not living/I'm just killing time by lolneptune

(19,359 words | Explicit | Chapters: 3/3)

post-canon

Of course he had seen the journals. Pages and pages of rambling accounts, an encyclopedia. How could I have hidden it from the one living person who knew me?

So cruelly you kissed me by foundmywei

(4,096 words | Mature | Chapters: 1/1)

post-canon

The biggest problem with the two of us had never been whether or not we knew that we loved each other, but rather whether or not we would choose to be with one another.

Even after Boris and Theo start sleeping with each other, they struggle with talking about what they are and their feelings. Well, until an incident of jealousy forces them to.

a spring memorandum by yowler

(42,706 words | Mature | Chapters: 4/4)

WWII AU

In the dark where no one can see, Boris presses his lips to the thin knot of scar tissue over Theo’s wrist. It’s a request; for forgiveness, for absolution, for something neither of them has a name for.

“But you are alive,” he says, “you idiot.”

(Theo and Boris meet during the war.)

the letter in the drawer by shamefulshameless

(4,136 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

post-canon

Before he left Amsterdam, Boris found an envelope with his name on it. He’d wanted to open it in Antwerp, but he was so caught up in it all- his wound and Theo’s illness and the high and the movies, all of it so strangely different and yet exactly the same as when they were kids- that he put it out of his mind. He didn’t want anything to interrupt them. Now, it’s like the envelope has expanded in size, every day growing bigger and bigger and threatening to crack his bedside table in two. He doesn’t know what’s stopping him, but whatever the letter contains, he knows Theo doesn’t want him to know about it. It could be nothing- there’s always been so much innocuous bullshit that Theo keeps to himself for no good reason. Or it could be something. It could be something that Boris would be content staying oblivious to. There are lots of things like that.

Uncle Francis to the rescue by foundmywei

(32,582 words | Mature | Chapters: 8/8)

post-canon

“Oh! By the way, how is your man doing?”

I blinked, confused. "My what?"

"Your man? About 5'9, dark curly hair, gorgeous green eyes, looked vaguely European…?"

"Excuse me?" He couldn't mean…

"You know, the guy who whisked you away from your engagement party?" Mr. Abernathy raised an eyebrow suggestively.

Or, how Francis accidentally ended up becoming Theo's unofficial uncle and got involved in the stupidest love drama of the 21st century when all he wanted was to learn some juicy gossip.

#boreo #boris pavlikovsky #theo decker #the goldfinch #boreo fanfic #boreo fic #boreo fanfic rec

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