#I have multichaps to work on!)

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: this got long sorry 😔 but creepy/perv bakugou, recording, film major bkg x art major reader, masturbation, coercion, dubcon before it just becomes con, voyeurism/exhibitionism

as an art major, you typically did some works for a few students on campus; for their plays, as background pieces while they danced, a cover for their released songs. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to ask you to create something for them, and you enjoyed it more often than not. but, you weren’t usually the art itself.

Bakugou is a friend’s friend that you’ve seen a few times, ran into at the library or at coffee shops. he’s a film major, and always looks so unhappy about the whole thing, as if he didn’t choose it himself. you joke to Mina that you think he’ll graduate and become one of those directors that hate everything and yell at the actors constantly and later on get sued for being a dickhead. you never say it to him though—you’ve never spoken more than a couple words to the man.

it’s why it shocks you when he approaches you one day. it’s after one of your painting classes, and he stands outside the door with a frown and his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyebrows scrunched as if pissed at the mere sight of you. he asks you, in that low and gruff tone of his, if you could star in his final project for the semester. says it’s supposed to be a film made with this criteria and that, but, you’ve kind of checked out on the conversation after the first sentence.

“You mean, you want me to create something and that be the star of your film?” you ask him, feeling so intimidated at his stature. he always seems to loom, his hair shadowing the lights above, creates a cast over a portion of his face, makes his eyes look…unsettling. like they’re looking straight through your flesh, can find the marrow in your bones. he scoffs like you’ve offended him, rolling his eyes into his skull, mouth pulled tight.

“No.” his voice is firm, gaze concentrated only on you, like the halls are empty and you’re the focus of his lens. “I want you to star in it.”

his words confuse you—you’ve never presented yourself as an actor before, never alluded to wanting to be in the spotlight if not for what you create with your hands. but he shuffles on his feet, looks desperate even. there’s some hemming and hawing for a minute or so—why not choose Mina?—she’s busy—why choose me?—‘cause you’d be perfect for my short film—what’s it about?—you’ll find out once you get the script.

and even after you hesitantly agree and get the script—you still don’t understand what you’re doing. why you’re here, why you’re the only person, why it has to be a solo film, why there’s damn near zero lines in the entirety of the have-to-be forty five minute film.

the scenes are all so long, and maybe it’s because movies aren’t your forte or chosen major, but you just don’t get it. one scene; you’re staring at yourself in the mirror while Bakugou holds a small, black camera over your shoulder. he’s eerily quiet behind you, whispers out a faint fuckin’ go when you have to wash your face in the sink, makes you do it over because your movements are too jerky and unnatural.

the rest of the scenes go that way; you doing regular at home activities, being put under a lens, quietly barked at to do this and move that way and fix your hair and remember to frown.

“Isn’t there another way to film this?” you ask him on the fifth day of shooting in his spacious loft. there’s a bubble bath scene coming up, one you dont understand the importance of, but Bakugou tells you it’s the most necessary part of the entire thing.

“No,” he grunts out, looking at you from under his lashes as he sits on the lid of the toilet. “But I’ll make it soapy, so the camera won’t see much.” the camera? much? you weren’t worried so much about what the camera captured as you were the man behind it. he looks at you with such intensity, you feel naked already despite the robe you wear that’s suspiciously already your size.

he leaves the bathroom when you sink in the hot water, returns before you can say it’s okay, hears the water splashing and thinks that’s good enough. he kneels on the floor beside you, camera pointed directly in your face, makes your chest hot and your skin feel prickly. the scene passes on regularly enough; you run the water over your arms, tilt your head back as you sigh, whisper the few lines scripted, lean back and close your eyes, sigh again. it’s almost relaxing, makes you forget about the friend of a friend recording you naked right now. almost.

“Touch yourself.” Bakugou suddenly demands, hushed and quiet behind the camera. your eyes immediately shoot open, looking to him in question, how he’s eerily still in his spot hovering over you.

“Huh?” you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly, looking around the rounded lens in your face, trying to ignore the red blinking light. but Bakugou only frowns.

“It’s a masturbation scene. Touch yourself.” he repeats, voice louder, more demanding this time. your stomach twists at the thought of doing something so intimate in front of him. he’s a handsome guy, for sure, even made you consider asking him out after this, figured he was just serious about his work and awkward about certain things. but…something had been off about this entire thing since the start.

“But—but I don’t, I’m not,” you stutter, sitting up a little, the bubbles covering your chest starting to disperse with your movements. but Bakugou only sits a little higher on his knees, finally pulling the camera away from his face for the first time since he’s asked you to do this for him.

“You want me to fail?” he asks, booming voice eerily quiet in the silent bathroom, carmine eyes dull, shaded over with something terrible. “Then do it.” he tells you when you shake your head quickly.

you stare at him until he gets back into position again, camera back pointed at you. when he doesn’t say anything else, you swallow thickly, wondering if the art that will come out of this will be worth it. so you listen, sneak a hand under the water, start touching yourself in a way you never have in front of anyone.

is it bad to say that it’s exhilarating? being watched and recorded by someone who breathes so heavily every time your voice hiccups? being directed to touch your chest next when the suds start to disappear and your nipples start to peek through? is it bad that you want him to send you this portion of his film, only, just so you can watch yourself again and again? make a portrait of yourself with your fingers on your nipples and your knees raising from the water and your head thrown back from the intensity in oil pastels?

“That’s a wrap.” Bakugou announces when you finish, head spinning and still panting. you look over to him, how he closes the camera, the obvious bulge in his pants. “I’ll get you a towel.”

you wonder when’s the next time he’ll need you. or better yet—maybe he could be the star in your final drawing project? you had finished it already but, what was the harm in starting over with him as your muse? as naked as you are? camera not blocking his face so you can paint the similarities of his blushing cheeks and eyes when you direct him to look at you? to touch his chest? to play with himself just like that?

[lycankeyy]

First page is from last night + these are all messy as Fuck but. AU where BF doesn't survive Picos School and for whatever reason the Penilians turn him into a cyborg and brainwash him and Pico has to try and get his boyfriend back

[shadowhaert]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ 𝐎𝐂: 𝐋𝐔𝐗 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

all content/inspo filed under #oc: lux

CURRENT FICS:

that kind of devotion [T, 1/1, 7288 words] wound tending, first kiss

if you think i'm pretty (lay your hands on me) [E, 1/1, 4631 words] smut, top!shadowheart

until the feeling has a name [M, 1/6, 15,278 words] a shar cleric and a selunite cleric. slight canon divergence. shadowheart does not have the artifact, but her mission led her to the nautiloid for other reasons. too bad she can't remember what they are.

[riacte]

Just pasted all my precure au posts in a doc and it's like 7.7k words... it's a great AU though and I am looking at it 👀

[yallemagne]

Nothing's more embarrassing than saving something in the drafts of AO3 and having to go back and make a second identical draft because AO3 auto-deletes drafts and you've taken a month to post and you're still not ready.

[nostalgia-tblr]

okay the other annoying thing about the increasing length of fanfiction is when you filter by completion status and it turns out nobody's actually posted a full fic for several weeks. and you've already read those ones :(

[thelastspeecher]

Okay I finally got around to writing up the next thing for my Foster Ford AU. I, uh, I already knew exactly what I wanted to write (I drive a lot for work and come up with fic stuff during those drives), but Life kept me from actually writing it down. But here it is! Happy Saturday. :)

——————————————————————————————

              Stan was finishing up dinner by the time his wife, Angie, walked into their house.  He looked over his shoulder.

              “Hey, babe.”

              “Hey yourself,” Angie said cheekily.  She slipped her shoes off, placing them in the basket by the door.  “Somethin’ smells good.”

              “It’s just pasta.”

              “And?” Angie asked pointedly.  “Does it bein’ pasta mean it shouldn’t smell good?”  Stan turned back to the stove, hiding a smile.

              Love when she tells me off in that sexy southern accent of hers.

              “Sorry it took me so long to get home,” Angie continued.  She sighed heavily.  “It took me forever to finish gradin’ my students’ labs, and after I finished those, I had to clean some cages.”

              “It’ll be good practice for that zoo job you’ve got lined up after you graduate,” Stan said.

              “Oh please, I don’t need any practice cleanin’ after animals,” Angie scoffed.  “I grew up on a farm, ‘member?  I’ve been cleanin’ after animals since I was old enough to hold a broom.  I just wish I could get home sooner.  I hate to leave ya with all the food prep.”

              “Eh, you and Shermie taught me enough kitchen stuff to keep me from setting things on fire,” Stan said with a shrug.  Angie chuckled.  “Sit down.  I’ll bring you dinner.”  Stan scooped pasta into a bowl, sprinkled cheese on top, and then brought it to Angie sitting on the couch in the adjacent living room.  As he handed the bowl over to her, Angie raised an eyebrow at him.

              “What are ya tryin’ to butter me up for?”

              “Why do you assume I’m trying to butter you up?”

              “You even put the cheese on fer me.”  Angie cocked her head.  “Somethin’s on yer mind.”

              “You can see right through me,” Stan mumbled.  He shooed the cat off the couch, then sat next to Angie.  “I told you about this kid at school, Stan.”

              “Yes.  You did.”  Angie set her bowl on the coffee table, on top of an old National Geographic magazine.  “Poor thing’s in foster care, right?”

              “Yeah.”  Stan took a deep breath.  “And…there’s a pretty big thing I haven’t mentioned about him.”

              “What?”

              “He looks exactly like my twin brother.”

              “You’ve got a twin brother?” Angie asked.  Stan winced.  “Stanley Pines, we’re married!  And we’ve known each other how long?  Why would ya keep such a big secret from me?”  She crossed her arms.  “Ya better have a good reason.”

              “I do.”

              “Then spill.”

              “Ford – that’s my twin’s name ��� and I were pretty close growing up.  I mean, we’re twins.  Sorta required.  But in high school, well, it all got ruined.”

              “How?”

              “He did this science fair project that caught the attention of some fancy school on the other side of the country.  He was…he was gonna leave me behind.  And I- I got angry.”

              “Oh, no,” Angie said quietly.  “In yer anger, did ya do somethin’ ya regret?”

              “Yes,” Stan said quietly.  Angie gasped.  “Not- whatever you’re thinking, it’s not that bad.  I went to the school where Ford’s experiment was and, okay, this is gonna sound stupid, but I shouted at it for taking my brother away from me.”

              “That don’t sound stupid.”

              “Yeah, you named your violin.”

              “Fiddle, and she came with the name.”

              “You’re just making my point for me,” Stan said.  Angie rolled her eyes.

              “Whatever.  So, ya went to yell at the experiment.  Don’t sound too bad.”

              “Yeah, well, I’m not done yet.”  Angie gestured for him to continue.  “I- I got angry and I hit the table it was on and the next thing I knew it was smoking and wasn’t moving and-”  Stan shook his head.  He could feel hot guilt pulsing at the base of his neck, like it always did when he thought about that day.  “I thought I fixed it.  So I didn’t tell Ford.”

              “You didn’t tell- you thought you fixed it?” Angie asked incredulously.  “What kind of project was this?”

              “Uh, I think it was called a perpetual motion machine,” Stan said, scratching his chin idly.  When Angie didn’t say anything, he looked at her.  She was gaping, shocked.  “What?”

              “Yer brother made a workin’ perpetual motion machine?” she squeaked.  Stan nodded.  She began to tug on her hair.  “You- what- how?”

              “Hey, what have I told you about leaving your hair alone?” Stan said playfully, pulling her hands away from her hair.  “It’s too pretty to get all torn out.”  Angie put her head in her hands.  “Is a perpetual motion machine a big thing?”

              “Yes.  It is.”

              “I’m kinda surprised you know what it is.  I thought your brother was the one who makes machines.”

              “He is.”  Angie dragged her hands down her face.  “But ya don’t need to be an engineer to know perpetual motion machines ain’t s’pposed to be possible!”

              “Yeah, Ford- Ford’s pretty smart.”

              “Sounds like it.”  Angie shook her head.  “Okay.  You thought you fixed a perpetual motion machine- now that’s just a crazy sentence what came out of my mouth.  What happened next?”

              “I didn’t tell Ford.  I didn’t want him to think I did it on purpose.  Of course, that’s what he thought when it turned out I didn’t actually fix it.  Don’t think it needs to be said, but I’ll say it anyway.  He didn’t get into the fancy school.  At home, we got into a big fight over it and my Pops kicked me out.”

              “Over a broken science fair project?” Angie asked softly.

              “Honestly, I think he was just looking for an excuse to get rid of me.”

              “How old were ya?”

              “Seventeen.”

              “Oh, Lordy,” Angie breathed.  She put a hand on Stan’s knee.  “Darlin’…”

              “That’s why I was living with Shermie when we met,” Stan continued, trying to ignore the tears beginning to prick the corners of his eyes.  “He heard what happened, tracked me down, and thanks to him, I got my GED, got a community college degree, and met you.”  Stan smiled at Angie.  Angie returned the expression.  It was the same sweet smile she made the day they met in the coffee shop, when she realized Stan had put extra whipped cream on her hot chocolate.  As a barista, it was what he usually did to flirt with pretty ladies, but even then, when Angie smiled at him, he knew she was different.

              “I see why ya didn’t mention him to me ‘fore,” Angie said.  She squeezed Stan’s knee.  “But in the future, please, share these things.  I know they aren’t pleasant, but we’re married.  I’m here to help ya shoulder the burden of the unhappy things.  You do that with me.  Let me do that with you.”

              “No promises.”

              “Oh, Stan,” Angie sighed.  She shook her head.  “What am I goin’ to do with ya?  Ya need to be willin’ to be more emotionally vulnerable.”

              “No, I don’t.”

              “Yes, you do.  Especially if my suspicions as to why ya brought up this kid at school what looks like yer twin are correct.”

              “Can’t pull the wool over your eyes.”

              “Nope.”  Angie leaned back, crossing her arms.  “Now, either confirm or deny my theory.  Why’d ya bring him up?  More specifically, why’d ya bring up the fact he looks so much like yer twin brother?”

              “All right.  No beating around the bush.”  Stan took a deep breath.  “I think he’s Ford’s son.”  He raised an eyebrow.  “Did I confirm or deny?”

              “Confirm.”

              “Figured.”

              “Do ya have any other evidence supportin’ this idea?”

              “Yes.”

              “Really?” Angie said.  Stan nodded.  “I’m interested in hearin’ it, then.”

              “When I realized there was a kid at school who looked just like Ford and even had the same name-”

              “Wait.”  Angie held up a hand.  “I thought you said the kid was named Stan.”

              “It’s short for Stanford.  So is Ford,” Stan explained.  Angie steepled her fingers thoughtfully.  “What?”

              “Yer parents named their twin sons Stanley ‘n Stanford.”

              “Yeah.”

              “Sweet sarsaparilla.”

              “You don’t have any right to talk about names, Banjolina.”

              “Ugh.  Fair.”  Angie waved her hand.  “Continue.”

              “Anyways, when I realized this kid looked like Ford and even had the same name, I asked Shermie if he’d heard from Ford recently.  He said he hadn’t, but that he would check with Mom.  Mom told him Ford hadn’t called her in almost two years.”

              “Huh.  Unless that’s typical of him, I’d consider that to be rather concernin’.”

              “Apparently, he called Mom every week, unless he was too busy.  But he always called her at least once a month,” Stan said.  Angie nodded slowly.  “So, yeah, concerning.  He was doing research in some town in Oregon called Gravity Falls when he dropped off the face of the Earth.  Guess where the kid at school was found.”

              “Gravity Falls?”

              “Bingo.”  Stan ran a hand through his hair.  “I just- it can’t be a coincidence!”

              “Stranger things have happened,” Angie mumbled.  She frowned.  “Is yer twin the kind of person to abandon his son?  When you’ve mentioned him ‘fore, you’ve said he was abandoned.”

              “No.  Ford’s not the kinda person to just leave his kid and skip town.”  Stan looked down at the floor, a sudden tight feeling in his chest.  “At least.  Not the Ford I knew.  I think- Shermie said that Ford was doing research in the woods in Gravity Falls.  I think Ford probably brought his kid on some hike with him.  Something happened to Ford, but his kid got away and was found wandering around.”

              “Research?  What kind?”

              “Dunno.”  Stan paused.  He looked at Angie.  “Do you think it’s relevant?”  Angie shrugged.

              “Could be.  Was a missin’ person report ever formally filed fer yer twin?”

              “Shermie said Mom called the cops after a year without anything from Ford.  The cops didn’t see anything suspicious at Ford’s place, and some lumberjack and his wife said they were looking after the place while Ford was gone.”

              “Then the answer is no,” Angie said.

              “I think so, yeah.  The lumberjack and his wife made it sound like Ford would be back eventually.”

              “I get the feelin’ these cops might not be stellar at their job,” Angie said idly.  She smirked.  “Love it when the pigs are incompetent.”

              “Moses, Angie, I’m trying to be serious, and you’re saying something stupid sexy,” Stan said playfully.  Angie laughed.  “I agree, though.”

              “About the cops in Gravity Falls bein’ bad or that cops what don’t know what they’re doin’ are the best?”

              “Both.  I mean, this kid at school, his last name isn’t even Pines!  I bet the cops misheard him or something.”

              “Or that’s the last name of his mother,” Angie suggested.  Stan rubbed his chin.

              “That’s possible, yeah.  Ford’s not a relationship kinda guy.  Maybe this kid was from a one-night-stand or something and the mom dropped him off with Ford.”

              “Did anyone in yer fam’ly suspect yer twin to have a child?”

              “Uh.  No.  But even though Ford called Mom all the time, he didn’t tell her much.  Just that he was eating well and getting exercise.  And honestly, I don’t blame him for wanting to keep a kid secret from her.  She’d go nuts and make it a whole thing.”

              “I see,” Angie murmured.  Stan scowled at the expression on her face.  She wasn’t convinced.

              “You don’t believe me.”

              “It’s not that I don’t believe you.  I just think it could all be a coincidence.”

              “Ang, you don’t get it!  This kid is a frickin’ genius like Ford and seriously, he looks just like him.  Extra fingers and everything!” Stan protested.  Angie blinked.

              “…Pardon?”

              “What are you pardoning?”

              “Extra…”

              “…fingers.  Yeah.  Probably shoulda led with that, huh?”

              “Holy horseradish.”  Angie leaned in, excitement suddenly sparkling in her brilliant blue eyes.  “Stanley, you’ve got a twin brother what’s a polydactyl?”

              “Is that the fancy science word for extra fingers?” Stan asked.  Angie nodded.  “Then yes.”

              “That’s astonishin’!  In what way is he a polydactyl?  Ya said extra fingers.  Is it a fully formed, fully functional extra digit?” Angie asked intently.

              “Yeah.”

              “Is it his pinky finger, his thumb, or one of the middle three?”

              “I don’t-”

              “And ya said fingers, plural.  How many extra does he have?”

              “Two.  One on each hand.”

              “Are his hands symmetrical?”

              “Yes.”

              “Golly gee.”  Angie shook her head.  “That’s- okay, polydactyly ain’t exactly common to begin with.  But most polydactyls don’t got a full extra finger, they got an extra nubbin.  And then addin’ perfect symmetry on top of that?  That’s an incredibly rare case!”

              “The doctors said something like that when we were kids,” Stan mumbled.

              “Does polydactyly run in yer fam’ly?  Do either of yer parents have it?”

              “No.”

              “Then it must be an in utero mutation-”

              “Angie,” Stan said firmly.  Angie stopped mid-sentence.  “I love it when you get all excited about science.  But we need to focus.”

              “Right.  Right.  Sorry.”  Angie smiled sheepishly.  “It can be dif’cult to turn off biology mode sometimes.”

              “Since Ford’s…polydactyly is such a rare kind, does that help my case, since the kid at school has it the same way?” Stan asked.  Angie frowned thoughtfully.

              “The fact they share a rare version of polydactyly, to me, ain’t as significant as the fact they share bein’ polydactyls of any sort.  Polydactyly has what we call variable expressivity.  It can show up a lot of dif’rent ways, and just ‘cause two folks who have it are related, it don’t mean they’ll have it in the same way.”

              “Huh?”

              “Think about it this way,” Angie said.  “I got blonde hair, right?”  Stan nodded.  “And so do two of my brothers.  But only one of ‘em has hair the same shade as mine.  Same sort of principle applies to polydactyly.”

              “You’re dumbing it down for me, aren’t you?” Stan asked.  Angie tilted her head one way, then the other way.

              “…Maybe.  But it helped ya understand what I was gettin’ at, didn’t it?”

              “It did.”

              “Good!  So, sharin’ the exact same kind of polydactyly don’t necessarily mean relation.  But sharin’ polydactyly in general could!  It’s pretty rare and generally dominant, so assumin’ yer twin is heterozygous fer it, any offspring of his would have a 50% chance of bein’ polydactyls too.”

              “So you’re saying…”

              “I don’t think yer barkin’ up the wrong tree,” Angie said.  Stan felt tension he didn’t know he was carrying leave his shoulders.  “We can reach out to Stan’s foster parents and ask to get in touch with the CPS officer in charge of his case.  Let ‘em do their own investigation and see what happens.”

              “Yeah.”  Stan ran a hand through his hair.  “Okay.  We’ll do that.  And if it turns out this kid, Stan, if he’s actually Ford’s son…”

              “We do what we need to become foster parents,” Angie said quietly, “and we take him in.”

              “Ang…”

              “It’s better fer kids to be placed with fam’ly when possible.  And since yer already close to the boy, it’d be the easiest adjustment fer him to stay with us.”  When Stan didn’t say anything, Angie cocked her head.  “I know that was what ya wanted to do when ya started this conversation.”

              “Yeah, but I wasn’t expecting you to agree to it so quickly.”  Stan managed a weak smirk.  “Guess I didn’t need to butter you up after all.”

              “Now, who can say whether that cheese on my pasta was the determinin’ factor?” Angie teased.  “Speakin’ of…”  She turned back to her dinner.  “Dr. Whiskers!”

              “Darn it, cat, don’t eat that!” Stan snapped, shooing the cat away from the bowl of pasta it had already made a dent in.  Dr. Whiskers meowed plaintively, hopped off the coffee table, and sauntered away.  “Ugh.  I’ll get you a new one.”

              “We should prob’ly try to teach Dr. Whiskers to stop eatin’ our food,” Angie said idly as Stan got up from the couch.  “That ain’t the first time he’s pulled this.”

              “Yeah.”  Stan looked around.  “Where’s the spray bottle?”

              “I think I put it in the bathroom after we finished with yer trainin’,” Angie answered.  When Stan got hired as a teacher, he recruited Angie to help him stave off his habit of swearing so that he didn’t upset any parents by letting a four-letter word slip.  The method Angie went with was unconventional, to be sure, but effective.

              “Still can’t believe you sprayed me with water any time I swore.”

              “It worked, didn’t it?”

              “A little too well,” Stan muttered.  He didn’t even really swear at home anymore.  “Wonder if we can use it if the kid causes trouble.”

              “No,” Angie said immediately.

              “What, you can spray me but you draw the line at a kid?”

              “Yes.”

              “Huh.”  Stan grinned at Angie.  “I knew you were mom material.”  Angie smiled.

              “And yer goin’ to make an amazin’ father.”

              “Damn straight,” Stan said firmly.  Angie raised an eyebrow.  “…Darn straight.”

[memorandum]

heads up! the next post will be another comic (I'm very, very excited to share it :D), but it'll take me a while longer to share it :']

I fear a lot of my actual work (administrative, very tedious) has stacked up with december approaching... I will probably take a brief break for the remainder of this week to focus on that, and finish up the comic! as warm-ups, I will also prepare a few of the other smaller answers with it so I can catch up easier next week! 🫶

[aqpippin]

hi queen where have you been <33 working on a November fic 👀

hi bestie I’ve been on annual leave at work and just living my life for a while 🙂‍↕️ my dad came to visit for a few days, I spent like 3 days at my best friend’s house, went to Sydney for a few days and saw Hozier (!!!!!), cleaned my apartment from head to toe, rewatched the twilight saga, and have just started binge watching love island au ✨

also YES I have something planned for november 🤭 it’s still in progress but you’ll have the first bit up by the end of the month 😽

[wannaliveattheholidayinn]

when i finish my gravity falls fic (and TRUST,,, i will finish it) i honestly have no idea what i am going to do

[patchodraws]

uh oh guys, it’s bad (has come up with a new paper girls fic idea)

[hornsofash]

for those of you who don't know, about a week and a half ago, i posted convergence, my first fanfiction. i did a poll a while back in which the prompt "quantum entanglement" won, but the fic seemed to take a mind of its own and i felt that name was no longer fitting; thus, convergence was born. it's my take on how ii and vessel might have met. i hope everyone enjoys 🩶

[floatysparrowthing]

Ahhhh I want to work on my fanfic and read fanfic and read regular books all at once

[nanamis-bigtie]

shouldn't have yapped about tmi on main, a certain higuruma idea is back to attack my brain & gods, i don't have time for this level of a project right now 😭😭😭

[wasabi-gumdrop]

diagnosing myself with a terminal case of the sillies (yearning to write the next chapters of my four ongoing fics plus start two other multichaps) ((delusional))

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

No one asked me but Courtanie on ao3 is literally one of my favorite fic writers for sp. especially her kennys holy shit. When I say some of the best k2 out here