#I'm just trying to fill the first ten tags there are so many things i don't want to be in the tags for

[fkinkindagauche]

Somebody Has to Arrange the Matches

This is a prompt fill for @steddiebingo Round One, prompt "Dustin Henderson". Full fic on AO3.

Rating: Explicit | WC: 5,398 | CW: None | Tags: Dustin Henderson parent trap, gay Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington speed runs his sexuality crisis, first kiss, mutual pining, friends to lovers, frottage

Summary: Dustin is adamant that Eddie Munson deserves to find love, after all he's been through. Once Dustin figures out some things about Eddie, he gets to work making it happen.

divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie was being cagey again.

It had become Dustin's personal mission now that Eddie was out of the hospital to get the man a girlfriend. As far as Dustin could tell from his probing questions to the Corroded Coffin guys, Eddie had never had a girlfriend, which was honestly shocking to Dustin. Sure, Eddie could be pretty over the top, but everyone liked him. And it wasn't like he was ugly. So he must just be too shy or something. Dustin wanted to help.

Dustin currently had him cornered in Gareth's garage, away from the rest of the group. They'd just finished a D&D session at Gareth's house, with a Corroded Coffin practice scheduled after. Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and Will were waiting for Steve to pick them up before the practice started. Dustin was doing his utmost to get Eddie to go out with one of Robin's band geek friends, but Eddie was resisting all of his attempts.

"Henderson, no." Eddie sounded exactly like Steve did after Dustin had asked for a ride about ten times, trying to get a no to magically change to a yes. "I'm not going to ask Veronica out."

"Why not?" Dustin asked, voice raised. "She's a huge nerd, she flirts with you, like, non-stop, and she's hot."

Eddie sighed. "I'm just not into her."

Dustin groaned, tugging his hands through his hair in frustration. "Are you into anyone? Every time I bring someone up, you shoot the option down."

"Well, I don't like your options, bud. They're not good options."

"That's objectively false!" Dustin yelled. "Most guys would kill for some of the options I've presented!" Why did Eddie have to be like this?

"How can it be objectively false?" Eddie shot back. "It's literally my opinion. The definition of subjective."

Dustin glared at him. He hated when Eddie tried to outsmart him. He hated how often it worked. Steve drove up just as Dustin was opening his mouth for a rebuttal.

"Thank the fucking Lord," Eddie muttered. "Please take this young whippersnapper off of my hands before I kill him," Eddie yelled to Steve when he got out of his car.

"Oh, great," Steve said. "Can't wait to spend the next 15 minutes with a feisty Henderson in my car."

God, they were both such turds sometimes. Dustin sighed loudly and stomped over to Steve's car. "This isn't over, Munson!" he called over his shoulder. Eddie flipped him off in response.

He grabbed the passenger seat before Mike, Lucas, or Will even made it to the car, much to their chagrin. Steve chatted with Eddie for a few moments, Eddie leaning into his space as per usual, slinging an arm over Steve's shoulder.

Dustin leaned over and honked the horn.

"Really, Dustin?" Steve yelled, hands on his hips.

"Some of us have places to be!" Dustin yelled back.

"Where do you have to be?" Lucas asked from the backseat.

Dustin shrugged. "It's the principle of the thing."

Steve spent a few more moments talking to Eddie, probably just to piss Dustin off, then came back to the car.

Dustin gave Steve 30 seconds to adjust, watching the time tick by on his watch. He'd been told off one too many times for immediately starting an interrogation, so this was his compromise with the world. As soon as his watch hit the 30 second mark, he started in.

"So why doesn't Eddie ever date anyone?" Dustin asked, talking over whatever conversation Mike and Will had been having in the back.

Steve glanced at Dustin with a confused expression on his face. "What?"

"From the intel I've gathered, Eddie's never had a girlfriend," Dustin said. "He turns down all of my suggestions for potential dates. But if anyone deserves a girlfriend, it's him. He's, like, a hero. I want to help him find his Suzie."

"Excuse me, what am I? Chopped liver?" Steve interjected. "Why aren't you trying to find me a girlfriend?"

Dustin rolled his eyes. "You've had a million girlfriends, Steve. Give some of the other poor dudes a chance."

"Yeah, Steve. You're kind of hogging the eligible young women of Hawkins," Mike piped up from the back seat.

"I haven't had a girlfriend since Nancy," Steve protested.

"But you do still get around," Dustin insisted.

"Whatever, man." Steve shook his head. "Why don't you let Eddie do his own thing? Maybe he's just picky."

Dustin crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, not responding. Steve was wrong. Eddie deserved his own Suzie. And Dustin wasn't going to give up on helping him find her.

"So I saw this girl the other day at the arcade," Dustin started. He and Eddie were at the trailer, painting some miniatures. It was his mom's night working late, and Dustin had started spending it with either Eddie or Steve on alternating weeks.

Eddie groaned. "Not again, Henderson. Can't we go, like, one day without this shit?"

"But Eddie! I think you'd really like her. She had a mohawk. Dyed pink. And her nose was pierced."

Eddie dropped his head into his hands, smearing some red paint on his cheek. He stayed that way for a few moments, quieter for much longer than usual. Dustin worried for a moment that he might have broken him. When Eddie finally looked up, his face was serious in a way it almost never was. He reached out for Dustin's hand.

"Dustin. I'm about to tell you something, and you cannot freak out about it. And you can't tell anyone else about it, either. Am I clear?" Usually, Dustin would have thought a joke was coming after an intro like that from Eddie. But he seemed completely earnest this time, so Dustin actually considered what he'd asked.

"What about Suzie?" Dustin asked. "Can I tell Suzie?"

Eddie sighed. "Yeah, you can tell Suzie."

"Alright," Dustin said. "I agree to your terms. No freak out, no telling anyone other than Suzie."

Eddie nodded. "Okay." He took a deep breath and looked away. "I'm gay, Dustin."

It took Dustin a second for his brain to parse what he'd just heard. Eddie. Heavy metal band member, dungeon master Eddie.

"I'm sorry, you're what?" Dustin squeaked. He must have misheard.

"I'm gay," Eddie repeated. "Queer, fruity, a homo, a friend of Dorothy, a fairy. I like men. That's why none of your options have sounded remotely appealing to me. That's why I've never had a girlfriend."

Dustin sat back in his chair, stunned. A lot of things were making sense now.

"Oooookay," Dustin said, nodding. So now he had to find Eddie a boyfriend. More difficult, but he liked a challenge. "So what's your type? We can find you a boyfriend."

Eddie barked out a laugh, throwing his head back. He looked relieved. "Are you serious? That's your only question, what's my type?"

"Of course that's not my only question, who do you think I am?" Dustin was a little offended. "That's just my most pressing question."

"I think this is the best response I've gotten so far to coming out," Eddie said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair.

Dustin felt pretty good about that. "Well? Are you gonna answer?"

Eddie chuckled. "I should've known this wouldn't make you give up your weird crusade." He pulled a few strands of hair in front of his mouth, chewing on the ends while he thought. "My type? I'm not totally sure, honestly, haven't had much of a chance to find out, living in Hawkins. I guess probably my height or maybe shorter, but not much taller. On the masculine side of things, almost the jock physique. Hairy. Brunette."

Dustin nodded after each characteristic, mentally taking note. "Those are all physical things. What about personality?"

Eddie had to think a little harder about that one, looking into the distance. "Um. Kinda goofy, I guess? Not too macho. Sense of humor." Eddie trailed off and looked at Dustin sharply. "Henderson, if you go around asking the men of Hawkins if they're queer so you can try to find a date for me, you're gonna get beat to shit."

Dustin held up his hands. "You really think I'm that stupid? Give me some credit here, Eddie."

"You have a track record of failing to read the room, man," Eddie pointed out.

That absolutely wasn't true. Dustin was very tactful. He could be quite subtle when he wanted to be. Eddie just never got to see that side of him.

"I'll be careful," Dustin insisted. "I'm not gonna ask anyone if they're gay."

"Alright," Eddie said, but he didn't look convinced. Dustin would show him.

The idea hit Dustin the next week, when he was spending his mom's late work night with Steve. They were out by the pool, and Steve's hairy chest was on full display, with all of its muscles. Dustin had Suzie, and she didn't want him to be muscular, but sometimes when he saw Steve's chest he couldn't deny the twinge of jealously.

Hairy. Muscular jock physique. Something was tickling at the back of Dustin's mind. Brunette. What was that? About as tall as Eddie.

Oh shit. Dustin dropped his Dr. Pepper as Steve yelled "COWABUNGA" and did a cannonball into the water. Kinda goofy.

It was Steve. Eddie had basically been describing Steve. Did Eddie even know? Had he been secretly pining after Steve this whole time? Or was it still subconscious?

Holy shit. But Steve liked girls. How was Dustin gonna make this work? Did he need to find a Steve doppelganger somewhere who was gay?

Steve popped out of the water, shaking his hair. He looked up at Dustin and the Dr. Pepper spilled all over the patio. "Everything alright there?" Steve asked. "You look like you saw a ghost."

Dustin nodded. "I- I'm good. Everything's fine!"

Steve shrugged and dove back under the water.

Dustin did some research over the next few days. If he was going to find a gay Steve doppelganger for Eddie, he needed to understand the culture - where he could find other queer people, the types of phrases they used to identify each other without being too blatant, that kind of stuff.

He tried finding books at the library, but came up empty-handed and probably on some sort of list the librarian kept of degenerates. So he had to resort to asking Eddie where he got all his information.

"Why do you wanna know?" Eddie asked with a suspicious glare.

"I just wanna understand you, man!" Dustin insisted, putting on his most innocent expression. "You're my friend, I wanna know what's going on with you."

Eddie reluctantly handed Dustin some zines he'd picked up in Indianapolis. "None of the raunchy stuff," Eddie said. "I'm not getting arrested for dealing gay pornography to minors."

Dustin made a disgusted face. "You could have just… not told me you even had raunchy stuff."

Eddie shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?"

Dustin spent hours that night poring over the zines, learning the lingo. He discovered an incredibly interesting fact in one of the zines - the existence of bisexuality. You could like both men and women. You didn't have to be either gay or straight.

This fact blew Dustin's mind, and the seeds of a different plan took root. What if Steve was bisexual, and he didn't even know it? That would be the easiest, most logical solution to the Eddie problem. Steve was Eddie's type; so what if Eddie was also Steve's type?

He talked about it with Suzie the following evening. She'd been shocked to learn that Eddie was gay. Mormons weren't exactly accepting of homosexuality. But she'd always played a little fast and loose with certain aspects of Mormonism, so Dustin was able to bring her around to the idea eventually.

"I don't know, Dusty Buns," she said as they were discussing his idea about Steve. "I don't think you can just make someone be bisexual."

"I'm not gonna make him be bisexual," Dustin insisted. "I'm just gonna try to show him that he already is."

"But what if he isn't?" she shot back.

"Then I'll go back to the doppelganger plan," he said with a sigh. "But I have to try. This is the simplest solution. Occam's razor."

"Dusty Buns, you know you're not using that correctly right now," Suzie scolded.

Dustin sighed. She never let him get away with anything.

Dustin paid a lot more attention to Steve and Eddie's interactions over the next few weeks. Now that he knew Eddie was gay, he couldn't believe he'd missed the signs pointing to his crush on Steve.

Eddie gravitated to Steve like a moth to a flame. It was like he had some sort of Steve-related sixth sense, his head immediately turning toward Steve whenever the man walked into a room.

He was a tactile guy with everyone, but whenever Steve was around, it was always Steve that Eddie was touching. Every time Dustin looked at the two of them, Eddie had a hand somewhere on Steve - slung around his shoulders, resting on one of his arms, brushing against one of his legs to get his attention.

Steve didn't seem to mind at all. He leaned into the physical contact, touching Eddie back almost as often as he was touched. They smiled at each other all the time. They got each other drinks and snacks and just in general acted like a goddamn couple. How had Dustin missed this?

He was gonna need to accelerate his timeline. These idiots needed to get together ASAP.

Read the rest of the fic on AO3.

[flowersforbucky]

either way, i'm going your way

logan howlett x reader (worst!logan x reader)

word count: 4k

summary: logan doesn't remember the last time he celebrated valentine's day, and he doesn't have any reason to believe that this year will be any different. then he runs into you, wade's neighbor, who happens to love the holiday despite not having anyone to celebrate it with.

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only mdni, sex in a public place kind of, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected p in v, logan's pov, neighbor!reader, reader is afab, reader is described as being shorter than logan, no use of y/n, hints of grumpy x sunshine

this is my entry for @yxtkiwiyxt & @lubdubology valentine's writing challenge! thank you both for hosting this, i can't wait to read the other submissions ❤️

logan howlett masterlist

Logan has been alive for two centuries worth of Valentine's Days. He can count on one hand how many he’s actually celebrated, and he can't recall the last time he had a reason to even acknowledge the day.

To him, Valentine’s Days have always been just another Tuesday, or Thursday, or whatever day it falls on that year.

He hates how commercialized the holiday is thanks to the multi-billion dollar corporations that fill department stores with trinkets the second that Christmas is over. He hates all of the pressure and unrealistic expectations that come with planning the perfect date. And as much as he hates to admit it to himself, he hates that it's a stark reminder that he's just as alone in this universe as he had been in the last one.

Technically he can't say that he's entirely alone. Romantically? Yes. Sexually? Yes.

Physically, however, he’s lodged between a blind eighty-year-old cocaine addict and a ten pound living tumor - the latter of whom keeps trying to French kiss him.

Wade might be out with Vanessa for Valentine’s Day, but for Logan, this is any other Friday night – watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire reruns with Al and Mary Puppins.

Something about his current predicament makes him feel even more alone than if he actually were alone. Maybe it’s how unfamiliar and foreign this universe still feels in so many ways – he’s been here for some months now, but there’s some things that remind him that he still has a ways to go in terms of adjustment.

He'd never admit it aloud, but just maybe the fact that he can’t keep his thoughts from straying to a specific next door neighbor certainly doesn’t help. He hates to use the word crush at his grown age, but he can’t really think of a better word for it. If it’s not a crush, why else would he be wondering what your plans are for this evening? Why else would he feel the unmistakable, undeniable twinge of jealousy when he thinks of the mere possibility of you spending your night in the arms of someone other than him?

He has no one to blame but himself, and he knows it. He had the perfect opportunity to ask you out just last week, and he didn’t take it. The two of you were both taking the elevator up to your neighboring apartments when it broke down for the third fucking time in the last month. It took nearly an hour for maintenance to get it back up and running, and he couldn’t find the nerve to simply ask if you have any plans at any point during the time you were trapped in the fifteen square feet of space together. Instead, he awkwardly rambled about he had walked in on Wade and Vanessa in a compromising position the day before.

He cringes at the memory, tossing back another swig of whiskey when he realizes the bottle is empty. He sighs, earning a side-eye from Mary Puppins.

If this is how he’s going to be spending his evening, he should at least be a little intoxicated.

“I’m going to the liquor store,” Logan announces as he transfers Mary Puppins from his lap to Al’s before standing up from his position on the couch for the first time in hours. “You need anything?”

“Pick me up a couple of scratchers and a pack of Newports.”

Just her usual requests, then.

Logan throws on his leather jacket, dreading the cold and dreary February night but willing to face it for a bottle of bourbon and some cigars. He’s been out of those since yesterday, so a trip to the nearest convenience store is much needed, anyway.

The door to the apartment complex’s singular outdated elevator is sliding to a close when Logan hears a familiar, feminine voice call out.

“Hold up!”

Logan immediately pushes the hold button, freezing the door in place. A second later, you appear in the doorframe. You’re slightly out of breath, with a relieved expression on your face.

“Thanks,” you greet him as you lean against the wall of the elevator, smoothing your hands over the fabric of your plaid skirt. “I’m running late to my dinner reservations and really didn’t wanna have to take the stairs in these.” You glance down at the heels of the uncomfortable looking thigh high boots that you’re wearing.

Uncomfortable looking and hot, he thinks, before your words sink in. Dinner reservations – of course you’d have plans tonight. He feels a slight pang of disappointment (and jealousy, if he’s being honest with himself) at the realization, but he isn’t surprised.

“Well, let’s cross our fingers that we don’t get stuck in here again and that you make it to your date on time,” Logan says with a forced laugh and smile as he pushes the button once again to close the door, followed by the button that says lobby.

“Oh, no. Not a date,” you correct him quickly with a bashful grin. “Well, maybe. Is it considered a date if I’m dining by myself?”

“You’re going to dinner by yourself?” Logan asks, unable to hide the surprise in his tone. “Looking like that?”

Your eyes widen in shock. “What’s wrong with how I look? And what’s wrong with going to dinner by myself?”

“Nothing!” Logan begins to backtrack when he realizes how his questions came across. “You - you look great. I'm just a little surprised. Would’ve assumed that you had a date tonight is all—”

He trails off when he realizes that you’re pursing your lips together in an obvious attempt to hide a smirk. The mischievous glimmer in your eyes gives you away.

“I’m just fucking with you, Logan,” you snort with a playful slap to his arm. “I know it’s a little unconventional to take yourself out on Valentine’s Day. But I’ve always loved the holiday despite being painfully single, so I thought why not? Better than sitting at home and sulking all night.”

The corners of his lips threaten to twitch upwards at the words painfully single as he contemplates the rest of your response. He can’t help but admire your way of thinking. He was content with staying holed up inside the apartment and drinking himself into a stupor, but he can’t deny that your outlook on the holiday is far less depressing and boring than his.

“What about you?” you ask as the elevator comes to a stop with a melodic ding. You exit, looking back at him over your shoulder. “Are you on your way to your Valentine’s plans?”

He chuckles at the question. For a second, he considers lying to you. He considers telling you that yes, he is on his way to pick up his date right now, just so he doesn’t have to tell you the truth – that he’s on his way to buy bourbon, cancer sticks, and lottery tickets for him and his elderly roommate. But with his luck, you’d run into Wade tomorrow and he’d open his big fucking mouth about how Logan actually spent his night, and the thought of that is even more mortifying than telling you the truth to your face.

“Not unless you count making a liquor run as Valentine’s plans,” he sighs, averting your gaze as he opens the door to the apartment building for you. “The only thing I plan on doing tonight is listen to Althea scream at her game shows.”

You come to a stop outside of the apartment building, wrapping your coat tightly around your chest to fight off the chilly night air. There’s a peculiar look on your face that Logan can’t quite read – something between amusement and hesitation.

“You could have worse dates, I suppose,” you laugh.

“That’s true,” Logan agrees. “At least I have Vanessa to thank for a Wade free evening. But I’ll let you go, don’t wanna make you late for your—”

“Do you like Korean barbecue?”

Logan freezes, taken aback by the question. He snaps his mouth shut, realizing he’s staring at you like a deer in the headlights.

“Korean barbecue?” He asks lamely. “Don’t think I’ve ever tried it.”

He’s had barbecue. He’s had Korean food.. maybe? He’s been alive a really long time, he’s sure he’s had Korean food at some point in the last two hundred years.

But he can’t say that he’s had Korean barbecue.

A nervous looking grin appears on your face, and you cross your arms over your chest before taking a small step towards him.

“Are you hungry?”

••••••

All it takes is one look at the table that the host takes the two of you to for Logan to realize that he has indeed never had Korean barbecue.

You don’t appear to be the slightest bit confused so he assumes that the circular grill built into the middle of the table is normal, though he’s never seen anything quite like it in a restaurant before.

You giggle when you notice the curious expression on his face.

“It’s kinda like hibachi,” you begin. “Except instead of someone cooking it in front of you, you cook it yourself.”

Logan takes in the array of various meats on the tray to the left of him. You pick up a piece of what appears to be some kind of beef with a pair of tongs, and place it on the grill. It sizzles, and he watches as you add a few more pieces of meat onto the hot surface.

“Isn’t that kinda the whole point of going to a restaurant? To have someone else cook the food for you?” He asks the question as gently as he can, not wanting to hurt your feelings. He’s just happy to be here with you – even if he doesn’t fully understand the appeal of going to a restaurant to pay to cook your own food.

“It’s about the experience,” you explain with a shrug. “To be fair, when most people come to a Korean barbecue restaurant, they usually come with a group of people – hence the large amount of meat.” You nod towards the arrangement of the meats that have yet to be cooked.

“It’s a social thing. But all of my friends had plans with their significant others tonight, so…”

You trail off as the server places another tray on the table – this one covered in various colorful side dishes that he’s definitely never had before. He wouldn’t exactly describe himself as adventurous when it comes to trying new foods – for the most part, he lives off of ham and cheese sandwiches and frozen TV dinners. But he tried shawarma when he’d first arrived in this universe and ended up loving it, so he’s determined to try a bite of everything on this table.

“Sounds like it’s a good thing that you ran into me, then,” Logan murmurs when the server walks off.

You take your eyes off of the pieces of meat that you’re paying careful attention not to overcook, looking up at him through your lashes with a soft smile.

“I'd say that you’re right about that.”

••••••

Despite the breeze and the chilly night air, Logan feels perfectly toasty on the walk back to the apartment thanks to your tight hold on his arm and the wine that you had insisted that he try.

He'd learned a lot tonight – a lot about you; your hobbies and your interests. He’d learned all about Korean barbecue, and that he likes bulgogi and buldak.

Most importantly, he'd learned that he was stupid for ever being nervous about asking you out.

He feels at ease with you. He already knew he enjoys your company from all of the times that you’ve joined Wade’s movie nights and get-togethers – but he’d never been alone with you (with the exception of getting stuck in the elevator with you last week). Wade, Vanessa, Al, Peter, Yukio, and countless others always seemed to be present, making it near impossible for him to get to know you in the way that he’s wanted to since he first met you.

But now, with your arm intertwined with his and the scent of your perfume hitting him each time there is a gust of air, he knows that he is going to do all that he can to keep having moments like this with you.

“I have a question,” you state as the two of you turn onto the street where your apartment building is. Logan glances down at you in curiosity, but you’re not looking at him – you’re looking ahead, your teeth biting into your lower lip.

“What’s that?” Logan murmurs.

You hesitate, your eyes flickering up to him before quickly looking away again. “Did you actually like the kimchi?”

Logan can’t help but cackle, taken off guard by the question.

“That’s your question?” he laughs, thinking back to the spicy and tangy flavor of the fermented vegetables.

You come to a stop next to a streetlight outside of your apartment building, pulling your arm away from his to stand just inches in front of him.

“No,” you admit with a smirk. “Though I am curious about that, too.” You take a step closer to him, your chest ever so slightly brushing against his. He feels his breath catch in his throat at the way that your eyes twinkle in the glow of the streetlight.

“Last week, when we got stuck in the elevator together,” you begin in a low voice. He swears that your eyes flicker to his lips for a split second before meeting his gaze once more. “Were you nervous?”

He thinks back to his nervous rambling in the elevator, to how you looked so pretty that he found it difficult to hold direct eye contact with you, and to how it felt like half of his brain was screaming at him to ask you out and the other half was screaming at him to not make himself look like an idiot.

Yeah, nervous is accurate.

“That obvious, huh?” he sighs.

“Just a little,” you shrug. “But don’t worry. I was too.”

“Is that right?” Logan asks, trying not to give away just how happy the confession makes him. “And what about now?”

He doesn’t have to ask – he's standing close enough to you that your increased heartrate is easy for him to detect.

“Something like that,” you whisper, and before he fully process what’s happening, you’re raising up on your tippy toes to capture his lips in yours.

The taste of the fruity wine from dinner still lingers on your lips. He places his hands on the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. Your hands cradle his face, pulling him down closer to you. The warmth of you is a balm against the brisk night air, making him feel like he can’t get close enough to you. You don’t pull away until you’re breathless, looking up at him with dilated pupils in the florescent street lighting.

“Do you wanna come up to my place?” you breathe, nodding your head in the direction of the apartment building.

“What? You don’t wanna come to mine and hang out with Al?” he teases, nudging you in the direction of the building’s entrance.

“As tempting as that sounds…” You trail off, following his lead.

The second that the elevator door comes to a close, his hands are back on you. He backs you up against the wall, his hands gripping your hips as you spread your legs enough to allow one of his thick thighs in between them. This time, he’s the one who kisses you, wasting no time in slipping his tongue between your lips. You whimper into the kiss, your tongue fighting his for dominance.

It isn’t until he pulls away for air and opens his eyes that he realizes the elevator has come to a stop. It couldn’t have been moving for more than ten seconds –

“Fuckin’ hell,” you groan. “Not this again.”

Logan looks at the panel of buttons to his left. Sure enough, the number reads that you’re still a floor beneath your apartments. He beats his fist against the elevator wall, as if that’s actually going to help the matter.

Still pinned between his body and the wall, you pull your cell phone out from an interior pocket of your coat. You quickly find the number for building maintenance in your call history, but it just rings, and rings, and rings.

“I could probably pry the doors open,” Logan muses as he begins to pull away from you. He thinks back to how it took maintenance nearly an hour to get the elevator back up and running last week, and knows that he wouldn’t have the patience for that now. The thought of having to wait even a fraction of that long to get back to your apartment…

“Let’s not do anything that could potentially put the elevator out of commission permanently, yeah?” You pull him back to you, grabbing his face in your hand and making him look at you. “I think that we'll be just fine right here for a while.”

There’s a mischievous look on your face. Before he can question you, you’re sliding down the wall until you reach the floor. You reach for his belt with your hands, making quick work of undoing the buckle and then the button to his jeans.

Oh.

All Logan can do is stare down at you in wonderment as you tug his zipper down.

“This okay with you?” you ask, but the look on your face says that you already know the answer.

He nods, his mouth suddenly feeling too dry to speak. He helps you shimmy his boxers and jeans down enough for his cock to spring free. He glances around the elevator, double checking that there aren’t any security cameras. Considering this elevator is ancient and doesn’t even function half the time, he isn’t surprised to see that there aren’t any.

You take the base of him in your hand, languidly massaging the length as you tease his slit with your tongue. You lap up the beads of pre-cum before easing him past your lips.

The sight of you on your knees for him is enough to have him twitching in your mouth. Add in how your soft lips and tongue feel working his length, and he knows he won’t last long like this.

You bob your head around him, gagging when his head juts against the back of your throat. You pull off of him, leaving a thick rope of saliva that trails from his cock to your mouth.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything prettier. He could spend hours looking at you like this.

But this isn’t how he wants to finish – in your mouth, before he’s even had a chance to make you feel good. So as much as it nearly kills him to do it, he pulls himself away from your sweet lips and yanks you back up by the tops of your arms. There’s the slightest hint of disappointment on your face, but it quickly disappears when he pushes your coat off of your shoulders and down your arms. It falls to floor, leaving you in still too many articles of clothing for Logan’s liking.

Later, he tells himself. He’ll get you naked later, in the privacy of your apartment, where there’s no risk of the elevator doors sliding open at any given moment.

For now, he settles for pushing the restrictive fabric of your skirt upwards, bunching it around your waist. He sinks to the ground in front of you, splaying his palms on your inner thighs and spreading your legs open for him. He rubs the pad of his thumb over the soft material of your panties, right over your clit. He feels shudder at the sensation, and notices the goosebumps that appear on the skin of your thighs.

He hooks his index finger through the cotton fabric, pulling it to the side. He looks up to see if there’s any kind of hesitation on your face, but you quickly pull him to your center by the back of his head, erasing any doubt. He chuckles lowly, and flattens his tongue over your slit.

Your cunt tastes as sweet as the fruity wine from the restaurant did on your tongue. He eats you like he wants to get drunk off of you, alternating between soft licks through your folds and fervent kisses to your swollen bud.

He feels your legs quiver around the sides of his head. He supports you from below, letting you go all but limp above him. He glances up at you, your head thrown back in pleasure and your chest heaving with ragged breaths.

His name slips through your lips, your voice strained with desperation. He loves the sound of it, and wants more than anything to hear you keep saying it. He snakes one of his hands between your thighs, and teases your hole with the tip 9t his finger. You involuntarily sink down, nudging the tip of it past your entrance.

He groans against your clit at how fucking tight you feel around his finger. God, he can’t wait to be inside you. He pumps the digit, your walls already clenching around him.

“Logan,” you moan from above him. “I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he hums against your clit. “Let go. I got you.”

Your climax washes over you with a sharp cry of his name and Logan mentally prays that the elevator walls aren’t as thin as the apartment walls.

When you go still above him, he reluctantly takes his mouth off of you and stands up. His jeans and boxers are still bunched just above his knees, his erection painfully hard and his balls full. He wipes the excess of your slick from his mouth with the back of his hand, and then begins to stroke his own length in his fist.

“Do you.. wanna wait until we get back to your..?”

“God, no,” you exhale, and pull him to you by grabbing his flannel in your fists.

His lips crash against yours as he nestles himself in between your legs, teasing your slit with the head of his cock. He coats it in your juices and eases into you slowly. You groan into his mouth and he has to try not to cum on the spot.

You’re tight, and warm, and your walls flutter around him just right. He hikes one of your thighs over his hip, deepening the angle before he pulls almost all the way out. He rocks back into you, working up to a steady pace.

The small, confined space is filled with the sound of your body meeting his and the sweet noises you make that are music to his ears. You grip around him like a velvet vice and he knows that he isn't going to last long.

“Gonna cum, honey,” he warns in a grunt next to your ear. “Ya feel too fuckin’ good.”

He feels your walls pulse around him at his words and he can tell that you're just as close as he is. A few more deep thrusts that hit your cervix just right and he’s spilling into you as you cum around him.

When he’s empty, his movements cease but he doesn’t pull out. He nuzzles his face against your throat, pressing kisses to the soft but sweat-slicked skin.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to us,” you murmur in a borderline delirious voice. He laughs, pulling back just enough to press his lips to yours.

“Mind if I still come back to your place? I know we just…” He trails off, glancing down at where he’s still tucked inside you. “But I just realized I forgot to pick up cigarettes for Al and she isn’t gonna be too happy with me.”

You roll your eyes, and playfully push him away from you so that you can tug your skirt back into place.

“I think I can find a way to be okay with that,” you smirk. “If we ever get out of this fuckin’ elevator.”

not my favorite thing i've ever written by any means, i've been feeling really unmotivated to write and have felt kinda burnt out, but i still wanted to get this out before valentine's day bc if i didn't then i never would have finished it at all, lol. so i'm sorry it's short 😭 hope you still enjoyed

reblogs/comments are always appreciated, thanks for reading!

[kaceyunderfell]

Salt in the Wound - A Rain World Au

First (you are here!) | Previous | Next

Artificer cant remember how many scavengers she had killed, must have been at least ten thousand by now. Yet, every corner she turns she seems to see more and more of them, like she isn't doing anything in the long-run to exterminate them.

She had given herself this task, to kill all the scavengers, so that no other slugcats would be hurt by them the way she had been.

She sighs, knowing that this cycle will just be the same as all the rest. She continues on, not thinking about how this is probably a lost cause at this point.

After what feels like hours of dodging spears and throwing spears back at those who threw them Artificer looks up at the sky. "The rain is coming.." she says, annoyed. At least the scavengers also seem to have gotten the message that the rain is approaching. She watched as the few remaining scavengers that had survived her attack ran off to their shelters.

Artificer took a rock and placed it in her mouth, after a few seconds she spat it out and threw it at the scavenger that didn't enter the shelter yet. The rock exploded, killing the scavenger instantly. She growls in disgust as she walks up to one of the bodies and mauls it.

Four food pips filled, just the amount she needed. She heads towards the next shelter, thinking that she was just gonna do the exact same thing the next cycle.

She enters the pipe leading to the shelter, not expecting to see anything of note. She is used to this repeating pattern. But.. once inside the shelter she spots something.. small..

"A.. pup..?" Artificer says, almost in disbelief.

The pup looks at Artificer for a good five seconds before deciding that she is dangerous. It runs to the far side of the shelter, as far as it can get from Artificer, who is blocking the exit.

Artificer tries to calm the pup down "It's okay.. I'm not going to hurt you.." her efforts to calm the pup down are useless. The pup seems terrified of her.

She tries to think back to when she was a mother. What calmed her pups down? Aha! That's it! she thought I gotta earn this little guy's trust!

She exits the shelter through the pipe. What would make them trust me? she thought, then she thought that bringing one of the scavenger bodies as something to eat would be less afraid of her.

Artificer walked over to one of the bodies, the one she hadn't eaten. She grabs it and heads back to the shelter. The less-deadly rain had started and she knew it wouldn't be long till the more-deadly rain set in, so she ran as fast as she could towards the shelter as to not be killed.

Once in the shelter again she looks at the slugpup, who still looks terrified of her. She places the body of the scavenger on the ground, then draws the Karma 4 symbol (indicating food) on the floor, trying to tell the pup that it is food.

After doing that she moves over to the corner left of the exit pipe and sits down. She watches what the pup does, trying to look less intimidating in the corner.

The shelter door locks itself. The pup is just staring at the corpse in front of it, not moving at all. The poor thing seems terrified. Artificer doesn't understand why it isn't eating.

Artificer looks worried. Is this pup okay? she thought to herself. Why isn't it eating?

Eventually Artificer falls asleep, not being able to keep the tiredness at bay any longer.

Im actually proud of this so imma tag some of my friends/moots because i want them to read this lol @thunder-opossum @harperfrost @kiaraunderfell123 @aeott @doomsterr @thornsawawa @saint-the-faint @staring-at-a-blank-pagee @lugiteen @sunflowers-son @olly-the-available-url @ruffy-ruffles @vo1dsea

(And yes, I do plan on continuing this au (Also, the pup's name is Minty))

[littlexscarletxwitch]

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗴𝗮𝗺𝗲

paring: florence pugh x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff, based on endgame by taylor swift (you don't understand how much i'm loving this song), cute gf flo

warning(s): grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 2.2k

note: omg, it's finally here. I'm so sorry it took me sooo long, it just I was super busy. Was this inspire by Ms. Taylor Swift? Yes, yes it was. I really hope you guys like this one. I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Love you all so much <3

note 2: guys, I'm currently reading 'Delilah Green doesnt' care' and it's giving me so many ideas for fics. So would any of you be interest in more mum!florence? Please let me know. Xoxo, M

requests are open! + check my rules here + masterlist <3

Your eyes were closed, your head was on her chest listening to her steady heartbeats, a soft smile formed on your lips.

“Promise me this is forever,” you whispered. 

You knew she was awake, she was doing the same thing as you, enjoying the moment, living in the present.

Your eyes found hers already looking at you. 

“I promise,” she said, her smile mirroring yours. 

Her lips found yours as if sealing the promise forever, but nothing ever lasts forever. The kiss that was first sweet and soft and filled with love, turned bitter, harsh and cold. You pulled back confusion written all over your face. 

You blink once then twice, and suddenly you were waking up on your bed, alone. You cursed yourself at the stupid memory. It was so pathetic to still think about Florence that way. You two were history, long forgotten, just a memory of your adolescence. 

You shook your head, trying to wake up your foggy brain from the nap you had taken. And decided to get some work done as a way to clear your head from your silly old fantasies.  

You made yourself a cup of tea, grabbed your notebook and put your headphones on. You only had three more months to finish your second album. The deadline wasn’t much of a concern of yours, what bothered you was the lack of inspiration. Every lyric you would write down was just trash, it was as if you were missing something. So far you had only five finished songs, and you needed ten more to have the album finished. 

You were humming, moving your head to the beat as you let your brain come up with the right words, but it felt as if you were stuck.

“I wanna be your endgame,” you sang to the beat. “I wanna be, I wanna be your… ” you threw your head back in annoyance, frustration getting the best out of you. 

You had been sitting on the floor for the last hour, trying to finish this one song but you were not even close to it. You took a deep breath trying not to lose your shit. Your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a new notification and that took your whole attention. 

“Y/n Y/l/n and Drew Starkey spotted out for dinner,” you read out loud and couldn’t help rolling your eyes at the link your manager and best friend had sent you.

According to the news, you were dating both Drew Starkey and Joe Keery. You also almost got engaged the week before to Rudy Pankow, but apparently cheated on him with Maya Hawke. You knew better than to actually pay attention to fake news, but you couldn’t help to. After all that was now your life, the life of a startpop in the making, so much for a boring Oxford kid. 

Your reputation precedes you, in rumours you were knee-deep. But there was nothing you could do about it. Exhausted from your social life and the poor lack of motivation to do the one thing you loved the most, you decided to go out on a walk, hoping it would help to clear your thoughts about both the fake news and Florence, who you tried to ignore from thinking of. But ever since that dream you found yourself thinking about her more often. 

You knew she was as famous as you were, maybe even more. You had to admit to yourself that some nights you found some kind of comfort in her movies, watching her cute pouty face, the one she was most known for. 

She was your first love, she taught you how to love, what it was to be loved. Of course it wasn’t easy to forget about her, even after all these years, some part of you still craved her love. It wasn’t that you didn’t love each other when you both decided to go separate ways, it was because things weren’t so simple anymore. You two weren’t just two teenargs in love, you were slowly becoming adults. She had booked roles and you were making your way into the music industry. 

And without the two of you knowing you two just drifted apart, the two of you too caught up in your careers. But you loved her, so you decided to let her go, hoping and praying to the universe that maybe she would come back to you one day. 

Your thoughts were interrupted as you opened the door to your local cafe and someone bumped into you. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t… “ but you stopped cold once you saw the strangers eyes. 

“Y/n?” she asked, her voice as soft and raspy as you remembered. “What are you doing here?” a smile formed on her face, as if she was genuinely happy to see you. 

You shook your head trying to clear out your mind, was Florence really in front of you? “I, um, I lived here,” you blinked once, twice and she was still there. “Just around the corner,” you added, cursing yourself for being so awkward. “What are you doing here?” 

Was this a sign of the universe? Have your prayers been answered? 

“Visiting my family,” right her family, you thought. “Well, not just that, I’m also working,” she scratched the back of her neck. “I was actually hoping to see you, too.”

“Really?” that had to mean something, the universe couldn't be messing around with you this cruelly. Right?

“Yeah, I have, um… I have been thinking about you.” she smiled at you and you felt the butterflies in your stomach. “I think we should talk.”

“I, um,” what were you supposed to say? Were you willingly going to agree to spend time with the love of your life as if the two of you were going to be just friends? What was that supposed to mean?

“Yeah, sure. When are you free?” you finally agree.

You mentally checked your schedule, you were supposed to finish your songs but taking a break wouldn’t hurt anybody. Plus, you were going to get your coffee and get back to it right away. 

“Um, what about now?” 

Shit, you thought. She wasn’t going to give you any time to prepare yourself. Well, you better get into it, rip it off like a band aid. 

“Okay, I was going to get a coffee and then we can…”

“Yeah, yeah, take your time. I’m going to find us a table.”

You order your coffee while mentally preparing for the conversation the two of you were going to have. What was she on about? Was it really a big coincidence? Did the universe put her in our path for some reason? You shook your head, you needed to stop thinking about the universe’s way of working for a second.

They handed you your coffee and now you had no more excuses to avoid her, not that you wanted to. Some part of you long to be near her, but you were scared of what this whole thing was about. 

“So, um, what’s up with Drew?” she tried to pretend she didn’t care but was actually dying to know if you were actually dating him, not that you noticed it.

“Who?”

“Drew? Starkey?”

“Oh, yeah, Drew,” you chuckled, silly you for forgetting your own friend. “He’s just a friend, a really good friend,” was it your imagination or did she just let out a breath of relief. “What about Ashley?” you asked before taking a sip of your coffee. 

She smiled at you, “She’s also a really good friend.”

“So, um…”

“Listen, Y/n…”

The both of you chuckled. 

“You go first, Flo”

That nickname. It was stupid because everyone who knew her would call her ‘Flo’, but coming out of your lips felt different. She had missed hearing her name on your lips, she had missed you. 

“I’m just going to say it, okay?” you only nodded. “I lied earlier, I’m not here for work or visiting my family. I came here to find you,” your lips parted in disbelief. “Ever since we broke things apart, I had been feeling like something was missing, Y/n. And I recently realised it was you. Well, I saw the article about you getting married and all I could think of was that something wasn’t right.”

“Florence I…”

“No, please let me finish,” she cut you off. “I understand that  we are strangers to each other, but I would love to get to know you once again. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, it can be like a fresh start. I just really need you in my life, Y/n. I miss my best friend.”

You took another sip of your coffee, stealing time before giving her an answer. The truth was you already knew what you wanted, you knew it the moment you sat at the table, but you wanted to mess with her just a little bit. 

You put your cup down, and finally your eyes found hers, “I would like nothing more.”

[...]

Ever since that day, Florence and you had been spending everyday together. Catching up with each other and going back to old habits. 

The more you hang out with her, the more you could feel your old feeling coming back. But you didn’t want to rush things just to ruin them again. But one particular afternoon you couldn't hold back anymore and decided to do something about it. 

She had fallen asleep 30 minutes ago, you chuckled as you realised her current state because she had picked out the movie but turns out she was more tired than what she let you see. 

You headed to your small studio and decided to get back to the song you were working on before running into Florence. You  knew exactly what you wanted to say, having found your new inspiration a few weeks ago. 

You pressed play and the music started playing, you already had a few things written down in your notebook you just needed to put all your ideas together. 

You were so lost and immersed in finishing the song, going at it back and forth, changing some lyrics, singing some ideas, writing and crossing out some bits, that you didn’t realise someone was watching you just when you were about to finish. 

You had already recorded the whole song and were just checking it out when Florence leaned in the frame door. 

Florence smiled as she listened to your sweet voice. She wondered who this song was about. 

Knew her when I was young, reconnected when we were little bit older

Both sprung, I got issues and chips on both of my shoulders

She didn’t want to get her hopes up.

Reputation precedes me, in rumors, I'm knee-deep

The truth is, it’s easier to ignore it, believe me

She felt her heart shrinking in her chest.

Even when we'd argue, we'd not do it for long

And you understand the good and bad end up in the song

She listened closely to the song as you hummed to it.

For all your beautiful traits and the way you do it with ease

For all my flaws, paranoia, and insecurities

Her heartbeat and body temperature were rising.

I've made mistakes and made some choices, that's hard to deny

After the storm, something was born on the 4th of July

I've passed days without fun, this end game is the one

With four words on the tip of my tongue, I'll never say it

She couldn't take it any longer. 

“I like it,” she said, getting closer to where you were sitting. “It’s catchy,” she said, trying to shake her feeling away. That song could be about anyone.

“I feel like something’s missing,” you scrunch your nose.

“Sing the corus to me, please,” she looked at you with her doe eyes and you swear you could have melted in that moment. 

You shook your head with a smile on your face and compiled, “I wanna be your endgame, endgame,” you finished singing the chorus. “And then it goes. Big reputation, big reputation. Ooh, you and me, we got big reputations, ah,” you sang, trying to not look at Florence. 

“You know, it sounds awfully familiar,” she teased, wanting nothing more than for it to be true. 

“And you heard about me, ooh. I got some big enemies,” you kept on going.

“What are you trying to say, Y/n?” she kept on pushing you. 

“Big reputation, big reputation. Ooh, you and me would be a big conversation, ah. And I heard about you, ooh. You like the bad ones, too,” you finished, trying to tell her that you were thinking exactly what she was thinking. 

She was so close to you now, her knees brushing against yours, sending electricity throughout your body. You could feel her hot breath on your lips. 

“I want to…” she didn’t finish her sentence because you were already nodding and she smashed her lips to yours in a second. 

You felt as if a wave of cold water was washing over you. Her lips felt both familiar and new at the same time. You felt at home as she wrapped her arm around your waist and her other hand cupped your cheek. You didn’t want to ever stop kissing her, but both you and her needed to breathe so ultimately pulled apart. 

She rested her forehead on yours, both of her hands cupping your cheeks, caressing your skin with her fingertips. 

“I wanna be your endgame,” you quietly sang to her. 

She chuckled before kissing you again and again and again. 

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! &lt;3

-M

[daremol]

Probably some info about my Rook

Heyooo, @midnightwind thank you for tagging everyone who read your post, I was one of them ahaha

Tags: Well, I don't have any DA moots, so dudes, anyone who wants to fill this out, consider me tagging you!

Name? Laurent Thorne Most likely, he uses the "Rook" nickname more often than his real name

Gender? Male (He/Him)

Age? He's only 23 at the start, small guy

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic? He positions himself as an optimistic. His position is similar to “everything can definitely be fixed if you put in enough effort.” Perhaps this works against him at moments when in fact nothing can be fixed.

Are they introverted or extroverted? Absolutely extroverted and hyperactive I think he doesn't handle loneliness well in general

How do they display affection? Infodumping, spending time together, a lot of initiative in communication The same guy who remembers your preferences and desires, and then tries to make a gift you something that you should like he, being falling in love, will most likely spend tens of hours to understand the topics that interest his LI (Bellara, haii👋👋👋).

What is their greatest fear? Becoming helpless himself and not being able to help

Do they have siblings? Older or younger? He has no blood brothers or sisters, but I'm sure he sees Taash as a little sibling (even if they older than him, lmao)

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected? It's hard to say that he was surrounded by excessive attention, but he definitely received enough of it. He's not a Dalish, and neither are his parents. He grew up listening to his father's stories about the gray wardens, the Blights, and so on (nd when he got older, he discovered books by Varric) Inspired by stories about heroes, he decided to join the gray wardens at all costs in order to support the common cause. After joining the Gray Wardens, he regularly wrote letters to his parents, trying to keep in touch with them. At least he wrote until they died.

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? He allowed for a scenario in which Bellara was not only blighted, but also sacrificed herself at the end of the story. "It's all my fault"

Has anyone ever saved their life? I wouldn't be surprised if the companions had to pull him out of the water at Treviso more than once. For an elf who can't swim, he surprisingly rarely looks where he's going

Do they believe in love at first sight? Most likely yep. However, he understands that love, like anything else, requires time, trust and other things.

Are they in a relationship? It's… complicated Technically, he is single because Bellara died

Has your character ever been in love? Bellara is his first love experience. He may have had some teenage crushes before, but it wasn't that serious (I doubt he ever admitted it)

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? He tries to the last to resolve the conflict diplomatically, if possible. Violence begets more violence and all that. However, despite subordination and his preference for talking over fighting, this did not stop him from hitting the First Warden in the Weisshaupt Arch (this was the last straw and Rook decided that talking would no longer help)

What is their choice of weapon? Mageknife and orb For a mage, it's surprisingly difficult for him to use a staff. He would rather just hit his opponent with it than be able to effectively cast spells with this “cane”. However, he can use magic in battle without third-party accessories quite actively

How many weapons they can use? Mageknife and orb/magic, he's actually pretty good with a sword (I think he pesters Davrin from time to time to practice some friendly sword fight)

If they could save one person, who would it be? "Ahaha- can I sacrifice myself to be able to save at least two person?..."

What is their greatest regret? Lots of things. No matter how much he says that need to let go of regrets, he blames himself for everything that happened. Starting with what happened at the interrupted ritual and continuing with everything that happened after that. “I don’t have time for regrets, I need to come up with something to correct the situation” and so on. I bet that at the end, as soon as he was left alone in the room and could finally breathe out after everything that had happened, he just cried for a while.

How do they respond to a threat? "Dude, what's wrong with you, why can't we work things out peacefully?" (only if the threat could potentially be resolved diplomatically, but practically - no) "HA, LETSGO" *starts the fight first* (In cases where the threat is agressive not a rational being, like darkspawns and others) Tbh, fighting is surprisingly good at helping him calm down ahaha

Sorry for my English, it's not my native language and sometimes I use a translator 😔🤘

silly grumpy guy time by time

[mythals-whore]

Author Ask Tag:

@thedissonantverses @basedonconjecture

Not you guys making me think deeply about my writing. Is this just an excuse for me to yap and assign meaning to my smutty fanfic??? Love that for me

What is the main lesson of your story?

What a good question, not to be colored with my own general musings on life lately.

There’s a lot to be said for the main theme of Veilguard being about regrets, but i think I’ve leaned a lot into the lonely island man from Varric/Solas DAI banters?

“That's the world. Everything you build, it tears down. Everything you've got, it takes. The only choices you get are to lie down and die or keep going. He kept going. That's as close to beating the world as anyone gets.”

So…basically that. Yes, the world is bad and everything is falling apart and you should try to fix it but you also have to LIVE. It’s scary and sometimes it sucks but you have to Do It Anyway.

If you don’t let yourself experience the love and the good things as they come and you’re always thinking about the end goal, then you miss the good that happens on the way. And the good moments that happen are the reason you’re fighting to save the world at all.

What did you use as inspiration for your world building?

It is Dragon Age fanfic, so Dragon Age. The Veilguard specifically.

My MC is from Tevinter and canonically from a military family so i have done some research on the Roman Empire’s military/also some modern military terms/practices.

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them?

I mean the main goal is to stop the elven gods/blight save the world.

But obviously there’s the romance which is more at the center of the story. So i guess ill say that the character arc for my MC is that love (romantic & platonic) can be a source of strength.

Also i think there may be something to be said for learning that you’re worth more than what you do? I would say that my MC has always been fighting/working toward a goal. She’s very job oriented so i think she’s sort of learning that she is a Person and not an entity and that is okay (leaning into the Solas parallel/foil a bit).

How many chapters is your story going to have?

It has like...26 now? and I have at least ten more planned but I'm going to round it out and call it 40. (I am not well)

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Dragon Age Davrook fanfic, it is posted on ao3.

When did you start writing?

I think when I was 13ish?? I was on Quotev back in the day, and I can't lie i think my first was Mortal instruments fanfic?? I haven't written anything in a long time, and i have not posted anything ever?

Small anecdote but i did take a screen writing class in college and my professor had other students read your script to the class. I used to beg to go out in the hall bc the thought of anyone reading my writing was so mortifying (he did not let me go out on the hall but I was allowed to put my head down on the desk which i always did). So this is a big step for me.

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr?

Write it anyway!

You think you’re bad at it? Write it anyway! (you’ll get better!) You think no one will want to read it? Write it anyway! (they will!) You think you don’t have any unique ideas? Write it anyway! (you do, i promise)

Read books, watch movies, play video games, make playlists for your stories/characters! Find inspiration in other art(: fill your cup, as the saying goes.

ALSO find other writers. They will help inspire you and keep you going when you feel like quitting (:

No pressure tags for: @flowersforthemachines @rook-laidir @thebarghestiest

Only if you feel like yapping about your writing for the group(:

[ruvastuon]

Writer Questionnaire Tag

Thanks for the tag @renasdoodles !

What is your absolute all-time favorite idea you’ve ever had?

I really don’t know honestly, there have been so many that I’ve been scared to touch for years at this point. I couldn't pin down a favorite though, my top favorites are all there for different reasons.

Is there a question you’ve been asked in the past that really stands out to you, and you still think about sometimes? 

‘Are you a cat person or a dog person?’ This one always gets me conflicted because by all accounts I would say a cat person because I am far closer with them, but I also really like dogs. It’s a bit of a stupid question to keep thinking on, but it keeps popping back in my head at the most random times. 

What is your favorite part of being a writer? What parts could you take or leave?

I love being able to write the stories that I want to read, sometimes I go back to a draft that I abandoned months ago and re-read it to find that I'm really interested in what happens next, and that's a really fun experience. 

What I don’t particularly enjoy is probably when I leave notes for myself to fill stuff in later and it really isn’t enough information to know what in the world I was intending to write. 

What is your greatest motivation to Write/create? 

When It comes down to it I really want to be able to reach a point where I can write the stories from my mind in a way that does them justice. I also want to be able to draw the things that are rattling around in my head.

What is the best piece of advice you’ve ever heard or been given as a writer? 

First drafts aren’t meant to be perfect, you are just getting the ideas down on the page and setting the ground work for your story to start solidifying your next steps. I particularly struggle with this one since I want to have everything perfectly in place but for my writing style that just isn’t realistic. 

What do you wish you knew when you were first starting out writing?

Don’t be scared to ruin your stories, just write them. If you get to scared to even try working on something it will die in your mind forever unspoken and for me that is worse than failing because I gain almost nothing from the wasted creativity.  

What is your favorite story you’ve written to completion? Link it if you’d like and can!

Honestly, I’ve disappointingly only been able to finish a couple of fan fictions since I developed a really bad habit of abandoning story ideas out of fear for the results. I’m trying to get myself back on track but it’s just a bit of a task to keep myself in line. ;-; Sometimes I wonder if the writer part of my brain got switched with that of a hyperactive child. Of the Fan Fictions I've managed to post on Ao3 'A Bit of Clean Water' Fandom: Vampyr (Video Game) is short little story that I'm pretty happy with.

Which of your characters would you say has the most controversial mindset? Why do you say so, and how do you particularly feel about their ideals? 

I won't mention the character but their mindset is that people are inherently weak short minded creatures that are incapable of governing themselves. No matter how great a thing they might make it can be devastated in the span of a generation because their will could not be inherited by their successor. The character believes that because of this people are inferior and do not deserve to stand at the top of the food chain.

I personally understand some of where he's coming from because it is pretty scary how easily something great can be destroyed by a bad successor no matter how great the founder might have been, but I feel like this character is a bit to critical of the race and extreme with his execution.

If you when you first started writing met you now, what would younger you think? 

Probably be a bit horrified at first, but the first story I wrote before I was ten ended with the main character dying in a car crash after someone cut her breaks for a petty reason, so I like to think that my younger self would at least somewhat understand where i'm coming from with my writing. As for my personality... That would probably be a much harder sell. (Younger me could barely play mobile games that had any community features, knowing that I put my writing out for people to see might give younger me a heart attack)

No pressure Tagging:

@kuebiko-writing @wyked-ao3 @creatrackers @davycoquette,

@somethingclevermahogony @laisley-writes @flurrysahin @zaynabameen,

+Open Tag

[zanarkandfayth]

Writing Meme: First Line Patterns

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (or however many you have) posted fics and see if there's a pattern!

Tagged by @ivorydice, thank you <3

I ignored the rules to make up my own lmao. Doing twelve fics I like a lot rather than the last ten, particularly because I'd like a wider time range to see how things have changed. The actual last ten would just be the first two and then all eight of the fics I did for fatherly love week in 2021 :/ Most of which were written in a very stress-filled, sleepless week right before the deadline haha. Going back to some of my earliest ffxv fics will be more interesting; curious to see how they all start because I know I usually try to make the opening line intriguing, but not always.

o1. "Chocobos! Noct, look at the sign, they have chocobos! Can we go see them?" || Ameliorate

o2. Ignis sighs as he puts his foot on the brake, resisting the strong temptation to close his eyes and bow his head against the steering wheel for a moment. || The Monsters Running Wild

o3. Ding! The noise of the first one cuts loudly through the quiet of his room, rousing him from a heavy slumber, but right now he's more asleep than awake, his eyes still closed. It's easy to ignore. || From That First Moment

o4. "Alright. Ready to not get your ass kicked today?" || Where They Should Be

o5. Noct hesitates, staring with dread at the panel of buttons before him. || Where It Matters Less

o6. The thick, metallic smell of blood is still lingering in Noct's nose when he wakes with a gasp, eyes flying open, wide and startled as he looks unseeing around him. || Everything

o7. "Hey, wanna go to the arcade today?" Prompto slings a friendly arm around Noct as he asks the question, a bright grin across his face as he waits hopefully for the answer. || Heavy is the Burden

o8. Insomnia is a mess. || Under Grey Skies

o9. Coming to this party was a mistake. || Six Ways from Sunday

1o. It starts happening the day Insomnia falls. || The Shadows Growing Tall

11. "I feel like my feet are going to fall off," Prompto whines as they all trudge back to the Regalia. || Dark Corners

12. The first time everyone thinks Prompto and Cor meet is when Prompto is sixteen. || What Lies Below

...so the only two I actually wish had better openings are monsters and heavy. which makes sense. monsters I just started writing at random because at that point it was supposed to be a one-shot and also never shared with anyone other than the bestie. so I didn't care where I started it.

heavy I, uh, stole the opening from nano/aftermath fic LOL. because nanofic was only a chapter and some change then, with a horrible idea I hated, and I thought I was never gonna come back to it so I might as well repurpose the few bits of it that were good. now I have a better idea and I'm actually writing it... but I still haven't changed the opening a whole lot. they're just gonna be similar forever. oh well.

but the rest feel like they either did a decent job at being an interesting hook or at least not being super boring or something. though I feel like I maybe had stronger hooks in my earlier fics, hmm. damn you brain fog.

oh, tagging... hhh I usually never tag people for these things because I am awkward and dunno who is okay with being tagged. so low-key no pressure ignore if you want mutual-tagging @quartzguts, @smallest-turtle, @breakfastteatime, @every-lemon, @elidelio, @thisfairytalegonebad, @tumbleloon, aaaaaand... whoever else is a writer that wants to do this.

[ghostwriter-of-silly-things]

Time To Crawl Into A Hole And Die

Word Count: 2,320

Warnings: um.. cringe writing? (/hj), emetophobia warning

let me know if anything needs to be tagged

Benjamin made a noise, then rolled over. He was lying on one of the less icy couches in the place, using my freshly washed army jacket as a blanket. Although the couch still crunched underneath him. 

  I laughed quietly to myself. "Hey, sleepyhead." I seriously thought I was going to get whacked round the head for that, but nothing happened. Maybe he was too tired. Benjamin opened one of his eyes a crack and looked at me. Then, he closed it again. 

  "What day is it?" Benjamin said blearily, his voice sounding like he had just eaten a load of chocolate. 

  "Still the same day it was when you passed out," I answered. 

  Benjamin rolled onto his back. "Ugh. I'm tired. How am I still tired? This is getting old." I guessed this was more of a rhetorical question, and stayed silent. Benjamin stretched his legs and arms out on the couch and lay there, staring at the ceiling. 

  "So," I began, then realized I didn't have anything to say. 

  "... Yeah," came the flat response. "We haven't been 'destroyed' by the hockey guy yet then?"

  "Apparently not." Silence filled in the gaps in our conversation, if it could even be called that. Muffled noises from the other room joined it, possibly Cal's beloved hockey. He had shown me to a mini laundromat, where I could finally clean my oil-soaked clothes. It was nice to be back in something that didn't crackle when I moved. Also, the detergent smelled good. I had to get the brand they used off of one of them. 

  "Is, uh... this your jacket?" Benjamin asked tentatively, after he'd looked down to assess the new weight he felt on his torso. I answered in the affirmative. "Do you... want it back? I'm fine without it, and we really don't need you getting frostbite right now." Benjamin turned over to look at me, and I couldn't help noticing how much younger he looked like this. It was weird.

  There was also a kind of... pallor to him. Almost sickly. Once you got past how intimidating he was, it didn't look like there was much there. 

  I hadn't recognized it until now, but Benjamin radiated a kind of old energy, like he had had to grow up too fast, and had way too many responsibilities to keep up with. In fairness, keeping me from dying had been a full-time job since we had met. But now, when he was only half awake and not actively trying to repel everyone, it softened. The worry lines on his face had relaxed. He seemed sadder too. That stoic façade he put up was clearly hiding something, and I knew all about that. It was definitely something to do with the death of his family. I knew about that too. And if that's the only family he had apart from his godly parent, again, like me, we must be more similar then he first realized. I stared at Benjamin, as if by doing so I might telepathically gain memories, and wondered what else we had in common. 

  "Hey," I said out of the blue. "Out of interest, how old are you?"

  "Well, I'm... uh.. 16," Benjamin said, then stopped. "What about you?" He said it quieter, as if anyone else hearing him would cause a natural disaster. 

  "I'm 15," I said proudly. After all, I had survived this long without getting brutally murdered by a mythical monster, and without a magic camp. That had to count for something. "Also, yes I would like my jacket back, it's below freezing in here."

  The corners of Benjamin's mouth went up at this. "Can't handle the cold, then, Fire Boy?"

  I faltered. "I -" I didn't take my jacket back yet. I ran hot, obviously, because of the... fire thing, and I could stand the cold better than most, but that comment dropped the temperature by ten degrees. I didn't like to think about the fire, and I hated that nickname. But I cracked a smile. "No, I'm fine, but I need it to complete my carefully constructed outfit. Don't you see how fashionable I am? The grease stains really added to it, but it was getting a little boring." I yanked my jacket off Benjamin, pulled it on, twirled around and posed like a model. "Just look at me. I ooze fashionista vibes, right?"

  Benjamin laughed. Well, more of a half-hearted chuckle, but I didn't really care. I had made him laugh, an achievement in itself. He was half asleep, but it still counted. It was kind of sweet, different than I'd thought it would be - given his normal demeanour. Benjamin's eyes lit up as he laughed, holding a hand up to cover his mouth, eyes crinkled up with amusement. He hardly seemed like the grumpy guy who had kept me from accidentally killing myself a few times the night prior, with random anvils falling from broken or fraying ropes, fire spurting from weird place that I hadn't heard because I was actually focused for once. That was a world away from what was in front of me.

  A world away from stony glares and clipped remarks. A world away from crossed arms and eye rolls. A world away from the weight of everything a demigod had to carry, and even though I was new to this, I knew it was a lot. 

  So I just sat and watched the laughter lines etched on Benjamin's face as they faded and his eyes became heavy and lidded again. I watched as Benjamin scanned the room before settling deeper into his depression on the couch, folding his arms into him in an attempt to stay warm. 

  "Oh shit," Benjamin whispered, eyes wide, and clamped a hand over his mouth as he gagged, miming slowly but frantically for something to throw up in. I hastily grabbed the nearest thing -- a frostbitten vase that was probably more expensive than Cal's entire collection of hockey gear -- and shoved it in the other boy's vicinity.

  He grabbed it, and held it under his mouth while he vomited at least three times over the side of the couch. Groaning, he flopped back onto the couch cushions and wiped his mouth on his hoodie. "I hate this," he mumbled. "So gross."

  Benjamin turned to make eye contact with me. "Thanks."

  We stayed like that for a while, and I didn't want to disturb the moment where I felt like maybe he didn't actually hate me. He'd just been so.. grumpy. Irritable. Cold.

  He was like that with Jason and Piper, too, but it still felt more than a little personal. And maybe it was. Maybe he just disliked me, personally, and honestly I could get why he would. I wasn't the easiest person to be friends with. Maybe he was just like that with everyone. Being a demigod wasn't the easiest life, to say the least, and I'd only been living it a few days. Maybe it was easier to just be angry with the world. 

  But maybe, secretly, he did actually like me. Even just a little bit. And maybe that was a nice thought to hang on to. 

  Benjamin yawned widely, covering his mouth, and his eyes dropped, and a new expression overtook his face. Confusion, shock, but also something else, something I couldn't quite place.

  Then, he spoke, softly, and I almost didn't catch his next words, mumblings of a sleep-addled brain: "You have... nice eyes."

  He dropped asleep again after that, but I heard what he had been trying to hide. There was something so deeply sad in the tone of voice when Benjamin said those words, the sound made my heart ache. It was like he had been talking to someone else. 

  My eyes widened as I processed the words that had so easily tumbled from Benjamin's mouth. Granted, like I had reminded myself over and over in the short time he had been awake, Benjamin was tired, sleep deprived, and in between naps, but that still didn't mean that he hadn't meant it. Did I have nice eyes? They were brown. Normal. No different from most people. But... they were pretty. Maybe. Hopefully. What color were Benjamin's eyes? I should have paid more attention. Should I have?

  But I felt heat spread into my cheeks. No one had ever said anything like that to me before, except my mom... but that didn't count and she was gone. I was reeling. And from such a small thing too. Was this normal? Was I sick? Maybe a cold? Was I delirious? 

  I hoped not. Then my nose caught fire, and I spent a good few minutes trying not to: a) set anything on fire, b) not break anything while panicking trying to put it out, and c) wake Benjamin up during said shenanigans. I knocked a frozen brass pot to the floor, which immediately shattered onto the ice. I was thoroughly startled and opted to sweep it under the couch with my foot, but thankfully Benjamin didn't wake up. 

  I realized, after a few seconds, that I was sat on the Festus Block. I busied myself with unfolding Festus while I waited for Jason and Piper to come back. While also not overthinking anything that was said to me at all. 

When Jason and Piper came back down to the entry hall, Cal, Benjamin and I were waiting for them, Benjamin looking considerably less knocked out and me considerably cleaner. Festus was also awake again, snorting fire over his scales to keep himself defrosted. As I saw the girl again, I couldn't help but to loose all sense of rationality, and all I could think about was her.

  I watched her walk down the stairs, combing my hair back through my fingers in an effort to look more presentable. She was so lovely, and I was convinced I was going to finally get a date. It had to happen sometime, right? Benjamin grunted beside me, probably disparaging at my crush on her. 

  At the bottom step, she turned to Piper. "You have fooled my father, girl. But you when not fooled me. We are not done. And you Jason Grace, I will see you as a statue into he the one room soon enough."

  "Boreas is right," Jason said, his disdain evident, "You're a spoiled kid. See you around, ice princess."

  Her dark eyes flared pure white. For once, she seemed at a loss for words. She stormed back up the stairs, tossing her beautiful shiny hair behind her before turning into a blizzard halfway up and disappearing. To me, it was still beautiful. 

  "Be careful," Zethes warned. "She never forgets and insult."

  Cal grunted in agreement. "Bad sister."

  I couldn't see what was so bad about her. How could someone so pretty be bad? 

  "She's the goddess of snow. What's she going to, throw snowballs at us?" Jason said. 

  I looked, devastated, at the stairs where she had left. "What happened up there? You made her mad? Is she mad at me, too? Guys, that was my prom date!"

  "We'll explain later," Piper promised. 

  Benjamin shifted from foot to foot, and shivered. I had got the impression that he didn't like the cold. I looked over, and saw the stony expression had taken it's space back on Benjamin's face He had folded his hands under his arms in an effort to stay warmer but it was still so cold his breath was visible. 

  I looked back at my friends. Jason looked away from Piper. "Yeah," he agreed. "we'll explain later."

  "Be careful, pretty girl," Zethes said. "The winds between here and Chicago are bad-tempered. Many other evil things are stirring. I am sorry you will not be staying. You would make a lovely ice statue in which I could check my reflection"

  "Thanks. But I'd sooner play hockey with Cal," she responded. 

  "Hockey?" Cal's eyes lit up. 

  "Joking," she said quickly. "And the storm spirits aren't our worst problem, are they?"

  "Oh, no," Zethes agreed. "Something else. Something worse."

  "Worse," Cal echoed. 

  "Can you tell me?" Piper gave them a smile. 

  This time her charm didn't work. The purple-winged Boreads shook their heads in unison. The hangar doors opened onto a freezing starry night, and Festus the dragon stomped his feet, eager to fly. 

  "Ask Aeolus what is worse," Zethes said darkly. "He knows. Good luck."

  He almost sounded like he cared what happened to us, even though a few minutes ago he'd wanted to turn Piper into an ice sculpture. 

  Cal patted Benjamin and I on our shoulders. Benjamin visible tensed up, looking wildly uncomfortable at the sudden touch. "Don't get destroyed. Next time -- hockey. Pizza."

  I had spent a bit watching hockey with Cal after Benjamin had fallen asleep again. It was pretty fun, actually. I did have to watch out for stray limbs. Cal caught my arm a couple times, which would probably bruise. 

  "Come on, guys," Jason stared out at the dark. "Let's go to Chicago and try not to get destroyed."

prev chapter • series m.list • next chapter

[invinciblerodent]

Writing Interview Tag Game

Tagged by @ra-scheln – thank you dear! ❤️

When did you start writing?

I feel like there is almost never a set date for anyone- I never really considered myself a writer, I still don't fully embrace it as a label any more than I do many others, but it's very much in that "technically true" vein of things- I don't think of myself as a writer, but I do write, and have been writing most of my life.

The first story I ever consciously remember writing was a lengthy (and objectively terrible) story I wrote around the time I was maybe 11 or thereabouts, though- kind of a fairytale paranormal romance before I would have ever found out what that meant, involving wisecracking frogs, and the three little pigs, and some sort of an ancient curse, and it stretched quite luxuriously across roughly 120 single-spaced pages that -true to form for me- were never posted anywhere.

It was utterly gratuitous, masturbatory, filled with the most horrible purple prose in existence, and I will never stop feeling regretful over losing it to a simple hardware upgrade.

I really wish I could re-read it now, at 30, and maybe get back a little bit of that unapologetic confidence and drive to just write what the fuck ever I feel like writing, without feeling the eyes of an imaginary critic burning holes into the back of my head.

Are there different themes or genres that you enjoy reading than what you write?

While I'm most interested in writing navel-gaze-y, introspective character-pieces and romance/fantasy (romantasy? is that what the kids are calling it now?), I do like to consider myself an omnivore, when it comes to reading.

I generally read a lot of literary- and historical fiction, SF, fantasy, a couple thrillers here and there- though there are topics I don't gravitate towards, I don't exactly discriminate against any genre, and I try to keep a varied diet of pulp- and high-brow literature alike, lol.

Some books I've really loved over these past few years are (hold on, scanning my shelf here) Min Jin Lee's "Pachinko", Ursula K. Le Guin's "The Left Hand of Darkness", Raphael Bob-Waksberg's "Someone Who Will Love You In All Your Damaged Glory", and Iona Grey's "Letters to the Lost". That's an award-winning saga novel, a genre classic, a contemporary collection of short stories, and a very good romance novel, lol.

Although I do admit, reading tends to fall by the wayside in my most active writing periods, which is whenever I get super absorbed in a particular video game, lol.

Can you tell me about your writing space?

I don't actually have a dedicated writing space. Over the past while, I've realized that I most like writing by hand, in coffee shops mainly- which may make me look a touch obnoxious, but it's just the way my brain and hand work the best together. (I handwrite slower than I type, so it's easier to get into that ~~flow~~ state because I have time to think without pausing, and with the background noise being just at the right level, I can babysit an americano for hours at a time.) If I'm writing on the computer, it generally falls more into the realm of editing.

I don't exactly have a preference when it comes to the space itself, but the stationery is crucial. I'm very particular about the pen I use (it has to be a Zebra Superfine H-5000- I've been using them exclusively for like ten years now, and unfortunately you can't really get refills for them, but they're like a dollar each, and they last bloody forever), and slightly less particular about notebooks, but I still have strong preferences there too (lined paper, hard cover, not terribly ugly- which is harder to find than one would think).

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I don't typically try on a conscious level, but sometimes, just that dedicated action of putting my notebook away, and walking to the coffee shop gets the words rolling. Often I find myself starting to tell myself the story on the way, and then I'm kind of playing catch-up with myself, once I actually get there.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing?

Disappointment, mostly. "Wasted" potential, reclamation of personal choice, and the deeply personal act of mourning the self that died so that another may live. What-ifs, maybes, could-have-beens. The things we want to want.

.................. also dicks. Dicks are a big part of it.

What is your reason for writing?

There's no real reason, I think. I thought about this one for a long time, but I can't phrase it any better than prev: the words just have to go somewhere.

Besides, if I'm not writing, I'm crafting. If I'm not crafting, I'm drawing. If I'm not drawing, I'm designing, baking, making something. I'm always making something.

Is there any kind of specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I haven't published much of my writing over the past few years, but from what I've gotten, "It feels like you really know this character" is the comment I keep coming back to in my mind.

I got that one on a silly, smutty fic from like 2016, and it really gave me pause. It really got stuck in my mind.

It's been many years since, and I still catch myself smiling whenever I write a line of dialogue that feels quintessential to a particular character. I found that really encouraging.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I... I'm still kind of unpacking whether I want to be thought about at all. Whether I want to be perceived. You know, the terrifying ordeal of being known, and all that.

I think the way I want to be known is how a pet fish knows its owner, you know? Like I arrive occasionally, at a reliable, if nebulous time, and they kind of have a vague idea of what I am, but mostly I just bring them food, dump it in the water, and disappear while they voraciously consume whatever it was that was dumped in there.

If goldfish were terminally horny and could leave comments but expected no response, they'd be the ideal audience for me.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I want to say maybe... evocative imagery, and dialogue. I like to get somewhat poetic with my descriptions and I feel like I'm rather good at grasping somewhat powerful images through minute details, that's something I know I have a lot of fun writing. I also enjoy the process of trying to find words that feel like they sit right in a certain character's mouth.

If someone were to actually say "he would not fucking say that" to me, I think I would mentally walk into the nearest ocean.

How do you feel about your own writing?

.... Insecure. Apologetic. Fearful, in a way I'm well aware I shouldn't be.

I have tried to blame the fact that English is my second language, and there is a kernel of truth in there, but I know that's... kind of bullshit. I know my linguistic prowess is not exactly the issue here (if I may, bigger idiots than me have done it, I've a darling friend who can absolutely testify), it's literally just the confidence that I lack.

I'm also apologetic in tagging, or promoting my work whenever I do end up posting something, because I know it's not going to have mass appeal, or I know it's not going to be interesting to a lot of people even of the ones following me, and that completely undue, asinine embarrassment is definitely holding me back within my writing as well.

This is why I enjoy handwriting most I think, because that, I know is for me.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

It's purely for myself, and this ties into the previous answer- I know I write my best when it's utterly self-indulgent. But that's also the shit that makes me feel the most naked emotionally, so it's hard to bring myself to want to subject myself to any kind of scrutiny.

This really is the fucking duality of man, to crave validation but hiss and sneer at anything that might invite it, lol.

Anyway, I think if you guys are up for it, I'd like to tag @sketchyelvenasss and @lindira, and of course anyone who feels like it. ❤️

(Please do excuse me for the copious amounts of whining in this post lol, I have realized in myself that once I come closer to filling a new notebook I always get a bit emotional about my stuff, and I've like 10 pages left on my current one. Prime angsting-time.)

[salsedine]

🙤 Enjoyable Things 🙧

Tagged by @greypetrel , thank you! 💙✨

Rules: List five things you enjoy and pass it along!

1. 💧Water / the sea : the element I find most at home with. It's comforting and terrifying, as Nature often is. I like the deep-sea creepy fishes, I like swimming, I like books that get all poetic about water, and I like just walking by the seaside and watch the waves for a bit. It helps that I live very close to it, plus my father taught me how to swim very early. I'm not the strongest swimmer, and I hate that I don't have lungs strong enough to dive deeper than three or four meters, but I still get a deep sense of satisfaction and 'wholeness' every time I go for a swim after a week of filling excel tables.

2. 🧭 History and Art History : well, this will surprise no one lol. Got a MA in 'modern and contemporary history' and sometimes I wonder if I should get another one. I mostly specialized in the late medieval to modern period (Renaissance is my thing, yes) and then in the XIX-XXth century. I like museums and galleries, ruins and monuments, and old books. I actually wanted to specialize in museology/museum studies with either a thesis concerning accessibility, or on museums' role in preserving and creating memory.

Do I watch a lot of period dramas? Yes. Do I give imaginary lectures in my head when I'm bored? Maybe so.

3. 🫀 Dance : kind of a sore topic, but still. I practiced a lot of sports, but foremost I was (am?) a dancer. Mostly jazz/modern and contemporary dance, which is one of the closest forms of therapy beside actual therapy. And no, I don't mean it like some kind of " you should try to meditate!!1" thing, but as a "you need to allow other people to see you. While you improvise there should be no judgement because shame is the antithesis of creativity. If done with intention and full presence, the smallest gesture can be meaningful because there is you behind it" sort of thing.

Currently I don't take dance classes -but I still remember exercises and routines that I learnt more than ten years ago when I first started and I was in elementary school. Damn.

4. ✉️ Gift-giving : maybe it's a fancy birthday gift, maybe it's a silly thing from a market's stall, maybe it's something spontaneous - I just love picking and giving gifts. I'm not saying that I'm the best ever at it, I'm sure I fucked up many times, but when you see that the other person really likes the gift(s)? Pure serotonin. Love it!

5. 📷 Analog/Film photography : it was my Thing TM during my teenage years. I still love the almost alchemical process behind it, and the physical aspect too - once it's printed it's printed, you can't accidentally delete it. I like how, even with all the theory and practice, the outcome is always slightly unpredictable. And portraiture? Portraits taken on film are something special.

Too bad it's expensive, ugh.

Now, tag time! Maybe @birdkeeperklink is in a sharing mood? No pressure tho! 🌸

[petruchio]

Twenty Questions: Fic Author Edition

@caesarflickermans tagged me to do this a little while ago and i'm procrastinating doing some actual writing so here goes

1-How many works do you have on ao3?

ten

2-What's your total AO3 word count?

105,385

3-What fandoms do you write for?

hunger games always! and i wrote a few pjo fics last summer

4-What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

we’ll fill our mouths with cinnamon

the birds were singing of you

flowers never bend with the rainfall

under the blossom that hangs on the bough

simple song

5-Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i try to! sometimes i get overwhelmed when a comment is too nice and i want to give it a thoughtful answer and then i procrastinate answering because i don't feel like i have the energy to be thoughtful enough to show how honestly genuinely grateful i am that someone left the comment and then it spirals and i just never reply lol. but i try to at least say thank you to most people because it really does mean so much to me when people comment on my work

6-What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i am a happy ending girlie at the end of the day but probably flowers because like, things are not going to get better in that au

7-What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

probably simple song because it is just pure self indulgent romance. but maybe my post mj fic too because we know what happens next and it is happy

8-Do you get hate on fics?

hate is a strong word but one time i did write that one short post mj fic and people responded by being like "i don't like this" and i was like ... okay haha. oh and one time someone bookmarked my pjo fic and said it could've been better written but the idea was good and i was like meh i'll take it. (i was actually super offended at the time and i was like fully prepared to delete my entire archive over the comment but im over it now lol.)

9-Do you write smut? If so what kind?

no. i try to kind of fade to black or allude to sex because i do feel like it sometimes has relevancy to the plot but i don't really have an interest in writing it in detail

10-Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

no

11-Have you ever had a fic stolen?

no

12-Have you ever had a fic translated?

no

13-Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

no

14-What's your all-time favorite ship?

katniss/peeta

15-What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

ugh my district 4 au. i have it outlined in such excruciating detail and i have so many scenes that i think would be so fun to write but i just cannot get the beginning to gel and i don't think it ever will

16-What are your writing strengths?

i'm not sure whether to interpret the question as what i think is good *in my writing* or what my strengths are in my process, so i guess i'll try to do both!! i think style-wise i do a nice job of trying to weave the thematic/symbolic threads in my stories together so that they conclude in a way that makes sense from the outset, and i think i have some nice moments of descriptive writing. as far as process, i think i write relatively strong first drafts which definitely makes the editing process more enjoyable

17-What are your writing weaknesses?

style-wise i think i can write some real clunky dialogue (who among us, lol) and i don't always get my pacing right. i also think i have a tendency to repeat certain words or sentence structures too much and i often will skip over things when i am not interested in them and then not edit enough to notice where the story is dragging vs where i'm skipping things. process-wise, i can be slow to think of an initial concept and then when i do have an idea i sometimes get more invested in the outline and the general plot and then i can get very easily bored if the actual writing isn't fun or it's taking a while to get to the scenes i want to write.

18-Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i don't speak any other language with an appropriate degree of fluency so i wouldn't, but i don't think it would really come up in any of my projects

19-First fandom you wrote for?

percy jackson <3 my iconic ff.net era

20-Favorite fic you've ever written?

under the blossom that hangs on the bough. it does pretty much everything i set out for it to do and i'm very proud of it. there's a couple lines i would change just because i think i wrote them kind of clunky and awkward but overall i think it's probably my best work.

i'll tag @districtunrest @rosegardeninwinter

[amethystunarmed]

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you @marypsue for tagging me! (I'm sorry it is so late) This got VERY long, so I will put it under a cut.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

54, my god.

2. What’s your total word count?

188,134. Which seems both enormous and not enough lol.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now, I'm in a major Hatchetfield kick. Those musicals have me by the throat. But I am also working on a Stranger Things series too! However, I'm probably most known for my My Hero Academia stuff, I know a couple of those absolutely did numbers when I wasn't looking.

4. Top 5 fics by kudos

Oh I'm pretty sure I know. *checks Statistics* Yep I was right. My top five (and six and seven) are all from my Truth series, which is a MHA Dabihawks AU where Hawks joins the League of Villains.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try! Sometimes I get overwhelmed and fall behind but I swear I always read them and love them and am so touched.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ummmm... Deadass, I think it was the first fic I ever posted, back in high school. It was a Doctor Who fanfic, about a Weeping Angel who feel in love with a human, and tried to stop killing for him, but was so hungry she ended up killing him instead. It's almost ten years old, but you can find it here.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I am once go back deep in my archives for this one. Back in 2015, I posted a Supernatural fic that was pure fluff, Karaoke. It was my idea of a series finale where everything was beautiful for once. Riiiiip.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I definitely have before, but only like once or twice and I immediately blocked them. It is always heartbreaking though. :(

9. Do you write smut?

Once that I posted! Though I may have an unfinished draft or two, lol

10. Do you write crossovers?

Yes, absolutely! My crossover tend to be characters experiencing scenarios from other universes, rather than character meeting.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Mostly by the AO3 scraping stuff, though I have found some suspicious posts with stuff from the Truth series on other sites, but nothing really definite.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes and I dropped my phone when the request came in. I was so excited.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yeah I have!!! My go-to partner in crime is @little-engineer-who-cant, we've been writing together since middle school.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Oh god, this is hard. Ummm... I suppose the first ship I ever really super got into was Ten/Rose in Doctor Who, so it holds a special place in my heart.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

Honestly, one I really loved was an Adventure Zone Wicked au. There were a lot of great concepts in that one, but I never really got anywhere with it.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue! I love dialogue. It tends to be what I write first and then I go back and fill in the blanks.

I feel like I'm also pretty good at exploring concepts, like, taking things to their furthest extreme and exploring what it means in the universe.

Also angst. I love angst.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Descriptions. I just want you all to know what I am seeing in my head, not have to describe it. I really have to work at imagery, and making scenes feel alive.

Also fuck fight scenes.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language?

I would do it if I felt confident that I or another person could edit it to be accurate. If I am google translating or something, I'd rather just do English italics or say what characters the language are speaking. I don't want to butcher another language.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

As mentioned previously, the first fic I published was for Doctor Who but god as a kid I wrote myself into stories all the time! Should have known I'd end up a writer. Probably Yu-Gi-Oh or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Ohhhhhh these are so hard. Ummmm... To be honest, I am so incredibly proud of I Need a Shovel to Love Him. It is one of my recent Hatchetfield fics and is an exploration of grief, and it probably the closest a piece of writing has ever been to exactly what I pictured in my head when I wrote it.

But! Trying to ignore the bias for recent works, So Few Men Can Carry It is probably up there. It is an OC focused story in the Truth universe, and I loved discussing healthcare in a world with professional superheroes and plan to do more original stuff with that concept, because I love it so much.

I'm going to tag @little-engineer-who-cant again, as well as @snarky-wallflower and @starpirateee. (Does anyone else like to be included in these? I need to make a list!)

[biwritesfics]

Constellations of Us

Part 1: The Big Bang

2K words

AN: This is a very self-indulgent marauders fanfiction. It has many queer ships including eventual WolfStar x Female OC the others will be listed in the tags. I tried my best on the French I deeply apologize to everybody that actually knows the language.

Summary: Arabella Canis didn’t want to transfer to another school for her fifth year but after a certain incident her father will have nothing else. Ten lives are connected through love, hate, and war. A constellation of souls written in the sky. The question is, will they paint the heavens or go down in flames?

⚠️ warning minor mention of death and a crappy dad⚠️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cracking sounds filled the foyer as the house elves moved my luggage for school. I had only been in the new house a week. I hadn't seen Papa once, he was too busy with his new ambassador position. Seemingly so busy that he wasn't coming to say goodbye. My thoughts are interrupted by a loud bang. The sound of my father's assistant Tarte apparating.

“Your father sends his regards Miss Bella. I'm terribly sorry that he couldn't make it.” “Its alright Tarte,” I say trying to muster up a smile for the elderly house elf. He pulls a small box out of his red velvet suit jacket. Tarte always dressed sharply and colorfully. He wore a blue tie that matched his eyes. The ribbon on the box was the same color.

“Lord Canis had me buy this for you.” I take it having a fairly good idea of what it is in mind. I untie the ribbon in one smooth motion, and place it in my pocket. My focus moves to the little velvety box. It pops open with a crisp snap. A grin spreads across my face the moment I see the contents. It's an ornate little silver charm in the shape of a unicorn. I kneel down and embrace Tarte feeling tears thick in the back of my throat

“Thank you,” I whisper, pulling away from the hug. I look down to admire the charm. Suddenly my eyes snap up in recognition “You remembered my wand core,” my heart melts realizing the connection. Tarte nods his head blushing nearly the same shade as his suit. “I could never forget Madame Bella. I was present the day you received it.”

“If Papa forgets to pay you send an owl and i’ll send one to Gringotts. Papa transferred the family vault and my funds too.” I remind him sternly knowing he would never ask otherwise. He nods, “I best be off Madame, I wish you luck” With a jaunty little bow and a jarring sound he's gone.

“Madame It's just you and the cat now” Amie, my personal house elf says tugging on my sleeve. I look down startled “Oh my how did I let it get so late? Have Pluie grab Bonbon while I fasten this and we’ll be off” She scurries off to get Pluie while I fasten my charm to my bracelet. I have three others already. My first initial, a clementine, and the Eiffel tower.

Pluie comes down the stairs with Bonbon, my Persian cat. She's practically spilling out of the small elf’s arms. The feline leaps down and bounds over to me. I pick her up and bury my face in her fur. I'm sure she's covering my black robes in hair but I'm too content to mind. I would definitely miss the Beauxbatons uniforms, along with other things, but this was going to be just fine. Hogwarts was going to be just fine, I remind myself.

Amie smiles up at me offering her hand. I take it clutching Bonbon close to my chest. No matter how many times I rode along with the elves I could never quite prepare myself for the pulling and twisting sensation of apparating. After a few moments of the most genuinely disorienting experience,we’re standing on platform 9 ¾. There are only a few stragglers left saying their final goodbyes. “Be careful Ellas we need you back in one piece” Amie warns me as she hugs my leg. That was goodbye.

I make it onto the train just in time, I'm last to board. Once Amie is out of site I begin peeking into train cars but they're all full four to a bench. Well there's one with space but the students inside glare at me when they see my face in the window. Green ties, Slytherin. I'm about to give up hope when I find one that has a seat to the far left.

I move Bonbon to one arm and open the door. The occupants looked startled. “Pardon me, I'm sorry to bother you when you're already full but the only other car with an empty seat is filled with very unhappy Slytherins.” My accent is even thicker than usual because of my nerves. “Of course! Come on in we have an extra seat.” A redheaded girl waves me in.

I smile, finally relaxing a bit. The boy at the window seat slides over and closes his book. “You’re welcome to the seat but be warned the other two are whinging terribly because our dear friend is finally showing some independence,” he feigns disdain at the two dark-haired boys to his right. “It's not independence Moony, it's betrayal!” Exclaims a beautiful black-haired boy as he lays back dramatically on the more serious boy.

I giggle and sit down while the two boys bicker. “I'm Lily Evans” the redhead introduces herself.”I'm Arabella Canis I have more nicknames than I can keep up with so I respond to anything.” Lily laughs. “I'll introduce you to the guys,” she starts. “The boy currently fighting for his life is Remus Lupin and the drama queen torturing him is Sirius Black. The one that looks like someone kicked his Puppy is James Potter. The poor soul they're all fussing over is Peter Pettigrew. He's a sweetheart, he's just sitting with his girlfriend.”

“This is not a “just” situation Evans, my mate is slipping away!” the boy exclaims running his hands through his already wild curls. The model-like girl next to Lily rolls her eyes twirling her braids between her Fingers. “I'm Dorcus Meadows, the girl in the window seat beaming at you like a Maniac is Mary McDonald. We swear she's sweet, we just need to work on her socialization.” she jokes with a wicked twinkle in her eye. “Oh shush Dorie!” the girl says in a strong Yorkshire accent. “Did you come from Beauxbatons Arabella? I don’t recognize you, and your accent is lovely!”

“Thank you! I am, my father had to transfer for work so I did too.” “Ooh pretty and French Sirius doesn't stand a chance once he's done sulking. I'm Marlene Mckinnon, pleased to meet you” the sandy-haired girl greets me. Remus’s face twists into a vicious scowl but only for a moment, I almost think I imagine it. “Same to you but I'm sure I’ll scare him off quite easily.” I'm usually so much more reserved around strangers but their mirth is contagious.

“I am both offended and intrigued by this conversation ladies but I'm sad to announce I am celibate. no snogging, not even hand-holding. The female population of Hogwarts must carry on without me.” Sirius gave the speech like it was a eulogy. It was followed by multiple snorts and “Sirius are you joking?” “Nope it's real and I'm doing it,” Sirius states firmly.

Dorcus pulls a small box with an open slit on the top and a drawer on the front. “Alright, who's betting on when he caves? 1 galleon minimum. Everyone, even James who was sulking, began searching their pockets and scribbling on paper. “You write your bet on the paper and fold it and Sign your name on the front. Slide it in with your coin and when the bets over the drawer opens with the prize and the winning bet. It's some complicated charmwork Lily and Dorcus cooked up to stop cheating.” Mary explains kindly.

I pull out two galleons and a small piece of parchment, Mary loans me her quill to use and I give the boy two weeks since it seems everyone else has such little faith in him. It takes a bit of maneuvering to get everything together without disturbing Bonbon who was napping in the crook of my elbow. Remus is looking at me with an expression I can’t decipher, which is unusual I’m usually quite good at reading people.

The clink of the coins hitting the bottom of the box is satisfying. “ 10 galleons James you're nuttier than a pecan fudge,” Lily exclaims as she deposits her galleon along with a couple of sickles. “Evans I'm mad for you but otherwise very sane,” James says smirking. Lily blushes a shade that rivals her hair and gestures angrily in James’s direction while everyone else giggles.

Remus checks his watch “Lily we better go meet the other Prefects it's about time,” he remarks. “Oh! yes, just one moment.” Lily pulls her robes over her uniform revealing the shiny pin attached to the chest. Remus removes his badge from his pocket and pins it on his shirt. “See you all at the feast!” Lily calls out, exiting the compartment with Remus a bit behind her.

It's only a moment but Remus looks in my eyes and I feel a shiver go down my spine. Not the bad kind, the one you got when you're so excited you can't stay still. He waves goodbye to everyone but his eyes linger on Sirius in a familiar but peculiar way I can't quite place. When he closes the door I realize what must’ve been only a moment had felt like an hour. Everyone else seemed relatively open but despite running with the rest of the group Remus seemed like a lone wolf.

I've always had frustrations with people who are hard to read.. I have a selfish and unrealistic desire to know people’s souls inside and out. I guess it's because I'll tell anyone anything if they ask, but it would be rude if Iasked some of the questions I had. Like Where did you get your scars? Did someone hurt you? Why are you so good at masking your emotions? Do you dislike me or are you like this all the time?

I’m brought out from my internal monologue by someone’s voice. “Arabella, Bella, Chaton écoutez-moi” Sirius repeats. My head snaps up blushing. It wasn’t the romantic version but still a pet name. “Je m’excuse” I apologize. “It’s time to get off” Sirius informs me, gesturing toward the station. “Oh! thankyou,” I say embarrassed that he had to tell me.

“The girls and James are waiting in the carriage” Sirius states as I stand up with Bonbon in hand. I follow him to the exit, and he steps off the train before me. He offers his hand to steady me when I step down. I can't help the fuzzy feeling it gives me despite the fact that I'm sure it's an automatic reaction. Most likely from years of etiquette that pure-blood children go through.

“Oh!” I run ahead towards the carriage the others are in. The black-winged beasts drawing it receive my affection gladly nuzzling my shoulders. I look up, James, Marlene,and Mary look shocked but Sirius and Dorcus just look a bit sad. “Is something wrong,” I ask turning back to Sirius who seems very interested in his combat boots. “No it's just,” he pauses. “You can only see thestrals if you've seen someone die,” Dorcas finishes.

“Oh, I thought that was a myth,” I whisper. I give each of the thestrals a peck on the nose and hurry into the carriage. When I step up Sirius steadies me with a hand on the small of my back. It gives me butterflies.

Merlin! Why did he have to be so pretty? All of them were gorgeous and hilarious. I spend the rest of the ride in fits of laughter.

I'm happy to observe that just about everyone is physically affectionate. It was something I could get used to. It would be nice to hug people who are taller than the house elves. James already has his arm around my shoulder. He's warm, charming, and witty. just what I imagined a brother would be like.

Sirius was dramatic and flirtatious with a wicked attitude. Marlene was kind and had a dry sense of humor that was going to be the death of me. Dorcas was all sass and sarcasm but you could tell there was no real malice in her words. Mary made bad puns and looked at everyone with adoration in her eyes. I knew right then that I had to be in Gryffindor, I had to be with them.

[ashtraythief]

How do you get so much engagement? Not in a jealous sort of way, but more in a curious way of someone who seeks tips/advice on the matter. It seems these days fandom is much more…distant than it once was and it’s a bit discouraging, you know? I can barely get any sort of engagement, either on my socials or my ao3, but to know you have such a devoted fan base (such as me!) it fills me with hope that it’s possible :)

Any tips and/or ideas?

Oh wow, first off, thank you so much for your kind words!

As for engagement, I don't know if I have much wisdom to give there. Spn fandom is definitely getting smaller, has been for years. Even when I got into it ten years ago, it was already past its prime.

Gonna share what little knowledge I have under the cut.

So I am not the right person to ask about socials lol. I have very little engagement on tumblr actually. I know it doesn't look like it right now, but usually I go months without getting asks. And then I guess sometimes whenever I get one, other people see it and remember they can send me asks? And then I just get a bunch, of which I suspect several are from the same people 😅, and then things go quiet again. Usually, most of them are related to the underneath verse, which makes sense since it's an ongoing WIP, and people have questions (that I am very happy to answer, always! Even tho I can't give anything about the ending away 😅). I used to post fic links here, but I got so little engagement I eventually gave up on that. It didn't seem worth the effort of formatting the posts, but I also have no way of knowing how many people just check ao3 and how many click on a link on tumblr.

Twitter is a little different, but it's also gotten more quiet there. The end of the show didn't help and then recent events *cough*prequelgate*cough* accelerated the decline of J2 fandom especially. But I get some interaction with fic posting there, more than on tumblr anyway, so that's where I post new fics. I think it's helpful to screenshot the summary and attach it to the post for more info. Maybe? I've never done a survey on this lol. Definitely don't be shy about retweeting and reposting for timezone purposes and on different days. Some people follow so many accounts they won't see your post otherwise.

As for fic engagement, idk. A good snappy summary, enough tags for people to get interested but no overtagging? But like, I'm a bad standard here, I think. I've been in fandom for over 10 years, I've written almost 200 fics in all kinds of genres, so people know me. I've also participated in gift exchanges, challenges and auction fics, which is also something that gives you exposure. And I was lucky that one of my first big fics was popular. So I guess a reasonable amount of people know me as a J2 author.

Also supporting my theory of being known is that I recently posted a fic in a much more active fandom and I immediately had like four times the engagement I'd usually get for J2 fics, but still much less than the popular fics in that fandom.

And not all of my spn rpf fics get a lot of engagement either. It always depends on subject matter, pairings, trends in fandom etc. If you look at my fic list, you'll see a lot of fics with few kudos for a variety of reasons.

I still write them, even if I know not a lot of people are interested in them, but I still enjoy writing them. And I always think, if there's only one person whom I brought joy with my writing, it's worth it. But I definitely understand that more feedback is also more joy and good for our egos. And I know there are people out there who don't care about that, which is valid, but I think it's also okay to care about it.

Idk if this is helpful. I can try to give more specific advice for fic things if you have more specific questions, maybe off anon if you're comfortable with it?

Otherwise, thanks for your faith in me and sorry that I have so little wisdom to share 😅

[thedaveandkimmershow]

It's Christmas day!

It's Christmas day and we're up around seven (ish) so we can ease our way into the morning.

What that means, of course, is that I'm the one up at seven to kick start Kimmer's morning wake-up routine by getting the coffee started.

By 'n by, I also set up a monitor in the living room to stream and play Christmas movies across the day. It's a habit we picked up many years ago when we happened to be watching "The Polar Express" in the late afternoon and then started opening presents.

We kicked off this year's tradition with "Home Alone". ☺️

In the meantime, Kimmer's finally up 'n about, getting in a final bit of baking that involves crescent dinner roll dough set onto a baking pan in the shape of a Christmas tree after which she adds some magic ingredients, bakes it, then frosts it.

In broad terms, it has the flavor of a cinnamon roll. Tasty as hell. 😁

By 'n by, we stage our Christmas tree like a crime scene... with all the evidence of someone having entered our home while we were sleeping. And whilst in our home, this person filled out stockings with candies, goodies, and gifts... and placed Christmas packages for each of us under the tree.

And then vanished into thin air.

☺️☺️☺️

The whole "crime scene" thing, of course, is a tradition that started when Linzy was the littlest of little, that narrow window of her life during which she believed in Santa Claus. A window that lasted right up to the moment she was the only one in her grade school class still defending the big man. She was all in, our little one. And we enjoyed setting the living room scene ever since even so.

By the way, if it's not super evident, our presents are color coded. Oh sure, they mostly have gift tags... but we don't actually rely on those. The red presents are for Linzy, the green ones Kimmer, and the black ones me.

We also ran low enough on time and decided to not drive ourselves crazy trying to make everything just so. So there's no ribbon or bows on the presents. That's just how it worked out this year and we're okay with that.

So.

The scene's set, the coffee's drunk, the tree-shaped super low profile cinnamon rolls are ready. Linzy shows up around 10:30 for breakfast and our first round of Christmas presents featuring the opening of the stockings which usually, definitely in this case, involves more stuff to eat. 😁😁😁

Okay.

So Linzy shows up around ten-thirty, we do breakfast and stockings, then it's time to head off to the movie theater for the 12:30 showing of "Wonka" for which we already have tickets. All we need's...

The tub 'o buttered popcorn!

And a sweet, sweet movie...

Definitely the filmmakers know where the emotional heart of this story is and aren't afraid to wield it at just the right moment. Every oompa loompa scene with Hugh Grant's a winner. And the music from the original still gets me after all these years.

We're back home around three with friends arriving around five. So we set about opening our presents from under the tree, a tradition we've had for a long, long time now. At least a decade if not more. Get up in the morning, breakfast, stockings, Christmas movie of choice, lunch, favorite Christmas movie in the background, then opening our presents.

It makes for a full day. Rather than a coupla hours in the morning and then you're done.

This year, where dinner would normally appear, our dear friends showed up bringing their portion of the Christmas meal to match up with the food Kimmer was cooking on Christmas Eve.

The children, of course, immediately wanted to do filters with Linzy. She held them off until after dinner at which point they joyfully indulged.

Earlier this year we went to Universal Studios in Orlando. While there, each day we hid an object in some picture we were taking. At first the object was a 3D printed neon green tugboat. Then I lost the tugboat so we bought a keychain Minion. So then we'd take pictures with that Minion somewhere in the photograph and we'd send that photograph (or two, or three) for our friend's kids to examine.

On Christmas, then, Linzy hid that Minion somewhere in the tree and the kids were told that if they could find it... it was theirs.

Linzy did such a good job that it took the entire evening with both kids looking for it as well as, at various points, their parents. Many hints were given. At one point our friend Ben was in his back under the tree trying to see what he could see. At another point, even after having been told the Minion was hidden at kid level, the kids insisted on standing on a chair for a bird's eye view.

It's hard to ignore the implications, though, that they thought they were being lied to about the Minion being at kid level. 🤨🤔😕

On its own, the evening was its own complete Christmas experience with a wonderful, shared dinner, a fun dinner experience, a lot of hanging out and playing in our living room and family room, some fancy drinks conjured by our friend, a touch of gymnastics once the mat was unveiled, all atop plenty of conversation, friendship, and family.

Oh yeah.

And presents.

☺️

We wound up coloring Christmas 2023 right out to the edges with family and friends, with tradition and improv, with presents and fun and laughter.

I think by the time the last child was out of the house, it was somewhere around nine. Prolly after, a bit.

Maybe nine-thirty.

And yes.

We got a fantastic night's sleep after that.

😁😁😁