#Just putting out feelers

[striving4mikey]

so I have some vignettes/scenes written out for a Beyond Evil abo modern fantasy Au with gumiho!Dongsik and Haechi!Juwon. Would anyone be interested in reading it if I posted it? It’s by no means finished but I’m pretty happy with the scenes I have. It’s basically the show but all the murdered girls are gumiho and Juwon has no idea he’s a haechi thanks to his asshole dad.

[unspuncreature]

if there’s specific stuff you’d like to know about feel free to reply, drop an ask, dm me :o)

[etherealising]

on another note, harvey specter…am i right??

[mrs-theirin]

hiiiiii. if i did writing/edit commissions would anyone buy them

[sleepysuburb]

working on 7 onwards, but just to gauge interest; if these were acrylic charms, would anyone be interested in them?

[wreckedandpolemic]

helloo can you write something on actress readerxmatty? 👉👈

sorry u sent this 103747294 million years ago i Hope ur still around to see this

(minors dni) but i’ve had a problematic age gap celebrity reader idea bouncing around my mind palace for soo long like i'm picturing you're in your early twenties and on top of the world <3 just starred in your breakout role, it girl of the summer type stuff. and you're close friends with another younger artist matty's been working with, so you hear all these stories about him and 'i think you'd really like him, babe, honestly!' with a look. and, look, you're not not interested, but you just got out of a shitty relationship, and your career is really taking off, and– good god, he's hot.

he's visibly older than you, greying a little, all sharp lines and tattoos and vintage leather, a sly smile pulling at his lip when he catches you staring. he raises his glass to you, tilting his head in invitation. as if by some magnetic pull, your feet carry you into the seat beside him.

"hi," you say, waving down the bartender and ordering yourself a cocktail. "i'm a friend of thea's," you tell him, before he thinks you're some kind of stalker.

his mouth drops in an 'o' of recognition. "oh, shit," matty chuckles. "you're the girl from the... the film!" his face splits in a stupidly gorgeous grin, and you're sold, like you're a teenager with a crush all over again.

you raise an eyebrow, fighting to maintain your composure. "you saw it?"

"yeah," he says, eyes flickering down to your lips and sending a thrill skittering up your spine. "you were really good." from the way he's undressing you with his eyes, he's thinking about the shot of your tits. "i'm matty, by the way," he adds.

"i know," you grin. matty watches you curiously and you lean closer, turning your best bedroom eyes on him. he takes the bait, pink tongue flickering out to wet his lips unconsciously.

you expect him to be gone the next morning, expect the lingering memory of his hands on your skin to fade to a story you'll dramatise to your friends. and when his side of the bed is cold, you resolve to move on with your day, not to dither on your conversation, on his laugh, on his head between your thighs. then, he sticks his head around your door, hair mussed and dressed in nothing but boxers. you break into a smile, warmth flooding your chest. god, you really are like a teenager with a crush.

"morning, love," he grins, his voice low and thick with sleep. "where d'you keep your coffee?"

you blink in disbelief, the mundane, domestic question an impossibility rattling through your cynical mind. "it's, uh..." you sit up, raking a hand through your tangled hair. "i'll show you."

you spend the summer falling wildly, dramatically in love, like something out of one of your early, low-budget indie films. but, leaves change, summers end, real life comes creeping back in. you're shooting on location through september, thousands of miles away on a packed schedule, practically tearing your hair out trying to find time for him between filming and interviews and reshoots and whatever the fuck else is grappling for your attention.

the sky is overcast when you land. fitting. your co-star is a tall, blond, all-american type. the kind of man your fans, your agent, and even your parents are falling over themselves to see you date. so, naturally, you hate him. he's brash, abrasive in a way that's supposed to be charming but just comes off self-aggrandising. you grit your teeth and smile through it – you love your job, and you're having fun with the movie, but every second you spend playing at falling in love in soft, sunny los angeles makes you ache for sharp, rainy england and the man waiting there for you.

it's october by the time you get a few days to yourself, driven to distraction by tinny phone calls and grainy facetimes and nothing but your hand between your legs. you've been shooting the same kiss scene from a dozen angles for hours, desperately aggravated by your co-star's grin every time you pull apart, like he's just waiting for you to fall for him, and by knowing that matty is somewhere over the atlantic right now, inching closer by the second.

you're unfocused, and you can tell you're throwing the shoot, wasting daylight. ultimately, you're only prolonging your suffering (bit dramatic, but, hey, that's what you're paid for), but you've never been more grateful to have a director glare directly at you while wrapping. you nod dutifully as he gives his notes, the words going in one ear and straight back out the other, chased out by the singular thought circling your brain: in a few hours, none of this is going to matter because you'll have matty back.

you book it to the hotel, practically diving into the shower to to scrub yourself clean of your co-star's spidery hands. matty texts you that he's landed, and your body hums with anticipation as you get dressed. well, 'dressed' might be a stretch. a scrap of white lace clings to your waist, the matching babydoll dress doing nothing to protect your dignity. smirking to yourself, you snap a photo of your garter belt and the stockings clipped on, and send it to him. hurry please xx, you add. his reply is immediate. fuck. you're killing me.

the minutes tick by agonisingly slowly, every second weighing on you like a physical pain. finally, after what feels like hours, there's a soft tap at your door. you fluff your hair in the mirror, wiping at a smudge in your lipgloss with a thumb. taking your time while knowing matty's only feet away from you is excruciating, but there's still something delicious about making him sweat. he knows it too, playing your game and waiting instead of using his own key.

the moment you open the door, his mouth is on yours, hungry, open-mouthed kisses stealing the breath from your lungs. you luxuriate in the taste of him, familiar and intoxicating. "thank god," you mutter against his lips as he pulls away. "i was starting to forget what being kissed is supposed to feel like." something dark glitters in his eyes, spurring you on. "spent all day with that prick trying to chew my face off."

"well," he begins, jealousy scraping in his tone. "i guess we'll have to find a way to help you forget, then."

"mmm, is that so?" you whisper, taking a calculated step back. "how are you gonna do that, healy?"

the words die in his throat at the sight of you, his gaze burning as it roams over every inch of your skin, arousal pooling in your core and dripping between your legs. "you look..." he fumbles for words as you grin.

"i know."

[e-dubbc11]

Anyone interested in…

The Matt Murdock fic I’m almost done with?

[asteria-argo]

hypothetically if I wrote a 20k chapter of a much larger rewrite of Voltron that caters specifically to me and what I wanted to see from it while it was still airing, would anyone but me and my single Voltron mutual read it?

[bigidiotenergy]

ok if i did put feelers out for odysseus,,,, would anyone wanna interact?

[sifonie]

hear me out… a villain inspired by slapstick comedy (think those old comedy black and white movies in the 20s-30s) perhaps a bit of reality bending with their abilities??? something to make things as absurd as possible… and I don’t think they’d do like heinous crimes or anything, they just like to be a fucking nuisance and bastard

[merlyn-bane]

would anyone be interested in the link to the 212th breakout spreadsheet that i made to use as a reference when im writing? canon's battalion structure makes zero (0) sense to me since no-one involved seems to know how a military works so i kind of just made up my own. it's not exactly comprehensive but i find it useful, at least, and i don't mind sharing it if anyone wants it

[spookyserenades]

idk if this is rude to ask so please forgive me for my genuine curiosity😭

how many chapters do you think the series will have?

greatttt question (not rude at all also!) that I'm not sure has a solid answer LMAO.

Considering the next confession is planned for 20, and its 3/7, I'd say with THAT sort of pacing I can see upwards of 40 chapters. 👁👄👁

That said, I am thinking of breaking up the series. After 20, I might put Trouvaille on TEMPORARY hiatus (think of it like I'm breaking it up into seasons) Just so I can work on Hoseok's prequel, the new yandere vampire fic I'm outlining, and get some time away from Trouvaille so I can come back fresh after a few months! In the meantime, once Trouvaille goes on hiatus, I'll tackle the drabble WIPs so you all won't miss Trouvaille TOO terribly for too long 💜

[s0fter-sin]

new poll time lads