#I don’t know. I should probably start main tagging it so. people actually see it but. y’know-

[merrybloomwrites]

When The Wolves Come Out (Chapter 3)

Story Summary: When Y/N gets hired to play drums for One Direction, the last thing she expects is to find herself as part of their pack. Especially since it seems that they don’t want her there. Only time will tell if they’ll accept her, or if the omega will have to deal with rejection from the others.

Chapter Summary: Throughout rehearsals and the start of tour, the boys continue to keep their distance from Y/N, leading to her developing touch deprivation.

Previous chapters: One , Two

Word Count: 1.9K

Tags/CW: omega verse, omega reader, alpha Harry, alpha Zayn, alpha Louis, beta Niall, beta Liam, poly, cat calling, touch deprivation

AN: Normally I write longer chapters (like 3k-6K words) but I’m enjoying these shorter quicker chapters for this series. Feels like it works better, plus there’s less waiting time between posting, which I know I enjoy as a reader haha

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The beeping of your alarm slowly wakes you up, and you get ready hoping that today will be better than yesterday. It’s your first official rehearsal with the band, and you hope to win over the others by being able to show off your skill. If yesterday's meeting is anything to go by, you won’t be winning them over by your charming personality. Not when they’re apparently so determined to not let anyone get close to them. 

Just before leaving you pick up your bottle of scent neutralizers, about to methodically put them on before remembering the rules Simon had for you. He told you not to wear blockers, that they should always be able to pick up on your floral omega scent. You don’t really like this, as it makes you feel vulnerable, especially in a city you’re unfamiliar with, but you follow the rule anyway. 

The rehearsal space is a bit farther than the offices were, so you leave early to make sure you give yourself enough time to walk there. A wrong turn takes you down an alley that leads to a side street. Checking your map app shows this will get you where you need to be, so you follow it rather than turning around. 

The main street had been loud and filled with people, most probably on their morning commute. But this way is quiet, practically deserted. You nearly jump out of your skin when a voice shouts out, “Hey pretty thing!”

Turning around you see a man behind you. You can get just a whiff of his scent but it’s enough to know he’s an alpha. Internally cursing yourself for taking a back road, you start walking faster. 

The footsteps behind you grow louder, and you know that the man has picked up his pace to get closer to you. Now panicking, you start jogging down the road. You just need to get to the end of the street so you can turn back to the busier part of the city and you’ll be safe. 

Just as you get there he seems to admit defeat, and angrily shouts out, “You shouldn’t be wandering all alone with a sweet scent like that!” 

Doing your best to ignore that comment, you finish your walk and arrive at the rehearsal space. You try to compose yourself, but you’re still shaky, and you know your scent has probably turned a bit sour from the fear you’d just been feeling. 

After taking some deep breaths you walk into the room. Niall, Louis, Harry, Zayn, and Liam are all there, and they turn to look at you. After quick good mornings they go back to what they’d been doing. Not wanting to bother anyone, you head to the drums and take out the music you’d been sent. 

As you flip through the pages, you sense eyes on you. Looking up you see Louis staring your way, his eyes calculating, even a little bit worried. Like he can sense something is wrong. Maybe he does have some alpha instincts in him. But instead of coming over to check if you’re okay, he simply shrugs and goes to talk with Niall. 

Finally the rest of the band and the music director arrive and it’s time to actually get to work. It’s a bit chaotic at first, but it doesn’t take long for everyone to click. By the time you break for lunch, any negative feelings have gone away, replaced now by excitement. 

You grab food and sit at one of the tables, soon being joined by the boys. At first you think this is an improvement in your friendship with them. But then they start talking among themselves, barely acknowledging that you’re there. 

Rehearsals last a few more hours, and everyone’s ready to head home by the time you’re dismissed. As you head outside you’re surprised by Zayn saying, “Good work today.”

“Yea, you’re really talented,” Harry adds. 

“Glad you’re on the team,” Louis then says before all five of them get into their car. 

While walking home you think about that interaction. The words were nice, even if they seemed almost reluctant to say them. Sighing to yourself, you accept that for now, you’re looking at an amicable working relationship at best. 

You just hope Simon can accept that as well. 

Weeks pass in a flurry of planning, rehearsing, fittings, and numerous meetings to make sure everything is ready for the upcoming tour. 

A few days before setting out, Louis gets called in to meet with Simon once again. 

“Y/N will be joining you on your bus,” he states with no preamble. 

“Excuse me?” Louis says, shocked by this news. 

“She’s an omega. She’ll need to be close to alphas while touring.”

“She’s an omega. What if she slips into heat? Or one of us goes into rut? It’s not safe!”

“You know that won’t happen,” Simon answers. “You’re all on the best suppressants, not a chance you’ll fall into a cycle unexpectedly. You just don't want her around, and to be honest, I'm disappointed in you boys. You’ve rejected her since she got here, pushed her away, ostracized her.”

“We didn’t ask for her to be here. She’s a great drummer, and we respect her as a musician. But as we said before, she isn’t going to just push her way into our pack.”

“And as I’ve said before, you cannot be a pack without her. She will be on your bus. Maybe the time together will open your mind.”

Louis leaves that day feeling frustrated, like his words don’t matter. He gets home and shares the news with the rest. 

“I don’t like this,” Zayn says. 

“Seems like a bad idea,” Harry agrees. 

“What if having her around triggers one of your ruts?” Liam asks nervously. 

“I said that to Simon, he said it won’t happen cause of our meds,” Louis replies, clearly still agitated from the meeting. Niall moves close to him, tucking to the alphas side in an attempt to comfort and calm him. It helps, but Louis suddenly thinks that it might be nice to have the true calming pheromones of an omega when he’s upset. 

He shakes away the thought a moment later and instead enjoys a night with his pack. 

He manages to put the news of their bus mate out of his mind for the following days, but as they load up to get on the road there’s no denying it. 

“D’ya think you could wear some scent blockers?” Louis asks you the first night. 

“Not allowed,” you reply curtly. 

“What do you mean not allowed?” Harry asks. 

“I mean that Simon told me I can’t wear them. It’s one of my rules.”

“He’s such a wanker,” you hear Zayn say under his breath. 

Not wanting to cause any problems, you get into your bunk and try to sleep. Even with all the stress you’re feeling, the familiar lull of the bus driving down the highway helps you fall asleep in minutes. 

The next morning is tense, and you can feel the boys' annoyance at your presence. The logical human part of you knows it must be difficult to have someone new, especially someone with a strong scent, invade their bus. The omega part of you is less understanding. It’s on edge, upset at the rejection of the others. 

Luckily you arrive at the first venue, and you no longer have to worry about your dynamic with the others. Now it’s time to just worry about your job, about putting on a perfect show for the fans. 

And that’s just what all of you do. Opening night is a success, and everyone heads back to the bus on a high. You’re even invited to hang with them in the lounge as everyone comes down from the adrenaline of performing. 

For a little while, everything feels right. But then it shifts once more and you find yourself being pushed out of the conversation again. Not only that, but you watch as the boys huddle closer together. Liam rests his head on Louis’ chest, and Niall finds himself sandwiched between Zayn and Harry. The betas look perfectly content, and your omega cries out for that kind of affection. 

Not wanting to broadcast your feelings to the others, you rush out a good night and head to your bunk. You spray scent neutralizers on the curtain that separates you from the rest of the bus, hoping it will block your scent from getting out. 

More than that, you don’t want the boys knowing about the scented clothes from your former pack mates. You still have a couple from both Kevin and Joe, and you pull out one shirt from each of them. You place them by your pillow so their scent will be close to you. It’s a sad imitation of a nest, but it’s the best you can do. 

As weeks pass you start feeling drained. You write it off as exhaustion from the constant work and travel. But then you start to get shaky, cold, itchy, not to mention the headaches that seem to get worse daily. 

The European leg of tour ends, and you all spend a few weeks in South America for a run of shows there. After the first few days you finally admit that you’re experiencing touch deprivation. It shocks you, since you’re constantly surrounded by alphas. Their scents around you should be enough to keep this all at bay. 

But their constant rejection of you must be distressing your omega more than you’d realized. It’s never that they did anything major. They were never mean, or rude. They included you at mealtimes, would check in and see how you were doing. But it was always them just being polite. 

You’d also learned the dynamic between the five of them was deeper than you originally thought. On numerous occasions you’d walked in on them being physically intimate with each other. You’d seen duos, trios, even walked in on all five of them on the floor together sharing kisses. 

Even though you hadn’t expected that, it didn’t bother you. Part of you was happy for them, glad they had one another, and that they all seemed to have a healthy relationship. 

The part that did bother you was the jealousy you felt. You wanted that type of intimacy as well. Every time you watched the alphas dote on Niall or Liam, you’d feel another pang of jealousy rip through you. It’s not like you were looking for a relationship, but seeing how happy they were, it felt like they were rubbing it in your face. 

Plus the pheromones. They were overwhelming. Especially whenever the boys would get intimate. That always led to you hiding in your bunk and breaking the no scent blockers rule. Anything to prevent the others from picking up on the sweet smell of your slick. 

As the symptoms of touch deprivation worsen, you count down the days until your first US show. It’s at MetLife Stadium, and you consider it your hometown show. Your family and previous pack members will be there to support you. If you can just make it to New Jersey, you can spend time with Kevin and Joe. Hopefully being around the alphas will help with the depri. 

And hopefully your bandmates will accept you as one of their own before it’s too late.

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AN: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! The next one should see the dynamic between reader and the band starting to shift, which I’m excited for!

[maxdibert]

Sev's fandom is so vast that it’s incredibly rewarding to feed my obsessive hyperfocus on him. I discovered that he has many ships, which was surprising but not unpleasant. Snulciber, Snegulus, and Snetunia were the ones that caught my attention the most as a newcomer, especially Snegulus and Snulciber. I love the idea of chaotic Slytherins starting a relationship based on mutual misunderstandings and actually gaining something meaningful from it, but unfortunately, I’ve never found anything along those lines.

What do you think about Severus and Regulus or Severus and Mulciber? Do you think there’s good potential there or not?

I also came across Severus ships with the Marauders, and although I don’t personally like them, I still find them unsatisfying. I hate how, in long fanfics, Severus’s trauma is never properly explored. It feels like he always has to swallow everything that happened to him in favor of the couple’s development. I wish there were more angst, self-hatred, and revulsion, both from Severus and his chosen partner. It feels unrealistic when they don’t allow his character to carry his trauma and deal with it at his own pace. Not to mention the half-hearted apologies I’ve seen from the Marauders in some stories. What do you think about that?

I also came across fem!Severus tags, and I must admit I’m hooked. It’s a shame I haven’t found any good fanfics about it. What’s your opinion on that?

As I said, the fandom and the ideas people have surrounding him are so fascinating to me. There’s so much potential to explore.

The Severus/Mulciber ship is as old as the creation of the continents hahaha. Look, I’ve always been fine with bisexual Severus, especially with that line Rowling mentioned about Severus wanting Lily but also wanting Mulciber. It has potential, and canonically, they got along, and Severus saw something in Mulciber that he desired — however you choose to interpret that. So, honestly, I don’t think it’s a crack ship at all!

I find it curious that people in the new Marauders fandom assume Regulus would have gotten along badly with Severus, when it’s far more likely they had a cordial relationship. Maybe Regulus was even nice to him just to spite his brother. Honestly, I can totally see a scenario where, after Sirius ran away from home, Regulus confronted him at some point when he was bothering Severus — just for the sheer pleasure of annoying him. I’m pretty sure nobody could handle Sirius Black, but if his brother stepped in, Sirius might think twice, simply because Regulus would know all his weaknesses.

It’s not a pairing I’ve thought much about, but hey, why not? It makes a hundred times more sense than Jegulus, and in the end, they were only a year apart, shared the same house, and probably had mutual friends. And Sirius would have had an aneurysm if he ever found out they were or had been involved — which is a bonus for shipping them, hahahahaha.

Severus pairings with any of the Marauders seem problematic to me for obvious reasons, since shipping a victim with their bully isn’t something I’m particularly fond of. That said, I understand Snirius because they have a lot in common while having diametrically opposed personalities. They love in very similar ways, and both have explosive tempers in their own ways, so the dynamic could be really interesting if handled well. My issue with Snirius is that the fics I’ve read don’t really explore Severus’s trauma or the consequences it would have on a relationship. If I were to write about that pairing, it would be a long fic where 60% of the plot is pure drama about how Sirius’s past as Severus’s bully is the main problem in the relationship — because it should be. The few fics I’ve read have left me pretty unsatisfied in that regard because Sirius repents way too quickly, and everything is resolved as if nothing happened, or the issue isn’t even properly addressed. Sorry, but that’s just not realistic.

I can’t see Snupin, though — I have something personal against Lupin, ironically, because he’s the one people have been headcanoning as queer since the dawn of time. But to me, he’s the most straightforwardly, absolutely, and completely heterosexual character because there’s nothing more straight for a man than leaving a pregnant woman and running off. For that reason alone, I can’t see him with anyone but a woman. Sorry, he’s the Ted Mosby of the wizarding world.

And with James, it’s just a no. Like, absolutely not. If you want an enemies-to-lovers dynamic, you already have Sirius, who’s at least mentally unwell and deeply depressed. James and Severus have nothing in common personality-wise — they’re completely incompatible.

[myuhpencil]

✦ Ena x Coral Glasses Fanfic! ✦

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Some small notes :

This fic is pretty short as well and i tried my best with it ( ˙ᗜ˙ ) Basically the plot is Coral tags along with Ena to finish a job and Coral realizes that she has a crush on her (ó﹏ò｡) Enjoy!

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A Realization

Coral Glasses was drowning in work. Literally. One paper after the next, her head was starting to hurt printing them all out. She had decided to try and get some work done, as she felt like she had been spending too much time away from the sole reason she was in this wacky world. While she sorted through the papers and read what she could on one of the docks by the red sea, she took a heavy sigh. “Maybe it’s a good thing that there are no distractions to take me away from this… now I can actually finish what I need to do…” She took one more sigh as she continued to say to herself aloud, “maybe I should have taken that other job…” She turned her head around to find Ena emerging from the Lonely Door.

Ena had a small notebook in her hand with a determined type of look in her eyes. Coral continued to watch as she had a habit of people watching, until Ena noticed her gaze and went trotting up to her.

“Hello Ms. Coral! Those are a lot of papers around you, I see. How are you doing on this fine evening?” Her red side flashed her a smile, and Coral couldn’t help but slightly smile back, although it disappeared quickly. “I’m, i’m sorry, Ena, but i’m really busy right now… you should probably go before I get distracted by you… or, or I mean just distracted… sorry…” Coral started to realize how much more nervous she felt around Ena, but she didn’t understand why. I mean, she gets pretty nervous around everyone, but with HER it was just… a different type of nervous Coral couldn’t explain.

Her eye wandered back to the notebook. “Um, but before you go i’m kinda curious.. what’s the notebook for? Do you have another job to do?” Ena giggled at her question and nodded. “Indeed! One of those pink bubbly fellows is setting up a candy store down in Lonely Door… he supposes that if people are going to the… bathroom, then they would want a snack on the way. Anyways, I am always looking for opportunities to help fellow entrepreneurs, so I took it on!” She then showed a page of her notebook that was written on to Coral. “All I need to do is get ingredients for their candy. I need some of the red sea liquid, those fish legs, *which they have provided me with a fishing rod,* and some coins from the casino downstairs. Shouldn’t be a problem, hm?”

Coral nodded and looked down at her papers. “Well, i’m wishing you luck with that, Ena. Let me know how it goes next time you come to visit.” Ena continued to smile until it slowly faded away, as if she was caught up in a thought. Then, a grin reappeared on her red side. “Ms. Coral, I insist you come and help me with this task. It would be fun, and it really shouldn’t take all that long. What do you say?” After hearing her request, Coral quickly shook her head and started to sweat. “Oh, oh, you know, um… I have too much work to finish.. and you know full well how I, um, run off with you a lot.”

Ena switched to her meanie side as she rolled her eyes. “Come ON four eyes, it’s not like you always take breaks and NEVER do your work.” Coral thought to herself. The main reason she hasn’t been doing her responsibilities was because of Ena. She always would ask her to go on trips and errands. Although Coral really enjoyed those outings, she thought it would be for the best if it was less often. Though, one more trip might not be so bad as her printer-head was pounding.

She rolled her eye back at Ena’s and replied as she started to get up from the dock. “I guess you’re right, Ena, but make sure it doesn’t take too long, you got it?” Ena switched back to her red side. “Yes, I completely understand! Why don’t you start with the fishing and i’ll grab some of the red sea liquid.” she nodded happily as she handed her the fishing rod that was provided with the job listing. Coral smirked as she waved her hand saying, “Oh, I thought I told you, but i’m, i’m really bad at fishing.” Although she stated her lack of skill, she grabbed the rod and put some bait Ena had provided on the tip of the hook. While Ena got on all fours at the edge of the dock to get the liquid, Coral casted the rod into the red ocean.

“So, uh, how have your side jobs been going? Have you gotten any closer to finding the boss?” Coral tried her best to make some small talk. She hated awkward silence even though she knew Ena never really minded. “It’s been going splendid! Although they’ve only made me get a little closer to the boss, and some of the jobs I have been doing have made me so exhausted. Creatures do love overworking themselves, am I right?” Coral smiled at the remark as she replied, “You know it.”

After some pondering Coral quietly said under her breath,

“I wish we had less work to have more time to spend together…”

Coral covered her mouth as she turned her head away from Ena. “I-I mean just more time to do activities in general, in general I wish I was… we had… less work.” Coral berated her inner self for saying something that might have been taken the wrong way. Ena glanced at her face that was somewhat flushed with embarrassment. That sentence made her feel delighted. So delighted that she didn’t even realize Coral got a bite and was struggling to reel it in. But Ena wondered if what Coral said was sincere, why did she always try and brush her off when she attempted to spend time with her?

Coral caught her breath as she held the single fish leg in her hand. “Got.. got one!” Ena snapped back to reality and clapped her hands together. “That’s great news!” She suddenly switched to her white side yelling, “Now come on!! We need three more, get back to work!” Coral scrunched up her face at Ena’s and repeated the process to get more fish legs. It had been a while since Ena had finished getting the liquid in her possession, so she stood next to Coral and watched her get the rest of the legs. Ena grinned as her salesman personality spoke.

“See? Not so bad! You really underestimate yourself, Ms. Coral.”

Coral sneered at her as she handed the legs to her, but her meanie side refused to take them, stating, “I’m already holding the damn liquid! Help out, wont you?!” Coral playfully whacked her. “I hate how slimy these things feel, and, and i’ve been helping!” After some friendly arguing, Ena lost and ended up holding both items.

“Last on the list is to get a bag full of those coins that are won in the casino… shouldn’t be a problem either! Although it will probably be a bit tougher as we need to convince one of these fellows to give up their prize money…” As Coral walked with Ena towards the stairs leading to the underground, she wondered how awful the candy must taste if they’re using COINS as an ingredient… it must be a choking hazard to some. Once they reached their destination, Coral motioned Ena to follow her.

She walked up to a creature with human legs and a tree for his upper body. He had a small bag of coins next to him. Coral took a deep breath before talking with the man. “Um, mister? I know you’re gambling away your life, but would we, uh, be able to make some type of offer to get half of those coins you have there?” The creature stomped his foot with full force which caused her to jump. “What? WHAT? Give up MY coins??? I sacrificed my non-existent KIDNEYS to this machine, my SOUL to this machine, and it’s paid off! I HAVE 10 COINS!! And WHO is that behind you? JEENA??? AGAIN?? OF COURSE she set you up to this, I hate you guys!”

Just then, Ena jumped to be in front of Coral as her meanie side yelled. “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE YELLING AT US LIKE THAT?! We just need 5 of them for a dumb job to help some business owner get their STUPID candy store OPEN!!” In response, the tree with legs stomped his foot even quicker. “CANDY STORE??? WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST SAY SO, I LOVE CANDY, I would do ANYTHING to get some! Hey, if you can get me an all time pass to that candy store and I don’t have to pay a THING… then all of the coins are yours!” Coral watched as the whole thing unfolded. She had a tough time budding into certain conversations and usually preferred to watch. After some silence, Ena’s red side spoke. “I suppose that could work… the store is located in Lonely Door for you to visit, and i’ll be sure to let the owner know about this new star costumer!” “MAKE SURE MY PICTURE IS ON THE FRONT WINDOW!!!”

Coral continued to gaze as the man exchanged the change to Ena. Then when they were finished, she waved at the pair of legs as she turned to her friend. “Looks like we are done here! Now let’s go before that man changes his mind…” She giggled as her red arm grabbed onto Coral’s wrist. Coral flinched at the touch, and her heart rate increase as she and Ena fled the casino.

When they got to the Lonely Door, Ena checked off the writing in her small notebook. Coral tried to catch her breath, both caused by running and that weird increase in heart rate. Was she having a heart attack? What just happened? “After you, Ms. Coral!” Coral tried to look up at Ena, but she got a weird feeling in her stomach when she locked eyes with her. She fixed her posture and struggled to keep her composure. “Th-thanks…” Why was she losing her cool? Was it because of Ena? If so . . .

Why?

It took a few minutes for both of them to reach the other side of the door, but when they did, Ena led the way to the shop. Coral could see it in the distance: a small, makeshift building next to that crazy gumball machine. Ena held the door for Coral who entered first. Her weird nausea didn’t go away. “Ah, welcome back! You have my ingredients, yay!” The bubbly owner put their hands in the air. Ena proceeded to exchange the ingredients for 7 pieces of candy that looked like real eyeballs. “Splendid, thank you! Oh, and before I forget, to get those coins we made a deal with a man that he could get whatever he would like for free. I’m terribly sorry, it was the only way!”

Coral observed Ena as she got scolded by the owner. Ena wasn’t completely paying attention though, as she was too busy sorting her candies into color coordination.

Just then, Coral felt an intense wave of emotions. Her stomach felt like it was doing more and more backflips, and her heart was racing. Her palms started to sweat as well as her face, and she started to feel hot. Was she getting sick? No, no… this didn’t feel like a sickness… but what else was causing this? Maybe…

Coral had felt love?

After this realization, she froze. Ena? Out of all the creatures here? But, this really can’t be… she must be sick… but Ena was all she could think about. Everything about her was on her mind. Her face, her voice, her laughter, her-

Shit. She really was in love.

After Ena was done getting yelled at, they waved each other goodbye. She turned to Coral, her smile fading as she realized something was wrong. “Are you doing alright, Ms. Coral? You’re sweating a lot… and your face has finally gained color!” Coral panicked. “I’m-i’m, um, i-m fine! I just, don’t feel too… good… I-I’m sorry, I need to go home…”

Ena frowned as she never liked seeing someone she cared for in pain, although in reality Coral was really okay physically. “Then let me walk you home!” Coral quickly shook her head until Ena continued. “Oh, I insist! You helped me a lot today, so let me at least walk you back to your home.” She couldn’t respond. Ena went to grab her wrist again. Coral’s head spun.

The walk to her house was awkward to say the least. Ena tried to make small talk, but Coral struggled to spit out the smallest of sentences which she later would beat herself up over. Once they got to the dock leading to her house, Coral finally spoke a real sentence. “I think… I can go on from here.. um, today was, was a lot of fun… th-thank you, Ena.” Ena slowly let go of her wrist as she tilted her head and smiled. “Yes, thank you for tagging along! I hope you feel better, Ms. Coral. If you ever need my help with anything, you have my number.” Coral watched as she waved one last time before heading off in search for something else for her to do. Once the coast was clear, Coral ran home as quickly as she could.

She shut her door and took off her blazer, flopping down on her couch and groaning. The feeling in her stomach was less intense, but she could still feel her head tingling. Ena was still on her mind. Was this really okay? I mean, it would explain some of her recent actions towards her, but was she sure she was really in…

You know. Love?

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The end! (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭

Might make a pt. 2, might not, we’ll see :P

[yunieful]

continuous symphony (ver 1.1)

synopsis: referring to the actual tender moment for sylus. it's just written differently to fit with this specific AU/original character he is around. it wouldn't leave my mind. it demanded to be written.

tags: some violence in the start, wanderer shit u kno, angst, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, named main character, autistic character, alternate universe - canon divergence, idk how much divergence there is (a bit, a lot, a bit), implied/referenced self-harm, reincarnation, aware of past lives, aware of different universes, "if the men find out we can shapeshift, they are going to tell the church", we're in mc's head A LOT sorry, sylus may be ooc ehhh pairing: sylus/original character, sylus/main character (?) (genuinely the age old question for this au) word count: 4.8k

posted on ao3 too.

a/n: you don't need to understand all of it (there's more detailed explanations on the ao3 one). i just wanna cross-post or w/e it's called

Sometimes, Nova swears, Captain Jenna doesn’t want to give her the high-risk missions. Not that she doubts her captain, but it’s almost like it’s expected of her to do something reckless and dangerous. Maybe there is a possibility if it’s a mission to do with Aether cores. But she’d hope with high-risk missions—that have nothing to do with those—it is just some worry that has nothing to do with her being reckless because, well, they’re high-risk missions.

Maybe in another life I was this reckless, but I didn’t have a kid in those other lives, I’m sure.

This isn’t the best time to think of recording what lines up and what doesn’t, however. Besides, if Xavier is practically MIA, there is always Saph who can come with her. The others have…things they’re doing, that she’s aware they can’t pull themselves away from right now.

With a sharp zing, the Wanderer crumbles to nothing with her sword clutched tightly.

She glances up to see a familiar white raven fly, before glancing down and using her hearing and smell to determine if there are any more Wanderers.

With another quick glance back and forth, left and right, she shuts her eyes and looks deep within. Her core isn’t needed for this, but something else behind the curtain. A gentle bark is heard next to her, and she’s not surprised. She heard the padded steps run after her once he likely cleared his own enemies.

She crouches down. “Good boy.” Fidelis pants and wags his tail as she pats his head. Her eyes keep note some of him is becoming misty. So she mutters something, and from her view he looks completely solid. (Or as normal as a dog can get, probably.)

Her stamina is different from regular humans, but she still has to rest and take a moment before continuing on. Judging by the continuing flight of the white raven, she doesn’t have to be mobile for the time being.

Though, even if Fidelis is going to keep watch as well, none of her body can relax. There is always the potential of a Wanderer having, well, literally wandered away. That they were just licking their wounds before making another attack.

Or something else could manifest that she’s very familiar with that not many people are. She hopes nothing dark will form around here, but she can’t deny it’d be easier to handle here with no civilians around.

Still, if they did manifest, it’d just tell her that this place is dangerous for a different reason.

Fidelis barks gently again, and she grumbles.

“I should answer it.” The phone that’s been vibrating in her pocket for a few seconds now. “But also? I don’t want to.”

Yet she pulls it out of her pocket and stares at the caller ID. With her free hand, she checks the results of a Protofield scan. After doing that, she finally decides to answer the phone.

“What took you so long?”

She glances up, fixated on something, and then she turns herself around as she slowly stands on her feet. “Oh, I don’t know.” The smallest of smiles fight to leave her face but stays where it is. “Maybe I have this thing called a job.”

She likes to think he’s smirking on the other end. “I see this job leaves you vulnerable.”

Right. Something’s up his sleeve. “Does it now?”

She turns back around, fixating where she looked before, quietly noting the red dot near her leg.

Immediately, the red dot forms circles around her. Yet her eyes don’t follow it, knowing it's just to make her dizzy and irritated. That he’s messing with her.

Instead, she clutches her phone tightly, feeling something slowly prickling her spine and making something deep within vibrate and hiss.

“Very funny,” she says softly, at least, to try and be a good sport.

But then, the next few moments happen slowly. At least, it feels like it. She conjures a throwing knife hidden on her person, quick to turn around. Fidelis barks sharply and runs behind her.

A red laser beam barely breezes past her cheek at something that growls. There’s a shrill scream only a raven could make, certainly not a crow.

When everything sets back into motion, she makes a noise in discomfort.

“Sorry, Fidelis,” her leg stings, which has her slowly crumpling to the ground, “but I think Sylus wins this one.”

Her reflexes, to her shame, were just a few seconds too slow. Fidelis hadn’t fared much better.

And the white raven releases a few croaks that one would think sound like laughing, but she knows well enough they’re the grumbles of self-chastising.

“Are you done gawking? Stand up.”

Not that she enjoys following anyone’s commands, but even if she could, her leg gives resistance. Her lips form a thin line and she can’t help but growl slightly, hoping it doesn’t sound too animalistic. She tries her hardest not to get hurt or injured in any way, for Nyx’s sake, if not because of a certain doctor.

But with high risk missions—

“Your leg is bleeding,” his words stop her before she can fully reprimand herself.

He can’t prevent her nails from digging into her palms, though. At least for a second.

“I should have moved away instead of attacking.” Already she can hear the lesson about the importance of dodging run through her head. “And reacted faster.” Strive to be better, stronger.

His footsteps continue until he’s in front of her. Some part of her wonders if he wanted to help her up or just pick her up, since she has difficulty standing—who knows how it’ll be once she tries walking?

Yet he does nothing except crouch to her level. No black and red mist taking over her to force her into his arms. No rough tugs and pulls that, at one point, made her snap and bite deep into his arm—

“You’re a good hunter.” He extends out a hand, silently asking for her permission, her consent. “Not a perfect one, and that’s fine.”

With the way he says all that, she can’t help but narrow her eyes. They narrow further when inspecting his hand. Funny how I almost bit that once.

“Maybe to someone like you,” her words don’t hold much bite, with how soft she says them. “But it makes all the difference to someone else.”

Someone who’s had to be merciless, as the Viis teach with combat, especially against anyone not of their kind. Someone who’s lost a dear friend, and caused another to lose an eye. Someone who’s had heart problems since she was young, fighting to live as long as possible, so that her child could have both parents instead of one, unlike herself.

There’s a high-pitched whine, and she blinks before glancing at Fidelis.

She doesn’t even need to guess what he’s thinking.

With a small grumble, she grabs Sylus’s hand, and he smiles.

Strange.

Only because it feels, maybe, that he’s thanking her for taking his hand. So he can now hoist her into his arms while she does everything in her power to not explode from the calamity of emotions she experiences just from being this close to him again.

Leather and blood fill her nostrils, along with…it’s not exactly something burnt, but it reminds her of ashes and fire both. A part of her hates how it’s not repulsive—it’s comforting. It bothers something else behind a curtain of hers she always forces closed whenever possible. Why must his being threaten that curtain? Why must anyone threaten that one? Any more that are added as potential threats just make this all the worse, particularly for them. 

Sure, it hurts her, but she’s used to it by now. She has to be. Then maybe what rattles her ribcage so violently will stop, and she won’t ever have to remember again.

Instead of struggling to get out of his arms, she clings to him. She dares to be selfish, when she knows she shouldn’t be, and that it’ll only make it worse. But he’s warm, and she even feels…safe.

The fact he’s made no remarks about how he’s clinging to her or anything else to tease her with is strange. Sylus is not the type to miss an opportunity to tease anyone. What? Does he just know she sometimes has absolutely nothing to say? That there are always chances she can become nonverbal? Is he expecting her to say something?

Social situations continue to confuse me.

“I have a question,” she mutters, eyes fixed on the moon in the distance.

The response is quick, casual. Inviting. “Ask.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere. Did you come all the way here to help me?”

His steady footsteps are listened to for a beat, while her jaw tightens.

“Are you really that important?”

God, I hope not.

She can’t be. Shouldn’t be.

Her sharp ears pick up the flap of wings. Already she knows based on the speed and what she senses, that it’s still the white raven keeping up with them. Mephisto’s wings make a different sound to her. (Not to mention he’s also a crow, not a raven.)

“Today, I attended a jewelry auction.”

A breath of relief escapes her, and her jaw relaxes just a bit.

“I didn’t know jewelry auctions were your thing,” she says.

At times, she thinks no auction is “his thing” unless he gets to blow it up in the end, like the time she and Saph were with him in the N109 Zone.

“They aren’t. I returned empty-handed.” Before she can even attempt to quip with something about any explosions, he continues. “And then I stumbled upon you. I would think that’s more surprising.”

It would have been surprising, up to the point she could sense him from afar. From the exact mark his red dot from his laser beam came from. And it’s highly likely he knew that she could see him or knew where he was. Being able to sense others' auras and the like has never been difficult. His gaze burns, but it’s an exact spot, and it doesn’t hurt. Not like other looks that truly burn her in some way. His gaze is always at her, but sometimes she thinks it’s past her. Again, towards that damned curtain she truly has to keep shut, unlike others.

He shouldn’t be looking there, just as much as she’s trying not to look at his own curtain.

Hard to do when she swears he wants her to peek.

“I guess it’s destiny.” Her words are dry and flat for the most part. There’s maybe a hint of humor, but it’s bitter for her. Destiny. Fate. Such laughable words. They mean everything and nothing. Even the white raven croaks, this time in genuine laughter. Any bitterness sensed is either slightly or just imagined by her.

Sylus catches on immediately. “Do you think it’s easy to make me feel touched?”

Of course not.

If it had ever been that easy…a crow and a dove would not fly together.

“No.”

That’s all she says out loud.

The longer they walk, the more time passes. Exhaustion starts seeping into her bones. Her leg isn’t really bothering her, however. Not totally surprising, as Viis have learned to be resilient and have higher pain tolerance than humans do. They’re made to survive, from what little is known about their history (and she is very aware humans know little about Viis).

Just because she can’t feel it, though, doesn’t mean it’s alright. In fact, it makes her wary. If she had trouble standing, there is no way her leg is in great shape. She’ll probably have to do desk work again, and she feels like she’s barely had any time out on the field since her last injury.

Her nails dig into her palms again, and she doesn’t care if they bleed at all.

(They already have, many times before, even not by her doing.)

“Your dog hasn’t been trailing after us for a long time now,” Sylus notes, making her stop digging her nails into her palms. “Just the raven.”

It’s hard not to roll her eyes, because he knows very well who that raven is. And he dares pretend to just notice them too. Tch.

She doesn’t even bother to be completely irritated. Just releases a sigh that’s irritated.

“Can I ask you another question?” Because she’s not going to answer about Fidelis. The raven is enough.

Without even having to look, she can imagine he’s smirking at her annoyance. “Go ahead.”

“I’m tired. Do you mind if I close my eyes for a bit?”

“If I say I do, will you stay awake?”

Her eyes are alright shut while leaning against him. “No.” Her question had been asked out of politeness.

Suddenly his voice is extremely soft, bordering on vulnerability. “A wounded person might never wake up again if they fall asleep.”

That has her eyes snap open, chest contracting tightly and sharply.

“Why are you so worried? I just want to rest for a bit. I won’t die.”

“In your current state, you might not wake up at all!”

It’s only for a few seconds, but it’s enough to make her feel like she’s forgotten to breathe. To have cold, icy needles spread throughout her fingers and up her arms. To flash back to that open field, to those different times.

To peek through that curtain, just for a few seconds—

Put it back.

“Nova.”

She straightens in his arms. If he tries to talk about the way she trembles or is unevenly breathing, she will ignore it. This is a line she refuses to cross or let be crossed. Not with him. Not with them. Only others that know are allowed. Not. Him.

“I’m going to get some rest,” it’s forced out, so it comes out sharp. But she doesn’t care. She doesn’t even want to imagine how he’s looking at her right now. What he’s feeling. “Stop messing with me.”

As she shuts her eyes, she can’t decide if she’s pleading or commanding him to stop.

His chuckles lighten her heart, perhaps even soften it. Soften it from the world that is hardening her and making her feel cold and containing no light.

“That song you played…. It’d be nice if you could play it again.”

She can’t remember too well if she had been silent, or if she quipped something in return. Something like, “You always have impeccable timing.”

Either way, she takes those solemn steps towards the pipe organ. The halls echo, and she slowly, delicately moves her hands to rest on top of those keys.

And she plays.

She plays the beginning of a song, born from her mind and soul, as many things are. And she lets it flow, feeling at ease, finding it much easier to always demonstrate and show and play—so much easier than speaking, talking. Words can be much harder to say than letting her fingers touch the organ keys and play. Play what she feels.

It is easy to recite what she’s been taught. What’s been ingrained since the beginning of this her life. Yet she wanted to play what was hers.

Deep inside her chest, it makes her darkened, hardened heart soar.

Nova’s ears ring, and her eyes shut tighter behind her eyelids till she sees stars.

She swears it just makes her ears ring more, and she’s forced to open her eyes with a grumble while covering her ears. (She’s thankful to realize that she’s still a human and the disguise didn’t fall apart.)

Based on the intricate decorations accompanied with specs of dust, they’re either old or haven’t been given much cleaning.

There are also murals along the walls and prayer candles around too.

The damned bell ringing finally stops, and she lets out a small breath of relief, struggling to sit up.

“Did you sleep well?”

She sharply turns her gaze to him, which is better than acting spooked by him perceiving her being awake immediately.

Sylus smirks, like he knew she was really spooked more than anything else. “Then again, I probably know the answer.”

There is a strong temptation to throw something at him. But all she clutches is a blazer draped over her. Past that, she can see her wounded leg has been bandaged too. Making sure she wasn’t cold in the night, taking the time to bandage her when she was out. Her jaw tenses as she swallows thickly, hoping she doesn’t look as flushed as she feels.

“You—” You didn’t have to do any of this. You could have just dropped me off somewhere to get help and been on your way. I’m not….

He raises a brow at her, waiting patiently, and that just makes her stiffen further. It’s hard to be around people who don’t push her to say what she wants to say. With others, that just makes her want to clam up instead of saying anything at all. Meanwhile, he just waits.

How long do you keep waiting?

She swallows thickly.

Waiting for me?

“Thank you,” she finally gets out. It feels too loud in this church, especially with the bells no longer ringing.

“Formalities?” His tone is slightly amused, and it takes so much—once more, with feeling—to not roll her eyes. “I’m not exactly used to them coming from you.”

With a retort planned, the words die before she can even speak them.

In the distance, she sees a pipe organ, in the center of the church.

The good news is it seems he didn’t expect her to say anything back at all. So his focus turned back to the pipe organ. It gave her time to close her mouth and try to hide any bit of shock or dread shown on her face.

Is this where fate laughs at her? Is it perhaps punishing her for her failure in not becoming injured? Sure, it could be argued all the Wanderers were killed in the end anyway. They won’t hurt anyone else, but it just doesn’t stop her critiquing herself.

When she stands, thankfully she’s able to put weight on her leg now. The blazer slides off, and she’s quick to grab it and make sure it doesn’t touch the floor. Instead, it rests carefully on the pew where she’d been sleeping.

It’s like the dream all over again. Almost.

Her steps are slow when she makes her way down the aisle. The faint morning rays peek through the window to outline Sylus’s figure. Something flashes through her mind, bringing back that obsidian, the red, the scales—

She blinks, and clears her throat quietly as she continues on, quietly noting how the golden glow makes Sylus look like divinity. Which is very ironic, considering.

It’s just the two of them within this church, so either the white raven is hiding here somewhere, or she’s outside. Nova knows she doesn’t always keep an eye on her 24/7. That’d probably drive them both insane.

She runs a hand through her hair, keeping her gaze on the pipe organ. “Were you playing a song?” Sometimes it’s not hard to put on some type of act. This reminds her she has to keep her distance, to not peer in or let them do the same in turn. So she pretends there was no dream, that it wasn’t her, and that she heard him playing here. “I like it. Makes me feel,” she bites the inside of her cheek, “nostalgic, for some reason.”

And yet, a singular part of her dares to hint. Trying to ask without asking…does he know?

“...Was I?”

He certainly sounds confused, like he didn’t expect this at all, when she’s known him to practically expect everything.

Yet, in the same breath, it almost sounds like he’s testing her.

She refuses to turn around to look at him, though, because what if she accidentally gives herself away? He seems to look through her to the depths of her soul, and she doesn’t like how bare that leaves her before him. Even if he won’t do anything to harm her, it’s terrifying. There’s too much with her, and it’ll just overwhelm him.

“I wasn’t playing anything.”

Oh, no.

Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything at all.

He walks over to the pipe organ, and she merely stands there while wringing her hands nervously. What if it’s not the same song? Then you shouldn’t be worried, her mind tells her. That it’d be a relief, actually. Maybe it was someone else, or something else.

But how would it be better to bestow that fate onto another?

The question isn’t considered anymore, however, once he starts playing.

The exact same song. From a dream that was never just a dream.

She walks quietly over, hands stilled and now just clasped together in front of her.

“Was it this song?”

Such a simple question to anyone else, but to her—

“This might be hard to believe,” her voice is hoarse and she has to clear her throat to continue, “but you appeared in my dream again.”

Might as well say it, since there’s no going back now. It doesn’t mean she’ll ask the questions she’s been selfishly wanting to ask. There is no point. They shouldn’t know. It’ll just make it worse—knowing for sure will just hurt everyone.

Won’t it?

She hates having any semblance of doubt about this creep up uninvited.

“What was it about?”

Her fingers lightly touch the keys. She steadies herself with a deep breath and shuts her eyes.

Then, she plays.

He plays a few notes that she easily finishes, while her mind wanders to another place she wishes was a dream. Just a dream.

Someone placed flowers in her hair, gently singing the words to accompany the notes of the song. She listened and hummed only a little, since she knew the song enough herself. After all, they made it together.

Giggles follow after, and Nova sees a smile that could brighten the sun, if needed.

“I love when we sing together!”

She loved it when they did too.

“Hmph, you actually remembered it.”

Then she feels something trickle down her cheek, and quickly she turns away to wipe it away, ignoring the heaviness in her chest.

“I’m not sure how the song goes after this,” she mutters.

Did we ever write an after?

“There is no ‘after.’”

Such finality, with melancholy following, that has her look over her shoulder at Sylus.

“No ‘after’?” Her mind flashes with screams, cries of mercy. Fire burning every piece of happiness and freedom she held at the stake. They burned the light. “Why?”

Despite those hands being made to kill or intimidate most of the time, his touch is delicate and gentle against the pipe organ’s keys. “You didn’t want to keep playing.” Missing details fill only a little of the gaps. Tear drops falling from her eyes, hitting the keys. Heart threatening to burst from her throat with anguished cries, back then. “The song would just,” his voice catches, “end.”

And if it ended…she’d be gone for good.

They were meant to write the ending together.

Why is it that people like them must suffer this fate? So that others may live their lives in peace? Why are they doomed to remember? And, if not all memories, it’s piece after piece after piece. It all eventually sticks together with blood and tears—kept preserved by pain, heartache, and loss.

Why do they even exist?

These are specific questions she laments to a particular entity that she and others revere, but it isn’t the time or place now. Still, it’s hard not to ruminate, to have her mind wander to close companions that also must suffer the same thing. If nothing else, she’d do everything in her power to not let them suffer ever again. Even if it meant she’d be the only one suffering, or the one taking the brunt of it—her companions deserve happiness.

“Dare I ask,” her voice is quiet, but it still feels loud within these church walls, “what happened between us, Sylus?”

Slow, sure footsteps are heard, and she doesn’t even have to look to know he’s dared to get a little closer. His warmth radiates next to her, encompasses her, and a part of her relaxes just the slightest bit. Having his mere presence be a comfort at all—it’s not surprising, shouldn’t be surprising—after everything that’s transpired….

She sighs quietly, knowing she has to look up at him, when it wouldn’t be much of an issue if she wasn’t wearing her disguise.

His red eyes almost look as if they’re glowing. Her eyes rest at his nose, because otherwise the direct eye contact will devour her senses—Aether core in his eye or not.

He smiles at her knowingly. “I think you know already.”

She narrows her eyes. “What makes you say that?”

A breathy laugh escapes him. He shakes his head.

“Well, if you don’t know anything then,” her breath hitches when realizing just how little space left there is between them, “I’d rather keep you in the dark.” His voice lowers, making the hairs on her neck stand up straight and her skin tingle.

Then, he swiftly leans back and turns on his heel to walk down the aisle of pews.

These are the moments where she can’t help but stand there and not know what to do. Does he know that she knows? And he’s pretending? Or did he believe that she truly doesn’t know a thing? Believes that she is clueless to their history?

And yet, if he knows she knows…

Why taunt me like this?

“And what if I told you it’s important to me?” Her steps are swift in following after him. She curses mentally, though, because his legs are still much longer than hers when she’s like this. Catching up is difficult. “That I’d feel more at ease if you just...answered that?” There is no response, and this next growl of hers she fears is animalistic, because he just continues to be so…so—

“Sylus!” He doesn’t even stop, and she stomps her foot with teeth bared. Then she scoffs at herself. Stop slipping with your Viis habits!

“You vex me.” She seethes those three words, teeth clenched together.

That gets Sylus to look up, his blazer picked up in one of his hands. “Oh?” He smirks widely. “Your words are music to my ears.”

Nova scoffs again loudly. “Let me guess, the only words that sing to you are those three?” Three fingers are held up for emphasis.

At least the air is less stifling around them. Maybe that’s what he was going for. But did he do it for himself or for her? It brings it all back to wondering about if he knows that she knows or not.

“Many of your words sing to me,” he says, throwing the blazer over his shoulder, gripping it with one hand. “It’s just fun when they sing with a certain,” his eyes glint with mischief, “passion.” Then his gaze softens, and she can’t help but tilt her head slightly at the mood change. “Sincere feelings are hard to forget, Nova.”

There are few times Sylus says her name, it feels like. It’s usually “Miss Hunter,” “Miss Sempers,” “sweetie,” but definitely not “kitten” anymore after a certain series of events happened. (She needs to be careful on what friends she brings to the N109 Zone.) Though, when he does, she knows they’re not playing any games. Not following a song and dance that sets up a wall between them (though she thinks that’s more her doing, not his). And he says it with a weight that feels gentle and—something else she can’t quite name.

Or, maybe she can…she’s just afraid to.

He turns to look out the window, eyes narrowed. “The sun’s up, which means it’s the start of a brand new day.”

Some of her ire has dissipated, especially when catching a view of the rising sun.

If you exist again in this life…could we watch the sun again together? All of us?

A fleeting thought, but she knows it’s one of many things she dares to wish (when she shouldn’t).

“Come on. I’ll take you home.”

How he’s able to carry on like there’s nothing weighing him down, not even from this conversation—it’s something she envies. That seems to make him glow even brighter within the morning light.

She follows after, trying to soothe herself by reminding herself this is how things must be. That she doesn’t know what the truth would cause if revealed to those involved. All she can assume is the worst. Enough people carry this burden already.

It weighs as it should.

[pepsiiwho]

I was not only tagged but also texted and, if you can believe it— called— to do this by @koipalm so. Here I am. Doing it. Huzzah. 

1) how many works do you have on ao3?

71! (jesus) 

2) what's your total ao3 word count?

260,293… bullshit numbers fr… 71 fics only JUST hitting 260k...

3) what are your top five fics by kudos?

A quick foreword I don’t care about kudos as a system and I don't use them as a benchmark for my work at all. I suppose they transfer over easily to mean ‘likes’ but I think most ao3 readers ‘likes’ are flimsy currency. Now comments? That I can get behind.  To Be Seen (And To See)  Two Of The Worst People You Know Are Talking In Low Whispers In The Room Over Live, Laugh, Love (And Other Things Luffy Can't Eat) Acute Stress Response Touch, A Commodity We Both Lack In Spades

4) what fandoms do you write for?

My ao3 will list a lot but I’m only going to consider fandoms I actually enjoy writing for, not just one offs or gifts I got grouped into. So, having said that, my main haunts are:  Hades [1/2] (Active) Metaphor: ReFantazio (Active) Haikyuu!! Fe3h DRV3

5) do you respond to comments? why or why not?

Always. I'll respond to a backlog right now, but I feel that comments are the lifeblood of ao3. You get all this work for free and most writers only ask for one thing— recuperation. No money, no content in exchange, just a few short words of encouragement. Considering the high regard I keep commenting on, it's only right to pay that respect back in turn. Also, duh, I wanna talk about the concepts I wrote about more!!

6) what's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I am too indecisive with my own work so I’m going to take the cop out answer and give one fic per fandom.  For Metaphor: ReFantazio, I Hear You Walking Even Now. It doesn’t seem sad, but to me it is a deeply upsetting piece because of the finality of it. Basilio gets this big house he’d always wanted and he’s alone. And he will never be able to enjoy the home with his brother as he wanted. Whatever. For Hades And Here It Is, Our Final Night Alive. I almost forgot about this piece because the magic of two men kissing bewitched me. But this was such a sad send off and imagining what I think might have happened with Hypnos and Melinoe. Go read it, the comments want me dead.  For Fire Emblem, To Mourn You Is To Live, Heartless. No one has read this because no one on earth gives a fuck at all about Claude Von Riegan/Igantz Victor but Im OBSESSED and I think this story is so terribly sad. These two might as well be ocs, but I think my writing shines in these somber pieces…

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

Can I give a blanket answer and say porn? All my porn is pretty happy because my faves get laid…. But if that doesn’t count, uhhh… I don’t know. We’ll say my oc x canon fic because the whole concept is like, married bliss. Whole Package Baby, I Like The Way You Fit

8) do you get hate on fics?

Once or twice. I always respond in a weirdly pointed way and in both cases they’ve apologized so. Yay?

9) do you write smut?

Yes! I started for the first time a few months ago and have been unable to stop since. Hallelujah.

10) do you write crossovers?

I haven’t written any in a long time BUT I love crossovers inherently for what they are. The more indulgent the better. 

11) have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes. It was a Chainsaw Man fic. My lawyer friend got the person’s account completely nuked though, it was great. 

12) have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, I think… 4 of them? All into mandarin! How fun. 

13) have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Yes I’ve worked on pieces informally with numerous writer friends of mine and more ‘officially’ (if anything on ao3 can be granted such a word) in DRV3 and MRF  

14) what's your all time favorite ship?

…This is a hard question because I feel like an ‘all time favorite’ needs to be one you continually come back to regardless of your other tastes changing….. I… probably should give this to a Danganronpa ship, but I rather not so instead I’m going to say either Claudenatz or Osalev… insane rarepairs no one gives a fuck about will do me in everytime.

15) what's the wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

All of them. I am a chronic unfinished wip poster. Right now I am working most aggressively to finish I'll See You First, my uh, most recent long fic. But as for ‘abandoned’ titles…. Probably I Don't Like How I Look At You. It's relatively new but I still think it reads well and I’m still into the fandom so all isn’t lost.  Wait wait no, I take it all back i want to finish more then anything else my bullshit Haikyuu fic My Real Boyfriend Is Real He's Just From Moscow, Russia— Actually. I think this fic is so fucking good but I have to FINISH IT. I probably never will but the WHOLE thing is drafted out and ready to go. Just needs to be made haha. 

16) what are your writing strengths?

Uh. I truly think I’m good at everything, generally, and infallible. I'm gods gift to man, and reader, so it isn't easy to pick ONE thing I'm strong with.... But of all my strengths, of which there are many, I’m most proud of my character work and ability to convey setting and tone. You’ll never say my work bores, I know that for dance sure. 

17) what are your writing weaknesses?

Quantity. I struggle with filling word counts. I don’t write a lot. I want to write more. 

18) thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I think more often then not it doesn’t land and just reads as an amateur writing decision. Generally, when writing character who speak different languages (fictional or otherwise) I think it's more efficient and readable to just put something to the effect of “[name] begins speaking quickly in [language], the words sounding [description] to his ears” If the point of view character wouldn’t understand it, I don’t see why we as the audience should either.  Past that, a worse crime if you ask me— it breaks immersion badly. In fic especially, I’m never going to open google translate to get the full meaning of what you wrote and if you’re going to translate why even write it like that?  This is for all languages btw, if you write in japanese I don’t think your character should start speaking spanish and suddenly I see a totally different character alphabet. This feels like a holdover from visual media though. Webcomics, animation, shit like that. This is opinion, of course, but if you do this think about why and what effect it has on the work.

19) first fandom you wrote for?

Personally? Sailor Moon. Publicly? AOT. 

20) favourite fic you've ever written?

I cannot possibly answer this. Theres so many variables that go into making a piece a ‘favourite’... I genuinely don’t know.  Anything under my ao3 account is a fic I adore. I delete fics the moment they don’t inspire joy in me haha. Sorry. 

Uhh, sharing the wealth. @quill-and-paper-cranes , @grayvamp @antelopunny @freya-faust okay now YOU guys do it.

[necrotic-nephilim]

Sorry if this might be a rude question but why don’t you just make a seperate account for your nsfw fics?

not rude, it's a valid question! tbh it's a combination of a couple reasons.

i started posting anonymous dead dove batcest fics long before i had the balls to make a tumblr. at first i was content to just leave them unassociated with each other because i didn't really care about them being tied to me. i made this blog to actually show solidarity to my partner who wanted to make a sideblog for Sandman comic stuff so we could cheerlead each other and be brave together, since i've wanted to make a batcest sideblog but i've been nervous about actually having to get it going. (mal ik you're reading this go be brave and actually make your blog so i can cheerlead you damnit-) only did it dawn on me then that i should probably mention the fics i've written on the blog after like, three of them were posted anonymously. and it would've annoyed me to have half of them anonymous and half of them not, because notifications for them would've gone in different places. i could go back and take my fics off anon if i wanted to, but i can't switch the account they're on without taking them down entirely and that'd fuck over people who have them bookmarked already.

which, ties into my second reason, if i made an entire second ao3 account it'd be harder for me to see notifications, reply to stuff, and post things for both accounts because i'd have to constantly switch. and honestly i'd be terrified of accidentally posting on the wrong one on a brain fog day. posting fics is always the most tedious part of writing them for me lol. it's easier for me to stay logged into one account and have all of my stuff in one place for me and just use the anonymous collection when i feel like it. if ao3 pseuds worked like tumblr blogs, where you can't see all my side blogs but i can, i would've used pseuds, but since you can see all pseuds on an ao3, i felt it was a moot point.

and the last reason is i just feel more comfortable being anonymous on ao3 because of the rise in anti culture. on tumblr it's very easy for me to just filter that out and find the people i want to follow and block the people i don't. i don't mind getting hate, on tumblr or on ao3. but i think, for whatever reason you want to blame it on, there's been a massive boom of antis on ao3 who are very entitled about how they read on ao3. i tag extensively, but i just feel safer from getting targeted attacks if everything i write on ao3 isn't attached to one profile. if people like a fic i wrote, want to find more i always link my tumblr in the notes, but if an anti wants to get huffy with me, they can't easily track down my other things. they definitely could if they wanted to, but being anonymous on ao3 just makes me feel more secluded, in a weird way. it's like saying "if you want you can come find me but on here i'm just a weird faceless guy throwing stuff in the void". i've used ao3's anon feature a lot, actually, i used to be a hydra trash party dumpster kid back when that was in it's prime.

i also used to be vaguely popular on a different tumblr blog and my main ao3 and while i think it'd definitely be cool if i got a decent chunk of followers on this blog too, i don't really miss having fanfiction do so well i got targetted hate on all of my fics from the same people, i had my fics stolen, etc. it was really exhausting for me. i have 120+ works on ao3, not counting what's anonymous, and that level of exposure tires me, even when i use my main ao3 to post things that aren't trashy. it's just a weird feeling knowing so many people are subscribed to you on ao3 and what if you post something they won't like because you jumped fandoms again, or you're posting something niche, or you don't think it fills enough fandom tropes to be well-liked. i used to obsessively think like that, and it made me not write the things i wanted to because i cared about numbers. and i don't want to slide back into that hole. writing on anonymous is mostly to remind myself i wrote this for me, and if other people like it, they can come find me, but i don't have to perform like that anymore. if i get a really weird fucked up idea, i can write the really weird fucked up idea. at the end of the day, just makes me more comfortable! but i get it's a super confusing set up from an outsider perspective so, i really don't mind the question, thank you for asking!!

[purgemarchlockdown]

With how much you're talking about child abuse, I feel like you might be projecting a bit. Also, this does not reflect how people will treat children in reality, because Reality and Fiction are separate and a bunch of people discussing a Fictional character in a niche project isn't going to cause real life people to start beating kids.

No one's advocating for Amane to be beat wtf are you on about?? I think you just live in a shitty circle if you're seeing that kind of thing. I think you've tied so many personal feelings and ideals onto Amane that any (real or perceived) attack on her feels like a personal attack against you. Also it sounds like you were already in a bad mood. If something fictional makes you this angry, maybe you need to log off

I’m going to Maintag this because you went on Anon and I’m refusing to let this be a one sided engagement.

No, I just went in the tag I actually haven’t been on tumblr actively in a few days cause I knew it would upset me lol I’ve been going onto the blogs of mutuals. I just made a mistake here cause I take things like this seriously and I care about this. Because they are. Child Abuse is a serious topic it’s why there’s literary discourse about it. I know it’s seperate it’s just that people tend to engage with it on a Personal Level. That’s the goal of good fiction! That’s why horror films reflect real life anxities, and why social commentary exists in the first place!

People Have been advocating for that. Both on tumblr and out of it. No one gets such a high guilty percentage if people didn’t want them to get hurt which we Knew was likely. We know about how it affects people. This is just blatent disregard of past evidence for your own attack on my character.

Really, if you’re going on anon to crticize me for my fandom opinions, it means you don’t want to hear my response (since anon Does Not notify someone) and means you got pissy enough about my like- two maintagged posts in a sea of tagged ones about this both here and before that you decided to sent an anon letter. Like. Hold both of us accountable here! Go on main! If you’re going to say this then mean it!

Plus I think assuming things about one’s personal life to criticize their fandom opinions, especially something as serious as “you were probably abused as a child log off” is a bit off-color isn’t it? Even if I was (because you do not know me) don’t you think it’s a bit mean to bring up someone’s traumatic personal history to explain why their opinion should be disregarded? Why should the feelings of a child abuse victim (which you don’t know I am) be disregarded cause your assuming I’m projecting? Cause that’s how you sound right now. I don’t think it’s good actually to punch down on abuse victims for feeling triggered that a discussions around a character is reflecting actually goddamn abuse apologia.

And Again! You don’t know if I am! You are saying this because you’re Assuming It Damages my Credibility! That says a lot more about you than about me!

[something-tofightfor]

On Deck, a sneak peek

So it's finally happening - I'm finally actually WORKING on Baseball Jack, and he will definitely be ready to go starting next month - just in time for the beginning of the MLB season.

You can read about him here - there are a few pieces already written for this pairing... but the main story needs to be told, too.

Before the main story, though ... there's a couple special things coming. First (and within the next couple weeks) will be Jack's Player Profile. And as promised the other day... here's a couple of excerpts from the first two chapters of On Deck, along with chapter titles.

the Statesman logo was created (OH SO LOVINGLY) by @stealyourblorbos

From Chapter 1: Hot Corner

He took his place in line - still wearing his uniform but without his hat - and you watched as he greeted the other players, smiling and laughing with them as they interacted. You couldn’t hear him, but you could tell he was happy, and that made you smile, too. Maybe he really will be back by next week.

The handshakes ended, and when Jack headed back toward the dugout, he didn’t look in your direction again - until right before he made it to the top of the steps. 

It was then that he raised his head and turned it, eyeing the seats until he saw the two of you. You tried not to react, but Caleb didn’t hide his response; the boy raising his hand and waving wildly. Jack laughed at the sight of it, lifting one of his hands in a wave, too. 

You thought that was it, but then his head turned just enough that he made direct eye contact with you.

Even from the distance, you could see one side of his mouth lift into a half smile as he nodded, raising one hand and touching the tips of his fingers to his temple before tipping them toward you. Your smile grew and you nodded in return, but before you could do anything else, Jack disappeared into the dugout, leaving the two of you standing in front of the seats.

---

She hummed again, the sound non-committal as you took your first bite. “But not with you. And not with Caleb.” No, I guess not. “You should post those pictures and tag him.”

“Erin, I’m not trying to -”

“No, just hear me out. Maybe he’ll see them. And maybe he’ll remember you. And maybe he’ll -”

“Erin, come on. That’s a fantasy. I’m sure he’s got a million people tagging him every day. He won’t even see it if I do.” 

“You never know. It can’t hurt.” She said your name, the tone teasing. “And since Caleb’s account is private, it makes sense you’d post ‘em. He really had a lot of fun with you. He’s already asking if you want to go to a game again.”

From Chapter 2: Call Up

Steadying yourself with a deep breath, you picked it up and answered, holding the phone to your ear. “Hello?” 

The sound of his voice through the speaker made you shiver, even though it was only one word. “Hey, Jack.” Stepping away from the counter, you headed for the other room, lowering yourself onto the couch. “How are you?” 

“Real good.” He cleared his throat. “I apologize if I put you on the spot. I just don’t like typing and I thought this would be easier.” Easier for what? There was no reason to continue the conversation. It didn’t … “You there?”

“I’m here.” Head shaking back and forth, you closed your eyes. “It’s fine. I definitely wasn’t expecting you to call, but … it is easier.” And more terrifying, but … “Don’t you have a game tonight? I thought -”

“I’m in Louisville.” What? You straightened up, eyes going wide. That changes things. “Had some things to take care of here so I drove up today. Headin’ back down on Monday.” So he’s got a weekend off. And he’s up here. And he’s calling me. “You got any big plans on a Saturday night?”

---

“Y’know, I invited you here today before making sure that you weren’t seein’ anybody.” He put his spoon into the dish and then pushed it forward, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. “And since you agreed, I figured… well, I figured you weren’t, but I should probably still ask.” You took another bite, eyes on him as you swallowed. This is not at all what I thought he’d be like. 

“Then ask.” It caught him off guard, Jack laughing quietly and shaking his head, after he lowered it. 

“You’re a handful, aren’t you?” He looked up at you through his eyelashes without lifting his chin, and it took everything in you not to react - or answer. You wanted him to ask you if you were seeing anyone, because Jack actually verbalizing the question shifted the casual activity of getting ice cream and having a conversation to something else entirely. And I want to know if that’s what this is. “Alright then.” Jack nodded, staring at you. “There some guy I’ve gotta worry about getting mad at me for askin’ you out tonight?”

Want to talk about Baseball Jack? My inbox is open, and I'd love to hear from you.

[some-of-us-watch-the-sunset-too]

Wait it’s pride month do you think you could do like modern hcs of the boys at a pride parade?

The gang at a pride parade

A/N: i normally don’t like writing modern boys idk but i tried my best here!

Tags: modern!gang, pride parade

Warnings: homophobia is mentioned but is far from a main point

Darry

he would be like the mom that’s so supportive it’s annoying yk? he’d 100% bring like a backpack that’s just full of chocolate, water and fruit and let anyone take what they need

Darry’s just a big mama bear in general imo so he would also just beat any homophobes heads in.

Will hand you a list of secret codes that mean something different. for example if you call him and say idk- “broccoli pizza” that could mean “i need to get out of here” so he’d come get you and the two of you would go for coffee to calm down and then see if you wanted to go back or just go home.

Ponyboy

To be frankly honest i don’t think pride parades would be his thing? it’s very loud and lots of people which i think would make him a little nervous.

just hold his hand while you’re there ok? he’s doing his best even being there and having you beside him all the time will just make him feel slightly more at ease.

He will make sure you have fun even though it’s not really his thing and who knows maybe he’ll warm up to it by the end? i think he likes the idea of it, just not all the people there.

Sodapop

This boy is in his element! he’s probably in some crazy outfit and asked you to give him the most sparkly makeup look ever and he is definitely in the parade.

He’s his normal hyper self, but 10 times worse. he’s running around the place, like a dog that has the zoomies type shit. nobody give him sugar under any circumstances..

Soda is going to make like 17 friends and then invite them all back to the house for another party so be ready for that. also, remind him to hydrate because he will forget.

Dallas

He won’t be in a cool outfit he’ll in his leather jacket and jeans, but maybe you can get him to wear a pin.

He will be kinda uninterested tbh but he will let you drag him around all day. and hey, maybe it’ll grow on him over time you never know.

The only time that he’ll leave your side is if he spots some homophobes, then he’ll start a fight as we know Dallas does so just, keep an eye on him. or don’t and join the fight, whatever works for you 🤷‍♂️

Two-Bit

He’s “there for the drink and only the drink.” is what he tells you but he still gets you to help him pick a nice outfit and paint his nails for him. once you get there the drink becomes his second priority.

Two actually really enjoys himself in the end but he has a habit of wandering off so be careful. He will be flirting with everyone he sees unless you tell him you’re not comfy with that then he’ll stop

He probably brought a disposable camera with him so a few days later he’ll have a picture of all the people he spoke with and all the memories you made

Steve

Was probably dragged along by soda. If you want him to wear something for the occasion you should sneak into his room the night before and decorate one of his sleeveless denim jackets. he gives me the vibe that he’d rather DIY his outfit rather than buy it.

Same as soda he will be 10 times more hyper and he would be showing off his gymnastics talent doing flips off cars and stuff.

He would be similar to dallas though since as soon as he spotted a homophobe he would right there to beat them up. nobody ruins this day for him.

Johnny

I don’t think it’s Johnnys thing to go to a parade so he’d either go but be slightly terrified of everyone or he would let you go with your other friends and stay behind.

if he stayed behind though he’d love to hear everything about your day once you got home. then you two would go to the cinema together.

If you did go together then he’d be a little like Darry, very prepared for anything that could happen and he would make some code word that means “time to go”

[lies-unfurl]

hi! I think you’ve mentioned on your blog before that you read marvel comics, so as a sambucky fan can I ask you which comics in particular one should read for sam and bucky? I know there’s only one comic book for them, I think - the Cut Of One Head collection. I’ve read that, but I want moore. and I just don’t know where to start. (do you pirate them or do you have the Marvel Unlimited subscription?)

and I saw Mackenzie Lee wrote a Winter Soldier book, have you read it? I’m tempted to check it out. I am mostly asking all of this bc I want to be writing sambucky fic but I struggle with coming up with "villains" and you've come up with so many good villains in your sambucky fics, and just in general you get the mcu vibes just right

Hi anon, thanks for the question and the kind words! I have read some comics and am actively trying to read more, but I have a tendency to get sidetracked. The Falcon and Winter Soldier series is probably peak SamBucky. I've also read some of the Death of Captain America arc and enjoyed that, though it's been a little while and I don't recall how heavy on the SamBucky stuff it was. Sam's most recent Cap series, Symbol of Truth, does have a little bit of Bucky, but you'd have to also read Steve!Cap's Sentinel of Liberty arc to understand it.

The best resource I've found for comics is Comic Book Herald's reading order lists -- Sam and Bucky. Take a look and see where they overlap, and you should find at least some SamBucky content to satisfy you. I'll also tag this post in the hopes that more knowledgeable people might be able to help.

As for your other questions -- yes, I use Marvel Unlimited. I have mixed feelings; it's convenient, but I find the website annoying to navigate and lacking in some features, to the point where you pretty much have to use the app. If you don't mind reading on your phone, or if you have a tablet, I'd say it's worth it. Pretty much all of the older series will be out in trade paperbacks though, so if you have access to a library you may be able to get them for free.

And YES, I did read the Mackenzie Lee Winter Soldier book. It's absolutely like if a Bucky whump fic got published; he's suffering in like every chapter lol. There's no Sam due to the timeframe, and it actually gave me Steve/Bucky* vibes in a few spots. I'll put the specifics under the read since they're (mild) spoilers. But Steve doesn't actually have a huge part in it. I'd say it's worth checking out if you're interested in WWII/early Winter Soldier Bucky. It's comics-adjacent, but not actually part of the main 616 comicsverse, so you can read it without any background.

(And if you're interested in writing villains -- do you want more serious ones, or just sort of like... background plot devices to set up the story? The first one is harder, but if you're interested in the latter, I wouldn't stress it! There's so much weird shit in the comics, if you're going for a lighter tone, you can basically just make up Some Guy, give them a grievance, and let your imagination go.)

*When Bucky and Steve meet for the first time, Bucky thinks about Steve's "thick quads that strained the seams" of his pants, and his "chiseled face." A female friend of Bucky's has a line about wanting to marry Captain America, and then says she isn't sure if Bucky is more possessive over her or Steve. And Bucky flashes back to him and Steve snuggling in a foxhole for warmth, and a different time when he had pneumonia and Steve wrapped them both in a jacket and held him until his fever broke??? Like Steve genuinely isn't a huge part of the story and I wouldn't let that put you off of it if you're otherwise interested in the novel, but I did come away thinking that Mackenzie Lee had probably written Stucky fanfiction at one point.

[crybaby-bkg]

sᴄᴏʀɴᴇᴅ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ғɪᴠᴇ

Bakugou x f!reader Warnings/Tags: male OC tries to assault reader, short scuffle between reader and OC, attempted sexual assault (but nothing actually happens), poor living conditions, slowly creeping into the hesitant friends arc!!, panic attacks, very brief suicidal ideations Word Count: 4.6k Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI!

Main Masterlist AO3

A couple days have gone by since your meeting with the heroes and the Hero Commission’s worker. You still haven’t come to a clear decision yet, but granted, this is a big decision and its not just one that you can make over night. 

As you head home from your job, you try to weigh the pros and cons of rebranding as a hero. For one, you’d probably make more money and be able to afford your apartment. You wouldn’t have to sneak around so much, and you’d probably get a lot more respect and credit when walking amongst people, and not just in online spaces.

But…who’s to say the rest of society will accept you? In hero society, being a vigilante is illegal. You know that if you accept the conditions of rebranding, then your crimes will be forgiven, but for the rest of your career, you’ll be under strict watch. What’s the point of saving people if you have to be monitored the whole time?

A lot of those who have become victims themselves, or had been saved by you, respected what you did and how you went about it. But so, so many, including heroes and the government and police alike, hated you. Not because of what you stood for, that most didn’t know or didn’t care to know, but because you were targeting men. Its not like those men were innocent, but due diligence and the whole concept of “judge, jury, and executioner” really turned people off from you. 

If you did accept, how would other heroes see you? Would they find new respect for you, after hearing your story? Or would they only condemn you to being a vigilante, someone who should’ve never been forgiven? 

How would Miruko see you? Would she respect you, and what you’ve become? Would she still carry the same disdain she shows on the news? 

What would become of you, if you let the Red Medusa lay forever forgotten in the streets, and become someone new? Should you bring up your vigilante days, or do you let the news dig it all up and find out when you start flourishing as a hero? Do you keep the gap between victim and hero empty, or would you have to spill it all to everyone?

The thoughts overwhelm you, and you find yourself in front of your door before you know it. You drop your keys twice, and by the time you finally unlock your door, someone clearing their throat interrupts you. Your head whips around to find your landlord standing a few feet beside you with his hands tucked into his jeans. 

He’s a younger guy, which was a surprise when you first met him. You thought all landlords looked like sewer rats with greasy hair and a creepy aura. This landlord, Mr. Riku only exudes one of those things—creepiness. 

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your rent, sweetheart.” Mr. Riku nods his head to you, and you bristle at the name. 

“Don’t call me sweetheart.” You snap at him, keeping your hand locked on your doorknob, the other holding a pocket knife tight in the front of your hoodie. Mr. Riku rolls his eyes at you, holding his hands up in mock surrender as he laughs. 

“Ah, right. Trauma, and shit.” He says flippantly, making a face that you think is supposed to disarm you and make you laugh with him. You don’t. You stare at him for a minute, chewing the inside of your cheek as you take all of him in. 

“What do you want?” You bark when he stands there staring at you for too long. Every time you talk to him, you feel like you’re going to emerge out of the conversation covered in slime weighing you down. 

“You’re three months behind on rent. I should evict you.” He singsongs, twisting his mouth as he leans against the wall beside your door. 

“So why don’t you?” You sneer at him, all bite and sharp teeth that he ignores to instead clean invisible dirt from under his nails. 

“It would be a shame to lose such a pretty face in my building, you know? I’d miss it.” Mr. Riku looks up at you from under white haired bangs, grinning something evil that makes your stomach churn and your chest tighten. Before you can say anything, he’s slinking his way inside of your apartment through your open door, coming in before you can stop him. 

“The fuck are you doing?” You shout at him, hand tightening on the pocket knife as you flip it open inside your pocket. You really don’t wanna slice up your landlord and get into actual non-vigilante trouble for this, but you’re starting to fall into fight or flight mode. Right now, he’s one of the men who’s hurt you, and you refuse to be a victim again. 

“I own the building, sweetheart.” Mr. Riku says snootily, walking into your living room, violating it with his yuck. “I’m entitled to come into each and every unit when I damn so please.” He looks around the place, holding up a shirt you left on the couch and sniffing it blatantly in your face. 

You cringe at that, heart rate picking up as you take a step to him, frozen in your spot when he suddenly appears in front of you again. He reaches a hand out to your own that’s still in your pocket, and you finally find it in you to move, snatching away as you stumble into the still ajar door. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” You growl at him, though your voice shakes much more than you’d like. Usually, when facing off with creepy men like this, they don’t know who you are, can’t hang your living situation over your head, don’t know your connections to a high ranking hero who paid for you to live here.. 

“I have an offer for you, that I can’t let the other neighbors hear.” Mr. Riku whispers, inching closer to you until his nose damn near brushes yours. 

You jerk back, one hand still gripping the knife, the other curling up into a fist at your side. If he attacks, you can either cut him or punch him, but that might not be enough. You might have to get your gun strapped to your hip, even though you’re sure that it’ll be too loud and alert the neighbors. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or bad thing. 

“Which is?” You reply back, calculating his next move as much as you can, trying to keep your head leveled. 

“I’ll extend your stay here. But you have to treat me right in return.” Mr. Riku mutters, hands—creepy, disgusting, too bony, too long, too veiny hands—reaching out to cup your chest. Before he can, you swing your fist, nailing him directly in the jaw, sending him crashing into your bookshelf next to your front door. A few books fall on him, and you stand above him, heart racing at the thought of what he just tried to do to you. 

“Fuck you, you fucking pig.” You spit at him, voice cracking as he moans in pain. You pick up your bag, kicking him between the legs once as hard as you can before you finally dart out into the hallway. 

From there, you run and run and run until your legs take you to a safe place, heart in your throat all the while. You don’t think you can breathe; you don’t think you took a single breath the entire way there until you found your back against a familiar door, gasping in the musky air of the warehouse. 

Nobody seems to be here, as all the lights are off and its quieter than it usually is. You call out Vanity’s name, expecting for at least her to be there, but nobody answers you. You feel rooted to your place at the door, eyes welling with tears as your shaking hands hold tightly onto your bag. You can’t move—have your limbs always been weighed down so heavily by lead? Has your heartbeat always been so loud in your ears?

After what feels like hours, do you slowly start sinking down onto the hard, cold floor beneath you. Your fingers are warm and clammy when you finally let go of the bag, to instead wrap your arms around your figure. You take a breath, and then another, before the sobs start to wrack your body, heavy and loud and ugly, shaking and screeching, angry and full of—of, rage, fear, terrifying, body consuming fear. 

Your eyes burn with every blink, your chest getting too tight, you don’t think you can muster anymore breath inside of your lungs. You can’t move, you can’t move, you can’t move. 

A shadow emerges from the steps in the back corner, and you think that this might be the end for you. Maybe it should be—you won’t have to fight anymore, you won’t have to suffer. You won’t be such a pain in the ass for Dynamight anymore. 

But instead, you’re greeted with an emerald green eyepatch and a golden, glowing eye. Vanity. 

She says something to you, but your ears feel like they’re filled with cotton. She crouches in front of you, waving a hand in front of your face, but your eyes have been unseeing for a while now. So she holds you, close to her chest, gathers you up in her arms like a mother would, and she holds you. 

You don’t think you’ve ever cried harder. 

You two stay like that for what feels like days, before your tears have slowed to trickles down your cheeks, and your sobs have dissipated into quiet little hiccups. You don’t know when you started holding her back, but your hands grip her shirt, and you belatedly realize that she’s wearing her usual pajamas. 

“Sorry for waking you,” you croak out, throat dry and scratchy. Vanity leans back to fix you with a frown, and you notice that her own eye holds tears. 

“Don’t apologize. I heard my girl crying, and what kind of best friend would I be to not comfort her?” She reassures you, wiping away the few stray tears that still fall down your face. You smile wobbly at her, before planting your head in her chest again. She’s warm, and holds you close to her with her arms wrapped tight around your shoulders, stroking your hair. She lets you stay like that for a few more minutes, before she speaks,

“Can I ask what happened?” Her voice is tiny in the big, spacious room. “It’s okay if you don’t want to share.” You sit with her question hanging in the air, trying to gather the words in your mouth to spit out. 

“Creepy, shitty landlord.” Is all you can muster up. It’s enough though, as she only hums in acknowledgement, muttering, 

“It’s always creepy, shitty landlords, ain’t it?” You can hear her smile when you start to laugh against her skin, finally pulling back to look at her. Her cheeks are tear-stained, and you wonder if she can cry from an empty socket. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” She asks, helping you to your feet. 

The rest of the afternoon goes by in a blur, with Vanity helping you to the shower, lending you some clothes since you didn’t have anything clean in your bag, and fixing you up something quick and easy to eat. You two are quiet in the empty warehouse, and you fall asleep next to her on the cot in her room. It’s uncomfortable sharing such a small space, but at least you know you’re safe. 

…

Things went by uneventfully when you “broke” into your apartment to get some extra clothes and other necessities with Vanity. After that though, you’ve stayed in the warehouse full time. It’s not the most ideal living situation though, long term, since there’s no Wi-Fi and it interferes with your connection to the outside world and possible villain activity going on. Also, there’s no hot water, nor is there a fully functioning kitchen besides a microwave. 

This hideaway was only supposed to be for temporary usage—running away from the cops, needing to get stitched up, some extra ammo, a safe place to sleep for a few nights. 

Not for two weeks. Once your higher ups started asking questions about your performance after a few patients expressed their worry about your near constant zombie-like state, you realized that you had to find another solution. (You think its the consistent cold showers that really did you in. Miruko spoiled you with such a nice place.) 

You finally decide to swallow your pride, grumbling all the while as you stand behind the warehouse, holding your phone up high to the sky. 

[ You , sent at 8:49pm ]

hey asshole, its trm. got a minute to chat? 

[ Dynamight , sent at 8:52pm ]

yeah, only took you three years to text me

what?

[ You , sent at 8:55pm ]

you're even ruder over text

I need a favor, but don’t expect anything in return 

[ Dynamight , sent at 8:57pm ]

Never. 

[ You , sent at 8:58pm ]

got some housing issues going on rn. do you have any recs for low rent apartments in the area?

[ Dynamight , sent at 9:00pm ]

Ur shitting bricks if you think you can get something low in this neighborhood

[ You , sent at 9:05pm ]

thanks for the fucking help then

[ Dynamight , sent at 9:06pm ]

got a spare room at my place tho?

[ You , sent at 9:06pm ]

And what the fuck does that mean?

“What the fuck does that mean, Dynamight?” You immediately call him before the text can even send through, heart in your throat, your breathing heavy. Dynamight answers on the second ring, and grunts at your loud tone this late at night. 

“What else would it mean?” He asks, voice disinterested as he yawns on the other end of the line. “I gotta spare room at my place, if you wanna crash.” He offers up like its the most casual thing a person could ever do. You’re silent on the other line as you let his words sink in, eyebrows furrowing as your gaze unfocuses on the thicket of trees in front of you. 

Why would he offer up his place to you? Is he looking for something in return? Would he take advantage of you? What if the fucker had some kind of freaky room where he could tie you up and do whatever freaky shit repressed heroes do? You bite at your lip, mind reeling, as you form your mouth to reject his offer.  

“Look, not to be an intrusive dumbass but—” Dynamight speaks up after a long stretch of silence. 

“You are.” You cut him off, listening to him grunt on the other end of the line. 

“Shuddup.” You can practically hear the frown in his voice before he continues. “But I see Miruko hooked you up at a shelter near the apartment you were staying at, and its pretty close to where I’m at. If you don’t wanna take an hour commute to get there because you gotta stay in some shitty apartment, then you could come crash with me.” 

He’s too fucking nonchalant for you, to be offering up something so hugely important. You just don’t get it, you think, as you exhale, one hand gripping your phone tightly and the other gripping the roots of your hair. 

“And why would you do that?” You ask him in the tiniest whisper you can muster, brain struggling to figure out why someone like him would offer his space to someone like you. 

“The fuck? I just explained why.” Dynamight grunts confusedly on the other end, and you can damn near see his thick brows scrunching in confusion.  

“No, I mean why you?” You ask desperately, hands starting to tremor as you speak through your teeth. “Why are you offering up your place for me to live? We don’t even know each other, much less like each other.” Your voice, quiet, shaking under the weight of the words. Dynamight is silent for a few seconds before he retorts, 

“We’d have to know each other to dislike each other.”

“Shut up, you know what I mean.” You snap at him, back straightening as if he could see you. He goes silent for a few beats, formulating the right words in his head before he talks quietly into the mic. 

“Call this a gesture of good faith.” He states, voice firm and unwavering. “I’ve intruded on your life a fuckton these past weeks, trying to rope you into hero life, ‘nd all that, so I wanna offer up something that means a lot to me. Even playing field, and shit.”

You fall silent, mulling over his words, everything that could go wrong if you were to put your trust into a hero, a man. He could hurt you. He could get away with it, easily. He could paint you out to be the crazy one, the problem. 

But…he could help you. You would never need a man’s help but—Dynamight, in all of your interactions, never seemed like the type of scummy guys you frequently punished. He felt genuine, in a sense, firm but not too pushy. And maybe—maybe you could trust him. Just a little bit. 

He hasn’t turned you into the police or to Hero Commission (yet?). You guess the guy couldn’t be all bad. 

“I’m not taking any fuckin’ handouts.” You snap at him after a minute of silence. You can hear him chuckle on the other end before fabric starts ruffling in the background. 

“Not a handout, dumbass. Just letting you borrow some shit for the time being.” He shrugs, and you swear you hear him yawn once. You frown, kicking up some branches that lay fallen at your feet. 

“I’ll pay rent.” You mutter to him. 

“No shit you’re paying rent.” Dynamight snorts, barely giving you a second to even offer. Shit head. 

“Okay. Text me your address.” You go to pull your phone away to hang up, interrupted by his voice calling out on the other end. 

“You’re coming now? I was about to go to bed.” He grumbles. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, pulling the phone away from your ear to check the time. 

“The fuck? It’s not even 9:30 yet, you old fart.” You poke at him, listening to his annoyed mumbling on the other side. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Dynamight says with no real malice. “Call me when you’re outside.” He hangs up before you can say another word, and sends his address through to you only seconds later. 

You look up at the sky before going back inside, gaze focused on the full moon and the cloudless skies, and wonder how the hell you’re gonna tell Vanity that you're moving in with a male pro hero. You decide that the best way to tell her, is by not telling her face to face at all. 

Before you leave, you write a note left on your cot for her to find. You know she’s not going to be happy about this, but you have to put yourself first every once in a while. 

…

“Well you look like shit.” Is the first thing you tell Dynamight when he opens the door to his apartment. He’s frowning at you, with half of his ash blond mane flattened on one side, his tank top twisted at the neck a little, his sweatpants low on his hips, and his feet bare. He looks like you’ve just woken him up. 

“Fuck off,” he mutters, yawning before he turns on his heel to walk back inside. You follow, albeit hesitantly, afraid that something or someone might be wanting for you around the corner, ready to attack. But you take off your shoes, and pad into the living room, and it looks like no boogeymen are plotting on snatching you before you can even scream. 

Dynamight stands behind the couch with his hands on his hips, a sleepy little frown on his face as he looks at you. He gestures to the open layout of his place, voice a deep grumble in his throat. 

“Living room. Tv remote there,” he points to the coffee table before hooking his thumb behind him. “Kitchen—don’t eat my fuckin’ protein bars.” He points at you next and you only sneer at him. He tries to match your look but he’s too sleepy to keep up, so he only turns on his heel again before guiding you down a long hallway. 

“Did you fall asleep already? We just hung up like, thirty minutes ago.” You ask him, frowning when it takes more effort than you’d like to keep up with his long legs. 

“Shut it. I thought I was gonna stay up, but ‘m fuckin’ exhausted.” Dynamight grunts at you, sidestepping at a door across from what looks like the bathroom. You peer inside, hiking your heavy book bag up higher on your shoulder. Dynamight goes to take it without warning, and you instinctively grab it back, head whipping up to stare at him in confusion. He scrunches his face up before shaking his head at you. 

“Sorry. Looks heavy, and I was gonna put it down for you.” His voice is small, and he folds his arms across his chest. You blink up at him for a few seconds, taking a few breaths to calm your suddenly racing heart before you drop the bag into his barely ready hands. He grunts at the weight of it, tired face surprised at how much you’ve stuffed inside. 

“This my room?” You ask him, ignoring his question of how many bodies you’ve packed in there, to walk inside the new space. 

It’s big. Entirely so, almost as big as your whole apartment from before. There’s a deep marooned carpet covering the floor, the walls a muted gray, with cream colored black out curtains covering the windows. The bed looks too big for just you to sleep in, decorated with more gray and cream sheets. Four pillows sit against a wooden headboard, and a small circular decorative one sits in the middle. There’s a purple throw blanket at the end of the bed that doesn’t match anything, but you see that its knitted, and you wonder why someone like Dynamight owns something so soft. 

There’s a TV in front of the bed, and a small couch at the end of it. A closet on one side of the room, open and empty, the other wall decorated with a wooden dresser pressed against it. The room is beautiful and so…un-Dynamight. 

“Why’s the bed so big?” Is the only thing you can muster up, shocked at how nice the room really is. Dynamight grunts at that, and you think it might’ve actually been a chuckle. He enters the room, setting your bag on the cream couch and letting you enter, before he stands back at the doorway again. 

“‘Cause I’m a big guy, with some big friends who like to invite themselves over and get too fuckin’ drunk to go home.” Dynamight leans against the doorsill with his arms crossed over his chest, yawning at the end of his sentence. His eyes are so low, and droopy, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think his quirk was actually being half lion. If you tilt your head enough, you’re sure you’d see some fluffy ears hidden in the mane of his hair. 

You look away, realizing you’ve been staring as you run your hand over the soft blanket. You look back to him, almost as if in question, but he only blinks at you. You’re quiet for a while, taking everything in. 

“Bathrooms across the hall, too. It’s all yours, since I have my own in my room.” Dynamight tells you, head jerking back to across the hall. Your eyes flicker behind him before landing on him again, feeling something warm starting to light up your chest. 

“Thank you, Dynamight.” You whisper to him, voice tiny, as you awkwardly fold your arms over your chest. You hate feeling so meek, so in debt, so needy. But he doesn’t seem to take advantage of it, rolling his eyes as he pushes off the wall. 

“We’re roommates now. Call me Bakugou.” He tells you, voice firm. You want to be an asshole and come up with some smart remark, but you can’t seem to find any. So you nod at him, once, and give him your last name, too. He smiles a tiny little smile at that before a yawn breaks his face again. He backs up from your door with a small wave, nodding to you. 

“We can discuss rent and shit in the morning. Get some sleep.” He tells you, going to turn his back before you speak up as you start unzipping your bag to pull out some pajamas. 

“I could say the same to you.” You call out to him, watching his eyebrow quirk in surprise. 

“So say it.” He nods his chin to you, slowly walking backwards to his own room. You bristle at that though, shoulders hiking up to your ears as you flip him the bird, something you’re really starting to like doing to him. 

“Fuck off.” You snap at him, no real malice in your tone. Dynamight—Bakugou, laughs at that, before turning on his heel to enter his room. He closes it without another look and you feel yourself release the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in. 

So what now? You think to yourself, your eyes falling to the pajamas you’re tightly holding before glancing up to the bathroom. 

Now—a hot shower. 

The bathroom is just as big as your room, with the same maroon-grey-cream color scheme going on. He’s even got some decorative towels in here, and it makes you wonder if someone did all of this for him, or if he did it himself. Either way, it doesn’t matter much when the hot water is all you really came for. 

You go on about your nightly routine without further preamble, stiffening every time you hear a bump in the loft. You keep your gun close to you, even seating it on the toilet as you shower and brush your teeth. But nothing happens, and you dart quickly into your room, locking it behind you the moment you’re safe. 

You check the closet, behind the door, and under your bed, and find nothing thankfully. You let yourself breathe for the first time in a long time, as you sit on the side of the bed in your pajamas. You won’t stay here long, you muse over with yourself. Just use his Wi-Fi and shower and oven until you can find a reasonable place to live, even if you have to start taking extra shifts at your job, even if it means having to do less vigilante work. 

This is only temporary, you tell yourself as you lay back in bed, pulling up the purple blanket until it reaches your chin. You don’t want to get under the bed covers—it’ll signify that you’ll overstay your welcome. You can’t stay long. You can’t. 

You don’t sleep much the first night, watching the door all night long, anticipating someone to try the doorknob. It’s left alone the entire time, and only when the sunlight rises, do you finally rest your eyes and let sleep take you. 

chapter six

please do not repost or rec on tik tok!

tag list: @endlessfreaky @iamaconfusedpan

[monstrousgourmandizingcats]

WIP game

Rules: you will be given a word. Then you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word!

Tagged by @staghunters with the word "moose"!

My main WIP at the moment is the novella with the working title Arsonist of Paradise that I've mentioned a few times before.

under the cut:

M: More things clanged open and a woman who was also some sort of bailiff, jailer, or the like came in and took Carol by the arm. She took her out to do some more paperwork. Carol saw the charges that were being prepared against her. There were lots.

            She also heard chatter, people who worked in law enforcement, the same field that Officer Chris Landis of the Orleans County Sheriff’s Office had worked in, talking amongst themselves.

            “I have got to break up with him. I have got to just fucking break up with him, pardon my French.”

            “They’d say all sorts of racist things to one another and about one another. They were just very racist people, or at least they acted that way, and it was really unpleasant to be around them, even though it didn’t seem to upset any of them when they were the butt of it.”

            “The announcement was a super-spreader event. Of course that happened. None of this should surprise us at this point.”

            “My great-uncle says his bridge buddy in The Villages, which is really what they call it, is on a ventilator. This was Jack Korn, who played clarinet in that band.”

            “I don’t know, I don’t think anal ‘hurts’ as much as—oh. Sorry, boss.”

            “Can’t believe this. So unprofessional. Anyway, you were saying about your mom’s leukemia?”

            “He saw one of those infographic things they do on Instagram. Five or six paragraphs that are really more like bullet points, dark purple background, I’m sure you’ve seen them. Anyway, from this he decided that the real thing to do about his situation was to take to the open roads and start boning up on naval history.”

            “No, you’re thinking of the wrong ‘Goblin Market.’ That’s that woman who used to draw for Playboy. This is some other illustrator.”

            “Album of the year. Phoebe has done so much for us.”

            “New Jersey? They got the New Jersey State Police involved? Sorry, I know it’s not my department but…how?”

O: On it an eagle, two kinds of hawk, a Canada goose, a loon, and a mallard revolved and cavorted continually. The eagle and one of the hawks had little glass bead eyes and so when the light glanced off them just so they shone gold-silver. Officer Chris Landis of the Orleans County Sheriff’s Office seemed for some reason to regard the mobile skeptically, as if migratory birds struck him as a form of foreign influence, perhaps.

O: “Oh, absolutely wonderful. One moment.” Alexis sat down and booted up her computer and opened up Internet Explorer. “Okay, I’m checking his website now.

            “Oh for crying out loud,” she said then to Shana. “Yes, I see what you mean. This could definitely bring even more attention that my family really doesn’t need right now.”

S: She put on a Rimsky-Korsakov CD as she drove; it was in the little black CD case that she carried around with her. She was lucky that she had rented a car that was old enough to have a CD player that she understood in a more or less intuitive way how one was to use. You did not, appallingly, get that always, any longer. Alexis mused, as often, on how in twenty or thirty years’ time her instincts about politics would probably take on a strongly reactionary flavor, although she doubted the way she actually voted ever would. Filial piety of the extreme kind that she was exhibiting right now demanded also, in this part of the country, maintaining a certain kind of leave-me-alone liberalism, an idea of a center-left that was devoted to empowering the little people to tell the big people (and other little people as well, sometimes) to fuck off. Certainly it was hard to convince oneself that this was what Trump was about; she was not following the election very closely at this point, but Shana and Shana’s friends ranted about it a lot, and there was an all-pervading aura of protagonistic angst in the country that struck almost everyone they knew as unnecessary and offensive. Rimsky-Korsakov was probably not to the Right’s taste now, anyway; he had probably not been the right kind of Russian for them.

E: “Everything they had was borrowed,” Carol was saying; she sounded to Chris like she was quoting something; “they had nothing of their own at all. Nothing. In spite of this, my brother said, they were touchy and conceited, and thought they owned the world.”

            “They? Who are these ‘they’?”

            “My children, my grandchildren, me, you, George, your George—Officer Cornwall,” Carol said, making an effort to express this honestly over against what Wintermute was halfheartedly insisting she say or do instead. “1975, 2020, hell, even way back when Jimmy died, we’re all just fighting over who to throw tons and tons of extra money at, and how, when having the extra money to throw around at all is a great gift. People are so ungrateful now, myself not least of all. George dying of coronavirus in a hospital is probably better than George dying of coronavirus at home, if we assume he’s even coherent enough to prefer one over the other at all. But at this point, God help me, it seems to me like you people are just trying to win a power struggle, by hook or by crook, and it’s that that I won’t abide; it’s that that George won’t abide, that he still has enough wits about him to reject. I’m going to fight you in the dust, Chris.”

Tagging @lucythornwalter with the word "blood" and @carys-the-ninth (if she's writing anything right now) with the word "snowy"!

[rouge-fauna]

/nm you're analyzing very deeply into one of dreams past friendships which is against his boundaries at last stated in his reddit - trying to dig into if tommy was fake since the start, and on top of that putting main tags down. This is the kind of topics you would see on critblr, so now you're gonna attract them to your blog they often love prying into cc dynamics and the main tags you put down attract anyone that searches up "tommy" "dream" your posts are the first thing to come up

[context]

Wrote out an intense defensive answer to this, then looked back and noticed the tag, oops… seems I struggle to read tone in person and online lol…

Anyways, I didn’t realize it was against his boundaries. My bad, it makes sense he wouldn’t want people analyzing his real life. It seems I’m too used to looking at characters. Though in my defense, a reason I don’t feel like I’ve been invasive, analytical or should be on critblr is because I don’t think I’ve gone too deep or analytical. I have talked a lot about it most of which under the lens of autism, but in my mind being analytical would be watching old videos and analyzing all their conversations and such. I mean someone brought up body language and I didn’t go and analyze it. So from my perspective I feel like I’m not doing anything more than reacting to things, pointing out some things and forming theories. But anyways it’s a good point I suppose… I will say too, that I’ve tried to not use most of the main tags I’ve seen heavily used by innitors (including the dsmp tag which annoys me that they are using for cc things :/), but I think someone has been reblogging them with the big tags. Anyways… it makes sense I don’t think I’m confused by how people got here to leave asks, more so why that seems to be the standard behavior instead of comments and reblogs 🤷‍♀️ I assume the anonymous aspect. Tumblr is just interesting I guess, because like on Twitter or Reddit they would just reply to the post ya know? So it’s just different is all. And in this scenario someone sends you a full essay it feels bad to leave it unanswered because you’re the only who sees it but at the same time on other platforms I’m not required to comment on someone’s opinion or post or reply to a post if that makes sense and sometimes it feels like people are sending me a post like I’m their draft box lol XD. Hoping that makes sense. Then again I suppose I did say I prefer people to just come to me and not vague blog me so… perhaps I’m just being ridiculous… but I do think it’s not the posts actually related to this conversation that bother me as much as the extra ones that I think really probably shouldn’t be there, so that’s more the instances I think might need parameters. because then if I set down some rules and people don’t follow I’ll feel less bad for not answering if that makes sense.

[redley-of-many-noodles]

Hello there,

Welcome to my blog.

I’m Redley. Relatively new to Tumblr still, but I’ve been finding that I’m comfy here. Though it still feels awkward (thanks, dysphoria), I prefer she/her pronouns. I don’t mind they/them, but… meh. Note that Redley is neither my legal or chosen name; it is solely a handle, and I will only tell you my chosen name if I feel comfortable with you. If I extend that trust, please treat it with respect. If you don’t, I will remember.

Here’s the main stuff I’m comfortable sharing or want you to know about me:

1) I’m transfem, but haven’t had an opportunity to do much actual transitioning yet. Dislike my voice, adore my hair. My luscious, glorious, flowing hair.

1.5) I am likely pansexual, but I haven’t done enough research to know for sure. All I know is, people are… well, people are hot.

2) I live in Florida, but was not raised here. The climate and scenery are nice; the local government sucks ass though. Also, I miss snow.

3) I’m a diagnosed autistic, falling somewhere on the high-functioning end of the spectrum. I’m on prescribed antidepressants, but have not been able to find a psychologist/psychiatrist yet because it’s fucking Florida.

4) There are a lot of things and people I don’t understand, but I’m always open to learning. Trying new food is a special passion of mine, and I’ve met some quite fascinating new people since starting this blog. (*eoughck* @potentially-a-poser *aucghk* @analogue-system *ahem*)

5) I will not tolerate hateful behavior. You will be immediately blocked for shit like denying any of the shades of aro/ace individuals as being part of the LGBTQIA+ community. If you see me spreading misinformation or saying something that excludes members of the community, please tell me. I’ll research the matter, as well as review any sources you send me.

5.5) okay so I think I’m demiromantic

6) I do not mind being tagged or sent asks or otherwise brought into conversations. People who abuse that will likely get blocked, but whatever your social anxiety is telling you probably comes nowhere near ‘abuse’ in my book. Anonymous asks are enabled, but that can likewise change if the feature is abused. Hate asks will be blocked, naturally.

7) I would prefer being asked before you directly message me. If you don’t, there is a possibility you’ll be blocked, but it’s not a guarantee. I don’t want me and my friends’ conversations getting buried by anything.

8) If you consistently and frequently post tiktok/reddit memes with little to no commentary, I may block you simply out of annoyance should you repeatedly show up on my dash. It’s not personal. If something about you makes me suspicious or uncomfortable, but not outright offended, I’ll most likely notify you of my reason before I block you.

9) Age: pick a number between 1 and 100 because it’s none of your fucking business. None of you are entitled to any of my personal information, regardless of the reason. I will share only what I want.

My Behaviors

There are certain things I gravitate towards or away from on this site. Here’s some:

1) I am most likely to follow people who are part of the LGBTQIA+ community, are mentally ill, or are dealing with some variety of personality disorder. This is mostly just due to the fact that I find the most common ground with those people. But even those who I have little common ground with, I’ll tend to find very interesting.

2) I don’t mind things like roleplay and hornyposting on my dash, but will almost certainly not interact myself, or make original posts in that category. More extreme examples won’t necessarily get you blocked or unfollowed, but… well, my filtered tags list may grow.

3) I don’t always tag reblogs. This may mean that my followers will see random things that caught my interest. It could be art, shitposting, tender affirmations, politics, or just goofy-ass Tumblr shit. If something I regularly reblog/post about bothers you and isn’t properly tagged, let me know.

4) I am discovering that maybe, I might, perhaps, be a little bit nosy. When I see someone receiving hate or suffering and stressed, I am likely to take it upon myself to do or say something to try to make them feel better. If I bother you with this, I will not be hurt or offended if you block me. In general, I will do my best to be respectful of it when people draw boundaries, so don’t hesitate to draw any you feel necessary.

5) If your intentions are pure, you will likely find that I try to be forgiving and/or understanding of your mistakes, at least in regards to interacting with me. (The /or is a very important distinction.)

6) I will often be attracted to dark, tragic, or dystopic works of art/fiction. I get a form of catharsis from such media, and some of my writing will reflect that.

That’s about it.

That’s all the important stuff I can think of, aside from tags which are at the end. Still, this post may be updated or rewritten in the future. In general, just be kind and open-minded, and we’ll get along fine. Even if you disagree with me, as long as you are civil and rational about things, I’ll likely have no problem interacting with you.

Be safe, and be yourself! <3

🇵🇸🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

My Tags:

#redley’s playlist - Some of my favorite songs!

#redley’s photos - Photos taken by/of me!

#writing - Writing related things and occasionally stuff I’ve made! (#poetry will also contain some of my work)

#let me just frame this one - My personal favorite posts by others. Put that right up on the wall!

#cw/tw: [content] - I will tag posts that I recognize may be disturbing to others with content warnings and/or trigger warnings. This way, you can filter content that may be harmful to your mental health to view. If a post is missing an important one, let me know.

[detailtilted]

Sample of Upcoming "Enhanced Edition" CHICON 2007 Solo Jensen Panel

This sample was removed when I updated the full video with drastically improved video quality. I did not recreate the sample, but you can find the full video here.

Original post:

This is just a small, 1+ minute segment of a larger video that I’ll probably post next week.  Thanks so much to the people who watched, reblogged, and/or liked the CHICON 2007 Enhanced Edition Breakfast video!  It made me super happy to see some interest, and I know that was mostly thanks to those of you who managed to stumble across my obscure post and reblog it so people would actually see it.

I’ve started working on the main panels involving Jared and/or Jensen from the same convention.  Jensen’s solo panel is next sequentially, so that’s what this sample is from.  This clip was one of my favorite parts from his panel.  I’m including Jared and J2 in the tags because Jensen talks about working with Jared here.

If you don’t have any particular interest in the subtitles, you can skip the wall of text below.

On this sample, I used a much lighter color of blue for Jensen’s subtitles.  The more I looked at the shade I'd been using, the more I thought it was too dark to be read easily.  It became more apparent to me while working on his solo panel because there’s so much more of it.  I’d be happy to get opinions, good or bad.  I was really attached to the idea of using blue for Jensen and red for Jared because of their marker tape colors, and I’m pretty sure the previous shade of blue was more accurate in that regard, but it’s far more important to me that the subtitles be readable than that they be symbolic!

If people like this color better, I’ll go back and update the subtitles for the Breakfast video to use the same color for Jensen.  Subtitles are a separate file from the video, so it’s not too difficult to make changes and switch the subtitle file out without affecting the video itself. 

Speaking of which, feel free to let me know if you catch any errors with the subtitles and I’ll fix them.  Also, if there’s a subtitle that I marked as [inaudible] and you’re confident that you know what they said, let me know.  There were parts I marked as [inaudible] even though I felt sure I could guess what they’d said based on the context, but I couldn’t hear any sounds or see any mouth movements to clearly confirm it.  I tried not to put words in their mouths that they might not have said, and I didn’t want to force my own interpretation on anyone.  Sometimes though, there were places where I felt like I should have been able to figure out what they were saying but I just couldn’t get the sounds to make sense to my ears, so someone else might be able to hear those.  Other times, I would hear something for the umpteenth time, often when I was focusing on some other aspect of the video and not thinking about the subtitles at all, and suddenly it would seem blatantly obvious to me what they were saying.

As far as issues with the videos themselves, I can’t easily change them after I publish them because it would create a new video link on YouTube and I'd rather not create a confusion of links.  However, please do still feel free to let me know if you catch any errors in my added content.  I’ll keep a list of errata for my own notes in case I ever do have a reason to update the video.  If it’s particularly egregious, I can at least put a note in the video description. (And since this is a sample, if you catch any issues, I can fix it for the full version.)

[thelanor-s-astame]

Episode 1 Behind The Scenes!

Welcome to Amateur Hour! I mean this whole series is amateur hour, but stating out was REALLY amateur hour. So most of the way our videos worked is we would do a weekly video (Either podcast or Over The Shoulder game review). And I’d release a Funny Joke Video every two weeks. I was given Carte Blanch over my videos and basically just kinda did them on my own. So everything I did was suuuper rudimentary My scripts weren’t formated very well, there were tons of spelling errors, stuff I’d cut out I’d leave in the document and just remember I cut it out. But all this worked just fine because I was the only one looking at them.

And the way I’d send people their lines was I would *send* people their lines over discord and have them send me back an audio file that they’d recorded. I didn’t even really do any audio directing aside from a couple of notes. I might have directed Dalsson and TheDragonLover (heretofore referred to as Dergo), but that was it.

For anyone who might want to make a narrative series, uh… don’t do this with your main cast. If you have a guest star who knows what their doing and might not be comfortable being directed in a discord call with a stranger, that’s fine. But for everyone else you’ll just end up playing phone tag for a a couple of VA lines that won’t be nearly as good if you just set the people down in a call and told them what kinda performance you want them to give. A thing that, And I cannot stress this enough, they will be fine with you doing and in fact would much prefer this to the alternative.

And if you sit multiple people down in the call and do their voice lines in one day, that’s just way better! Your actors will be more comfortable with more friends around, and after the session is over, you have multiple scenes worth of voice lines to work with! It’s one of those “We do this thing like this for a reason.” kinda deals.

But ultimately a lot of the What Worked for those videos I’d put out every two weeks, and the video essays, did not really work here. But anyway lets look at the actual video.

The like first scene you can see how the cutting around is really off. That’s because the footage of me just standing there lasted, like, 3 seconds and I had a minute of dialogue, so I HAD to keep cutting if I wanted to use that footage. I should have just started a new save and rerecorded it but… again amateur hour.

But. The first joke here I think is really good. I have a lot of thoughts about it, so I’m going to make it a separate thread. There’s quite a bit going on there and I’m really proud of it.

But the beginning of the video, and the beginning of the series as a whole, is just kinda me moving from bit to bit like I did in the previous Joke Videos. These started out as those with a tiny bit more structure.

The Conversation with Elderbug here is what got Lordfrezon to get a better mic. Like this video convinced the man to get a better microphone. But you’ll notice Elderbugs mouth keeps moving when he’s not taking. I didn’t start putting a still picture over the talking characters yet

The quirrel scene is probably the best put together in the entire video. The editing is sharp. and I realized I could like, just reverse the video of him looking at the Black Egg to make it a little more dynamic.

But most of the dynamic-ness of these scenes comes down to me zooming in and out of characters faces for emphasis. The footage I’m working with is a character with a one second animation loop and another character staring up at them. So I gotta do a lot of cuts and zooms to make it look like a conversation with multiple emotions in it is happening. And I already had a pretty good grasp of that thanks to the joke videos! Say what you will about youtube video editing, but it sure teaches you how powerful quick cutting for emphasis is!

This was also before I started putting Reverb on every scene that takes place in a tunnel… which most of them do, and if there’s one thing I love, love, love playing with, it’s reverb. Sound design is my passion tbh. It is also the only thing I have any formal training in! I was taught it by a bunch of 80s rockers who showed me how to use an old analog soundboard for live mixing! And I’ve always held to the idea that 75% of video editing is sound editing, and 95% of that sound editing is shit no one would notice unless it wasn’t there.

There a little after the Quirrel scene I got *extremely lucky* and found a sign mender. Which is a really rare event. Just immediately out of the gate I see that man. I’d never seen him before I was getting footage for the video and he blessed me with his presence like an angel. Thank you Sign Mender! You gave me a great bit about property destruction!

The Cornifer scene is firstly, a great look into how a voice role evolves over time, and secondly, a great exemplification of what I started this with. Just Direct Your VA’s. You’ll notice how Saine’s performance on his first line here are worse than any of the other ones he’s given. He didn’t know what I wanted. And if I would have simply directed him, that wouldn’t be a problem!

He did, however get to delever the funniest lines of the video. And he did a great job with those! And, another thing to Saine’s credit is he does a fantastic job as Iselda! Man eats up that whole scene! Just great shit there!

Sly’s change is less in that the voice evolved as time went on and more I changed the character. I focused more on the Shopkeeper aspect rather than the teacher aspect as his Central Thing, and ultimately I think that was the best choice. Surly Shopkeeper who can “Show You Da Ropes” Is always a great character and he’s a lot of fun to write. Also all the thing’s Sly says about ‘God’ put me in a bit of a bind because “Okay, so why the hell does this guy know about The Radiance… a thing that a lot of people were lied to about for decades?” So I had to come up with some stuff for that. But that’s the kind of problem I love solving. Because it goes from “Weird plot hole” to “Ooh new character aspect! let’s give this man some depth!

Dergo’s performance as Myla is the best one in the video. And it’s great that’s the case too, because of how much *that* kicks off a lot of the story. But, yeah 10/10 no notes. Dergo is incredibly good at this shit.

The end bit with the snail man is probably my biggest regret of the video. It very much does not fit in with the tone of everything else. It’s kinda something that just happens in the first episode and I hope everyone forgets about. The implication he just murdered the snail guy is funny but it doesn’t fit in the wider whole. Whole scene just is not very good tbh. I also probably should have had someone else voice the Snail man as well.

And I wholeass forgot I used a different font for the credits! But I think that’s that for the first episode. IT’s kind of just a collection of thoughts, but the episode is just kind of a collection of scenes so, there we go!