#15•c yesterday

[videoworm]

It's Saturday :)

[poisonf0rest]

First ask, kinda nervous - but let's go (I found your blog yesterday, and I already became a fan✨️)

I saw you like love and deepspace, do you have a headcanon about one of the characters?

I swear, before the new update (that they put a period calendar), one of my biggest headcanons was that Zayne has a period app in his cellphone because of the MC. So he knows when she is moody because of the period, then he gives her a lot of sweets and hugs and cuddles ❤️

rafayel headcanons

♱⋅── Don't be nervous, love~ That's such a sweet headcanon for Zayne, I definitely can see it happening as well! If you've been following my blog then you already know I'm obsessed with a certain fishie, so here are some (a lot) of headcanons I have for him~

general headcanons:

If this were a normal!AU I definitely headcanon Rafayel being younger than the MC (she'd be 27, a full-time bodyguard and he'd be 24 but a famous art protegee since 15), but Rafayel insists he's the older one to everyone you meet. It drives you insane.

He canonically has a Mercedes Benz AMG Gran Turismo and Ferrari 250GT, but I think he has at least three sports cars.

It's not a symbol of wealth to him because, honestly, Rafayel simply doesn't check the price tags on anything-- if it's a beautifully designed car, suit, jewelry, or painting, he buys it without another thought.

And vice versa. If an expensive label offers to sponsor him but he hates the designer he'll refuse no matter what the pay is.

Also suuuch a niche thought but I can so see normal!AU Raf and you first hooking up in a club or bar. You disappear the morning after mind-blowing sex, and Rafayel can't get you out of his head-- but he doesn't even know your name.

He makes paintings of hidden freckles on your body, of your blurry figure dancing in the dress you wore that night, of colors and swirls that remind him of your touch. The media goes crazy over this mystery woman who's taken over the famous artist's heart.

He has no reservations about calling you his muse and within hours the press is abuzz with speculation on this mystery person who has captured the artist's heart.

"Love? Yes, I'm in love with her."

You, on the other hand, are mortified. You try to forget about him and move on but cue a series of further coincidences and shenanigans that tie you and Rafayel closer and closer together.

Also, he would fuck you in the passenger seat of his sportscar while the paparazzi are swarming outside.

And since it's a cold January, of course Rafayel would use any excuse to whisk you away somewhere warmer:

Rafayel would love taking you on vacation to different islands.

Beautiful secluded villas on the ocean with no one around to disturb the two of you as you spend your days lounging around the open-air rooms, Rafayel’s paintings strewn about the entire villa, splashing it with more color anytime you're not walking along the beach, cooking something together, swimming in the ocean at sunset, or fucking on every possible surface.

On days the two of you would want to go into civilization, he'd take you to lively local bars and restaurants, and as soon as reggae music starts playing you best believe he's tugging you up to dance. Especially if he has a drink or three in his system.

Laughing, one arm laces around your waist as the other spins you around. Rafayel chases away any sort of anxiety or awkwardness you might initially feel just by how happy and natural this seems for him. You're the only person he cares about, so what does it matter if no one else is dancing? Or if a dozen other couples are doing the same? As long as you're in his arms, happy, Rafayel couldn't care less.

He's a damn fine dancer too. Being a swimmer and all he has to have good control of his body, and we all saw him be a natural center during that lnds dance show lmao.

You best believe you're also fucking nasty in the sand.

Disguised as a cute dinner date, he blindfolds you and leads you to a hidden cover decorated with string lights, a candle-lit dinner on a picnic blanket waiting for you, which he spent all day preparing while feigning fighting art block.

It’s romantic and sweet, the way Rafayel expects praise for all his hard work and the way you’re more than happy to shower him with it. You feed each other as the sun sets behind the ocean’s horizon, yet you can’t even get to dessert before kissing him senseless.

"Wow, someone's excited."

"Shut up and kiss me."

Rafayel's smug grin is swallowed up by your lips, and he barely has the sense to shove aside plates of food before pulling you down atop him on the blanket.

You're grinding on each other like lovesick teens, moaning and giggling between yourselves before you pepper kisses down Rafayel's neck as you thank him for everything— for planning this wonderful vacation, for setting up this romantic diner, for being yours.

And being called yours? Being lovingly, irreversibly claimed?

That does things to Rafayel.

"Ya, I'm all yours cutie, my muse, my sweet darling." Rafayel smiles up at you, covered in the deep red of your lipstick from his cheeks to the jut of his collarbone peaking out under his ruffled shirt. "Yours."

He flips the both of you around, swallowing your yelp with a kiss and cushioning your head with his hand as it hits the sand. Hooking your leg onto his shoulder, Rafayel kisses the delicate bone of your ankle, lips tracing up the curve of your calf, up to the tender bend of your knee, all watching your expression twist with desire as his other hand teases your inner thigh.

I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours. It's a promise, a prayer whispered into your skin between love bites, between suckles on your skin that taste like seasalt and desire.

When Rafayel does finally kiss your cunt, it's light, teasing, and he admires the pretty lace, bunching up your dress just enough to still hold eye contact over the folds as he sucks your swollen clit through the fabric.

One of your hands tugs against his hair, Rafayel moaning at the sudden pressure as you bring the other up to stifle your cries.

"No, no, please don't do that," he whines, nuzzling into your thigh, looking up at you with puppy eyes before roughly fucking two fingers into your weeping cunt. "Wanna hear you, my little siren. My heart."

Greedy. Rafayel is greedy for everything you give him, taking your hand from your mouth and gently kissing your knuckles as every precise curl and thrust of his hand makes you moan and writhe against the sand. Each sound you make a melody, each cry of his name intoxicating.

It's not long before Rafayel goes back to eating you out, unable to keep his mouth off you for long. He forces you to hold eye contact as he makes out with your cunt, eyes rolling back at the wet, sloppy sounds in between his pussydrunk moans and the distant roar of the ocean.

Only when you cum for the third time, desperately tugging his hair between pleas for mercy, does Rafayel relent with a whine.

Placing one last kiss on your swollen clit, his dazed smile meets yours, the dark pink blush covering his face matching the hearts in his eyes. Your lipstick stains are still visible, branding your kisses into his high cheekbones, neck, and sweat-slick chest. Shit, even his undoubtedly expensive shirt is stained around the collar.

But the marks around his lips and down his jaw are all smudged by your release, marring Rafayel's pale skin with a dark red, dripping down his throat as he swallows the taste of you once more. And when you meet his eyes again, you realize he's far from done.

"Say I'm yours. Say I'm yours again."

[rosesareredrosa]

More Than Words

Theo Nott x fem reader

Summary: based on a request on this ask thank you anon <33

w/c: 1735

You sat on the edge of your bed, carefully curling the last strand of your hair. You’d spent the past hour getting ready—your hair was styled in soft waves, and you wore a new dress you’d bought specifically because Theo had once mentioned he liked that color on you. You even spritzed on the perfume he had complimented, hoping he’d notice.

As you glanced at the clock, your excitement started to wane. Theo had promised he’d meet you in the common room at 7, but it was already 7:15, and there was no sign of him. You bit your lip, trying to stay optimistic. He was probably just running late.

When you finally made your way to the Slytherin common room, you found Theo lounging on one of the couches, surrounded by his friends. They were deep in conversation, laughing and joking about the latest Quidditch match. Your heart sank a little—he hadn’t even bothered to come looking for you.

You approached him with a smile, hoping he’d notice the effort you’d put into your appearance. “Hey, Theo,” you said softly, trying to catch his eye.

He glanced up, his eyes skimming over you before returning to the conversation. “Hey, love,” he said casually, patting the spot next to him. “Sit down, we’re just talking about the match yesterday. You should’ve seen the way Flint blocked that last shot—it was brilliant.”

You forced a smile and sat down, but you couldn’t ignore the sting of being overlooked. He hadn’t even commented on your appearance, or asked about the evening you’d planned. You tried to join in on the conversation, but it was hard to focus when you felt so invisible.

As the night went on, Theo’s attention remained on his friends. He barely acknowledged you, his focus entirely on discussing Quidditch strategies and joking around. Each time you tried to steer the conversation towards something more personal, something just between the two of you, he either brushed it off or didn’t seem to hear you at all.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You excused yourself and left the common room, retreating to the solitude of your dormitory. You had tried so hard, but it felt like nothing you did mattered.

A few days later, you decided to surprise Theo after his Quidditch practice. You knew how much he loved a good post-practice snack, so you visited the kitchens and put together a basket of all his favorite foods. You even brought one of his sweaters, knowing he’d be cold after flying around the pitch.

You waited by the edge of the Quidditch field, basket in hand, watching as the team landed and started packing up. When Theo spotted you, he jogged over, a grin on his face. “Y/N, what are you doing out here?” he asked, slightly out of breath.

You smiled, holding up the basket. “I thought I’d bring you a snack after practice. I know how hungry you get.”

He glanced at the basket, then back at his teammates, who were waving him over. “That’s sweet of you,” he said, giving you a quick peck on the lips. “But the guys are heading to the locker room to cool down. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

You stared after him as he jogged away, the basket feeling heavy in your hands. He didn’t even notice the effort you put into making his favorite snacks or think to thank you for waiting in the chilly evening air with his sweater. It was another small gesture brushed aside, another moment where you felt invisible.

The next weekend, you decided to dress up for a Hogsmeade trip. You wore the dress Theo had once said looked “cute” on you, paired with a new pair of shoes you’d been excited to show off. When you met up with Theo in the courtyard, your heart fluttered, hoping this time he might notice.

But as soon as he saw you, his eyes drifted right past your outfit to something behind you. “Hey, is that the new broomstick model?” he said, more to himself than to you, already walking past you to get a closer look.

You stood there for a moment, stunned, before following him. He was already deep in conversation with a few other students about the broom, completely oblivious to the effort you’d made. You walked beside him through Hogsmeade, but the conversation was all about Quidditch, the new broomstick, and what the team’s chances were in the upcoming match.

When you finally arrived at the Three Broomsticks, Theo ordered drinks for both of you, but he spent the entire time talking to his friends. Even when you tried to steer the conversation towards something more personal, he barely responded, his attention split between you and everyone else at the table.

By the end of the day, your feet were aching in the new shoes, and your heart was heavy with disappointment. It was like no matter what you did, no matter how much effort you put in, Theo just didn’t see it—or didn’t care.

One day, determined to spend some quality time with Theo, you decided to study together. He had been stressed about an upcoming Potions exam, so you thought it would be a nice way to be supportive and bond at the same time. You prepared all of his notes, laid out his textbooks, and even brewed a pot of tea, knowing how much he liked a warm drink while studying.

When Theo finally showed up at the library, he looked exhausted, but you greeted him with a warm smile. “Hey, I set everything up for us to study together,” you said, gesturing to the neatly arranged table.

He gave you a tired smile and sat down. “Thanks, Y/N,” he said, but there was no real warmth in his voice. He immediately dove into his notes, barely glancing at you.

You tried to engage him in conversation, asking about the parts of the syllabus he was struggling with and offering to quiz him. But Theo was distracted, his responses short and curt. He seemed more focused on cramming as much information as possible rather than appreciating the effort you put into making the study session enjoyable.

At one point, you gently reached over to adjust the way he was holding his quill, a small, affectionate gesture. “You always hold it so tight,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Theo pulled his hand away, his expression frustrated. “Y/N, can you not right now? I really need to focus,” he said, his tone sharper than you’d expected.

You recoiled slightly, feeling the sting of his words. “I’m just trying to help,” you murmured, the hurt evident in your voice.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know, but this exam is important. I don’t have time for… distractions.”

The word “distractions” echoed in your mind, cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. You had put so much thought into making this time together meaningful, but it was clear he didn’t see it that way. You nodded quietly, pulling back and focusing on your own work, even though your heart wasn’t in it anymore.

It all came to a head a few days later. You were sitting in the common room, trying to focus on a book, but your mind kept drifting back to how invisible you felt in your relationship. It hurt more than you wanted to admit. You had tried so hard to be a good girlfriend, to make Theo happy, but it felt like you were the only one putting in any effort.

When Theo walked in, spotting you sitting alone, he smiled and made his way over. “Hey, love,” he said, sitting down beside you. “What are you working on?”

You looked up from your parchment, trying to muster a smile, but it felt forced. “Just some homework.”

He noticed the lack of enthusiasm in your voice and frowned. “Are you okay? You seem… off.”

You sighed, setting your quill down and turning to face him fully. “Theo, can we talk? I mean, really talk?”

He nodded, a bit concerned now. “Of course. What’s going on?”

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. “I feel like I’m the only one trying in this relationship. I spend all this time doing things for you, planning special moments, dressing up, trying to make you happy… but it’s like you don’t even see it.”

Theo looked genuinely taken aback. “Y/N, what are you talking about? I—”

“No, Theo, listen to me,” you interrupted, your voice trembling with emotion. “I plan evenings for us, and you brush them off. I bring you snacks after practice, and you don’t even thank me. I dress up because I want to look good for you, and you don’t even notice. Do you know how that feels? To try so hard and feel like it’s all for nothing?”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you continued, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I love you, Theo. I really do. But I can’t keep doing this if you don’t care. I need to feel like I matter to you, like you appreciate the things I do. I need to feel like you actually see me.”

Theo’s face paled as your words sank in. He reached out to take your hands, his voice filled with regret. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize… I didn’t know you felt like this. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own stuff that I didn’t see how much I was hurting you.”

He squeezed your hands, his eyes full of guilt. “You do matter to me. More than anything. I’ve just been an idiot, and I’m so sorry. I never meant to make you feel like this.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for sincerity, and found it. Theo might have been oblivious sometimes, but he cared about you deeply. “I just need you to show it,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I need to know that you care, that I’m not just another thing on your list.”

“I will,” Theo vowed, bringing your hands to his lips and kissing them gently. “I’ll do better, Y/N. I promise. You’re the most important thing in my life, and I don’t want to lose you. I’ll show you how much you mean to me, every day.”

He took a deep breath, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “I’m going to change, Y/N. I won’t just tell you I love you—I’ll show you. I’ll be there for you, not just when it’s convenient, but when you need me. I’ll notice the little things because they matter to you, and that means they matter to me.”

You nodded, feeling the sincerity in his words. But there was still a part of you that was hesitant. “Theo, it can’t just be words. I need actions. I need to see that you’re really committed to this, to us.”

He tightened his grip on your hands, his eyes never leaving yours. “I know, and I want to prove it to you. I’m going to make more time for us—whether it’s studying together or just spending quiet evenings by the fire. I’ll listen when you talk, and I’ll appreciate every effort you make, even the ones I was too blind to see before.”

Theo’s voice softened, and he leaned in closer. “I’ll be more present, I promise. No more letting Quidditch or schoolwork come before you. You’ve always been my priority, Y/N, even if I haven’t shown it enough. That’s going to change.”

You could see the determination in his eyes, and it gave you hope. Theo was willing to put in the work, to make sure you felt valued and loved. “I believe you, Theo,” you said quietly, your heart finally beginning to lighten. “I just need to see that you mean it.”

He nodded, his expression earnest. “You will. I’m going to do everything I can to make this right. I’m not perfect, and I know I’ll mess up sometimes, but I’m not going to stop trying. You deserve the best, and I’m going to do my best to give that to you.”

As he pulled you into his arms, holding you close, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. Theo was ready to change, and he was ready to fight for your relationship. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, but with his promise and your willingness to work through it together, you felt like things were finally moving in the right direction.

“I love you, Y/N,” Theo whispered against your hair. “And I’m going to spend every day showing you just how much.”

You smiled, leaning into his embrace. “I love you too, Theo. I’m looking forward to seeing that.”

And in that moment, with his arms wrapped around you and his words filled with sincerity, you knew that things would be different. Theo was committed to changing, and you were ready to give him the chance to prove it. Together, you could build something even stronger—a relationship where both of you felt valued, appreciated, and deeply loved.

[bunnithechubs]

transcript:

[TEXT THREAD W. REINA] yesterday V: Good Morning, Blue. Ami I finally going to get a response from you? R: SimPay $250 NAILS V: Can I at least get a pic of your nails??? Today 10:15 AM V: Morning, Blue. hope you enjoyed your nail appointment. Think we can grab coffee soon?

V: What's for lunch today, Dad? A: Salmon stew. How was your work out, Papi? V: Pretty good. I was actually able to increase my reps. A: That's good! Go on and eat. I'll meet you after I make my espresso. V: Alright, thanks for the food dad.

A: By the way, your brother said he wanted to come visit. V: sighs You mean he wants to come here to lecture me. A: He just misses you and he’s even bringing Mae with him. Dad, you don’t have to lie. V: I know he’s mad at me partying. A: If he is he has not said anything to me. I think he just missed us while he was in Henford. V: Riiiiight. A: Go up and shower. I’ll clean up, Papi. He’ll be here soon.

[TEXT THREAD W. REINA CONT.] 11:30 AM V: Blue. just let me follow you, damn.

[TEXT THREAD W. REINA CONT.] 12: 06 PM V: I will literally give you whatever you want if you let me follow you. R: SimPay $1.5K PICTURE

[TEXT THREAD W. REINA CONT.] 12:10 PM V: I really wanna be vulgar to you right now, but I'm trying to stay on your good side. R: ?? V: ... your boobs + my face = dream come true 12:30 PM V: Alright Reina. I'm tired of the thirsting over you. I'm making reservations for dinner. I want to take you on a date. Saturday night, I'll send you a car at 7:30 pm. R: See you, Satursday. R: I will not be seein gyou clubbing or seeing women, correct? V: No you will not, Reina.

A: You’ve been on your phone a lot lately. Did you finally get through to Jennifer? V: No. Jennifer blocked me a while ago. I met someone new and I’m going to take her out Saturday. A: Who is this new girl who has my son smiling and texting so much? [doorbell rings] V: We’ll have to save that for another time dad.

C: Hey Vin- V: Hand her over! sighs C: Nice to see you too. coos V: You missed your Uncle Vinny huh? Man she’s getting so big. Last time I saw her she barely had any hair. C: Don’t remind me, I wish I could keep her that small forever. She loved the bear you got her for Winterfest by the way. V: I knew she would. See that’s why Uncle Vinny is your favorite- right?

A: There’s my hijo. How was the trip here? C: Hey dad, smooth. The roads here are clearer than in Newcrest. A: No Kitty today? Nope just Mae and me. C: Kitty had a deposition for work. She sends her love though. A: How’s she doing with the pregnancy? C: It’s been pretty rough for her so I’m convinced it’s a boy. A: Do you want me to come by more often to give her a break? C: That would help out a lot actually. A: I’ll pack a bag and stay a few nights. Give Vinny some time alone.

A: She must have been up the whole car ride with how quickly she went down. C: Oh yeah, she babbled at me the whole drive. She definitely got that from her mother. A: Soon she will have a little sibling babbling with her. C: Yeah, I hope they are best friends. A: You boys were close as kids. I’m sure they will be too. Do you think she will be jealous with there being a new baby? C: I don’t think so but I’m sure we will handle it if it comes up.

C: So, Vinny- V: I’m fine, Cain. C: You expect me to believe that? V: I expect you to act like my brother and trust me when I say I’m fine. C: There is no world where going out every night and sleeping with multiple women in a week is fine, Vinny. V: You’re one to talk. Need I remind you of where I learned this from? C: Exactly. I wasn’t fine when I was doing the same shit you were. So want to try this again but with honesty?

V: I am being honest- I’m fine. C: So Jen having a new boyfriend doesn’t bother you? V: No and why do we even need to bring her up? She broke up with me, remember? C: Vinny, she asked for space and you said- V: I knew she reached out to you. C: She did and for good reason. V: Look, I’m fine. I found a new girl and I actually like her. Ask dad I haven’t been out this week and I haven’t been seeing anyone. A: He’s not lying. C: Dude, a girl is not going to fix what’s eating at you inside.

V: This is why we never talk anymore. You’re too damn nosey. If I want to sleep with all of the women in San Myshuno then I will. Right now I really like this girl and I’m on my best behavior. Maybe you should send her a thank you card or something. C: What’s her name- maybe I will? V: I’m not telling your nosey ass one more thing. C: You really like her? V: I do. C: Then I hope it works out for the best Vinny. I just want to see you happy. That’s all. V: Start with bringing Mae around more and hanging out with me. C: I can do that.

[sonicenvy]

Let's have a chat about AO3

Hiya friends and loyal followers! My last post about AO3 blew up yesterday so I figured now would be a good time to continue the conversation about AO3.

As I mentioned in my previous post (and probably in multiple other previous posts):

AO3 is NOT a social media site. AO3 is an ARCHIVE.

So let's delve into that a bit more since people don't seem to be getting that. Fanfiction predates the internet, and was transmitted via the internet way before sites like AO3 and FF dot net. Relatively speaking, I am a fanfiction newcomer, as I first started reading fanfiction in ... 2011? or thereabouts. I say this to say that I obviously don't have as personal of a memory of a time before fanfiction archive sites (my bitty fan experiences were on teaspoon and lcfanfic), but I certainly know plenty of people via fandom online that absolutely do.

For the newest children to fanfiction please check out the following pieces of reading to get started on your fandom history education:

“Fanfiction.” Fanlore Wiki. Accessed June 15, 2023. https://fanlore.org/wiki/Fanfiction. Archived [https://archive.is/yJpOq].

“So I’m on AO3 and I See a Lot of People Who Put ‘I Do Not Own [Insert Fandom Here]’ before Their Story.” sonicenvy.tumblr.com, July 2, 2016. https://sonicenvy.tumblr.com/post/146818589611/mikkeneko-thepioden. Archived [https://archive.is/FRNCy]

ofhouseadama, Emily. “A Brief History of Fandom, for Those on Here Who Somehow Think Tumblr Invented Fandom.” sonicenvy.tumblr.com, May 21, 2014. https://sonicenvy.tumblr.com/post/131935827010/ofhouseadama-a-brief-history-of-fandom-for. Archived [http://archive.today/j2Rfq]

mizstorge, fantastic-nonsense, and fanculturesfancreativity. “The Places Fandom Dwells: A Cautionary Tale.” fantastic-nonsense.tumblr.com, June 29, 2017. https://fantastic-nonsense.tumblr.com/post/162395547190/the-places-fandom-dwells-a-cautionary-tale. Archived [https://archive.ph/QK2wI]

As you read through this stuff, three things should become apparent to you:

Fanworks have always existed in tenuous space -- that is, they have always been under threat of removal, or threat of loss, whether this loss was through events like the livejournal strikethrough, the loss of a fandom specific website, destruction of physical copies of the work, or C&D/legal action from original creators of the work.

Fandom has a long and colored history with many of the most defining events of early fandom history being related to threats to the community.

A need was ripe for a place to save and ARCHIVE fanworks and protect them from deletion, legal action, corporate sanitization efforts, site deaths due to the deaths of admins, etc etc.

Out of all of this, comes The Organization For Transformative Works (2007), and their brand new site Archive of Our Own (2008). The stated intention of Archive of Our Own (AO3) (bolding mine):

The Organization for Transformative Works (OTW) is a nonprofit organization, established by fans in 2007, to serve the interests of fans by providing access to and preserving the history of fanworks and fan culture in its myriad forms. We believe that fanworks are transformative and that transformative works are legitimate. We are proactive and innovative in protecting and defending our work from commercial exploitation and legal challenge. We preserve our fannish economy, values, and creative expression by protecting and nurturing our fellow fans, our work, our commentary, our history, and our identity while providing the broadest possible access to fannish activity for all fans. The Archive of Our Own offers a noncommercial and nonprofit central hosting place for fanworks using open-source archiving software.

Source: Works, Organization for Transformative. “Archive of Our Own Beta.” Archive of Our Own. Accessed June 15, 2023. https://archiveofourown.org/about. Archived [http://archive.today/QYtbM]

You may also want to check out the original LiveJournal Brainstorming sessions for AO3 by astolat as archived here [https://web.archive.org/web/20220627134339/https://astolat.livejournal.com/150556.html] if you need further clarity on this point.

Some neat stuff from astolat's original posts that I find are relevant:

making it easy for people to download stories or even the entire archive for offline reading (thus widely preserving the work in case some disaster does take it down)

code-wise able to support a huge archive of possibly millions of stories.

allowing ANYTHING -- het, slash, RPF, chan, kink, highly adult ...

As we can see both from the mission statement of OTW/AO3 and from astolat herself in the brainstorming sessions, AO3 is an ARCHIVE. It is a project that is meant to preserve and provide access to fanworks. Run for fans, by fans and meant to host any and all kind of content with none of the commercialization or censorship that fans found elsewhere. Before AO3 there were certainly numerous, disconnected, fandom specific archives for fanfiction or other fanworks. Many of these old sites have been archived (see we're getting that word again) via the opendoors project. Some, like teaspoon or lcfanfic still exists and are semi-active.

A common thread is that writers and readers weren't just using the archive site to connect. They were doing more connection through other sites like dreamwidth, livejournal, facebook, their emails and later tumblr or twitter. Archive sites were meant as a supplement to other fan spaces like message boards, blogs and journals.

So, dear friends, you might ask, what is an archive?

An archive is a place where documents, artifacts and records are kept and preserved for future reference, use and access. Archives help us maintain a better understanding of the past and protect objects, writings, documents, records and more in longevity. In the context of fanwork archiving, this means preserving fanworks in longevity/perpetuity so that fans can continue to access them for enjoyment and for historical purposes. Archiving fanwork is vital to preserving and, indeed creating fan culture and identity.

To read more about archives in general, check out this article from the American History Museum of the Smithsonian (https://americanhistory.si.edu/archives/about/what-are-archives) or this one from the US National Archives (https://www.archives.gov/about/info/whats-an-archives.html).

So AO3 is an archive. Why does this matter?

Oh, boy, I am about to get LIS nerdy on y'all. At this point in the post we can all agree that AO3 is and always has been an archive (it's in the name...). When we view and understand the site starting from this premise, a lot of, frankly stupid as fuck arguments that people have about AO3 look even dumber. Understanding AO3 primarily as an archive helps us understand:

The tagging system. Given AO3 is an archive, the tags for content on the site function exactly the same as headings in a library archive. They are designed to store information about the fic (that is, they are intended as metadata) which is then used to find the record of the fic in the archive. This is why it is important to tag what is in your fic, and to use tags properly, using the agreed meanings of particular tags.

The kinds of content that are permitted and excluded under TOS IV. The archive permits fanworks, which include: fanfiction, fanart, podfic, and fan videos. The archive thus excludes things that are not fanwork (records with no content (aka "placeholder fics"), posts asking for writing prompts or submissions, posts looking for fic, commerical promotions of ANY kind, original fiction with no relation to fan content, spam etc). Every library and archive has their own collections policies, and AO3 is not an exception. Collections Policies are generally guided by the mission statement(s) of the archiving party/library. As we saw above in both the official about page and the original brainstorming posts from astolat, AO3 is a library for fanworks, meant to preserve fanworks and is in opposition to advertising and commercialization. Therefore, if the thing you want to add to the library of AO3 is not a fanwork or contains commercialization, it does not qualify to be an object of the archive. Re: the "placeholder fic" post that I didn't know was going to blow up so much: imagine you go to the library to get a book and open it to find that it is empty or you get a DVD and play it only to find that it is the movie theater trailer for the movie. Doesn't that make no sense?

Why there is NO censoring of "adult" or other quote on quote "objectionable content". The archive does not chose to preserve works based on subjective quality or "moral purity" type standards. This is true in libraries and museums as well. We keep and save materials that people find objectionable as archiving and librarianship are and have always been diametrically opposed to censorship. As an archive AO3 follows this. Moreover, you can see in astolat's original post "allowing ANYTHING -- het, slash, RPF, chan, kink, highly adult" as a founding idea.

Why there is no advertising, and why this includes you adding your Ko-fi or paypal or whatever the fuck. Outside of the fact that doing this violates TOS and invalidates OTW lawyer arguments for the legal existence of fanworks under US Fair Use, AO3 as an archive is meant to be a keeper of fan records, not a space for promotions. Archives do keep records (and indeed some archives keep records of advertising) but they, themselves are not using their platform to advertise for anything else.

Why there is no "AO3 algorithm". The kinds of algorithmic feed generators that sites like the t*kt*ok or whatever use are antithetical to the mission of archiving stuff and providing access to it. In an archive you search for content based on terms and headings and self-select. I'm not on the t*kt*k or whatever and I actively block and disable all "suggestion" type things so I don't entirely understand what y'all are looking with this.

Ok, that's great, why are you telling us all of this?

There is a concerning trend of newcomers both young and older to fandom and fanfiction that have not taken off the social media brain filter before coming on board. Some excellent tags I've seen on The Post™ that spawned this one include:

#guys quit bringing the worst elements of capitalism to AO3 (via @watchtowersystem)

#algorithms have rotted people's brains i swear (via @pearly--rose)

#omg stop trying to social mediaify ao3 (via @greyduckgreygoose)

There were also some bangers on my reddit post on this topic as well, but the reddit I posted it on is (rightfully) on blackout at the moment.

I think the sociamediafying of fanfiction that a lot of these people are bringing has a few major negatives:

social mediafied fandom views fanwork soley as consumable content, creating more passive, entitled participants in fandom. For fanwork=content social media brain folks, the fact that fanwork is meant to be an active and engaging thing is lost. Fanwork is a gift from one fan to other fans, it is a point for discussion, a result of people's passion and creativity. It is transformative, out of the box and part of building a niche community. When you start to see it as "content" like a random object on a feed you stop valuing it, analyzing it, and interacting with it in the same way, and are more likely to passively consume what you see as content. Social media has made "content" out of everything, and everything becomes something to scroll past in a few seconds, always looking for more stuff, the newest stuff, etc etc. It's obviously very tied to the experience of social media being used to sell you shit, but that's another conversation I think.

fanwork=content social media brain also allows some of these people to post incredibly demanding comments for "more content" on fancreators works or makes them think it's ok (and indeed creates the same result as what the writer is creating) to feed someone's incomplete fic into an ai to get a "completion".

fanwork=content social media brain also means that when these folks start creating content they feel entitled to views, hits, kudos, etc etc, and feel like it is ok to do things that they see as "gaming" the system to get their fics to be at the top of the pack. They begin to care too much about posting to get their "content" the most views because that's how things work on social media.

fanwork=content social media brain also makes some of these people think that "fic" that is "written" by an ai is acceptable fanwork, because they do not view fanwork as artwork/writing with merit, as much as an entertainment property to be consumed. How the meat gets made becomes irrelevant, because the end result is the only thing that is important.

social mediafying of fandom is something that has helped a lot of advertising and commercialization sneak its way into our spaces, which actively hurts our chances of building good communities.

social mediafying of fandom turns fanwork creation and fandom into popularity contests, which is bad for all fan spaces. The point is that we're being weird together. I've seen new, young authors post on reddit about how they feel so bad about their fic because it doesn't have 1000s of hits or because they feel incapable of writing things (even things they might want to explore) because "no one will read it, and it will not become popular". This makes me very sad.

social mediafying of fanwork also turns right around into .... wait ... you guessed it .... censorship! people are now practising self-censorship that is utterly unnecessary and completely sad to me because they are afraid of getting deleted from anywhere for "objectionable content". This carries over into new users on AO3 doing things like using leet speech for curse words, sexual content and more in the TAGS or the body of their AO3 fics. Stop Don't. You can say fuck, dead, kill, murder, cunt, cock, and whatever the fucking hell you want on AO3. That was the whole goddamn point.

These people are trying to bring fanwork=content social media brain to places like AO3. I'm not entirely sure why.

tldr; AO3 isn't a social media site for talking with your following or posting about ideas that you've had. It isn't a popularity contest. It isn't a place where there will be no inappropriate content. It isn't a place for advertising or commerical promotion. It is an ARCHIVE OF FANWORKS meant to be "allowing ANYTHING -- het, slash, RPF, chan, kink, highly adult."

Anyone of you fans older, wiser, more well versed in fan history, and more articulate than me, please feel free to add to this. Ditto on any of you other funky LIS friends out here on tumblr dot hell.

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 16

So... in my defense I was really sick yesterday and accidentally scheduled the post for 10:17am and snuck in chapter 16. And I didn't even realize it until the other chapter had several likes, comments, and reblogs.

So I'm posting this now as a sort "Sorry I fucked up! Enjoy an extra chapter on me!" type thing!

In this we have Steve's no good, horrible, rotten bad day and the end of Act 2.

Also? Cliffhanger!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10  Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

~

Steve was feeling all the stares from both his fellow employees and the customers. He felt like shrinking in on himself every time it happened. It was like they couldn’t figure out what was so wrong with him that his dad would chase him out of town. Because most of the town didn’t know.

Clint Harrington had seen to that. Oh, his buddies knew, his wife’s sewing circle and club ladies knew, but the lessers? Nah, they only heard rumors. And whoo boy did Steve hear some wild ones.

Like that he had been caught in an orgy, or that he been dealing drugs out of the pool house or even that he had been caught with an underaged girl.

Thankfully most of the people didn’t believe that one one bit. But it was near thing and if Steve got his hands on Hank Tippets he was going to wring the man’s neck for that rumor.

It was Robin’s day off, and while usually the boss had them work together, Steve was with three other kids.

Three kids who had been slacking all day, making Steve handle the rush and refilling both the ice cream and toppings, and generally just being asses of themselves.

He was on his last nerve.

“Okay, guys!” Steve huffed putting his hands on his hips. “I’m all for slacking, but I am not the only capable of getting out the ice cream. It’s someone else’s turn!”

The two girls rolled their eyes but did what they were told. The boy on the other hand refused to budge.

“Just because you’re older,” he huffed, grabbing a handful of M&Ms and just shoving them in his face, “doesn’t mean you get to boss us around, man. Go back to whatever bridge you crawled out of.”

Steve’s lip curled. “That’s gross.” He rolled his eyes and put one hand on his hip. “And besides I didn’t crawl out from under a bridge, you did. Look at you. You’re hair is greasy, you smell like you haven’t bathed in years, and you have a stain on your shorts I don’t even want to think of what that is.”

“It’s chocolate,” the kid said with a sneer. “So if you aren’t living under a bridge then where are you living?”

Alarm bells went off in Steve’s head. “The only address anyone needs is my PO Box where to send my paycheck.” He shrugged. “Other than that, why do you care? What are you the Feds?”

The kid rolled his eyes at that and walked away. Steve shook his head. He just had to keep his head down and his mouth shut until he found something else.

Suddenly both girls were giggling and shushing each other.

“Hey, Steve can you come here for a moment?” the one called out. “I think the door to the freezer is stuck.”

Steve sighed and went to the back area, but as soon as he opened the door, a bucket of warm, melted strawberry ice cream fell on top of him. It hit the side of his head, knocking the hat off and clattered to the ground. He was covered head to toe in a gooey, sticky mess. It was in his hair and in his shoes and his socks were drenched.

Suddenly laughter filled his ears as he realized what had happened. This had been their plan all day. To get him annoyed enough that he would just barge through and get it dumped on him. He felt like fucking Sissy Spacek in ‘Carrie’.

Hot tears welled up as he tore off apron, stomping on the stupid hat and storming out of there. All the to calls of telling to come back, that it was all a joke, that he needed to lighten up.

He dashed off to his car, leaving behind a trial of melted ice cream. He tried to put the key in the door, but his hands shook too bad. He was forced to sit next to the car as he sobbed.

A man came up to him, waving his hands and shouting. “You there! Get away from that car! That mess will ruin the paint job!”

Steve looked up at him in shock. “But it’s my car!” he protested and showed him the keys. “See?”

“You’ve clearly stolen this car!” the man bellowed. “I’m going to call the police!” He made a grab for the keys but Steve was faster. They wrestled for them.

“Get off me!” he cried. “Help!”

Suddenly the man was being pulled off of Steve and the sense of relief he felt when he heard Hopper’s growling voice asking what the hell was going on, was palpable.

“This boy stole this car!” the man howled, still trying to get to Steve and take the key.

Hopper, who was dressed for work, leaned down to look closely at him. “Harrington? Is that you under all that goop?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve said, lifting his tear stained face up at the police chief. “My coworkers dumped old and melted ice cream on me and I was just trying to go home.”

Hopper sighed. He shook the man he pulled off of Steve. “That’s his car and if you don’t stop your screaming I’m taking you in for assault and attempted theft.”

The man’s eyes went wide and he scrambled to get away from Steve and Hopper.

Hopper turned back to Steve. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you into your car so you can go home and clean off.” He took the keys from Steve and unlocked the door. “Now drive real careful, all right? Don’t want you in an accident because you’re too emotional to drive.”

Steve nodded. He got to his feet and drove off, clearly being mindful of his state of mind, taking time to do things he wouldn’t normally think about.

Now to go raise fucking Cain with the manager of Scoops Ahoy.

~

The kids were still doubled over with laughter when Hopper came storming into the store.

“You kid!” he barked causing all of them to stop laughing and stand up straight. He peered at the name tag. “Kyle. Get a mop and a bucket and you mop every inch of the mall that has even one drop of that pink goop.”

Kyle opened his mouth to argue but closed it when Hopper glared at him. He ran to grab the mop and bucket and started with mess in front of the store.

“You two,” Hopper growled, “Close the store now. This the scene of a crime. An assault. I will also need the number to the owner or manager. And I mean I want it yesterday.”

The first girl whose name tag read Mary hurried to pull the front gate closed most of the way. Enough to show they were closed, but open enough so Kyle could get back in.

The other girl crossed her arms and scowled at Hopper. Her name tag said Linda. “No one’s been assaulted. We’ve been here the whole time, we would have seen something like that.”

The gate rattled as Kyle forced his way back in with the bucket and mop. Hopper looked over his shoulder.

“Good,” he huffed in annoyance, “you’re all here. That means I don’t have to repeat myself. I’m referring to the assault on Steve Harrington. Dropping a bucket of that size, filled with melted ice cream could have seriously hurt him. What would you lot have done if the bucket had his his head dead on and knocked him unconscious?”

Kyle scoffed. “Like that could happen. Not!”

“Yeah, kid,” Hopper growled, “you a cop or firefighter or even EMT? You some Doogie Howser or some shit? Because if you’re not any of that then you don’t get to tell me what’s possible or not.”

Kyle gulped and looked away as the girls eyes went wide.

“We weren’t trying to hurt him,” Mary insisted. “We were only trying to humiliate him a little. I mean have you seen that fancy car of his. He doesn’t need this job. We do.”

“It doesn’t matter why he’s working here,” Hopper said gruffly. “He was hired to do the fucking job, just leave him alone. You didn’t even have to like him. Just. Not that.”

Hopper called the manager and he was over in a heartbeat. He spotted the gate down first and then splattered mess everywhere.

“What the hell has happened here?” the man shrieked. He spotted Hopper and first he went deathly pale and then he went bright red. “I want to know the meaning of all this!” He yanked the gate up and slipped inside.

Hopper walked up to him. “Mr. Bauman, I’m Chief Hopper and three of your employees set up a bucket trap filled with bad strawberry ice cream, causing it dump all over a fourth employee’s head. A Steve Harrington. I am taking the three kids in for questioning and if I feel it’s serious enough, pressing charges on Harrington’s behalf.”

Murray straightened his back and pushed his glasses further up his nose. “Now see here. You have no proof they did anything of the sort. Just Steve’s word.”

Hopper advanced on him, like a panther seeking its prey, but Murray didn’t even flinch. “You’ve got cameras in his place right?”

Suddenly Linda was running for the manager’s office, but Hopper’s voice cracked out like a whip. “You touch that tape and I will absolutely haul your ass in for tampering with evidence.”

Linda skidded to a stop and Murray stared at her agape. “What the honest fuck?”

“I’m gonna take that as an admission of guilt,” Hopper said, narrowing his eyes at her.

Linda ducked her head and slowly walked back to stand next to Mary and Kyle, her hands clasped in front of her.

“I’ll look at the tape and bring it over to the sheriff’s station,” Murray vowed. He turned the three stooges. “And if I find anything on that tape that even so much as hints you did what Chief Hopper is suggesting. Don’t bother coming back into work. Because you’re fired. And I’ll make sure no one in this mall will hire you.”

Hopper nodded at Murray and then turned to the kids. “Now I don’t have enough handcuffs for all of ya, but I’m about to get really creative.”

~

Steve came home and just stripped his uniform off and just face planted into the bed. He didn’t care about his hair or that he was still covered goop. He just wanted to bury himself under the blankets and never emerge.

He must have fallen asleep because he woken up by Robin on the phone.

“No, Mom,” she hissed. “I don’t care what you say. I’m not going back to working at Scoops. Not after what they did to Steve. And I’m not quitting the Corroded Coffin job. He needs me.”

She paused for a moment. “Nope there is nothing you can do to change my mind. Look there’s another call coming through. Chief Hopper said he’d call with more information.”

Robin slammed the phone down and muttered, “Oh yeah, I’m so grounded. Worth it, though.” The phone rang immediately and she picked it up. “Chief Hopper. No, he’s still sleeping. I would be too after after everything he’s gone through.”

She listened for awhile, putting in the appropriate hum where required.

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to tell him,” she said. “I think he’s waking up. Did you want to him? Not a problem. Thank you.”

Steve gave up all pretense of sleep and sat up, rubbing his eyes. His arm was still sticky and gross but he didn’t care.

“I’d tell you to cover up,” Robin said with a grimace, gesturing to all of him, “but you don’t have to.”

He looked down at himself and realized that he had fallen asleep on the covers in just his underwear and socks. “Oh. Sorry.” He pulled a pillow over his junk and stared up at her.

“So as you could probably guess, that was Chief Hopper,” she said. “He said to tell you that he gave each of the perpetrators a little scare down at the station and made their parents come get them. The dude that tried to assault you about your car, was picked up later for erratic driving and given a ticket. Sgt. Callahan pegged him as the guy because he still had ice cream all down the front of his expensive suit and tie.”

“Good,” Steve said dryly. “Bastard. I was literally sobbing my guts out and he was more concerned with the paint job.”

“Yeah,” Robin said. “Karma bit his ass hard.”

She sat down next to him and put her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry about what happened. I know it’s not my fault or anything, but it really sucks that they did that to you.”

“Thanks Robs,” he murmured.

She stood back up. “I’ve told everyone to leave you alone for a couple of days so when you’re ready to see people again, reach out okay?”

He nodded as she walked to the door. She paused with her hand on the doorknob. She turned back. “Just one more thing. Hopper says he told Joyce about the bullying and she has said she’ll back off about the job now. So there’s at least that silver lining.”

“Yeah.”

~

Steve wasn’t sure how long he laid in bed, but it was obviously enough for a welfare check up from his friends on the staff.

This time it was only Bob and Rosa, but they both looked concerned.

“There is gunk everywhere,” Rosa huffed and waved her hand over his room. “The bed sheets stink and you are wallowing, mi amor.”

“You’ve got to at least shower,” Bob said with a note of distress in voice. “Give Rosa time to clean the room, change the bedding.”

Steve shook his head. There was no need to get out of bed ever again.

Then the door of the hotel room swung open and Bob and Rosa turned.

“Just who are you that you can just be walking in here?!” she bellowed, rounding on the stranger with her duster.

The man raised his hands up in surrender. “I’m Eddie Munson. I pay for the room.”

End of Act 2

~

Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Oops! When I took people off the list, I forgot to add the new people on!

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss @blondie1006

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

8- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

9- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @sadisticaltarts @steddieislife

10- @fearieshadow @kultiras @thesecondfate @tartarusknight @genderless-spoon

[siri-ike]

Danny's Phanclub

From this prompt

(This is connected to Summer of change, Jazz Al-Ghul, Mad Science Private School, empty, and a little crime as a treat)

On december 9th, 7 people who were not busy that afternoon gathered in a dimly lit garage on the request of one person.

Angie (15) head of the Danny Phan club's theories division: You're probably all wondering why I asked you here today.

Su-Jin (19) in charge of keeping the websites updated: Yeah, the urgent message with no explanation was kinda jarring.

Jónatan (16) event organizer: couldn't have given a little heads up?

Carmelo (14) treasurer: And I don't believe we needed this many snacks.

Rowan (17) President of the Phanclub: Let's hear her out.

Suddenly, a bright light flashed above them.

Harriet (17) made matching t-shirts: Got the power back on. What are we talking about?

Angie: I'm sure you've all heard that Danny Phantom somehow managed to freeze that giant plant ghost last summer?

S,J,C,R,H,D:*murmurs of agreement*

A: And everyone knows ghost poweres are based on how one dies. As was proven last year with that ghost who was perpetually soaking wet and kept spiting up water

She turns dramatically away from the pool conference table.

A: Before now, he could just do the same things as all other ghosts. Invisibility, intangibility, flying. Plus, those blasts, which are probably just concentrated ectoplasm.

She drags in a large corkboard and looks at the others when she flops it around. Revealing newspaper clippings of Danny using each of his powers, a grave yard, some mountains, and... ski resort pamphlets?

A: Now. Let's look at the evidence.

1. The snow. That came out of nowhere, right? - Wrong. Before the Christian version of Hell, there was the Norse Hel. It was where everyone whet when they died, provided they didn't die in battle. It was thought to be a vast wasteland covered in ice where you could spend eternity with those who were with you when you died.

2. His appearance. He wears a onesie. There are a few reasons one might wear a onesie. The main reason being, you don't want something getting into your clothes. For example, bees. But he has nothing to do with bees. It would have to be something else, something he is connected to... like snow. Like his hair. *pause for effect* it's snow white. The chances of someone being born with white hair is less than 0.001% or one in 17 to 20 thousand. It can also be caused by a deficiency in vitamin B12 or pituitary or thyroid issues. You can all refer to the group chat for articles on those.

*Angie knows no one ever reads her sorces, but damn it, she did her research, and she's gonna site it.*

Jónatan: When did you have time for this? School only finished yesterday.

A: What I think is more likely is that his haircolor changed post-mortem. But why white?

*pause*

A: I think he froze to death.

The room went silent. It had crossed each of their minds, but no one had wanted to say it. Enter Angie 'can't read the room to save her life' Sage.

A: Considering the multiple ski resorts in Illinois supporting the theory and how much more aggressive he is in December, probably due to the anniversary of his death. It could also explain why no other ghosts show up in December. Either they're too scared of him or they're giving him space. He has seemed to be somewhat chumy with some of the other ghosts, despite their combative relationship-

Rowan: Angie, stop.

Quiet.

She looks around the room. Four people are looking down, seemingly avoiding eye contact, and two look at her. Rowan, looks right at her with stern yet sympathetic eyes.

R: Everyone take five. We'll pick it up from here. Angie, a word.

Oh great, she must've offended someone. If only she could remember to look at the faces. Shurely, there must be some signs she could look out for.

R: I know you like theories, Angie. But can you tone it down? You're talking about someone's death. That's not the sort of thing most people are comfortable with.

They're one of the most patient people she's ever met, but sometimes even Rowan doesn't quite make sense.

A: But... he's a ghost. We all know he died.

R: We do. But, I think this whole conversation could be easier if you remove the "post mortem" and the "to death" parts of your presentation.

A: I guess I could change the wording a bit. Leave out the more gruesome parts. But I need someone to hear those out, a second set of ears to make sure I didn't miss anything.

Rowan looks to the corner of the room, where a 12 year old girl sits on a barstool with a wide-eyed grin ear to ear. She nods as though knowing exactly what they want.

R: Dani can hear you out on those.

Dani (12 (real age 1)) a gremlin, somehow always has time for this: I look forward to working with you.

~~~~~~~~

Angie's articles

Premature gray/white hair

One in 17-20,000

BTW I'm not gonna continue this.

Guess I'm continuing this.

Pt 2

Masterpost

[sweetteainthesummerx]

THE LOVE LASTS SO LONG (10)

In which Aubrey directs a video and Ollie crashes

series masterlist

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

aubreyyang posted on their story

olliebearman replied to your story

text me after my race?

aubreyyang

ofc good luck bearman xx

oliviarodrigo posted on their story

caption: so american my current fixation

formula1 posted

formula1 Ollie Bearman crashes and flips today at the Belgian Grand Prix. Waiting for more news ❤️‍🩹

liked by alex_albon, f1griddle and 77,890 others

comments are turned off

MESSAGES

aubrey

MISSED CALL

MISSED CALL

ollie

ollie pls pick up

CALL RECIEVED

O: hello?

A: Oh, thank god. Are you okay? I saw the car flip-

O: Hey, hey. I'm all good, Yang. Just a little bruised up. No worries about the trip.

A: I'm not worried about that, Bearman. I'm worried that you're not dead. Are you sure-

O: I'm okay, love. The medics need to check-

C: Aubrey?

A: Charles?

C: He's okay, but he needs to go test if he has a concussion. Wait for my call, okay?

CALL ENDED 02:05

olliebearman posted on their story

caption: All good, thanks for all of the love and concern. See you after summer break!

aubreyyang replied to your story

pls never do that again i almost shat myself

olliebearman

aww you were worried? :)

aubreyyang

OLIVER U FLIPPED IN A RACECAR

I hate seeing you hurt

please be more careful I had a heart attack almost smashed a camera

olliebearman

promise to not do that again

and tomorrow

are you still coming over to meet the fam?

aubreyyang

ofc!

aubberieyaang posted

aubberieyaang about to meet his parents PRAY FOR ME

liked by celine_diorr, chuck_bushes and 15 others

view all comments

celine_diorr "we're just really good friends)

-- aubberieyaang that doesn't sound like praying to me

leeahh_j more slowburn than percabeth u deserve an awards

-- aubberieyaang LEAH WTH WHOS SIDE ARE YOU ON

-- leeahh_j the side of love and happiness

liv_laugh_love you are so girl boss u directed a whole music video, the loul got into a car crash and now ur meeting his parents

-- aubberieyaang too scared to argue

A knock sounded on her door, and she smoothed out her sundress and little cardigan. Aubrey didn’t know why she was so nervous. Ollie was very much not her boyfriend, but when he’d asked her to meet his family over one of their very long FaceTime calls, she’d agreed. 

Because they were important to Ollie, which indirectly meant they were important to her. 

When she opened the door, she was met a wide-grin on Ollie’s handsome face. 

“Aubrey, hi. You look, wow.” Staring at her, he fiddled with his watch. Then, he snapped out of it, sweeping her up into a hug, lifting her off of her feet. 

“Oh-“ she laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck as he swung her into the hotel room. 

“Missed you.” He muttered into her shoulder. She flushed pleasantly; this was really nice. 

“I called you yesterday, sweetie.” The nickname slipped out so naturally, and she would’ve thought that he hadn’t even heard her if not for his smile against her skin and the sudden warmth of his ears on her neck. 

“It’s not the same…” he reluctantly let go, watching her grab her gifts for his parents.

“Mm, it is nice being to actually see you. I forgot how tall you were." 

He snorted, offering to carry the dutch oven she’d bought and the hydrangeas he told her were his mom’s favourites. 

“You didn’t have to. They like you already.” He opened the door for her, and she shrugged. 

“I was raised by Asian parents to never show up empty handed to someone’s house.” 

The car ride there was quiet, both of them reeling in each other’s presence. 

The only time they talked was about his crash and Aubrey made him promise to be more careful.

She liked watching him drive, all lounged in his seat, one big hand loose on the wheel, the other reaching over to hers. 

It was odd how they were; best friends now, and bordering a little more. She liked it. 

When they arrived, she steeled herself with a deep breath. 

“Hey, don’t worry.” He reassured her. With one last squeeze of her hand, he jogged over to open her car door, ever the gentleman. 

His house was charming; small and very English. Cozy, like the one she grew up in. 

“Okay, let’s go.”

bearyfast_04 posted

bearyfast_04 Top Five reasons why Aubrey is the best

she brought my mom and dad flowers and a dutch oven

she charmed my little siblings now they love her more than me

shes so hardworking and talented but still so humble

shes so beautiful it hurts

she smells really good

liked by kimi_possible, landoakabob and 12 others

view all comments

kimi_possible wow we lost another one

-- bearyfast_04 WHAT im just being honest

arthuranddw ur so down bad but did ur parents like her

-- bearyfast_04 yes obviously the bearman family loves Station 13 and they don't understand why we aren't together

-- leosdad tbh I don't either

-- bearyfast_04 shes like my best friend I don't want to lose her

chililos55 congrats to you and ur gf!

-- leosdad that's not!

-- chililos55 they're not together?? WHY AM I THE LAST TO KNOW ABOUT EVERYTHING

landoakabob im not the most humble

-- bearyfast_04 read that sentence Lando

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

Taglist: @callsignwidow @iloveyou3000morgan @honethatty12 @taygrls

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: The Uses of Slang

According to the British lexicographer Eric Partridge (1894–1979), people use slang for any of at least 15 reasons:

In sheer high spirits, by the young in heart as well as by the young in years; ‘just for the fun of the thing’; in playfulness or waggishness.

As an exercise either in wit and ingenuity or in humour. (The motive behind this is usually self-display or snobbishness, emulation or responsiveness, delight in virtuosity.)

To be ‘different’, to be novel.

To be picturesque (either positively or – as in the wish to avoid insipidity – negatively).

To be unmistakeably arresting, even startling.

To escape from clichés, or to be brief and concise. (Actuated by impatience with existing terms.)

To enrich the language. (This deliberateness is rare save among the well-educated, Cockneys forming the most notable exception; it is literary rather than spontaneous.)

To lend an air of solidity, concreteness, to the abstract; of earthiness to the idealistic; of immediacy and appositeness to the remote. (In the cultured the effort is usually premeditated, while in the uncultured it is almost always unconscious when it is not rather subconscious.)

(a) To lessen the sting of, or on the other hand to give additional point to, a refusal, a rejection, a recantation; (b) To reduce, perhaps also to disperse, the solemnity, the pomposity, the excessive seriousness of a conversation (or of a piece of writing); (c) To soften the tragedy, to lighten or to ‘prettify’ the inevitability of death or madness, or to mask the ugliness or the pity of profound turpitude (e.g. treachery, ingratitude); and/or thus to enable the speaker or his auditor or both to endure, to ‘carry on’.

To speak or write down to an inferior, or to amuse a superior public; or merely to be on a colloquial level with either one’s audience or one’s subject-matter.

For ease of social intercourse. (Not to be confused or merged with the preceding.)

To induce either friendliness or intimacy of a deep or a durable kind. (Same remark.)

To show that one belongs to a certain school, trade, or profession, artistic or intellectual set, or social class; in brief, to be ‘in the swim’ or to establish contact.

Hence, to show or prove that someone is not ‘in the swim’.

To be secret – not understood by those around one. (Children, students, lovers, members of political secret societies, and criminals in or out of prison, innocent persons in prison, are the chief exponents.)

From Slang: Today and Yesterday, 1933, Ch. 2.

Source ⚜ More: Word Lists ⚜ Notes & References

[fearfulfertility]

SURROGATE PROCESSING WORKFLOW

DRC, Facility Operations Command, Compound Oversight Unit

Date: [REDACTED]

Subject: Surrogate Management Protocols

Location: Paternity Compound 131, [REDACTED], Oregon

Objective

This document provides a detailed overview of the surrogate processing workflow employed at Paternity Compound 131. It highlights the efficiency-focused methodologies implemented throughout the process, from intake to post-delivery. Personal letters from Surrogate ID S131-279-P are included, documenting his journey from arrival to delivery to help illustrate the overall operations.

I. Arrival & Intake

Transport

"Dear Dad,

I’m not sure where to start. They brought me here in this big, quiet van, and as soon as we got off, they started running all these tests. They gave me a number and tattooed it on my stomach like livestock. They keep saying I’m doing something important for the greater good, but I'm just confused." - S131-279

Candidates are transported to the facility in climate-controlled vehicles, ensuring they arrive in stable physical condition. They are processed in batches of [REDACTED] at a time for efficiency.

Initial Assessment

Upon arrival, surrogates undergo physical and psychological evaluations to assess readiness for the program. This includes fertility screening and compatibility testing for high-multiparity potential.

Registration

Each surrogate is tattooed with a unique ID number for tracking and monitoring throughout their conscription period, imprinted just above their navel.

Compound ID: The facility they will be housed in for gestation.

Arrival ID: The order number in which they arrived at the facility. 

Fetal Count: A letter to indicate the number of viable fetuses they carry:

A (1) - B (2) - C (3) - D (4) - E (5) - F (6) - G (7) - H (8) - I (9) - J (10) - K (11) - L (12) - M (13) - N (14) - O (15) - P (16) - Q (17) - R (18) - S (19) - T (20) - U (21) - V (22) - W (23) - X (24) - Y (25) - Z (26)  Example: Paternity Compound 127 + 437th Surrogate to Arrive + Carrying Quattuordecuplets (14) = S127-437-N

II. Rest & Preparation

Induction & Crowd Control

"Hey Dad,

Things are getting weirder by the day. Yesterday, they gave me a shot that burned like hell and made me feel woozy. It must have knocked me out cause I woke up, and it was tomorrow morning. I don’t know what happened, but I was so sore. I just want to go home." - S131-279, Arrival Weight 170 lbs

Entry areas are designed to funnel a group of surrogates into a single file line. Short but sweeping corridors are employed so that each candidate is prevented from seeing what lies ahead and concentrates on the individual in front of it.

Hygiene Protocols

Surrogates are directed to communal hygiene zones where they undergo full-body cleansing, enemas, and sterilization procedures.

Hormonal Optimization

Subjects are administered hormonal injections and supplements to ensure optimal uterine receptivity and increase the likelihood of successful embryo implantation.

Tranquilization (Optional)

Depending on the subject’s stress levels, mild to full sedation may be administered to maintain compliance and calm.

Note: [REDACTED]% of surrogates require some form of sedative before insemination.

III. Insemination Process

Surrogates can be assigned one of three insemination methods, depending on operational efficiency, donor availability, and strategic objectives:

"Dad,

I don’t even know who I am anymore. My body feels like it’s not mine. It’s only been a week since I arrived, and my stomach is growing so fast it scares me. I can’t stop eating, and it’s like my hunger gets worse the more I eat, but I can't stop. They keep telling me this is normal, that 16 is a "good number"?! They said it was a badge of honor. Sixteen! I feel like I’m being turned into something I don’t understand, and I can’t stop it." - S131-279-P, Day 6, Weight 192 lbs (+22 lbs)

In Vitro Fertilization (IVF):

Procedure: Embryos fertilized in a laboratory are implanted directly into the surrogate's uterus. 

Benefits: High precision, maximum control over embryo count, and genetic compatibility.

Usage: Preferred for surrogates assigned to carry high-volume fetuses or when multiple donors are involved.

Traditional Method (Sexual Intercourse):

Procedure: Selected donors engage in physical intercourse with surrogates under closely monitored conditions.

Benefits: Natural conception methods reduce laboratory overhead and offer efficient insemination for surrogates with high natural fertility markers.

Usage: Typically used donor compatibility is exceptionally high.

Fluids Infusion (Turkey Baster Method):

Procedure: Donor samples are introduced directly into the surrogate's reproductive tract using a sterile infusion device.

Benefits: Combines simplicity with minimal intervention—a cost and time-effective alternative to IVF and traditional methods.

Usage: Often employed in high-volume batches where rapid insemination is required or transportation to the nearest compound is infeasible.

Post-Procedure Monitoring: Surrogates remain in observation units for [REDACTED] hours to confirm successful implantation and address any immediate complications.

IV. Monitoring & Maintenance

Ward Assignment

"Dad,

I don’t think I can do this anymore. My belly is enormous—I can barely move, and I’m out of breath all the time. They keep saying I’m ‘thriving,’ but how can they call this thriving? I heard one of the staff joking about how I’m ‘one of the biggest ones yet.’ They think it’s funny. I don’t. I can feel them—16 of them—moving inside me, taking over everything I used to be. I’m not me anymore." - S131-279-P, Day 13, Weight 254 lbs (+84 lbs)

Surrogates are transferred to gestational wards, where they will reside for their pregnancies. These wards have medical monitoring stations, communal feeding areas, and resting zones.

Nutrition Protocols

Diets are adjusted to high-calorie "one-size-fits-all" solutions, such as nutrient-dense puddings designed to promote fetal growth while maintaining surrogate docility. Hormonal treatments are incorporated into meals to reduce the need for frequent medical interventions.

Weekly Checkups

Surrogates undergo routine ultrasound exams, weight measurements, and health assessments to ensure all embryos develop within target parameters.

Behavioral Observations

Any signs of distress or resistance are addressed promptly through psychological support or, if necessary, isolation protocols.

V. Delivery Process

"This will probably be my last letter. I don’t think I’ll make it much longer. My body’s breaking under the weight—literally. I'm too big, no one was ever meant to be this big. They’re moving me to the birthing wing tomorrow, and I know what that means. I’m terrified, but I don’t have a choice. I just want you to know I didn’t have a choice." - S131-279-P, Day 28, Weight 490 lbs (+320 lbs)

Pre-Labor Preparation

As surrogates approach full term (29-35 days), they are moved to birthing wings equipped with specialized delivery equipment and staff trained for high-multiparity births. Diets are radically adjusted to promote greater weight gain.

Labor Management & Delivery

Surrogates are monitored continuously, and medical staff is on hand to manage complications. Multiple babies are delivered in succession. This process may last several hours or more, depending on the number of fetuses.

Post-Delivery Processing:

Fetuses are immediately evaluated for health and viability.

Surrogates are provided palliative care as necessary.

VI. Post-Delivery Workflow

"Surrogate S131-279-P demonstrated remarkable endurance and successfully delivered 16 fetuses, average weight 14 lbs, in 30-45 minute intervals, after a 34-hour labor. The surrogate's abdomen showed extreme distension, with clear evidence of significant internal [REDACTED]. Full natural delivery was achieved, but the surrogate succumbed to irreversible [REDACTED] failure minutes after the final baby was delivered." - Dr. [REDACTED], Chief OBGYN, Paternity Compound 131

Vital Cessation Verification

Medical staff confirm the cessation of all vital signs immediately following delivery to ensure compliance with humane protocols. Time and cause of expiration are noted for record-keeping and research purposes.

Surrogate Decommissioning & Disposal

[REDACTED]

Note: As standard protocol, all personal items of Surrogate S131-279-P were recycled following his decommissioning, including the destruction of [REDACTED] paper letters addressed to a Mr. [REDACTED] Collazo.

Surrogate Output Metrics

Each surrogate’s performance is evaluated against pre-delivery projections. The Prenatal Division records key performance indicators for review, including total fetal weight, fetal viability, and gestational efficiency. Personal details related to the surrogate are then purged to save computer storage space and maintain confidentiality.

Key Metrics and Efficiency Goals

Average Per Surrogate: 8–14 Embryos

Delivery Survival Rate (Fetuses): [REDACTED]%

Surrogate Survival Rate: 0%

Cost per Surrogate: $[REDACTED]

This structured process ensures that surrogate output meets national population growth goals while maintaining operational efficiency and cost-effectiveness.

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

Click Here to return to DRC Report Archives

[aloesarchives]

Toji Fushiguro Masterlist

(A/N): Toji gets his own masterlist b/c I have too many AUs and works with this man in it. Also Reader, in all of my Toji fics, will be his wife and the mother of Tsumiki and Megumi because they deserve a domestic family life and I said so.(Updated:12/31/2024 5:03pm CST)

Toji Lives AU/Megumi Cock Blocks Toji AU

Summary: An alternative timeline/universe where Toji is alive, Reader is Megumi and Tsumiki's Mom, and Massive Changes to the Canon.Tags: Toji Lives AU

Lore Headcanons

General Reader and Toji History/Hidden Inventory Arc/Pre-Shibuya Headcanons

Shibuya Incident/Post-Shibuya Headcanons

Oneshots

Can You Not?(18+)

All that is Revealed

Headcanons

Megumi cockblocks Toji/Megumi "Menace" Fushiguro/ Toji having beef with his 15 yr old son

Satoru Gojo trying to Rizz up Reader/ Toji vs Satoru Round 3

Simping over Toji's hands b/c of a watermelon(18+)

Domestic Headcanons w/ Mama!Reader and the Fushiguros

Domestic Headcanons w/ Mama!Reader and the Fushiguros #2: New Addition to the Family!

Domestic Headcanons w/ Mama!Reader and the Fushiguros# 2.5: Teen!Mayumi

Asks/Drabbles

Reasoning behind Reader's Forgiveness

Yuuji and Nobara's reaction to Toji being the Sorcerer Killer

JJK Drabble #2

JJK Drabble #3

Modern/General/No Curses AU

Oneshots:

Valentine's Day Special

Birthday Special

Father's Day Special

Headcanons:

Toji General Headcanons

"The Echoes from Yesterday" Mini Series

Mini Series summary: You tried to love a broken man but his grief forces you to make the tough decision to tell. Forcing to leave his son without the only mother figure he'll ever have. Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader, Megumi Fushiguro x Fem!Reader(Parental/Family)

Pilot/Poll

Parts:

i.) The Ghost of His Yesterday: Her

Canon AU

Oneshots:

A Love that Haunts Beyond the Grave(Angst)

[archaeologysucks]

Yesterday I broke through a long-standing brick wall in my family tree, and was finally able to connect one of my ancestors with her parents and siblings, which is pretty damn satisfying. It was a case of women getting lost in the records when they remarry and change their names, which is unfortunately extremely common. I also got to add another wild story involving bigamy and legal turmoil to my family history, and that's always fun.

I knew a lot about my great-great-great grandmother Mary Emeline Brown (1833-1910), but unfortunately the earliest proven record I had for her was her marriage in 1848 at the age of about 15 to John M. Armstrong in Jerseyville, Illinois. This meant that on the earliest census record (1850) that lists every person by name, she was already married, with no clues about her family of origin.

All I knew was that her maiden name was the extremely common Brown, and that her death certificate named her parents as John Brown and Ruth Nelson, with no indication who had given that information or whether they knew it to be accurate.

There was a prominent Brown family in Jersey County, Illinois, however, and I was sure Mary was connected to them somehow, but I couldn't quite prove it. I knew where her husband's grandfather and uncle's land was, and where the Brown lands were, so I made a map to see if that would help. I was able to prove that the Armstrong lands lay on the same major roadway as those of a John Brown (1790-1872), a few miles to the east, and for a while, I thought that might be Mary's father.

The only problem? There was no Mary listed among this John's children, and no obvious gap she might have fit into. Also, his wife's name was Margaret Piper, which is not very similar to Ruth Nelson. Well, maybe Ruth Nelson was not John's wife. Maybe Mary was born out of wedlock. Such things weren't uncommon. Damned if I could prove it, though, without doing some complicated DNA work, or finding some court documents that stated her paternity.

For a long time, I was stuck there, at the same dead end my grandmother had arrived at when she first started working on our genealogy in the 1980s. Just about everyone who listed Mary on their family tree on Ancestry.com gave her parents either as this John Brown, without offering any corroborating evidence, or else simply as John Brown with no additional information at all.

Well, the other day, I decided to dig a little deeper. I went through every single family tree that included Mary, to see if I could find even one clue that might point me in a useful direction. And I found one: a single ancestry tree that listed Mary's parents as Vincent Brown (c. 1805-1834) and Elizabeth Wilson (1810-1892). And more importantly, the researcher had explained their conclusions, which is something surprisingly few people on Ancestry.com ever do.

When Vincent Brown died in about 1834, he left a wife and a few young children, but because he was a young man, he left no will naming his heirs. However, court documents for his estate mention a child with the initials M. E. Brown as one of his heirs. This is not proof, but ….

In 1839, when Mary would have been about 6 years old, Elizabeth Wilson Brown remarried to Jonathan Routh, whose surname some sometimes spelled Roth or Ruth. It's not impossible to think a later relative might have heard the name Grandma Ruth, wife of Jon, associated with Mary's mother, and assumed that was her first name, confusing Wilson for Nelson as her maiden name, and also assuming Jon was Jon Brown, since that was Mary's maiden name. This is also not proof, but ….

On the 1840 census, which only lists the head of household by name, with numbers for each sex and age bracket for all other household members, all the known children of Elizabeth Brown and Jonathan Routh (spelled Ruthe on this record) are accounted for, and one is a girl between the ages of 5 and 9, who could be Mary. This is also not proof, but ….

Jonathan Routh and Elizabeth had three more children, but he decided not stick around. In 1845, he left Illinois for Texas with no intention of returning, and he did not bother to grant Elizabeth a divorce first. In 1852, he remarried in Texas, and had several more children. He served in the Confederate Army during the Civil War and died in 1864. In 1871, Elizabeth sued his heirs in Texas for half of his estate, because she was still his legal wife. The case went to the Texas Supreme Court, and she was ultimately awarded 1/4 of his estate ($750) in 1883.

When Elizabeth Wilson Brown Routh died in 1892, her estate probate documents named all of her heirs, which at that time included many grandchildren, one great-grandchild, and one surviving daughter: Mary Ernest. By this time, Mary E. Armstrong had divorced my great-great-great-grandfather John M. Armstrong (and good for her, because he was a piece of work), and remarried to Albert Ernst, a man 20 years her junior who owned a brewery. Well done, grandma.

Is that proof that my Mary Emeline Brown Armstrong Ernst was the child of Vincent Brown and Elizabeth Wilson Brown Routh? Well, no, not really. But it is compelling evidence, and a strong lead that I can follow up on by digging deeper into Jersey County, Illinois court records, and looking into what became of her theoretical siblings for additional clues. Importantly, there is nothing here to contradict the idea that this was her family. I am fairly confident that this is them, and that it's only a matter of time before I can prove it definitively. I love solving historical mysteries and puzzles!

[svuobsessed]

SVU team X Autistic Victim teen reader

Literally started watching Law and Order SVU yesterday and fell in love with the show well the sixth season at least.

This will be my first ever L&O SVU one-shot.

Summary: The team are called in after a Teen was beaten up by two other students.

Third person pov...

The smell of the hospital woke Y/N L/N up, they had always hated the smell of the rooms it made their sensory issues skyrocket.

Opening their eyes they are meet with bright white lights, groaning they close their eyes again, sitting up carefully being mined full of their injuries.

Slowly the teen opens their eyes again, this time the light was not as bad, Y/N looked around the spacious room, the teen was alone in the room.

They could not remember anything, rocking slowly trying to calm down they wracked their brain for something but could not remember. "Stupid stupid, what the hell happened to me" they shout smacking their head as they started to freak out.

As they were having a meltdown the doors opened and in came Detectives Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler. "Y/N what's wrong sweetie?" Calls Olivia as they rushed over to the teenager.

Hearing voices they did not know made Y/N look up and crawl out of their bed as they stood searing pain shot through their head groaning in pain they wobbled; Olivia grabbed the teen to stop them from falling.

Instead, they struggled in her hold trying to get away from her. "Stop let go off me" they yell eventually Oliva let them go. The teen crumpled to the floor against a wall rocking back and forth hands in their hair trembling all over.

Olivia and Elliot look at each other. "What the hell happened there?" questions Elliot watching the distraught teen work they way through a panic attack. Suddenly the doors opened it was Y/Ns parents, outside the room they answered the twos questions. "Y/N is autistic which is why they reacted that way, the new room and new people triggered them into a meltdown" explained Y/Ns dad as he held his wife.

Crying the woman looked at the two detectives "what happened to our child, why where they attacked" she cried, Olivia and Elliot look at each other before telling the two.

During Y/Ns 4th period lesson they left the classroom for a breather as they got overwhelmed, as they did the teen was followed by two students. 15 minutes later the two students walk back joking and shoving each other in the hall, Y/N know where to be seen.

Lucky for them the janitor was passing by and found them unconscious and beaten up, at the end both Y/Ns parents wanted to press charges but could not without Y/N present.

Days later Y/N had woken up again in the hospital this time a lot more calm and not as anxious. The 13 year old was sat up in the bed, they had a bandage wrapped around their head their attackers got in a few good swings to their head.

The teen also had bruises on their arms, they had tried to protect themselves from the attack though being surprised, the door to Y/Ns room opened the teen turned their head, it was the detectives from before.

Sitting up they continued to look off sideways as the two detectives approached the H/C Haired teens bed. "Hi Y/N, I'm Olivia this is Elliot" she introduces them. Y/N does not look at them but nods.

Elliot looks at the teen and stands closer. "Y/N we wanted to ask some questions about the day you were attacked?" he asks the teen, sighing the teen turns their head to look at the man.

"I didn't see their faces" they whisper, the adults could tell they were lying by the way their voice cracked, the two detectives eye each other before Olivia sits next to Y/N on the bed.

"that's a lie sweetie and you know it" she tells them gently, Y/N looks up at her tears in their E/C eyes. "I know, I can't tell I won't" they cry hands shaking in their lap. Olivia holds out her hand to the teen as an invitation to hold hers.

Two both hers and Elliots surprise the teen grabbed her hand squeezing tightly as they cried.

The team are stuck at the precinct Benson, Stabler, Tutuola and Munch all stand around the evidence board in front of them, it was filled with pictures of what happened to Y/N, the footage of the two students.

"That poor child, who in their right mind would beat someone for being different" says Munch as he stares at a picture of Y/Ns injuries pissed off. "Your right partner, little shits" Fin pats the man's shoulder.

On the desk next to them stand Olivia and Elliot. "If only we could persuade Y/N to tell us their attackers" says Elliot slamming his hand down on the table, Oliva sighs and looks at the forage. "We can't push the, they are already traumatised enough" as the team stand around someone pats Elliots back.

This scares the man; he had not heard any footsteps telling him someone was there. Turning around he was shocked at who was there. "Y/N" the name made the others turn around.

Behind Elliot stood their 13 year old victim, the teen had numerous bandages around their arms and head, headphones around their neck and a small stuffed toy. "I'm here to report an assault" the relief on the faces of the detectives is seen.

Olivia stands from her chair and beckons the teen over. "Come on sweetie, I'll take you to an interview room" she takes the teen to an unused room, the teen looks around and sets their bag and stuffed toy on the table.

Munch and Fin are disgusted at how the arseholes beat up Y/N, turning to Elliot they see a pissed of look on his face. "Those bastards" growls Fin, Munch agrees "they deserve to be locked up for good" he says, Elliot follows after Y/N and Olivia.

Hours later Y/N had told the two everything that had happened to the over the past year, they had been beaten up before by the same kids but not so bad they had to go to the hospital, lucky for Y/N both attackers were charged with category 1 of grievous bodily harm with 26 month in juvie with 100 hours of community service.

Y/N was more than happy with the charges, their parent profusely thanked the SVU team for their help.

The end!

I plan to skip most of the court parts because I know nothing about how they work so sorry I only really know about the kind of charges you can get, anyway sorry for any grammar and spelling mistakes.

Requests are open!

Word count: 1171

[sister-2-sleep]

The Last Time Every MCR Song Was Played

I saw someone do this for tbp so I'm doing it for all the songs

Bullets

Romance: May 12, 2006

Honey : October 24, 2010

Vampires : March 26, 2023

Drowning lessons : October 17, 2004

Our lady of sorrows : March 25, 2023

Halos : October 11, 2022

Skylines and turnstiles: March 17, 2023

Monroeville : October 29, 2005

Best day ever : October 11, 2022

Cubicles : Never played live (from what i can find)

Demolition Lovers : October 11, 2022

Three cheers

Helena : October 20, 2024

Give em hell kid : March 26, 2023

To the end : May 12, 2006

Prison : March 26, 2023

I'm not ok: October 19, 2024

Ghost of you: March 26, 2023

Jetset life: May 4, 2008

Interlude: May 4, 2008

Venom: March 26, 2023

Hang em high: October 12, 2022

Fashion statement : March 26, 2023

Cemetery drive: March 14, 2023

Ntywidfal: October 12, 2022

Black parade

The end: October 20, 2024

Dead: October 20, 2024

How I disappear: October 20, 2024

Sharpest lives: October 20, 2024

Wttbp: October 20, 2024

I don't love you: October 20, 2024

House of wolves: October 20, 2024

Cancer: October 20, 2024

Mama: October 20, 2024

Sleep: October 20, 2024

Teenagers: October 20, 2024

Disenchanted: October 20, 2024

Last words: October 20, 2024

Blood: Never (only ever audio recordings)

Danger Days

Na na na: October 20, 2024

Bulletproof heart : September 8, 2022

Sing: October 17, 2022

Planetary: March 25, 2023

Only hope: October 15, 2022

Party poison: April 23, 2011

Save yourself: October 15, 2022

S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W: October 15, 2022

Summertime : March 20, 2023

Destroya: March 25, 2023

Kids from yesterday: March 25, 2023

Vampire money: March 19, 2023

Conventional Weapons

Boy division : March 26, 2023

Tomorrows money: August 30, 2022

Ambulance : Never been played

Gun: Never been played

World is ugly: March 26, 2023

Light behind your eyes: Never been played

Kiss the ring: August 8, 2009

Make room: September 24, 2022

Surrender the night: September 15, 2022

Burn bright: September 10, 2022

Mad Gear and Missile Kid

F.T.W.W.W. : Never been played

Ravenkroft: October 15, 2022

Black dragon: Never been played

Other

Foundations: March 26, 2023

Sister to sleep: October 17, 2022

all the angels : October 14, 2022

Heavan help us : October 17, 2022

Kill all your friends: March 25, 2023

My way home: May 9, 2008

Eagles : March 26, 2023

Fake your death: October 17, 2022

Desert song: October 12, 2022

Bury me in black: March 26, 2023

Desolation row: October 11, 2022 at

Song 2 (blur cover) : June 18, 2007

Under pressure (queen cover) : March 29, 2005

We will rock you (queen cover) : August 26, 2011

If I missed any lmk lol.

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 15 Prompt: Spread Holiday Cheer

Tags: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Christmas Fluff, Sending Holiday Cards, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington

wc: 1554 | Rating: G

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

Eddie’s perched on the kitchen counter, two fingers deep in a jar of peanut butter when the front door creaks open and shut. Barefoot patter across the reclaimed wood floor until Steve appears in the doorway. He has a  stack of mail tucked under his arm. An open card clutched between his hands.

“Did Dustin tell us Suzie was pregnant again?” Steve asks. He swats Eddie off the counter as he walks to the corner they’ve designated for unopened mail. Dropping the mail on the stack of overflowing flyers and magazines they’ve yet to get through, he squints at the card in his hands.

“I talked to him yesterday and he didn’t mention anything,” Eddie mumbles, mouth full of peanut butter. “Why?”

“She definitely looks pregnant.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie chastises as he winds the lid of the peanut butter back on the jar. “You can’t assume she’s pregnant just because she looks a little…”

The words fizzle out as he rests his head on Steve’s shoulder. His eyes take in the Christmas card in his hands. Henderson’s are always his favorite. The boy’s always had a thing for dramatics, something that hasn’t waned with age. Or the growing brood of kids he’s acquiring.

This year's card is Star Wars-themed. Dustin dressed as Han and Suzie in Leia’s white costume. Their oldest son is Luke, lightsaber held high. The twins in homemade R2D2 and C-3Po costumes.

The youngest has been painted green, channeling Yoda if Eddie had to guess. And of course, their dog rounds out the eccentric bunch in a homemade Chewbacca costume.

One glance at Suzie’s growing belly, stretching the fabric of Leia’s dress is all it takes for Eddie to confirm Steve’s suspicions. The message at the bottom of the card also helps.

“You really should read these with your glasses on,” Eddie teases, fingers reaching over Steve to tap at the message printed at the bottom. “Says here their “galaxy” is growing in spring.”

“Christ,” Steve says, shaking his head. “He’s building a damn sports team over there.”

Eddie snorts. “More like a D&D group. They’re going to be the Von Trapps of the Dungeons and Dragons world one day.”

With a snort of his own, Steve shakes Eddie off of him and crosses the room to their fridge. It’s not uncommon for the yellowing white door to be flooded with messages and cards, but it’s ten times worse during December. Eddie can barely get into the freezer without a card or two falling, taking their magnets with them.

Still, Steve doesn’t let the cluttered fridge stop him from hanging Dustin’s card up there amongst the rest. Eddie watches as he takes a step back, hands coming to rest on his hips as he admires the holiday spread in front of him.

Dustin’s card sits towards the top, sandwiched between one from the Sinclairs — a back shot of Lucas, Max, and their daughter Ellie hand in hand on a beach in California — and one from the Byers-Hoppers — Hop and Joyce sat in their matching rocking chairs on their porch with dopey smiles on their faces as they look out on their hoard of grandkids.

There’s a card from the Wheeler-Byers, too — a caricature of their family, the boys, and their army of dogs no doubt drawn by Will himself. It sits beside the one from El and Erica, a joint holiday postcard from Italy where they’re studying abroad.

Nancy and Jonathan are the most professional of the bunch — no surprise given Jonathan’s photography skills and Nancy’s perfectionism. The one of Jeff’s kids is one of Eddie’s favorites, the trio screaming on Santa’s lap while Jeff and his wife smile at the camera. A close second is Gareth and Freaks who decided to hit up the local JcPennys for awkward family portraits with their girlfriends.

Robin and Chrissy’s is front and center, the two of them kissing under the mistletoe while their daughter rolls her eyes in the background. Beside it is one from Wayne and Scott, a grainy shot that Steve took himself the last time they visited Hawkins. There’s one from Eden and Argyle from Missouri, which was news to everyone when it arrived.

A handful from Steve’s past students tacked up over each other along with ones from their coworkers. Fleeting faces in their lives, along with permanent fixtures.

In the center of it all is their card from this year. They took it back in July when prices were cheaper and Steve could order them in bulk without breaking the bank. They’re smiling at the camera on the couch in their living room, a silly Santa plush sits between them. Both in godawful ugly sweaters with Santa hats perched on their heads despite the sweltering summer sun peaking in from the bay window.

Maybe he’s biased, but he thinks theirs is his favorite.

Eddie’s pretty sure it’s the best one they’ve ever taken which is why he feels the wind knocked out of him when he spots Steve frowning at it.

“Everything okay, Stevie?”

Steve hums, prying his eyes away from the fridge to look at Eddie. He offers him a soft smile and a curt nod before excusing himself. Eddie’s pretty sure he hears him mumble something about needing to start this week's lesson plan.

Eddie knows it’s a lie — it’s the final week before winter break and Steve never teaches during it — but he doesn’t call him out on it. Instead, he lets his boyfriend slink out of the room. When he’s gone Eddie shifts his attention back to the fridge, eyes squinted as he tries to puzzle out what has Steve so bum hum bug all of a sudden.

He doesn’t get it at first. There’s nothing different about this year's cards than the hoards they’ve received in the past. Everyone who should be up there is up there, smiling wide at what this year has given them. Happy parents and smiling kids, wild pets, and even wilder adventures.

His eyes are making a third pass over the cards when it clicks. Eddie knows Steve’s not disappointed with the way their life has turned out, but it's clear from the cards littering their fridge that something is missing. 

Every card screams family, except theirs.

Well, Eddie thinks, that simply won’t do.

💌 💌 💌💌 💌 💌💌 💌 💌💌 💌 💌💌 💌 💌💌 💌 💌💌 💌 💌💌 💌 💌

It takes three days for Eddie to pull everything together. The minute Steve leaves for work on the fourth day, he gets to work setting everything up. In a matter of hours, their living room gets transformed from a moderate Christmas room to one that belongs in those cheesy movies Steve always has on.

He’s relocated the tree to the middle of the room, decked everything out with garland and twinkling light, and hand-painted the Santa’s workshop sign he stayed up late making last night. After an hour-long call with Jonathan, he manages to get the camera and tripod set up.

Getting their pets dressed takes the longest, but after chasing everyone around and bribing them with a shit ton of treats he gets all 3 dogs, 4 cats, Parrot, snake, and bunny in their respective holiday attire. He’s putting the finishing touches on his own look when he hears the familiar creak of the front door.

“Eds?” Steve calls, voice tinged with curiosity. “What’s going on?”

“We’re taking our Christmas card picture,” Eddie says, appearing around the corner in a red Santa suit.

Steve blinks before slowly looking around the room. The dogs and cats all match in elf costumes. Pierce the Bunny and Ozzy the Parrot are somehow keeping elf hats on their head and Sizzle the Snake has a ribbon wrapped loosely around her body like the world's most delicate Christmas present.

Eddie watches as Steve takes everything in, lips parted in that cute confused look he always gets. Fish out of water, he likes to tease.

“Don’t worry, I have your costume here too,” Eddie says, holding up a matching red Santa suit.

“I’m confused, we already sent our cards out for the year.”

Eddie hums. “We did, but we forgot to include some very important members of our family in the card. Don’t you think our friends deserve to have all our beautiful faces on their fridges?”

“I mean, I guess? It’s going to cost a fortune though this late in the game.”

“Our family is worth it.”

💌 💌 💌💌 💌 💌💌 💌 💌💌 💌 💌💌 💌 💌💌 💌 💌💌 💌 💌💌 💌 💌💌 💌

It costs them an arm and a leg to get the cards printed and sent out in time, but it's worth it to see the smile permanently etched on Steve’s face as he tacks it up on the fridge, replacing their original card.

This time when he steps away there’s nothing but pure happiness on his face.

“I know it’s not the big family you dreamed of,” Eddie says, wrapping his arms around him as he admires the display. “But it’s still pretty great, right?”

“It’s perfect, Eds.”

💌 💌 💌💌 💌 💌💌 💌 💌💌 💌 💌💌 💌 💌💌 💌 💌💌 💌 💌💌 💌 💌

The following year, Dustin’s isn’t the only card with a new face on it. Steve, Eddie, and their army of pets are joined by a pair of timid smiles. A brother-sister duo whom they’ve been fostering since February. If all goes as planned, they’ll be permanent fixtures on the Munson-Harrington card for decades to come. 

[delphiniumblooms]

HI @ninsletamain !!!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR and here is your gift fic! you asked for Roommates/Neighbors, College AU, Angst with a happy ending, Fantasy AU, Recovering in the sick bay, and Fix-It, and I think I've got at least half of these prompts!

Inspired by a true story from my friend Treagus and my own experiences as a college student staying in dorms :)

There is something wrong with Jyn's thermostat.

She's checked the set temperature about ten times already in the past two hours and she's sure it's at 15°C, which is the minimum. The actual temperature it's showing, however, is 35°C. Thirty-five degrees! That's almost human body temperature. And it feels like it, too. She's already stripped down to a bra and shorts, and she's still sweating.

She's opened all her windows and it hasn't even helped. There's zero breeze. It's supposed to be winter, but her weather app says it's 20°C outside. It's absolutely ridiculous. Climate change and all that, she supposes.

It still doesn't explain why it's 35°C indoors, though.

She really doesn't have time for this. She has an assignment due in two hours, but it's way too hot to concentrate properly.

She jabs at the ‘set temperature’ button again and groans. Fuck student housing and its stupid broken shit.

Maybe one of her neighbours will know what to do about it. Even if not, the stairwell has to be cooler than her room.

She crosses the landing and knocks on the door opposite hers. No answer. Bodhi must be out.

Sighing, she troops downstairs. Is she imagining it, or is it getting hotter?

She raps on the door of one of the third-floor apartments, and thankfully, it opens.

“Uh, hi,” she says to the guy who opens it. She doesn't think she's seen him before, but then she doesn't really talk to anyone not on her floor anyway.

He looks at her quizzically.

“Um, I live directly upstairs. I think my thermostat's broken. I was wondering if you know what to do about it?”

“No, sorry. I just moved in yesterday,” he replies, frowning. “I'm here on exchange.”

“Oh,” she says, then it occurs to her to ask, “Is yours working? It feels kinda hot here too.”

He looks over his shoulder, presumably at his thermostat. “Yes, I think so.”

“What temperature do you have it at?”

“25,” he says.

“Oh my god.” Everything is clicking into place now. “Why do you have it at 25? That's hotter than it is outside! No wonder it's a fucking furnace in my room. Are you insane?”

“No. I'm just cold,” he snaps, scowling, and closes the door in her face.

“Dude!” she yells. What is with this guy?

She balls her hands into fists and stomps back upstairs. Screw this. She really needs to work.

She heads back upstairs to grab her laptop and makes a quick trip to the vending machine on the first floor for a cold drink. Alternating between taking swigs from it and holding the can against her neck, she balances her laptop on her knees in the stairwell between the first and second floors and tries her damndest to bang out something halfway decent. It’s still warm here, but it’s better than upstairs.

She clicks the ‘submit’ button three minutes before the deadline and waves her hands around in an attempt to dry off the sweat on them. At least this is done.

She shuts her laptop, tosses the can into the recycling bin, and climbs the stairs. Sure enough, it’s still 35 in her room. How is she going to get any sleep tonight?

Where is that guy even from and what’s his problem? Honestly, she didn’t even know you could turn the thermostat that high. She’d complain to the resident advisor, but he’s never in. This is what you get when you pick the cheapest apartment that can’t pay its staff. Next year, she’ll save on something else and rent a nicer place.

For now, all she can do is cuss the guy downstairs out while dabbing at her armpits with a damp towel. She’s a computing student. She can handle a night without sleep.

She spends the next day asleep in all her classes, but mercifully the temperature outside dips to 5 at night, and even if the floor is a little warm it’s a lot more bearable.

A couple days later, it occurs to her that she should probably apologise to Third Floor Guy. The weather is better now, and she’s getting used to the slightly heated floor. Being hot always makes her irritable and angry, but that’s not really a good excuse to be mean to some poor exchange student. She is under no delusion that she’s a good person, but she feels like she should try. After all, when she first moved in here two years ago, it helped that Bodhi was nice to her. She knows it’s partly because her dad told him to, but that’s fine.

She tells him as much over chips in his room, and he nods. “Yeah, I think you… you should. Doesn’t hurt to… be nice.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, okay. I'll… I'll leave the door… open. For moral… moral support.”

She takes a deep breath, reminds herself that it's normal if he reacts negatively, and troops down to the third floor.

Her hand hasn't even touched the door when she realises that it's been left a little ajar. She raps on the doorframe instead, and there is a soft, pained sound in reply.

“Hello?” she whispers, a little frightened. When she gets no answer, she pushes the door open.

Third Floor Guy is lying on the floor, and oh goodness fuck there is a lot of blood.

Shit shit shit shit shit fuck. She rushes to his side and touches his face. “Hello? Hello? What the fuck happened? Are you okay?”

He doesn't respond, and she looks around in panic, trying to figure out what he did to himself. There is a smudge of blood on the corner of the desk above him, and it looks like he hit his head on it. Holy shit.

“BODHI!” she bellows. “BODHI, CALL A FUCKING AMBULANCE!”

“WHAT?” his voice echoes down the stairs.

Third Floor Guy has a head wound, and it looks like it's still bleeding.

“GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE AND CALL AN AMBULANCE!” She tries very hard to recall whatever first aid knowledge she has, and gets up quickly, grabbing the quilt off the bed and wadding it up, pressing it to the guy's head.

Bodhi comes crashing into the room. “Ambulance called. Ho… shit.”

“Yeah,” she replies. A thought seizes her. “Oh god, what if he dies thinking I'm an asshole?”

“Don't say that!” Bodhi snaps. “Is he breathing?”

She checks. “I think…?”

“Okay. Okay. How… how long—”

“They should be here in seven minutes,” she says. “If BBC Sherlock wasn't bullshitting.”

Bodhi stares at her and takes a deep breath.

“Don't you start hyperventilating, or I'm going to too and we'll use up all the oxygen in here.”

He breathes out. “Right.”

In a few minutes the room is awhirl with paramedics and Bodhi's looking like he really wants to get out of here, but she feels compelled to make sure this poor bastard is all right.

“I'll go with him. Help clean up later?”

Bodhi grimaces and nods.

She wedges herself into the ambulance with the stretcher and studies the pale, wan face atop it. He is dark-haired, moustached, and very thin. He looks ill, and small, and she starts to feel really bad about shouting at him for being cold.

“Will he wake up?” she asks the paramedic who's fitting an oxygen mask on him.

“Depends,” they say, and she wants to throw something.

They make her stay in the waiting area while they bring him to god knows where, and she paces nervously, then looks up a Wikihow article on getting blood out of carpet and texts it to Bodhi.

Will come back to help once he's ok.

Third Floor Guy ends up needing a couple of transfusions and a huge bandage covering one eye, but the stare she receives from the uncovered one when she's allowed to see him is very much alert and hateful and immediately makes her shift uncomfortably.

“I wanted to say I'm sorry,” she tells him. “And then I found you in a pool of your own blood.”

He continues to stare at her the same way, and she wonders if he didn't understand or he's sustained some brain damage from the fall.

“You're a university student?” a nurse asks him.

He nods.

“What's your name and major?”

“Cassian Andor. Political science and mechanical engineering.”

“Oh no,” Jyn moans. “He's still addled in the head.”

The nurse completely ignores her, checking this against a file they're holding. “No cognitive impairment,” they say. “You're all right,” they add over their shoulder as they leave the room.

“Seriously?” She can't help herself.

Cassian Andor shrugs. “Double degree.”

“I'm sorry—”

“They say I have iron-deficiency anaemia. Which is why I feel so cold. I never noticed because I come from a tropical country. It was a bad fall, but I got lucky. I'll get better.”

“Oh,” she says, feeling even more idiotic and terrible. “I am so sorry.”

“I'm sorry,” he says. “It's okay that you're hot.”

“Don't apologise. It makes me feel worse.”

But he turns his face towards her and gives her a small, lopsided smile that does things to her insides, and it registers in her head what he's said.

“Bodhi from my floor is cleaning your blood out of your carpet,” she blurts, because she can't think of what else to say.

“Okay,” he says, and his smile widens. He is a sight to behold, she thinks. The white bandage in his dark hair, the smile on his pale lips, the flirty joke despite the gravity of the situation.

“I'm not sure you don't have cognitive impairment.”

He shrugs again. “Who cares?”