#OTHERWISE THIS IS AN ANGSTFEST

[kaeyachi]

i just had a thought

but gosh i genuinely GENUINELY hope that Kaeya knows what his mission is and his purpose or whatever endgame stuff he has to do (whether big or small)

because y'all know what the alternative is? It's him fabricating details or him using a misunderstanding, and consequently telling Diluc just to get Diluc to attack him as a form of self punishment.

Their fight would have been for nothing other than to satiate Kaeya's need to get hurt.

add in the fact that i kinda think that all "misfortunes" Kaeya is facing is of his own choice? well...

He better know his purpose or I'm storming HYV headquarters.

[ruiniel]

u know what, i'm gonna be a basic b and ask for the ever iconic it's way too cold outside so lets cuddle naked and pretend that we're not aroused trope for castlevania's alucard. gotta love some of that sweet sexual tension

Some classics are made to last and be retold, never worry! I wanted to practice some writing but was also tired so uh, took an alternate ending to a scene from an older Alucard x OFC fic that used the 'beauty and the beast' trope, changed a few things, and included your prompt. … I wouldn’t exactly call it cuddling, but gave it a dose of UST. A lot of setup, though, even some action before that. Hope you like it.

This is the continuation of Schemes (warning, major angstfest there). Schemes doesn't need to be read in order to get this one, but it sure would enhance the last scene here.

The title is part of the proverb Still waters run deep. It was just there.  

Still waters

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Relationship: Alucard x fem!reader

Characters: Alucard, Reader, Original Characters

Count: 4k

Rating: M (🔞)

Tags/CW: scholar!reader, brief depiction of illness, abuse, verbal abuse, violence, attempted murder, unresolved sexual tension, Alucard is Not nice in this, Though he still means well, OK he's *kind of nice*, explicit language, post Castlevania season III, POV Reader Character, Second Person POV, references to past emotional conflict, protectiveness

Summary: He frightened you that night... but you’d been so foolish. Taking a moment of weakness for something else, pushing when you shouldn’t have. Now here you are: alone, worn, having traveled along the first dusty path you found away from the woods, aiming to be as far from that castle as possible. You have but few belongings, save a valuable manuscript he’d once gifted you.

"And where would I go?" you asked with a newfound, raking sort of hurt pride, a wayward look of disbelief in your eyes.

"That is your concern, not mine," Alucard retorted tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Adrian—" you tried again, only to be cut off by a scalding look.

"You will regret ever setting foot here otherwise," he snapped at you, his words chopped and shaking.

Trembling like a leaf, you bit down the crippling misery that piled up your throat. "I already do," you spewed before turning on your heel and dashing out of his sight, sparing no glance back.

You shook your head wearily at the wretched, aching memory of that last encounter, and peered beyond the heavy wooden gates of the village you’d discovered in your path. You hoped someone was awake on the other side, waited for a few minutes. Nothing. You were about to knock again when a bell began its chiming chant, in reckoning of dawn. After the bell died your knuckles struck the wooden gate again.

"A’ight, ai’ght," a disgruntled elderly voice began from the other side. "Got a bad leg y'know," the voice went on, and the trap door opened level with your face. Suspicious old eyes found yours. "Your name and your business," the watchman demanded.

You gave him your name in your most steady voice, though it came harsh with disuse. "I am no more than a traveler, fatigued and in search of lodgings."

The distrustful air held, and the trap door was closed. A moment later the gate opened either way, as was the custom in some areas once daybreak hit.

"Traveling alone are ye?" the somewhat raggedy old man placed his hands on his hips, shamelessly eyeing you striding past. " ... I'd watch meself if I were you—" the watchman added, but the end of his sentence was lost on you, now too preoccupied with taking in the new view before you. It was a rather large settlement, not quite a town but far from being a hamlet. Wood and thicket houses lined the uncobbled streets, and tall wooden gates spread unevenly delimited different homesteads from one another. You noticed folk were already up and about, most garbed in similar thick linens and furs. There was a bustle of men and women of various ages heading into different directions to pursue the labors of the day.

"Pardon me," you swiftly asked one passing woman. "What is this place called?"

"Why ye find yerself in Bran," she replied hastily, rushing off before you had a chance to ask whether you could expect to find room and board of any kind. Bran. You had no notion of this place. Sleeping under the naked sky was not something you shied away from, and there was little doubt you’d resort to such again throughout your journey. But for now, well, now you needed a good long rest and a warm meal. And a batch of new memories, if possible.

You walked along the main street, eyes searching for anything which may have constituted an inn. Mud and dirt clung to your boots and the hem of your cloak, gathered along the wet road drenched in nightly rains. You sighed, shouldering the satchel containing your few belongings.

Morning, midday and afternoon passed with little commotion and no success in finding a place to stay. You felt all the more despondent, though the reason had little to do with your uncertain options for the night.

You felt empty and a little lost, in more ways than one. Something was missing, and it was not unlike an invisible string puppeteering your thoughts; they ever returned to him. You wanted to forget, but no doubt that would take time. You wanted his callous words to stop striking dents into your mind. What was causing the most distress was the way his merciless distrust had slammed into you, and during moments you could not erase from your mind however much you tried.

You regarded the bleak day, strewn with impending grey clouds looming in the distance, wondering whether he was well, whether he was at all regretful for how it all spiralled down between you. After all, he did have a human side, supposedly. You may have taken a wrong step, and as time wore on, the stronger this conviction became. But your head had been full, of both wine and him and a ruthless desire you could not rein. No use regretting it now.

Soon, there was commotion around you as you reached the village marketplace. There were various merchants selling leathers, metalwork and wooden carvings among others and there was even a stand laden with smoked meats. There was plenty of mud here as well, giving the gathering a rather splattered appearance. You also saw chickens, goats and pigs put up for sale.

You waded through the crowd, considering spending coin on whatever nourishment you could find, when a wail was heard from without. The sounds were inhuman to your ears, closer to screeches than anything. 

You approached the curious crowd that had gathered, and craning your neck to see better, you noticed a young girl, writhing on the ground. Her body was contorting in strange positions. She looked to be in her early youth, and was a sorry state. Her eyes were rolled over so the bare whites were visible, and she was uttering sounds that would have caused a night creature to flee. An older woman was on her knees and attempting to keep her flailing arms at bay.

"Witchery..." you heard the word whispered by more than one. "The devil has her, she is under its spell again," another was saying.

You sighed in annoyance, shouldering your way between them. That is no spell.

You’d seen this condition before, during your studies. It was an affliction of the mind and body, leaving one too weakened and unable to perform tasks as others would. The older woman was desperately trying to soothe the girl, now foaming at the mouth, even as you came before them and lowered yourself beside them. "Hold her jaw," you said. "I am a... healer," you offered by way of greeting, at which point the woman's eyes widened. She did as was asked.

"She must not bite her tongue," you told the frantic woman, moving the girl before pressing two fingers to a specific spot along the side of her neck. The struggling soon ceased, and her arms and legs became slack, her eyes closed.

You caught the gaze of the older woman.

"It usually takes me much longer to still her," she said, her eyes full of worry and gratitude. "I have never seen anyone achieve what you have done."

"Your child has an ailment, one she will bear if properly tended," you leaned in closer. "And it has nothing to do with God or the Devil," you whispered, looking to the somewhat wary crowd. People had begun to disperse and go about their business.

"Well, whatever it is, I am in your debt." She lowered her head.

"Let there be no debt, I do not do this for recompense."

"I am Rafilae, and this is my daughter, Maria," the woman looked to the girl now nestled in her arms. "I have a cottage at the other end of our village, and though we have no wealth to speak of, I would still wish to repay you, somehow. Come, I think we have enough food to share for tonight, and you look to be in need of rest yourself."

You could do little to deny that. You were tired, you were hungry. "If that would not be too much trouble..."  you said, with little conviction.

"Bah, no trouble at all. I'll explain all to my man. Now come," Rafilae urged, and having nothing else to do nor indeed anywhere to go, you heeded.

A cloaked figure watched you depart but did not follow, instead fading amid the crowd of the bustling market.

Evening found you seated on the ground at a wooden table in a small thatched roof hut, a steaming dish of root vegetable broth set before you. You were joined by your new acquaintances and hosts, both of whom seemed wholesome, hardworking people. Rafilae's husband Rufus had been an amenable man, and all the happier when he heard of the aid you provided. Maria lay on a bed of hay not too far away, joined by her brothers and sisters, having regained herself in the meantime.

They asked of your purpose in Wallachia, of your own lands. They were curious people, but you were at a point where you craved and welcomed the openness of human contact. You kept most of your trials to yourself, placing forward the idea that you were a traveling healer. You then instructed the couple on a few techniques to help their daughter and spoke of the condition she bore. These simple folk were looking rather incredulously at you, still somewhat unable to believe their child was not possessed by any forces of evil. It was during this conversation that a vicious knock sounded at the door of the hut.

"Rather late for visitors," Rufus said with narrowed eyes.

All conversation ceased, and the man rose, taking a heavy pitchfork in hand. You rose as well and peered outside to catch glimpse of the intruder. Your eyes widened at the sight.

Six figures, all armed and dressed in robes of black and gold were planted before the homestead.

One of them pointed a long, dirty finger at you. "That one."

Rufus went to stand as a shield before you and his wife, grasping the pitchfork firmly in his hand.

"The Lord's Horde," Rafilae placed her hand to her mouth, while you were suddenly looking about them for any possible ways of escape. Yes, you remembered their kind. You recalled the etchings of their garb and the ruthless dogmatism which drove them to blind murder. It was their kind who chased you that rainy day, whom you barely escaped; who led you to...

"Are you certain?" one of the robed men asked.

"As I live and breathe," came the confirmation. "That’s the witch Denes and the others caught in Rusi. When I saw her in the market today in the commotion I could not believe my eyes. She drew out the devil from one, so there's further proof." His voice dripped loathing. "I never thought she would dare show her face around these parts after what she did."

"What is the meaning of this?" Rufus demanded.

The second man who’d spoken neared. He clasped his hands together in his faded robe, his air one of distinction. He had a long dark beard and wore a faded black prior's cap on his short cropped hair. "You host a witch in your midst."

You scoffed, though inside you quaked. Not again, not again. 

The man continued his case. "She is responsible for the deaths of men in our brotherhood who tried to capture her near Rusi. We never saw them again."

"I am no witch!" You seethed, looking pleadingly to Rufus and his wife.

Rufus did not seem convinced either. "Do you have proof of this?" he looked back to the prior.

The prior frowned, his cold eyes gaining a mad glimmer. "You know our cause. You know we will fight for the Lord with all that we are, and against anyone who stands in the way of His justice," he looked pointedly at Rufus. "I would entreat you not to interfere with God's work, lest you are prepared to face the consequences."

The man briefly took in the various sharp weapons the others wielded. Their gazes were cold and there was the same spark of maddened devotion in their eyes.

The children had appeared at the entrance, curious and wide-eyed. You sighed upon seeing them, lowering your head.

"No," you placed a hand on the man's shoulder, then regarded the prior icily. "I will go freely." You looked to Rafilae, who was wringing her hands. "Thank you for your aid." Then swiftly you retrieved your satchel, and hands were on your shoulders, and you were dragged away before the startled eyes of the family who'd shown you kindness. It is true, everything does go in cycles the thought crossed your mind.

"What will you do to me?" you dared ask as one of the men pulled your hands to bind them. You struggled in vain, but the man forcibly revealed your wrist, still bearing marks from the incubus attack weeks ago.

"Further proof, prior Horvath," and all gasped when they saw the reddened scars as he forcibly brought your wrist upward. "Cavorting with vampires also, no doubt."

The one called Horvath sneered, his dark eyes set on your livid expression. "We take her to the river," then his smile turned vicious. "You do what you will with her." The others grinned, looking at each other. "Throw her body in when done."

"No, please," you tried reason, struggling as the bonds were tightened. "I bear nothing but knowledge, and have no skill nor anything to do with the dark arts!"

"Silence!" the prior boomed, features contorting. He thrust his face close to yours, taking a fistful of your hair and pulling so harshly you screeched in pain. "Where are our brethren then, hmm? There is nothing you can say or do to make me believe you, wench, save for their safe return. And even then," he gripped harder, causing your eyes to water. "You are still a filthy servant of the Enemy." He released you, and bid them march ahead with you dragged in tow.

As you left the village behind, you were trying to come to terms with the fact that life was apparently not on your side. None dared intervene and there were few people out and about since evening had fallen. All feared the darkness and what lurked beyond it, and rightfully so. The tall woods soon swallowed the group, and two captors lit torches.

When you heard the murmur of water nearby, you swallowed. They must have neared the river. You looked left and right, seeing nothing but gloom. They’d taken your satchel away, reverently saying its contents were destined to be burned.

Then you were being dragged by two of them, struggling and panting, towards the steep edge where the river thrashed below. Your legs flailed, and a powerful strike ended your wailing. You saw stars.

"Pin her down," one said, and they were about to do just that, when something hissed past them.

You saw nothing in the dark, save for the torch fallen to the forest bed. You heard groans and muffled cries as bodies fell to the ground.

You rose swiftly to your knees, trying to rip the bonds with your teeth to no avail, fumbling onto the ground, looking for the satchel. You stared about yourself, for whatever was happening lit by the weak light of the fallen torches.

A tall figure faced the prior.

It all happened too fast. You were being dragged by the hair, caught in an armlock that had you choking. The prior stood alone, and spilled blood rose warm in the air. He was ever pacing back towards the cliff, and the river below, with you struggling in his grip.

"Stay back!" he cried, brandishing a long knife even as his opponent stepped ever closer. 

"Release your captive," the presence commanded, aiming his weapon at the prior's chest.

The voice. That voice.

"What?!"

"Release your captive, then jump," the voice repeated calmly as the blade swished through the air, glinting eerily. "And you may survive the river. I will count to three, at which point your heart will be pierced by my blade. Your decision," he offered as the prior kept looking back towards the gaping nothingness, then to the catlike gaze of the stranger.

True to his word, he began his count. 

"Are you mad?! Your witch will perish too, you fucking beast, because if I go, she goes with me."

If you didn’t know better, you thought you’d heard a growl. 

"Here, if you want her so badly, she’s all yours—” 

You gasped as you were forcefully flung into darkness, deafened by your own startled cry, by another short, agonized gurgle.

And then, pins and needles, and the cold numbed all.

Pain. Everywhere and nowhere; too hot, but then too cold. You opened your eyes to what seemed like pale daylight sifting through a window, closed them again. 

Am I alive?

The capture, the darkness, the river, all came crashing down in waves of memories, and a violent quiver shook your frame. You were strewn on something softer than a forest bed. You opened your eyes anew, saw nary a movement, and felt something warm pressed to your forehead. A palm. You shivered, shivered, shivered, before losing consciousness again.

Must it be so cold everywhere? Everything hurt. As you stared blearily along your arm, you felt the bruises forming there. And then, a change: warmth at your back, much needed heat enveloping you. Pleasant and alive, and before you understood—or cared—what it was, you pressed closer. Something locked around your waist.

"You fidget," and despite the ache, the warm breath against your neck sent a different shiver down your body.

This was not actually happening. You were caught in some feverish dream, dying on the stony banks of the river.

"...where… you…"

"Don’t try to speak. Rest."

"...came for me? But how…"

An exasperated sigh. "My senses. I know your scent."

At any other time, those words might have had your heart soaring and mind reeling, but now you were too numb for even the infatuation which, even in delirium, apparently wouldn’t loosen its hold.

"You struck the waters before I reached you,"  Adrian went on in that soft voice, though its tone was rather clinical.

Yes, you struggled to remember. He did arrive, it had been him. Right before…

It was then you noticed something mortifying—you were bare under the covers, and the warmth against your back was skin. 

As if reading your thoughts, Adrian spoke again. "You were in shock when I retrieved you from the water. The medicine supplies here were mostly destroyed during the siege on the castle," he said, and you realized that what was closed around you was his arm; his bare arm, and your back was pressed to his chest. You were too tired to move, too gutted to speak. Last time you attempted closeness, he all but cast you out of the castle and now, now…

If only you had the strength to be angry.

"The heating system no longer works since then, and I had no firewood, and your condition was fastly worsening. I had no choice," he spoke again.

And the way he said the last words was killing you; like you were a chore, and a disturbance. 

Still, he… he was there.

"...I see…" you managed, feeling him warm but stiff as you lay unmoving on your side. You wished you could scream, demand an apology for his denial and his distrustful, unjust words during that last encounter but then—he saved your life.

"Why?" you croaked, staring out the window, where clouds darkened the sky above the forest.

"I told you not to speak."

"Why did you do it?" you asked stubbornly, feeling the arm tighten around your waist in an uncontrolled jerk of movement. "Why did you go through the trouble of dragging me from their clutches when you demanded I left in the first place."

"I demanded you left, but never wanted you to come to harm."

You closed your eyes. "You called me a liar." He could be so goddamn infuriating. Never a straight answer, but his warmth seeping into you felt so good it made you drowsy, and the most primal side of you felt it seeping within, lacing pleasure to pain.

Silence. You wondered if you’d finally reached him, or if it was the guilt at his past conduct that drove him to this. You could not help remembering the way he held you then, the desperate longing in his kiss, the heat rising between you as he crushed you closer—a heat not unlike the one burning you now; you no longer shivered from the cold, but were loath to tell him.

Damn you. Damn him.

His chest rose in a sigh against your naked back. "There are things you do not know. About me. I…"

You couldn’t be more bewildered if you saw a pig on white wings flying towards the sun. Adrian, being honest and straightforward? Still, you did not hedge him. Let him struggle, the petty side of you urged, the other melting with desperation and love.

"My trust was broken before," he finally said, and you waited, but Adrian added nothing else.

Still. "I did not know," you said, staring out the window. 

"I realized that. After," and for the first time, you sensed a sliver of remorse in his tone. Not an apology, but, for now, all else considered, it would do. This was not the way things went in your lustful dreams of him from before; aching all over, unable to move. 

"How do you feel?"

You swallowed. "Warm."

A pause. You’d half expected him to rise and leave, but nothing happened.

"Good," he said. He felt warmer, or maybe it was a slight of the imagination. And then, "I do not think you a liar."

You still felt resent at the memory, but on impulse, your hand reached, pressed over his own that was splayed over your abdomen. Your fingers slipped between his; he did not withdraw. 

"Please," you heard then, and the whisper held something ragged in it, and you became aware of a hardness against you, just like… like that first time you threw yourself at him like a fool with your head full of wine and body thrumming with desire.

You said nothing else, become aware of the risen heartbeat against your spine. And suddenly you wondered, and suddenly you understood. 

"Did you bring me back to cast me away again once I’m better? Will you reprise that humiliation?" You could not help it, though his words on trust haunted you already, as many of his past actions gained a new, horrible sense.

"No." It sounded pained on its own; you let it be.

You lay in silence, aware you could not even move if you tried to turn and face him, to see his eyes, to feel him closer, to tell him. "I will wait for you, Adrian," you said either way, and never heard his answer as exhausted sleep claimed you.

MASTERLIST: CASTLEVANIA SERIES x READER

More of my work is on AO3 [many stories not on tumblr]

BLOG MASTERPOST (all you need to know)

Likes/comments/reblogs always and forever appreciated

[mermaidsirennikita]

In your opinion what are the best and worst novels by your favorite historical romance authors and why?

Hmmm, I've read the full backlist of only a few authors, but ones I've read a lot of....

To get her outta the way, for Kleypas--

Best: Dreaming of You. Defined an romance hero archetype and one she would draw from for some of her other well-done heroes (McKenna, Simon Hunt, Winterborne, the self-made man is her wonderland and Derek Craven didn't do it first but he did do it best).

Worst: I haven't read any of her books set in the South and I suspect those are much worse, but Stranger in My Arms is my least favorite. Does the Sommersby Plot better than Sommersby because the ending is better and they aren't Confederates, but there is some Exotic India Stuff and I felt like the hero and heroine didn't have amazing chemistry. I think that in making the hero a good contrast to the bad husband, he became boring.

Hoyt--

Best: Thief of Shadows. Duke of Midnight is probably a close second, and Scandalous Desires is right up there too. The Ghost of St. Giles arc is the best Maiden Lane arc, Winter and Isabel are amazing characters, that scene where he laughs into her pussy and is like I don't know what I'm doing but I'm gonna find out, the scene where he pulls the pins from her hair and she's overwhelmed, the scene where he tells her would've loved to have babies with her but that's not what it's about, all the Zorro vibes.

Worst: tbh I don't think I've read a book of hers that is dull or bad, but her Four Soldiers series hasn't aged the best because the heroes are veterans who fought in the American territories, and a lot of their traumatic backstories involve this like... prolonged POW torture executed by indigenous people against the British soldiers.... And like honestly, I've read some accounts of this kind of incident and I don't think it was a binary issue morally. And I don't even think Hoyt necessarily thinks that; but I don't think it was executed well, and it is very, very disturbing to read about. Especially in To Seduce a Sinner, which would honestly otherwise be a solid, entertaining book.

Lorraine Heath--

Best: Waking Up with the Duke, because it's the greatest angstfest, and Jayne making Ainsley feel the baby kick and him freezing and being like "it's not MINE, it CANNOT be mine" and having a full emotional break in a garden with dozens of people nearby is glorious, and their goodbye in the middle of the book never fails to make me cry.

Worst: I mean it's gonna be one of her Texas books because as good as they are otherwise, two of the three heroes are actually! Former Confederates! And like, yes, they were teenagers (at least one of them was a minor) when this happened, but it doesn't super matter to me. And one of them calls the Civil War the WAR OF NORTHERN AGGRESSION!!! Which sucks, because otherwise, Dallas is a great hero with a great love story, but I can't look past that. I think Texas Destiny has a heroine whose backstory is that her plantation was attacked by Union soldiers and terrible things happened. But idk, as a Southern woman who's descended from Confederates, I'm a bit "then perish" about precious Confederate Womanhood. Don't know that she'd write that today, though.

Joanna Shupe--

Best: It's a close one between this and Prince of Broadway, but I do think The Duke Gets Even is my favorite because it's enhanced by the leadup and the scene where Lockwood bites Nellie all over her tits HARD and says "I'm going to cover you in bite marks, darling". That was good for my spirit. I also love when Lockwood is like "THIS IS THE LAST CHANCE, ELEANOR (it's a big deal when a hero is the only man to call a bitch Eleanor, btw) DON'T COME CRYING FOR ME" and leaves with great dignity but inwardly is like sobbing.

Worst: I have not ready a Shupe I really dislike, but The Gangster's Prize is probably the weakest; I think she was testing her Mila Finelli style in a historical setting. And I liked it, and I LOVE the Mila books, but the Mila tone doesn't quite fit historicals.

Sarah MacLean--

Best: A Rogue By Any Other Name. The angst, the backstory, Bourne eating Penelope up and going "well you have to marry me now MUAHAHAHAHA" directly after, the scene where her dad is like, screaming at him on the ground and Bourne leans out the window like, "OH WHAT'S THAT??? IT'S YOUR DAUGHTER'S PUSSY. WHICH WAS ALL I HAD FOR DINNER LAST NIGHT OLD MAN." What an asshole. I'd have several babies for him.

Worst: Ten Ways to Be Adored When Landing A Lord. It's not bad, I just feel like Nick is not the kind of hero I have come to associate with MacLean. He's too lovely. I think that Christmas novella she wrote about Ebeneezer Scrooge if he fuuuucked is much more her.

Monica McCarty--

Best: The Recruit, because I love a good "man finds out he got a woman pregnant and she tries to hide it but then he feels her baby bump and is like EXCUSE???" And then I thought he was gonna be one of those guys who's like "I can't fuck you while you're pregnant, what if the baby feels it". But nah, he's like a " babies can't feel shit, bend over" kind of guy.

Worst: The Saint, because I was so excited for the Illicit Affairs energy, and instead there's just a lot of waiting.. for them to fuck... There is an excellent scene where it's dark and he thinks she's someone else and he fingers her from behind and then is like "SHITFUCK".

[asukaskerian]

You mentioned mdzs, so I wanna know Jiang Cheng for the ask meme if you're still doing that one.

i am!

1: sexuality headcanon: wow uh. i can read him so many ways (straight and into being dominated by terrifying ladies (hi mom issues)), gay and being really frustrated about his conflict between need to be TERRIFYING SECT LEADER and his desire to be reamed into paste by a terrifying and musclebound guy), ace and dfisgusted by all the carrying-on, pansexual and into terrifying people, etc etc 2: otp: wen qing hhh ;^;, nie mingjue also sounds fun otherwise i'm kinda shipping him around, it's fun. 3: brotp: ... i mean i LOVE his mess of whatever it is with wei wuxian but it's so complicated. also i sometimes enjoy a good wwx/lwj/jc ot3 angstfest, it's always good for a OH NOOO T^T session. 4: notp: an actually gentle and tender person. haha lol nope. 5: first headcanon that pops into my head: thwarted pillow princess :3 (i'm sorry but that guy's a bottom. that's guy's the bottomiest bottom that ever angrily denialed his bottomitude. he's only topping the wrath charts.) 6: favorite line from this character: idk havent watched enough of the bazillion versions of canon yet 7: one way in which I relate to this character: angery ;; 8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character: stop ragesploding because you took wwx trolling you too seriously for five minutes plz 9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave? SHRUG apparently it depends on the version of canon and book JC is a lot worse? will have to see.

[sjbattleangel]

Impressive! Here, let me borrow some of your wording and add more horrible media takes I can't stand!:

"G. Willow Willson's Ms. Marvel run is pro-status quo neoliberal garbage masquerading as progressive or leftist messaging."

Jeremy Whitley's Unstoppable Wasp is pro-status quo neoliberal garbage masquerading as progressive or leftist messaging. Jeremy Whitley is a predator who sexualizes underage teenagers and fetishizes mental illness."

"Tom Taylor's Superman (Jon Kent) run is pro-status quo neoliberal garbage masquerading as progressive or leftist messaging."

"Tom Taylor's Nightwing run is pro-status quo neoliberal garbage masquerading as progressive or leftist messaging that ruined Dick grayson and the Batfamily."

"Batgirls is unreadable trash that engaged in predatory queerbaiting and destroyed Cass and Steph's characters. "

"Jonathan Hickman is closeted Neo-Nazi and his X-Men run (The Krakoan era) is crypto-fascist propaganda."

"Any X-Men story, past and present, that doesn't focus on the New X-Men: Academy X kids is garbage by default. No exception. New X-Men: Academy X is the ONLY X-Men series that matters. Nothing else."

"Hinata Hyuga is the real villain of the Naruto series."

"Rose Tico is the real villain of the Star Wars series."

"Rey is the real villain of the Star Wars series."

"Ahoska is the real villain of the Star Wars series."

"Dragon Ball and Dragon Ball Z is just a stupid series about guys screaming and punching each other."

"The Last Jedi is pro-status quo neoliberal garbage masquerading as progressive or leftist messaging."

"The Clone Wars is an unsalvageable piece of crap because it's animated. Being animated is a giant downgrade because animation is stupid junk made only for brainless kids. Horrible animation, awful writing, atrocious voice acting, The Clone Wars is the worst thing that ever happened to Star Wars."

"It's Dana Terrace's own stupid fault The Owl House got cancelled, she made it way too dark and scary that no kid would ever want to watch it. It's good the suits stepped in and cut it short otherwise Dana would've ended up turning into a grimdark angstfest were everyone is killed off. After all, look at all the Evangelion references and the livestream where she said "I hate kids" and "I hate happy endings" (P.S she didn't say any of that)."

"The Last Of Us/Last Of Us Part II is cryptofascist, pro-violence, pro-status quo neoliberal garbage pretending to be thought-provoking and progressive."

"There has been no good Spider-Man stories since One More Day."

"There has been no good Batgirl/Cass Cain stories since Robin: One Year Later."

"Cass Cain has been ruined ever since her original creators, Kelley Puckett and Damion Scott, left her series."

"The Legend Of Korra is pro-status quo neoliberal garbage masquerading as progressive or leftist messaging."

"Korra is the real villain of the entire Avatar series."

"All JRPGS are the same."

"Gail Simone's Birds Of Prey run is racist and orientalist because of the portrayal of Asian characters like Lady Shiva. Gail Simone hates all Asians"

"Aquaman is a useless character with dumb powers."

"Jean Grey is useless."

"Jubilee is useless."

"Sue Storm is useless."

"Sailor Moon is a weak, useless character who runs away from battle and cries non-stop."

"Grant Morrison is an antisemitic, racist, white supremacist Neo-Nazi because of problematic things they wrote in the work."

"Rebecca Sugar is a horrible creator who can't draw, write or sing worth a darn."

"ND Stevenson is a horrible creator who can't draw or write worth a darn."

"Viziepop is a horrible creator who can't draw, write or sing worth a darn."

"Aang should have killed Ozai."

"The Fantasy genre is childish, formulaic, unrealistic junk that has no artistic or intellectual value."

Compiling a list of bad takes that demonstrate the person saying them didn't understand the story.

"Son Goku is a bad dad."

"Belle from Disney's Beauty and the Beast had Stockholm Syndrome."

"Tears of the Kingdom's ending invalidates Zelda's sacrifice, and she should have stayed a dragon (or come back with dragony bits). Also, Zelda is a bitch for yelling at Link one time and then 'stealing' his house."

"Alice in Wonderland is about drugs."

"Shinji Ikari is a wuss."

"Asuka Langley Soryu is an irredeemable bitch."

"Steven Universe should have murdered the Diamonds."

"Rose Quartz was an irredeemable monster."

"Batman is a rich guy who beats up poor people."

"Superman is a boring, overpowered Gary Stu."

"Katara is a bitch."

"Skyler White is a bitch."

"Christine should have ended up with the Phantom at the end of The Phantom of the Opera."

"Snake, not Raiden, should have been the protagonist of Metal Gear Solid 2."

"Gohan was wasted potential."

"Krillin is a loser."

"Tidus from Final Fantasy X is a wuss, and Auron should have been the main character."

"Catra should have died as punishment for her transgressions."

Feel free to add any other bad media illiteracy takes in the replies/reblogs.

[ioannemos]

Title: Whumptober 14 ‘Verse: Detroit: Become Human Prompt: Torture Characters: Hank Anderson, Connor Rating: PG? PG-13?? Words: 275

Hank is talked at by a technician, not a doctor, and even if it hadn’t been Connor in the clean white room, the cognitive dissonance of the whole experience is nauseating. The rational part of his brain is pointing out phrases like ‘already replaced’ and ‘making a new one’ and ‘thirium-310 levels back up,’ but the emotional part of him is caught on phrases like ‘tore off his left leg’ and ‘stabbed his thirium pump regulator’ (his heart) and ‘started to drain his thirium’ (his blood). Hank isn’t listening anymore towards the end of the spiel, just waiting for the wave of the hand that allows him into the room.

It’s like a mockery of a hospital room, almost, or a minimalist play on one. There’s no curtains or beds, because androids aren’t equipped with a sense of modesty or a need to sleep. Instead, there’s a flat metal bed that looks more like an autopsy table and Connor is sitting on it, straight-backed and mostly naked, all the skin on his torso, left arm, and left leg deactivated, with his right hand in his lap and lines running in and out of a gaping hole in his side where they took off an outer plate. Another android is standing next to him, one hand holding the pad she’s looking at, the other holding Connor’s hand with her own skin deactivated. She looks up with Hank comes in and smiles the kind of soothing smile that he riles him up like nothing else.

It takes Connor only half a second longer to process his arrival. “Hello, Lieutenant Anderson,” he greets cheerfully, and Hank’s heart stops.

[blurredout10]

navigation ⊹

• jjk sideblog

• orv sideblog

• dbh blog - you're here

. ݁₊ ⊹ ༄ •hold my hand darling and we can be kids again•.ೃ࿐. ݁₊

______________________________________________

*masterlist*

Collection of TBF and Completed DBH works. All works are Fem!/Reader unless stated otherwise. Links are to AO3. Any requests can be submitted here or AO3.

Connor (RK800)/ Reader

Diagnose Me, Doctor - 40/40

Tags: Reader is a doctor, medical terminology, angst, slow-burn, smut (Chp. 25+), character death, emotionally heavy, Connor is soft but also not ;), no seriously I cried writing some of it

Use Your Words - 1/2

Tags: bookshop au, shameless smut, meta stories, masturbation, post-android revolution, fic promos, it’s just buildup and filth guys, more tags to be added

Connor (RK800)/ Reader x Cyberlife Tower (RK800-60) | Sixty/ Reader

Be My Buddy - 5/?

Tags: Fluff&Angst, long-distance fic, reader from abroad, texting, calling, anonymous, eventual relationship, eventual meeting, will earn other tags as things progress

Connor (RK800)/Connor-52 (RK800-52)/Reader

And Then There Were Two - 3/3

Tags: polygamy, minor death, smut (Chp. 3), threesome F-M-M, insecurities, multiple pov, 52 is Colin, one-shot in three chapters

Nines (RK900)/Reader

This Is Not A Date - 1/1

Tags: one-shot, friends to lovers, dating but other people, nines being the curious and innocent boi he is, smut, rough sex, but kinda soft too idk

Cyberlife Tower (RK800-60) | Sixty/ Reader

Cupcake - 1/1

Tags: GN!Reader, fluff&angst, character growth, sixty needs help, self-worth issues, life lessons, smut (enough to tag), sub!sixty

Remember To Love - 1/1

Tags: valentines day fic, fluff and angst, mainly angst, memory issues, just a lot of feelings, smut, oral sex, p in v sex, ive avoided spoilers in tags so read to find out

Remember to Follow - 1/1

Tags: memory loss, angstfest and feelings, amnesia boy, angst with porn, second part to RTL

Spoils Of War - 3/? ON HIATUS

Tags: android revolution, human slavery, sixty takes charge, reader is in prison, dystopia, smut (Chp. 3+), prison violence

[alstroemeriadissonance]

Orange Chocolate (NSFW)

I was going to go on a short-ish break (which you guys prolly wouldn't feel as there's a post scheduled to be published tomorrow), until I saw this really delicious pic and I'm oh shit I need to write a fic around this ultra spicy treat (NSFW even with censor stickers, be forewarned).

Warning: NSFW. The usual. We get a nice fluffy sexy Vyn here as palate cleanser for the angstfest that were the last two updates.

"Rosa, dearest, is there anything wrong?"

You are gathering the examination papers that the students have left on their desks as soon as they either finished or gave up on Vyn's quarterly examination to Introduction to Psychology.

It is supposed to be an uneventful, mundane task: pick up the papers, maybe arrange them by alphabetical order if you feel that generous, make sure that you have not missed anything before handing them over to Vyn.

Yet somehow today, today is a little different.

Hidden underneath more than a few examination papers, to be discovered once the sheets of paper were gathered, were small gifts of handmade chocolates.

Some accompanied with short notes, no doubt sealed with kisses.

You cannot help smile at the memories of the sweet, forbidden fruit that you yoursel used to indulge in, as a young girl: tender, innocent crushes towards one's dashing teacher.

"Mm. Nothing's wrong, Dr. Richter," you say as you gently fondle the plastic-lidded giftbox containing handmade chocolates. Such care went to these, you note. Not even you yourself paid so much care and attention to detail to the gifts you once sent to your handsome maths teacher; the most you did for him was give him a candy cane from a Christmas gift that you got back in middle school...

And as you admire the handiwork, the sheer soft love that went into the gifts--there were many others, scattered on different desks--you could not help but feel a pang of something silly as jealousy.

"Are you sure?" Vyn says as he approaches you from behind. "Ah," Vyn finally sees what was catching your attention; what was keeping you from going back to his waiting orbit.

"It seems that they are at it again," he says as he gingerly takes the gifts away from your hands. "I am sorry. I shall be distributing these to the patients at the center..."

"Dr. Richter--"

"Vyn, my dearest. There are no more students around," he says as he leans towards you, capturing your lips with his.

It was supposed to be a chaste kiss, something appropriate in such a setting. Yet Vyn, one who does not pay much regard to societal mores except when it suited him, pries open your lips with his tongue to turn the once innocent, reverential kiss into something more hungry by nature.

You feel his tongue trace your lower lip before slipping inside your mouth to lay claim to your territory--now locking lips and kissing you so deeply that he literally takes your breath away...

And then you part, reluctantly, a trail of saliva keeping you connected until it snaps.

"Vyn," you breathe, flush creeping across your cheeks. "Not now. What if someone sees us?"

He grins, that knowing, lopsided grin that tells the world that he owns everything he surveys, and that he can very well do what he wants.

Everything, except if you tell him otherwise.

"Just a little bit of reassurance, my love," Vyn whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "That you are all I need, and more. I assure you, I do not partake of what they have been giving me. I do not think it--"

Wait. That is wrong, you think.

"Not even once, Vyn?" You ask.

"Not even once."

You bite your lip. Your thoughts return to your budding years as a middle schooler, having given candies to your favorite math teacher...what would you feel, how would you feel if your gifts were so rejected?

That would have been heartbreaking.

"That's...that's sad, Vyn," you cannot help but say in a small, quiet voice. The other part of you, the one that is happy to hear that he had never once indulged in his students' affections, is promptly shelved at the back of your mind.

"Hm? How so?"

"These gifts are their sincere feelings for you," you say, struggling to word your thoughts--your own feelings--on the matter. "I mean, they will not be returned, of course, but..."

You take a deep breath. "They deserve to be heard. I guess in this case, tasted?"

Your lover cocks an eyebrow, intrigued. "Were you not just a smidgen jealous, Rosa?" He asks, tone just a touch teasing. "I thought I saw you frown a little when you were looking at the chocolates."

"Oh, that," At this point you are not sure if Vyn had misread you, or if he was right--right in the sense that you were both a little jealous, yet wistful about your salad days with innocent puppy love. "Maybe. Of course. I cannot help but feel a little bit of insecurity, when so many girls look your way," you confess, biting your lip.

"And yet," Vyn said, trying to confirm the point that you are trying to make, "You wish for me to 'acknowledge their gifts'. Did I get that correctly, Rosa?"

"Yes." You nod. "Because one of the saddest things in the world are gifts that are so callously ignored."

"My sweetest, most delightful Rosa," Vyn murmurs as he gently touches your cheek. "To care for others, at the expense of your own feelings. I would admire that quality of yours, but I do not want to see you suffer so."

"I am a little insecure," you admit, "But I ache more at the thought of these handmade gifts made with you in mind so carelessly tossed aside."

Your lover gives you a small smile. Compassion, maybe even a little amused pity, is reflected in his gold irises, only for you. "Are you sure?"

You nod, resolute. "Yes. Yes, I am sure."

"Very well then, I shall respect your decision." Vyn plants a kiss on your cheek. Let us gather them, and go home."

===

Vyn sets up a makeshift bain-marie over his stove: a saucepan filled with a little water, and a heat safe bowl placed on top of the saucepan. "Love, would you be a dear and take out the chocolates from their wrapping? I am just getting ready to melt them."

Then you put yourself to work: There were a good mixture of handmade chocolates: white chocolates, dark, milk, and there was even one gift with ruby variant. They were all clad in pretty packaging: gift boxes, plastic gift bags tied with ribbons, pretty foil wrapping. All bore the touch of girlish love. The sight makes your heart grow heavy with a bittersweet ache. Is it insecurity? Of course not, for you have the man of your--their--desires with you.

Probably a little guilt?

"Should I group them by flavor, or by type...?"

"No need," says Vyn briskly as he rolls his sleeves up to his elbow. "We will melt them all into one chocolate mixture." He then peers at your work, and upon seeing all of the chocolate already unwrapped he gathers them by hand, placing them into the melting bowl a handful at a time.

As Vyn stirs the slowly melting confection with a spatula he asks, "What flavor do you feel like adding to the chocolate, beloved?"

"I like orange chocolate," you say as you join him by the stove, watching the different colors of white, dark brown, pink coalesce into a lighter brown with a slight pinkish shade. "But won't putting in additional flavor ruin the entire thing? They're already mixed up as it is...I'm sure at least one white chocolate was strawberry flavored."

Vyn chuckles. "Let me be the judge of that." He removes the chocolate-covered spatula from the bowl and, after letting it cool for a bit, dips a fingertip to gather enough melted chocolate for him to taste. "The strawberry taste is faint enough not to interfere with the orange extract," he says, after he lets the sweet swirl on his tongue.

This piques your curiosity, and you have been holding yourself back from tasting them for sometime already, so you cannot help but exclaim "Oh? Let me have a taste too!"

"But of course." Vyn now gives you that half-smile that always precedes a sort of mischief, and you swallow nervously--you do not know what to expect--and you soon find your answer as his fingertips gather some more of the molten chocolate, smearing it all over his lips.

"Go ahead, have a taste," he says, his tongue licking at the chocolate hanging over his upper lip.

Somehow you now feel wetness pooling in your nethers, now that Vyn has started that kind of play. "You play dirty. Literally," you say with a grin.

Your breath catches as you coil your arms around him, pulling him down to allow yourself unbridled access to his lips, the flat of your tongue licking off the exquisite amalgamation of his admirers' feelings, now offered up to you, his only beloved...

What has started as a teasing play soon escalates into a full-blown making out: Vyn feels around for the gas stove knob, turning off the flame. "Love, I'm still supposed to put in the extract, but," he chuckles against your lips. "We may be a bit busy for the next few--ah--minutes," he lets out a soft moan as your tongue finds its way to the tender spot where the jaw meets the neck, lapping up at the stray traces of chocolate.

He then unbuttons his shirt halfway to allow access to his collarbone.

Smiling, you take a bit of chocolate from the still-coated spatula and smear it across his collarbone, covering including his secret beauty mark underneath. "Vyn," you ask, "Has anyone else seen your mole?" You lick the very spot in question, and the flat of your tongue now runs the length of the chocolate trail.

"Hmm? Ah--no," Vyn murmurs as he watches you help yourself to his skin. "I always keep my shirt properly buttoned up."

"I'm the only one who can see this mole?" Another lick at his beauty mark.

Vyn lets out a soft laugh. "Yes, pet."

"I'm glad."

The heavenly sounds of Vyn's heavy breathing--at times almost like a cat, purring--permeate the kitchen area, the sounds of his barely held back lust filling your ears and you find yourself tasting him all over: lips, cheeks, neck, his immaculate decolletage, all even after you have licked him clean of chocolate. You try your hardest to drown yourself in your lover's flavor, and he so gladly indulges you.

You then feel his hands parting your blazer, tugging it off your shoulders and pulling it at the sleeves to let it fall off your arms. He then starts peeling off your layers, his efforts finally culminating at exposing your naked upper body save for your lacy brassiere.

And with his slender, skillful fingers he unhooks it, and off comes your bra to the floor.

Vyn groans at the sight of your breasts spilling out for him, and he dips down to trace your areola with the tip of his tongue.

"Vyn," you moan, "We're still by the stove...Fire hazard?" You cannot articulate your thoughts well, especially with how he laps up your nipple, teasing it into a hardened peak. Unconsciously you hook a leg around his waist, grabbing onto his neck to stabilize yourself as you grind your hungry arousal against his hard on...

"I am sorry," Vyn whispers in a mock apology. "You make me lose track of where I am at times. You need to forgive me."

Without warning he sweeps you off your feet, carrying you in his arms to the adjacent living room. "I cannot wait anymore," Vyn growls as he places you gently on the sofa, the guttural vibration of his voice sending electric shivers to your loins.

Quickly he strips off all his clothes, until he is naked save for his glasses.

You shed your skirt and pantyhose just as quickly. How has trying to get him to acknowledge his admirers' gifts escalate to this, you wonder as you feel Vyn's hands guide you to straddle him on the sofa, his hard cock jutting against your ass as you slide into place above him, your thighs clamped around his waist...

"Rosa, Rosa," He repeats your name, over and over, in between openmouthed kisses as he licks your lips; you follow suit and your tongues meet and entwine outside your mouths, seeking each others flavor and imprinting it to memory. "Rosa," he breathed. "I will acknowledge their gifts, but I shall meld them into one that I will offer up to you."

Vyn trails kisses from your lips, across to your cheek and up to your ear, where his tongue snakes inside; sending jolts of pleasure down your spine. "Orange, you said?" he asks as his hands slide to your breasts, his fingers feeling the heft of your swell and letting his palms slide over your nipples, teasing them, the bundle of nerves on your peaks stimulated to such heights that you almost feel you can come with that touch alone, but not quite.

"Yes, orange," you whisper as you touch his cheek and gently nudge him to kiss your lips again, to let you taste his tongue again, the tongue that usually tasted of strawberry candy--today, of chocolate--and you want to feel that giddy thrill that you always get whenever he kisses you so hungrily...

"Then I will take their gifts, gladly, and transmute them into the orange treat that will delight my Rosa," Vyn murmurs as he adjusts himself on the sofa. "Love, I need you now..."

You feel his cock nudging at your sex; your slit is now hungry, wet, and begging to be filled and stretched by your lover, and so you move to align your entrance to his tip. "Won't the chocolate harden by now?" You whisper against his neck, as you rub your dripping sex along his shaft.

Vyn hisses, and lets out a short, terse curse in his native language. "We can always melt it again, pet." His voice is now urgent, heavy with utter need. "Please. Sit on me. Now."

You then hold his gaze, and with small movements your pussy descends upon him, your gyrating movements engulfing his hard length bit by bit, all the while never breaking eye contact with him, until he is fully hilted inside. "Vyn," you moan, "I can't get enough of you..."

And once again you kiss him, your hands cupping his face lovingly as you grind your hips, your movements long and drawn out, taking advantage of his length by pulling your hips just enough until only his tip is lodged inside, then pushing until he is once buried deep, hitting your inner walls. You do this over and over, relishing your lover's delicious shuddering as he writhes underneath you.

You feel Vyn's hands slide to your hips, holding you in place. "Forgive me, Rosa," he says, his voice strained with need, and he takes over, fucking you hard and fast--and you match his movements, your hips gyrating, meeting his every thrust.

The living room is now filled with noises of skin hitting skin, of wet sex, of both your and Vyn's moaning and cries for each other, at times stifled with your wet, openmouthed kissing.

"Vyn, oh god, I need to come," you moan, and your hand slips between you, fingers rubbing your sensitive clit towards your release.

"Come for me," Vyn purrs as he relentlessly fucks you, his thrusts coming in hard and fast, and this time it is him who grabs your face to kiss you hungrily, as he comes in violent spurts inside you.

===

"Rabbit chocolates!" you exclaim once Vyn presents you the finished product, along with a lavish bouquet of flowers handpicked from his own garden.

"Yes. Is this to your liking, my Rosa?" Your doctor peers at you behind his glasses, gold irises sparkling with expectant mirth. "I have added some orange extract, as you have requested."

He hands you the bouquet of lilies and roses, and he unties the gift bow of the box housing the chocolates that the both of you melted down yesterday, before things got a little too hot to continue making handmade chocolates.

With slender fingers Vyn plucks a rabbit chocolate, and once again with that half-smile, he holds half of the chocolate with his mouth.

You lick your lips. Vyn has made it clear whose affection he values above all else.

[makeste]

you guys, Horikoshi always does this with Bakugou, and fandom always reacts like Miette the cat, as if there aren’t going to be any more chapters in the future and this was our one and only chance to see some angst. and then a few chapters later Horikoshi always DOES hit us with the angst, and of course it’s amazing, and always more than worth the wait.

chapter 96: Bakugou has just been rescued after being kidnapped and held by villains for two days, and watching his hero lose his powers because of him. instead of angsty uwu Bakugou, we get loud gremlin Bakugou arguing with his mom while his parents and teachers talk about dorms. we do get the “thank you” scene afterwards, but otherwise there’s no acknowledgement of how this very traumatic incident has affected him, and All Might pretty much brushes off the chance to talk to him about it.

chapter 118: “why was I the one who ended All Might?” he has a four-chapters-long fight with Deku, confesses to all of the trauma we knew he was hiding, and has All Might come and give him a hug and validate him being a good hero and reassure him that what happened was not his fault. it’s even acknowledged that he (All Might) should have done so earlier. we got everything we could have wanted; it just took an extra twenty chapters or so to get there.

chapter 283: Deku rushes off to go save Aizawa (and this is also the chapter where he unlocks Float), leaving Bakugou with Gran. fandom reacts like Bakugou is going to be left out of the entire fight and fade into the background and never be heard from again.

chapters 284+285: Bakugou gets by far his most impressive character development to date (“you are [worried for him] too”; “I bullied him”; “he just doesn’t take himself into account”; “that’s your way of trying to atone, right?”), takes over the battle, coordinates Enji and Shouto to produce a near-lethal counterattack, and winds up making a sacrifice play in one of the defining moments of the arc.

chapter 303: Bakugou rushes to Deku’s hospital room only to be dragged away by his classmates who try to tell him that All Might requested to be alone with Deku, and who also don’t want him storming into his comatose friend’s room and throwing a fit while he himself has only just woken up after being freshly impaled (which, he really shouldn’t even be up in the first place).

chapter(s) TBD: Bakugou and All Might have a serious talk, All Might thanks him and tells him he heard what he did and that he’s proud of him and relieved that he’s okay, and Bakugou and Deku finally have their post-Jakku reunion, during which Bakugou reveals the meaning of his new hero name, and finally gets his chance to apologize.

just because it hasn’t happened yet doesn’t mean it’s not going to happen, or that Bakugou is being turned into a comic relief character whom no one understands or takes seriously. first of all, canon Bakugou has always been like this and this was honestly 100% predictable. and second and more importantly, if Horikoshi is pushing these reunions back, it doesn’t mean that we’re missing out; it simply means that this is not the right time for it. he wants to get all of the other stuff out of the way first. if that’s the case, I appreciate that we even briefly got to see Bakugou at all (and also got those more serious scenes with him in chapter 298), rather than Horikoshi simply keeping him asleep off-screen until the timing was right.

but what this means is that Bakugou and Deku’s reunion is actually getting a place of honor at the very end of this hospital mini-arc. Horikoshi is saving it for last, and allowing the tension to build up as much as possible beforehand, because this will be the most important scene of the arc (and possibly one of the most important in the entire series). and whether we have to wait twenty chapters like we did after Kamino, or only a few chapters like we did during the Jakku fight, either way the payoff is going to be worth it.

so that’s it, that’s the post lol. the bkdk is coming you guys. the angst is coming. the character development is coming. we’ve waited 303 chapters already; a few more isn’t going to kill us. the brief little bit of humor after the last few incredibly tense Todoroki flashback chapters is a nice change of pace that helps keep this mini arc from being a complete angstfest. Bakugou’s shouty antics help give his classmates a brief respite from sitting around being sad (which is one of the secondary functions he’s always had as a character, and it’s one of the reasons his classmates are so fond of him now). and again, it’s all going to be worth it. you can write that down. and if Horikoshi does somehow wind up botching this of all things, you can message me after and be all “WHAT GIVES, MAKESTE, YOU SAID!!”, and I will apologize and give you a dollar.

[imaginecorporation]

Since you have dubbed me a Badakin, may I ask for some Bada and San brotherly bonding? I get especially sad when I look back at their story. I wonder how badly San felt too ashamed to ask help from brother when he needed it and how badly Bada must have worried and then grieved when San never came back from the Library (if Bada even knew what happened to his brother).

I've now returned from Animal Crossing to give unto you all an angstfest, the likes of which you have never seen before. Bonus if you listen to this while reading, because inflicting emotional pain is my strong suit.

Just Like You (1/???, feel free to ask for more! Please ask for more)

Being the oldest brother had it's perks. Being the oldest brother growing up and having to work your ass off just to keep you and your brother in the Backstreets of a Nest, however, is not one of those perks.

If you're thinking, "Man, that's a shitty slice of the Life pie"? Keep that to yourself. San already knows.

"Baby" Bada, studying hard at 14, also believes life sucks. But for a different reason, because it's his first finals week, and he has to not only make himself food in the small studio apartment his brother managed to get the two of them, but he has to study his ass off for the next two or three days.

San, 17 and a dead inside high school dropout, comes home to see his baby brother passed out on the table, his head buried in a math book. And half a sandwich left out in the open.

Bada wakes up to a sore back, a pillow under his head, a whole sheet of mathematics tips... and his sandwich. is. missing.

San wakes up to an angry little brother yelling about a missing sandwich. This.. is fine. San is okay with the events that are unfolding currently. (No he is not.)

This happens often, but the arguing erupts yet again as San tries to explain that working 12-hour shifts are exhausting, and his brother can always make another sandwich but San didn't have the energy to do so, and it would have just gone to waste otherwise, and, hey man, look, I did your homework for you, just go study up and get ready for school and I'll be home a few hours after you, okay?

Bada goes to yell something at his brother's back as San quickly preps himself and leaves for work. His words, though muffled, manage to make it to San's ears as he slams the door shut.

Bada leaves for school roughly an hour and a half later, eating a sandwich on his way to the bus stop and reading San's (admittedly great) math tips.

The bus ride is slow and monotonous. School is slow and monotonous. Bada, though in advanced classes, ends up bored throughout the day.

On the ride home, it finally hits him.

Neither he nor his brother said "I love you" or "have a good day" to the other this morning.

He didn't even know where his brother worked.

Or what his brother was doing for work, for that matter.

It wasn't a Syndicate job, he knew that much; but beyond that, for all he knew, his brother could be anything from a store clerk to a Grade 9 Fixer.

He wasn't sure what he preferred.

On one hand, being a clerk at least meant his older brother had a fairly low chance of being murdered in broad daylight. Everybody needed some chips once in a while, and you can't buy those if the clerk is dead, but if you steal them, you might get arrested or killed yourself.

On the other.. well, let's just say Bada thought "San the Grade 9 Fixer" sounded a lot cooler than "San, Bada's lame-ass older brother".

Bada tries staying up late that night, studying for his finals.

San finally returns home, an hour later than he usually does.

There's two plates set on the table, where Bada is sleeping yet again (this time, on a significantly more fashionable language textbook).

San eats the entire sandwich, replaces the textbook with a pillow once again, and tries to give pointers where he can on a separate piece of paper.. along with a "Good luck superhero, I sucked at this subject in school."

Bada wakes up to San also sleeping on the table. A first. But hey, the sandwich is gone, there's notes on the test, and-

-Ah, hell.

And he drags his brother to the only bed they have (if you can call it that; two sleeping bags stacked on top of each other, with two moth-eaten, thin blankets on top of each other), takes off his coat, and places the coat on his face. You know, to block out the sun.

Bada makes himself a sandwich, makes another for San, and adds a note.

"We both know you're the real hero here."

[ghostlyhamburger]

As somebody who doesn't believe in souls but digs your writing and wants your thoughts, I think it's possible, just possible, that the Adrien-is-a-Sentimonster thing could actually be quite life-affirming rather than tragic. Depending on how it's carried off, of course, because y'know, sticking the landing is everything.

I think Miraculous Ladybug itself has at least touched on the themes involved before. Things like Markov, an artificial intelligence who's treated as a discrete individual, plays on it. His emotions can even get him magically possessed! Ditto Chat Noir quitting after he almost killed Uncanny Valley, who's an android, but also somebody's beloved daughter and sister. They've got off buttons and were built rather than born, but they're still people, is the thing. Someone took the time to treat them that way.

Hell, more than one person on Miraculous previously worked on Code Lyoko, the show where they spent every S1 episode risking their asses trying to get a virtual girl out of a dangerous computer. Because she was a person, and didn't deserve to be trapped that way forever, even if she wasn't "real." She was capable of feeling and being felt for, and that was what counted. That's what made her a person.

(Code Lyoko symbol reference from Optigami, ayy.)

Anyway, not to get all corkboardy, but you remember how Adrien compared Plagg to the genie from the lamp from The 1001 Nights? There are actually two genies in that story, and I think it's relevant.

One is the djinn in the lamp, who grants wishes. The other is the djinn of the ring, who's more of a servant. He has to obey the wearer of the ring... kinda like Plagg (might even have been him). Or, in the theory we're talking about, like Adrien.

The most popular modern adaptation of that story is Disney's Aladdin (also a cartoon). It ends with someone using a wish to ensure that the genie, an all-around nice guy who's finally found a friend, gets his freedom. A thing every person deserves.

It's a big ask to spend a wish on such a "small" thing, but of course Aladdin does it. He loves his friend, and he's become the kind of guy we can rely on to do the right thing.

Before this story is over, it seems very possible to me that someone is going to spend a wish (or equivalent magic) making sure Sentimonster-Adrien gets to be a real boy. Free and clear. Because he deserves it.

In the original Adventures of Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi (from 1883), the story ends when Pinocchio does a very selfless favor for the Blue Fairy. His kindness proves to the audience that he was, and deserved to live as, a real boy. He wakes up in a human body, no longer constrained by the puppet one that had imprisoned him.

I guess all we can do is spend a wish hoping that Sentimonster-Adrien is in the good graces of a kind "fairy" who really thinks a lot of him.

Fingers crossed!

Honestly, I actually really like your view! 

The problem is that the Adrien becoming real part has to be included in a potential sentiAdrien arc, and I do not have faith in the writers to do that well with how much of a rushed angstfest this entire season has been.

It’s all well and good for Marinette to love him just as much as if he were human, but the presence of the amok is an absolute danger. if that’s broken, poof, Adrien is gone. The end.

Ladybug’s cure could not bring him back, otherwise we’d still have Sentibug. Once a sentimonster is gone, then it’s gone forever.

And it makes me extremely uncomfortable that anyone can have that kind of power over him.

[tomodachimeter]

Fukigen na Mononokean Chapter 84 Spoilers

Read raws here.

Abeno wakes up, and remembering his arm, smiles to himself at the fact that they found Aoi alive, and it’s not a dream. But then he ponders how they’ll be able to save Aoi from the parasite.

Meanwhile Fuzzy grows bigger and bigger, and to avoid getting squished, Abeno flees the room only to run into Ashiya, who expresses relief that Abeno is okay and then yells about Fuzzy’s size. Ashiya asks where they are and Koura answers the Kiyakudo. She injects Fuzzy with a calming medicine (which Ashiya and Abeno eye suspiciously) and although Fuzzy shrinks a little, says that any more will cause side effects so they should reassure Fuzzy some more.

Koura asks Abeno how his arm is doing, and when he replies it hurts, coaxes him to let her see it, and gleefully says it looks like medicine meant for yokai will work to some extent on humans. But Koura then says it gives her complicated feelings thinking that Aoi was the one who injured Abeno even though they found Aoi alive. She adds that Abeno will be busy having to report to the officials and princess but says in the meantime he’s not allowed to push himself, including going to check on Aoi in the forest. Abeno pushes back a little, saying just observation should be fine, but she shuts him down.

From under Fuzzy, Ashiya reflects over the dream/memory he saw again, certain that Influence can heal the parasite, but in exchange...

Abeno interrupts his thoughts and says he’s going to call the Mononokean, and tells Ashiya to go home because while he managed to drag Ashiya to the Kiyakudo to get checked and it was an emergency situation, Ashiya can’t be here without the Justice. Ashiya asks what Abeno is going to do, and Koura says she needs to give Abeno more treatment so he’ll be staying a bit longer.

To Abeno’s surprise, Ashiya asks him to contact the Justice and says he’s going to stay until evening at least because Fuzzy is still this big and he has something to talk to Abeno about, but Abeno surprises him with saying that it’s already morning of the next day. Koura had put a sleeping incense next to them so they could get some rest. Abeno asks if it’s alright for Ashiya not to go home, since he’s been out without permission for an entire night, and Ashiya yells he’s going to go home for a bit.

Ashiya enters his house with the Mononokean saying it’ll stay connected so he can go back, and Ashiya feels immensely guilty for all the messages his mother sent him. He thinks that he can’t tell her why he was gone, but he’ll apologize profusely.

At that moment, Ashiya hears a crash and his mother scream, and runs there to find a stray cat ransacking the flower shop. He tries to catch it (and fails) but it wanders out of the shop eventually. and he starts helping his mother clean the shop.

His mother asks if it’s alright for him to help out, because he’s been going out every day and whether or not he needs to go today too. After some hesitation, Ashiya says he’ll stay for the morning and help with the shop.

Ashiya thinks about the fact that he has to talk to Abeno about what he saw in the dream, but hesitates because if Abeno found out that it’s possible to heal the parasite through Influence, Abeno might be resolved to risk his own life to do so. In order to save Aoi, who’s so important to the princess and the Underworld, and for the sake for all yokai, Abeno would likely even give himself up.

But Ashiya is determined not to let him. Although he doesn’t want to tell Abeno about it, and doesn’t want to let Abeno know, he can’t keep the fact a secret when it concerns a method to save Aoi.

Ashiya’s mother smiles at the white cat still hanging around outside, and is reminded of a black cat that used to hang around the shop as well. Ashiya asks when that was, and she replies it was around after Ashiya was born. She wonders if maybe because it was a stray, it was cautious and always ran away if she went near, much differently than the white cat now. At some point, the black cat stopped showing up and she wonders if someone took it in.

To Ashiya, he realizes immediately it must’ve been Aoi, and wonders if Aoi visited because of their lingering guilt over being able to live longer because of Sakae’s sacrifice.

Suddenly, Ashiya shouts that he’s going to go out now after all, to which his mother says it’s fine but trembling, asks him not to stay out without any contact again, at which point Ashiya remembers he came home to apologize and does so frantically.

His mother says she was was worried, but that she’ll forgive him, because she can tell that Ashiya is doing something very important, to which Ashiya confirms, and with a smile, tells him to take care.

Ashiya returns to Abeno, and holding out a sketchbook, tells Abeno that he has something important to talk to him about, Abeno flips through it, puzzled a bit by the drawings until Ashiya shouts that those are hands.

Slowly, Ashiya begins to explain that after he was possessed by Sakae, he has clear memories of the moment until Aoi released Sakae’s Influence to the butterfly, and drew them out like he saw in the dream. He says if the dream was what had happened in reality, then Influence would be able to cure Aoi of the parasite.

But Ashiya continues, saying that Aoi hid that fact from everyone, and theorizes that given that Sakae giving his life in exchange for Aoi being able to live longer was an accident, it likely wasn’t the outcome that Aoi wanted. And Ashiya thinks to himself that maybe Aoi felt responsible, and passing Sakae’s Influence onto him when he was younger was an attempt to return Sakae to his family in some way.

Abeno is silent for a bit, and expresses his disbelief at how Aoi could go into the forest knowing that there was a cure for the parasite, knowing how important their existence was to the Underworld and yokai.

Ashiya goes closer and says that was just how much faith Aoi had in Abeno to become the master of the Mononokean despite being a human, because of how much he does for yokai, and says that Aoi would’ve been more aware than anyone else.

But Ashiya says, clearly, seriously to Abeno, that he can’t use the same method as Sakae did, even if it means saving Aoi, because Aoi would never have wanted a future where they were able to live because of Abeno’s sacrifice.

Abeno asks if Ashiya’s telling him to give up on trying to find a cure and watch Aoi die, even though he finally found Aoi, even though Aoi’s alive, and yells what other way there even is.

“...............Ashiya.... What am I supposed to do?”

DEATH.JPG

the only comedy was fuzzy getting comically big and abeno being confused at ashiya’s pictures (”those are hands!! hands!”) otherwise this was a straight angstfest

HOW WE GET ABENO SMILING AT THE FACT THEY FOUND AOI IN THE BEGINNING TO HIS EXPRESSION AT THE END FINDING OUT

THE SYMBOLISM OF THE RUINED FLOWERS WHEN ASHIYA IMAGINES THAT ABENO WOULD BE WILLING TO DISAPPEAR AND THEN HIS CONVICTION “I don’t want that!” !!! HE!! CARES ABENO SO SO SO MUCH LSKDFJASDJFASDJFASDF

ASHIYA’S MOTHER SMILING SO GENTLY AND THAT SHE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT ASHIYA IS DOING BUT CAN TELL THAT HE’S DOING SOMETHING IMPORTANT AND LETS HIM GO SO KINDLY

im in...p ain at the idea... that aoi was trying to return sakae to his family......... uuuuuuuu

AND OF COURSE

ABENO’S

EXPRESSION

THE FIRST TIME HE’S SHOWN SUCH VULNERABILITY TO ASHIYA

THE FIRST TIME HE’S ASKING ASHIYA FOR HELP, FOR A LIFELINE

THAT DESPERATE LOOK ON HIS FACE AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaa........ they.... trust each other so much.... the first time...  ashiya being so firm that abeno isn’t allowed to sacrifice himself, laying it out so rationally for abeno and slakflajskdalkfjalkdfjalsdfafas

dying noises

[featherymalignancy]

F*cking Lawyers: Elorcan One-Shot Sneak Peak

Listen: you ask, I deliver. 😎

 This is a first look at the Elorcan extension of my ACOTAR x TOG modern crossover AU-verse. Currently, there are two stories in the series:  In Vino Veritas, featuring Nesta and Cassian, and Navy Suits and Chelsea Boots, featuring Elain and Azriel.

Forthcoming are The Eyes of Texas, a one-shot about how Rowan and Aelin met, and the below, tentatively titled F*cking Lawyers, which is an Elorcan one-shot that takes place at Rowan and Aelin’s engagement party.

TO BE CLEAR, F*cking Lawyers is at the end of my writing queue at the moment, so this story is forthcoming, but will not be published until Like a Lonely House, my canon Nessian angstfest, is updated (hopefully this week), the next chapter of In Vino Veritas is published (coming very soon), and The Eyes of Texas is completed. I just got really inspired today and decided to bang this snippet out, but I also want to keep my priorities in order.

One last note! For this story, I have decided to spell Maeve the traditional way, which is Méabh, because....I can. Anyways, please be aware when you see that name, that is who I am talking about. Otherwise, enjoy, I cannot wait to hear what you think!

F*cking Lawyers Snippet

Lorcan—conscious of not incurring Aelin’s wrath by making a scene—retreated to the swanky bar in the corner of the lounge, quietly snarling, “Please remind my ex-wife that I started this company before—”

“Wife,” the lawyer interrupted primly.

“Excuse me?” Lorcan snarled.

“You and Ms. Lehane are still very much married, Mr. Salvaterre, and you will remain as such until litigation over your assets is resolved. That includes the cyber-security firm, which—as your wife—Ms. Lehane is entitled to fifty percent of.”

“You smarmy prick.”

“I may be a prick, Mr. Salvaterre, but I’m a prick who is more than happy to rake you over the coals in court should this mediation between you and my client fail. I will send over the documents detailing our latest counter. I suggest you discuss with your attorney and give the offer some serious thought; it’s the best you’ll get from us, that I can—”

Lorcan hung up before tossing his phone onto the bar.

“Fucking lawyers,” he snarled to himself, tugging his tie loose as he gestured for the bartender.

It was only after that he realized he wasn’t alone. The woman next to him was curvy but petite—just Lorcan’s type—and pretty enough to momentarily distract him from Méabh and her conniving bullshit. However, the feeling quickly faded when he noted the rather pointed look the stranger was giving him.

He swore again, low and to himself, as he rubbed his eyes.

“You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?”

She smiled, and he felt a least a modicum of relief that he hadn’t offended one of Aelin’s friends; he didn’t think he could bare the resulting lecture.

“I am,” she admitted. “But not the prick kind, at least I hope.”

Lorcan studied the woman with more scrutiny, admiring the way her hair had been pulled away her face to bare her creamy complexion and stunning dark eyes. Jesus, she was lovely. He wondered if she was si—

An unpleasant realization dawned on him, and he felt his heart sinking in unexpected disappointment.

“You’re not Cash’s new girlfriend, are you?”

The woman laughed, the sound delicate but smoky. It went straight to his cock.

“No, I’m not. Though if you’re looking for someone to represent you in a—”she paused, clearly looking for a polite way to say ‘mess-ass divorce’. “—civil litigation, you should speak to her. Nesta has an unparalleled talent for getting what she wants, especially in court.”

“How delightful,” Lorcan said, unsure if he was delighted or unnerved to find they were flirting.

“She’s actually rather lovely,” the woman said with another smile, adding, “for a private attorney. I’m Elide, by the way.”

She proffered a small, well-manicured hand.

“Lorcan,” he said, his hand swallowing hers as they shook.

“And are you a friend of the bride, or the groom?”

“Do I look like a man who would willingly be friends with Aelin Galathynius?”

It was out before he could stop it, but Elide only laughed.

“You’re one of Rowan’s high school friends, aren’t you? I’ve heard your name mentioned before.”

“Not by Aelin, I hope.”

“She was complimentary,” Elide said before grinning. “For the most part.”

Lorcan fought off a groan. If Aelin had blown his shot with Elide with her fat mouth, he would—

“Though I will say she undersold you a good deal. She said you were tall, but I didn’t—how tall are you?”

Lorcan could fight off the satisfied smirk as she gave him a delightedly brazen up-down.

“6’9,” he said. “Why, how tall are you?”

She laughed.

“Tall enough to ride all the rides at Disneyland, if only barely.”

He was tempted to tell her she was certainly tall enough to ride him if she wanted.

As always, I love your feedback, and look forward to more on this story (and all the others) soon! Also if you’d like to be tagged comment below, that’s where I go to get my tags when I publish! 🍻 

[nade2308]

Summary: He had no right to ask for anything. No right to ask Mac for forgiveness. He broke Mac's heart, he left him, faked his death to keep him safe, but left anyway. There was a part of him that was afraid that the kid will think of him as a traitor now, that despite of his reasons and actions proving otherwise that he'd be there and not lie to Mac again; there was that lingering feeling that Mac won't trust him ever again.

And we are back to our program with these boys. January has certainly been a whirlwind so far. I have hit a snag with writing a bit, but managed some words on several fics. The NaNo fic is still in the editing stage, and between trying to write and fighting with the mini writer's block (in reality I was just a tad bit stuck, that a talk with thistle solved), I picked up reading WK again. And in the middle of reading one of the chapters, I was thinking about this story thistle wrote that was an AU of 1x01... and I went to read it again. Which resulted in this fic.

And just as my tag says, I've been surfing on the Jack angst wave for MONTHS now and apparently that boy doesn't want to stop the angst any time soon so I have to roll with it.

This story picks up right after thistle's story, and we decided to make it a series. With my track record of getting inspired by and writing follow ups to thistle's fics, it's nothing short of a posibility for me to write more about anything at this point.

So sit back, relax, and enjoy this angstfest!

@thethistlegirl

[jessicanjpa]

Things I sure would love to see in Midnight Sun:

-Rosalie and Edward are having an excellent fight but all of a sudden it turns sweet and they're honest for a second about how much they admire each other

-more everyday Culleny cuteness! I want off-key Esme humming while she reads about how to cook meat because Bella!, more Emmett dreaming up vampire level pranks, more Carlisle having to call out of work because it's tax season and he still runs like 27 identities to keep the philanthropy going, more Rosalie working frantically to get (insert classic car) ready for the show next weekend in Seattle

-a dedication page announcing that all proceeds from the book sales will go to the Quileute Nation's Move to Higher Ground project

-a playfight between Edward, Emmett, and Jasper that starts in the living room and Esme kicks them outside. A canon classic we've never actually gotten to see!

-more backstory more backstory more backstory. And more talking about other vampire friends! Peter and Charlotte's visit was such a good surprise in the first half

-at least four pages of Edward angsting over how to tell Bella about his rebellious years

-Edward and Carlisle debating over souls. It's all been said before but suddenly it's an urgent issue again. Edward scares himself half to death when he begins to worry that Bella might go over his head and ask Carlisle to change her. He tries to extract Carlisle's promise that he won't but Carlisle dodges the question, deeply troubled about the issue himself

-Edward realizing that James recognizes Alice and that's why he's totally OK with her and Jasper being the ones to take Bella away (which otherwise doesn't make a lot of sense)

-Edward staring into his own slightly orange eyes in the hospital mirror and having an angstfest over it

[kiseiakhun]

Fic Writer Interview

I got tagged by @atasteforsuicidal and @do-not-careissa several days ago and LOOK AT ME, I actually remembered to do a tag meme

Name(s): kiseiakhun (tumblr), Kiseia (ao3)

Fandoms: DC. I think I focus mostly on... Titans and Lanterns right now? It depends on my mood tbh. I mean, Titans are forever, but otherwise I jump between which character I Vibe with more at this particular moment. I think most people know me for my Jason Todd writing/Roy Harper meta

Where you post: Ao3, tumblr for little ficlets that I don’t put a lot of thought into. I’ve been meaning to clean them up and toss them on ao3, actually, buuuut I keep forgetting.

Most popular one shot (by kudos): 

overall: take in some oxygen, sad jayroy porn

this year: shove your kiss straight through my chest, aggressive jaykyle porn that involves Kyle brandishing a knife at Jason. I’m very proud of the knife.

Most popular multi-chap (by kudos): 

overall: leave your lights on for me, my jayroykyle wip that actually has the next chapter half-written already, I just need to finish it smh I’m so sorry it’s been so long since my last update ;;

this year: ^ same thing

Favourite story you’ve written so far: drive home to you. It’s mostly an excuse to have an angstfest, but a lot of the story is drawn from things that I’ve witnessed in my own life. Amidst the comments yelling at me for making them sad, there’s a couple peppered in from people who feel Seen in a way that they usually don’t find in fiction. And, you know, I get that. The reason I write is because I’m not finding the types of stories that I want to read.

Plus, for someone who writes mostly pwp, it’s validating to know I still have the skills to make people cry.

Fic you were nervous to post: Hmmmm. HMMM. I would say... oceans between us. Which I meant to finish when I posted it but, smh. The second part is lying around in my wips somewhere. I put a LOT more effort into this fic than I usually do, and I was scared that some elements might not come across the way I’d intended. It’s the first fic that I actually sought out a beta for.

How do you choose your titles?: Sometimes I’d already have a title in mind, or at least a theme that I wanted it to encompass. Like, for leave your lights on for me, I knew I wanted to touch on the element of light, because Kyle was the torchbearer and it’s told from his pov, and like... he’s agonizing over Jason and Roy’s relationship, whether the lights are still on, if he can enter that door. ... more often, though, I finish a fic, go, fuck, and flip through songs until I find a line that can work as a title.

Do you outline?: When I do outline, it’s very loose. For longer works, I do this thing where I sketch out a few scenes that hit the emotional high notes, and then I go in and fill the blanks around them. I... should outline more. It’s a skill that needs practice, but ughhhhh outlines hard ):

Complete: 12

In-progress: 4 on ao3, plus countless wips

Coming soon/not yet started: Hoooooboy. Uhhhh. Okay, let’s see here...

There’s a Kyle/f!Wally fic that’s like. God. 50? 55% done? And it’s already at 30k words. This fucking fic right here would be the reason why I abruptly stopped posting btw, because I thought it would be a SHORT THING for me to get girl Wally out of my system. Smh. Smh!!

Hal/f!Kyle fic where they’re vampire hunters

Stars and Constellations, fab 5 as teen/young adult delinquents. I’ve got one spaqua oneshot up on my ao3 but the main story is... much more involved. And less sexy.

JayKyle except they’re girls and it’s gay. I have like?? Two more scenes to write??? But unfortunately I have no idea wtf those two scenes are so it’s simmering on the backburner for now

So many wips for ttgb. SO MANY.

and many many many other wips that I don’t want to mention in case I get peoples hopes up >.>

Prompts: I mean, people can send them, but generally I have enough of my own projects to keep me busy. There are some prompts in my inbox that I still want to respond to. Unfortunately, I have the memory of a goldfish and my brain is a goddamn sieve

Upcoming work you’re most excited about: The fucking Kyle/f!Wally fic that’s been plaguing me for months. I know it’s not going to garner that much interest because it doesn’t involve any Bats but I... love them. Also pls I’ve been working on it for so long, I just want to be Free

No-pressure tags: I think everyone I know has already been tagged before me, because I’m the slowest ever to respond to these things... oh, @crimeronan this seems like something that would be Your Shit

Edit: also @stvlti ❤️