#Twelve days of Tumblr Follow Forever Edition

[verlovestaylor13]

Dear Reader...

Hi @taylorswift and @taylornation. The twins are back to give you The Story of Us ... updated 2023 edition❤️✨

What a journey these 16 years have been with you. You don’t know me, but hi my name’s Veronica! I’m 28 (turning 29 on 8/11!) and my IDENTICAL twin Victoria (@viclovestaylor13) and I have loved you for years. Your music has quite literally been the soundtrack of our lives.

Vic and I haven’t had the easiest past, to sum it up. We wouldn’t be the people we are today If it wasn’t for your love, strength, music and radiating happiness. Although you don’t know it, we’ve grown up together and experienced impressive milestones with you being a constant along the way. I’m not good at this whole tumblr thing, let alone getting you to see my post amidst the millions I’m sure you’re exposed to. But hey, we can’t ever give up hope! So that’s what I’m doing, here’s to never giving up. And here’s to always hoping that my twin sister and I will one day have the chance to tell you EVERYTHING and most importantly, thank you for everything that you’ve truly done for us. Fun fact is that we’re from Rhode Island so all of our experiences at your tours have been at our favorite place….GILLETTE STADIUM!!!

✨✨Okay lets start from the first tour we were able to attend! As you scroll down you’ll see us through the years until we reach 2023 at the bottom ❤️

——————————————————————————-

🌈🌈🌈☂️Speak Now Tour  6/26/11  ✨

This was the first time we saw you!! Trust me when I say we wanted to see you MANY times before this but we were young and had no $$$. This show was a combination birthday and Christmas present.

Seeing you live for the first time changed us, to say it was magical is a complete understatement.

——————————————————————————-

🌹Red Tour 7/26/13 & 7/27/13  ✨

These shows were OF COURSE at Gillette Stadium! Vic and I saved up our money so that we could be at BOTH nights!! After the speak now tour we knew we never wanted to miss a single night. We picked up extra shifts at work and didn’t splurge on anything so that we could be there, buy merch and have the time of our lives. It was incredible and yes it did rain. We happily danced in ponchos.

———————————————————————————

🎀1989 World Tour 7/24/15 & 7/25/15✨

Of course my sister Vic and I once again picked up extra shifts at work, ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and saved our money to be at both nights! I can still picture those nights as if it was yesterday…it’s crazy how much fun we had. This was during a tough year and having your shows to look forward to really helped us more than you could ever know.

———————————————————————————

🐍REPUTATION TOUR 7/26/18, 7/27/18 & 7/28/18✨

As it has been with all your prior tours, my sister Vic and I saved up our money and gave up on certain things to afford to be there for ALL THREE (3) NIGHTS!! This time we were able to save enough money to afford our outfits! We dressed up and made friends with Gillette staff because of it!!! See the pics below 😇 The rep tour forever lives in our hearts and we’re constantly watching videos and crying lol.

————————————————————

Lover Fest 🌈🌻💐🌸

Vic and I spent over TWELVE (12!!) hours to get tickets for lover fest east! Luckily between using our phones at work and carrying portable chargers, we secured dates to BOTH of the shows at gillette!

...March 2020

We know what this month and honestly the whole year brought into the world. Vic and I started as REGISTERED NURSES on March 2, 2020...and the federal shutdown in the United States quickly followed suit. Here we were, 2 brand new nurses working amidst a pandemic with no vaccine at the time and people passing away at an astronomical rate. Significant sacrifices were made this year and with that we know that Lover Fest was canceled. Being FRONTLINE WORKERS, Vic and I thought it was the best decision to cancel lover fest given the critical nature of the world. We were of course extremely sad, but it was the best for everyones safety. You continued to be our guidance while the nature of hospital systems turned into crisis scenarios. There were countless nights of physical as well as emotional breakdowns as we tried to navigate this unfamiliar world of nursing during a global pandemic. It was a long few months that turned into years - and now writing this in 2023 the pandemic is not over, but there is a newfound hope. We even wore the “I’m Feeling 2022″ headband to work our NYE night shift in 2021! That was until it had to be removed to go into covid isolation rooms, but it was still present! I attached the picture below.

————————————————————

Fast forward to us now... and somehow it’s 2023?!

We have come out stronger than ever and now we are ready for The Eras Tour in our home aka Gillette Stadium!!! Like the tours in the past, we knew we had to be at ALL THREE (3) NIGHTS! We saved up and through all the rough shifts in the hospital, we knew a tour would be in the horizon as a reward. We couldn’t be more excited to be happy, free, confused and NOT lonely with the best people...Taylor Swift fans. 

✨✨✨

 ❤️ The Eras Tour 5/19/23, 5/20/23, 5/21/23 ✨

Let’s do this!!!!!

✨✨✨

Here’s where you can find us having the best days💃🏻

🪩FRIDAY MAY 19: Section A5, row 1, seats 11&12

🌟 SATURDAY MAY 20: Section A9, row 3, seats 3&4

💎SUNDAY MAY 21: Section A12, row 19, seats 7&8

———————————————————————————

And then later in 2023...

Vic is getting MARRIED👰❤️ this October!!! I’m hosting her Bridal Shower on July 9th 2023 (I think we all know the significance of that date!) I’m also throwing her a LOVER THEMED BACHELORETTE in August! There will be references to the other eras as well just for fun! Then of course we have lyrics from your songs referenced EVERYWHERE for Vic’s wedding. Beautiful and meaningful lyrics selected to help tell Vic’s love story with Brandon. See the pictures I attached below! 

Also, let us know if you guys  @taylornation​ @taylorswift​ want to come because “...at every table, I’ll save you a seat” 🦋

There’s a standing invite to any and all festivities, always❤️

———————————————————————————————————

It has always been and will always be you, @taylorswift. Thank you for every. single. thing. We owe a lot of our success to you and one day we hope to tell you all about it✨❤️

 Until then, thank you for being you and being a constant all these years. Your Rhode Island twin nurses love you more than can ever be explained. Eternally grateful.

Long live🦋❤️🐱

- Veronica (Twitter: @va13x) & Victoria (Twitter: @viclynn24)

@taylorswift @taylornation

[ghostinthebau]

Super Fanfic Rec List -- Iron Dad Edition (because I just wanna share the love)

I’ve had such a blast reading fanfic of the IronDad and SpiderSon variety over the last 6 months or so, and I thought I’d just make a rec list of some of my favorite stories.  Most of them are angsty, with whump and hurt/comfort because that’s what I live for.  

This is in no particular order or in any way complete because there’s just way too many amazing fics/authors in the Iron Dad fandom, but it will still be hella long, so....here goes! 

First off, @yellowdistress:

What We Are series - Bio-dad Tony series that goes all the way through Infinity War.  Endgame AU.

Someday I’ll Make it Out of Here series - Adoption AU!  It’s so good.

The Missing 92 Days - A take on HYDRA Peter that destroyed me emotionally.

Reviving Peter Parker - This about killed me.  Peter actually died during his fight with Toomes and SHIELD brings him back a la the TAHITI project like they did with Phil Coulson.  

A Sailor Went to Sea - Gut-wrenching Endgame fix it.  

Double, Double

@losingmymindtonight:

Webcams and Webshooters series

I Never Lived ‘Til I Lived In Your Light series - !!! TISSUE WARNING !!! Peter dies, but there’s another one shot with a happier ending if you need it.

And You’ll Blow Us All Away - Adoption fic!  A lovely one at that.

5 Times Peter’s Mental Illness Made Him Stumble And The 1 Time He Refused To Falter - I really love a well-depicted take on mental illness, and losingmymindtonight delivered 100%.

If You Can’t Catch A Breath (You Can Take The Oxygen Straight Out Of My Own Chest)

Cyanide? In My Shawarma?

@justme--emily:

The Guardian - Adoption AU with a lovely Loki and Peter friendship!

Radioactive - Peter endures the after effects of the spider bite, and scares bio-dad Tony to death.  Lovely, lovely, lovely.

The Good Fight - Peter gets hurt at the airport in Germany instead of Rhodey.  

@iron--spider:

ever in your favor - Hunger Games AU and an epic work of art!  

Lazarus, come forth - The Endgame fix it before Endgame.  Peter will break your heart.

dear mr. fantasy

this isn’t a game - Highly underrated fic based off the PS4 Spider-Man game.  I’ve never even played the game, and I loved this story.

what if there is no tomorrow? - This story actually made me kinda like Justin Hammer, if you can believe it.  

blindness

@tempestaurora:

hydra’s not a home series - HYDRA Peter, and also bio-dad Tony and bio-mom Pepper!

i’ll find you in the drift - Pacific Rim AU, and I have never seen PR, but I adored this so much.

it’s okay, we’re okay [whumpvember 2018] series

@jolinarjackson:

Lights To Guide You Home series - Another adoption AU.  They are my weakness, and this is one of the best out there.  

... and when you can’t crawl ...

Damaged At Best (Like You’ve Already Figured Out)

@blondsak:

No Life But This

come morning light (you and I’ll be safe and sound)

Burying Grounds - Eeeek!  Tony has to choose between saving Peter or Pepper and it hurts.

hold on, hold on

Something the Soul Needs

@madasthesea:

turn back the clock (and I’ll try again in the morning)

when my body won’t hold me anymore (where will I go)

They have so many other lovely looking fics--including an adoption au series (which I, of course, love), but I just haven’t gotten around to reading them yet.  I’m pretty sure anything they write is golden.  :)

@signofuncertainty:

It’s Always the Little Things

I’m sure their other fic, The Third Option, is fantastic and I really, really wanna read it but I’m trying so hard to wait until it’s complete!  It’s really difficult to wait, though, tbh....I may give in soon.  

@upcamethesun:

Twelve Days Of Peter Parker - So cute and fluffy, and then it kills you at the end.

5 Times Peter Made Tony Laugh Out Loud

5 Times Tony Didn’t Need To Worry About Peter

5 Times Peter Pretended To Be Tougher Than He Was

@frostysunflowers:

Between how it is and how it should be - This story made me love a Peter and Bucky friendship.

@kitcat992:

Identity Theft - This was one of the very first Iron Dad fics I read, and it was a doozy.  Full of whump, medical accuracy, and hurt/comfort!  The author is posting a sequel now, too: Identity Crisis.  :D

For Pete’s Sake!

@camelot-queen:

Goner - A perfectly heartbreaking kidnapping fic, but heed the warnings!

Who Saves The Hero

Never Meet Your Heroes

i’m the satellite (and you’re the sky) - Tony is Peter’s bio-dad but Peter doesn’t know it.  I haven’t actually finished this yet, but it’s good.  So, so good.

@peter-stank:

built from scraps - YOU GUYS, this is one of the best fics I’ve read on AO3.  It’s a ‘Tony gets dusted instead of Peter’ AU, and it’s got such an amazing dynamic between Peter, Pepper, and Morgan.  It’ll also make you tear up a few times, at least.

@geekymoviemom:

Sins of the Fathers - So, I’ve only read the first 5 chapters of this epic length (303k words@) adoption AU so far, but I’m LOVING it so I wanted to add it here.  They also have an even longer bio-dad Tony with added Stony bonus series, Pieces of Echoes, that they’re posting the 3rd installment to right now.  I’ll definitely be checking it out!

@too-many-bees:

let’s kick it

like a bridge over troubled water

@jbsforever:

it’ll be over (and I’ll still be asking when)

@tnyystark:

where the memories reside

@whumphoarder:

Quieting the Void series - Peter kinda has an eating disorder due to the spider bite, so take care if you read!

Poison Apple - Loved how medically accurate this was, and Ned’s reaction to Peter’s condition was heartbreaking.

@seek-rest:

It Hurts to Become

Someday We’ll Know - This is a Walk to Remember AU, so there’s MCD.  I’ve gotten about halfway through, but I can only read it when I’m in the right mindset.  But it’s lovely and so well done.  

This author has so many fics that I’m sure are amazing, and they’re on my ‘to read’ list when I’m in the mood for beautiful Spideychelle stories.

@caraminha:

The Primary Reason Tony Stark Would Throw Down With an Anti-Vaxxer in the Street - Hella scary depiction of Peter with tetanus, and it’s SO GOOD.

@tonystarkstan:

it all comes back to this

skeletons series

to build a home series - I love recovery fics, and this was a beautiful story of Peter dealing with the aftermath of being snapped and coming back.

lay your weary head to rest

@foolscapper:

Exploding Head Syndrome - Everyone comes back when the snap is reversed, but Peter is sort of catatonic--stuck between the living world and the soul stone where he’s with Gamora.  It’s such a lovely fic.

@alice-in-ink:

It’s a Little Bit We Do

Danger Pizza

@legalassie:

oh, darling - Peter’s kidnapped and Tony frantically searches for him--one of my favorite things.  Peter uses his smarts to help him get out of the situation, too, which is also one of my favorite things.

don’t think about tomorrow. 

@blackwatchandromeda:

Broken Thoughts (I Remember Everything)

Leave Me to Dream

A Nightmare to Remember

@emma--anacortes: 

Accepting the Tides - Here I am with another adoption AU.  Can you see a pattern yet?  I love them, and this one has danger and whump and comfort as well.  

@ardenskyedarcy221b:

they are standing in the garden - This hurt.  Several times the author had me tearing up and there’s a few lines that will stay with me forever.  It was just immensely lovely to read.

@iamallyetnotatall:

At the Start of the Universe - This was so much better than I was expecting! Peter is an Angel, and he knows Tony from the very beginning of the universe. It’s different, but absolutely gorgeous.

@starktowr:

somewhere outside my life - I don’t wanna say too much, but just read this.  It’ll break you and you’ll love it.

@jessicagoddamnjones: 

too bad (but it’s the life you lead)

@silver-bubbles:

The Fire’s Out (But Still It Burns)  

@day-dreamer176:

Like A Strike of Lightning - I kinda took this as a demonic possession a la Supernatural, but I don’t think it actually was.  Either way, it was fantastic.

fifty-four

five, tops

The World Stopped

@ambivalentmarvel:

Into His Fold series - Where Thanos brings Peter back from the ashes to make him into his new son (a la Nebula and Gamora).

@notaparty-trick:

Doom and Gloom - A ‘Peter doesn’t get dusted’ AU, filled with whump and Iron Dad and an awesome Carol Danvers.  Angst!!!

Dust and Blood - Peter is hurt much worse when Toomes drops the building on him.  More angst!!!!  This author does angst very well.

@ema--vee:

You don’t have to hold your head up high - Peter can’t thermoregulate!  I love that trope.

@forensicleaf:

All the Things We’ve Lost (And All the Things We’ve Gained) - This one gutted me, and then made it better.  But there’s pain to be had before the comfort!

They just posted the first chapter of a new WIP that looks AMAZING, too: Can’t Part the Sea, Can’t Reach the Shore.

@plnkblue:

foolish, fragile spine - Peter’s severely injured in his fight with Adrian Toomes and Tony finds him.  

@helloitisiafellowgay:

god did not craft us as altars, but as dying gods - Okay, guys.  This one is heavy.  It deals with Skip coming back into Peter’s life, and it’s not pretty but it’s handled superbly.  It’s a tough read, but one I definitely recommend if you can handle it.  Take care of yourselves first and foremost, though.  <3

~ ~ ~ I’m not sure if the following authors have a tumblr, so I just linked their AO3 pages ~ ~ ~

eccentric_artist_221b:

Only for a Little While - This is a Titanic AU, and it’s AMAZING.  There’s several scenes that just took my breath away and brought me to tears (not an easy feat). They’re also working on a WWI sequel!!!!

tiaylasglass:

the one who made it out - Short, simple in a gorgeous way, and poignant.  

And finally, I thought I’d humbly add my own little contribution to the fandom.  So far, I’ve only written the one fic, but I hope to write more in the future!

@ghostinthebau:

For Want of a Dad (in need of a son) - There’s a bit of blood, and a very distraught Tony at one point, so warning for angst and injury!

Again, this list is probably severely lacking, and if someone has a rec that’s not on here please please please reblog this and let me know!  I’m always in the mood for more fics.  

And I hope anyone reading this finds something they enjoy!  

I’m sure you will.  

ilu 3,000

:)

[echoes-of-realities]

I'll keep you warm (underneath the christmas lights)

* * *

[ao3] // [Fanfiction]

be my fire in the cold (and I’ll be waiting by the mistletoe: [Tumblr] // [ao3] // [Fanfiction]

Summary: Santana hates being in the audience of anything because she wants to be backstage managing the show instead of just watching it. She hates it even more when it’s a show that she used to run.

One-shot in the be my fire in the cold (and I’ll be your mistletoe) universe.

Notes: The final editing of the last chapter of the leather jacket fic has been going uhhhhhh let’s say Slow read: impossible atm because of writer’s block for the final scene because I want it to be perfect lol so instead I thought I’d do a small Christmas thing instead.

Trying to cure writer’s block for one fic by writing another? In my writing process? It’s more likely than you think.

Title from “Keep You Warm” by Sam Tsui and Kina Grannis.

Santana decided that she hates sitting in the audience of anything—movies, shows, speeches, you name it—when she was really young. After falling in love with stage managing when she was eighteen, she quickly figured out it’s because she wants to be backstage managing the show herself.

Looking back on her childhood, a lot of things suddenly clicked for her—kind of like when she realized she was very definitely really, really gay and looked back on her pre-teen years and realized exactly how many crushes she had actually had on girls throughout middle school. Her mom used to take her to Columbus whenever they had a little extra cash, treating herself and her daughter to whatever musical or play or dance troupe happened to be touring through Ohio that year, and she used to love and hate those mother-daughter outings in equal measure. She loved spending time with her mom, but she hated the shows itself. She would never have told her mom it, because she hated upsetting her mom more than anything in the world, but she found it near impossible to actually sit through those shows, because she was always impatient and annoyed—realizing it was because she wanted to be the one in control of the show was so relieving because she could finally explain to her mom why she was always hyperactive as soon as the theatre went dark and the show lights went on.

Her mom, of course, had suspected that her daughter was just impatient and desperate to be a part of the show somehow, because mom’s are like that, and took her daughter squirming and sighing throughout the entirety of every single show they saw together in stride—it was good that Maribel Lopez had the patience of a saint and years of experience as a nurse exerting restraint, because whoever was unlucky enough to sit on Santana’s other side had difficulty containing their annoyance at the fidgeting teenager beside them.

She hates sitting in the audience even more when it’s a show that she used to run; especially because she spent nearly twelve hours every single day for a whole month last year running the show she’s currently watching. And she’s even more impatient and desperate to head backstage for this particular show then she is when it comes to a show she hasn’t stage managed before.

In other words, it’s basically torture for her to sit in the audience and forcefully resist the urge to jump up and sneak backstage to take over the show, but she doesn’t really think that Quinn would appreciate that, considering that this is her first run as the production stage manager and not just an assistant.

But Santana knows too much about the behind the scenes of George Balanchine’s The Nutcracker to be content just watching from the sidelines, and if her neighbours’ annoyed glares are anything to go by, her twitchiness is more than a little obvious and definitely more than a little annoying.

Thankfully, the show is well into the second act by now, which means there’s just the Waltz of Flowers, the re-entrance of the Sugar Plum Fairy and her cavalier, the Finale, and the bows left, and then Santana can stop jiggling her foot up and down in the audience and annoying her seat-mates. She’s always been the type of person who has to be doing something, and watching a show when she could be managing it instead is just frustrating in a million ways.

It feels like she blinks and the cast are coming out to take their bows, and then—finally—all the audience members start filing out of the theatre. Santana grabs the bouquet of flowers hidden under her seat and checks them to make sure they aren’t crushed too badly; it’s not like she has a very good reputation for having pristine flowers because something always ends up happening—whether a freak rainstorm or an uneven sidewalk or a drunk on the subway getting too close—but she’d like the bouquet to look like they hadn’t gone through a garburator for once in her life.

A couple of the stems are bent in a way that looks like one of her seat-mates stepped on them, but other than that, the flowers are actually in decent shape, which is a little surprising.

She weaves her way impatiently through the crowd of shuffling audience members still blinking blearily in the too bright house lights after over two hours spent in the dark. She knows this theatre like the back of her hand, so it doesn’t take her long before she finds her way to the back of the theatre. Even though it’s been a year since she ran this show, she’s still a familiar face around the theatre, and security barely gives her a second glance before waving her backstage.

She waves greetings to some of the cast members who were recast this year, avoids the sound guys like they have the plague, and stops to playfully make fun of how Quinn’s running the show, before she finds her way back to the principal hallway. She follows the familiar sound of banging to the end of the hallway, dodging around racks of costumes and props and half-dressed cast members, before she reaches the door she’s looking for.

The door is slightly ajar, so she pokes her head through the crack and almost laughs out loud at the sigh that greets her—the Sugar Plum Fair is half dressed in her bodysuit and a pair of old, ratty sweats that Santana is almost positive were buried in the bottom of the hamper this morning, and her blonde hair is still pinned up but her tiara is tossed haphazardly on the dresser beside a couple of dirty makeup wipes.

She’s smacking her ballet shoes against the wall with a candy cane sticking out of her mouth, and Santana takes a moment to smile at the nostalgia of it all, before she clears her throat.

The Sugar Plum Fairy glances up with a focused furrow to her brow, one that immediately clears into surprised delight. “Santana!” she gasps around the candy cane dangling from her lips, blue eyes sparkling above scrunched up cheeks, “What are you doing here?”

Santana grins, and her chest still spasms and flutters like it did the very first time she met those blue eyes. “You didn’t think I’d miss your last show of the year?” she teases as she steps halfway into the room, keeping her back in the doorway to try and keep the bouquet hidden.

Brittany rolls her eyes and carelessly tosses her ballet shoes on the coffee table that Santana’s ate countless lunches and suppers at, crossing the room to greet Santana with a quick peck around the candy cane in her mouth, leaving a sticky line of mint across Santana’s cheek. Santana wants to be annoyed, because she hates sticky candy, but Brittany’s smiling at her and her eyes are surprised and happy and she can’t bring herself to feel even the tiniest bit annoyed. “I know you didn’t want to,” Brittany says, “but you kind of have a show to run at the same time as this one, Ms. I-Made-My-Broadway-Debut-As-Production-Stage-Manager-At-Twenty-Seven.”

Santana just shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m sure they can survive one show with Zizes at the helm.”

Brittany narrows her eyes and puts her hands on her hips, which stretches her bodysuit distractingly tight across her torso, and it takes Brittany clearing her throat a couple of times before Santana’s eyes snap back up to hers—she’s a little self-satisfied, which kind of defeats her attempt at a reprimanding look. “Please tell me you didn’t waste a sick day on watching a show you’ve already seen a billion times before.”

Santana’s grin widens and she shrugs a little. “Who’s to say I didn’t book this day off months in advance because I knew it’d be your last show.”

“I wasn’t even cast months in advance,” Brittany scolds, but there’s a tiny, pleased smile playing at her lips that she can’t quite bite back.

“Maybe I just believe in my girlfriend a whole lot,” Santana shoots back, and before Brittany can even open her mouth to continue their bickering, Santana produces the bouquet of flowers from behind her back and offers them to Brittany.

Santana can actually see the way that Brittany practically melts, all retorts dying on her tongue as she slowly takes the bouquet from Santana with glowing eyes. “You can’t buy my love, you know,” she teases softly, and Santana doesn’t bother hiding the way she basically preens like a parrot seeing their reflection in a mirror at the smile on Brittany’s face and the love glowing in her eyes.

“They’re the best flowers I’ve ever gotten you,” Santana says proudly.

Brittany laughs a little in the middle of sniffing them, accidentally pressing a couple flowers into her lips at the motion. “Only three broken stems,” she acknowledges with a wide smile, “That’s a new record.”

Santana grins and rises up on her toes expectantly, grinning when Brittany playfully rolls her eyes as she takes the candy cane out of her mouth and ducks down to kiss her, soft and sweet and slow.

Brittany pulls back achingly slowly, and Santana kind of wishes this moment could last forever, even though she gets to kiss Brittany like this every single day. “I should get changed and then we can get out of here,” she says, her minty-sweet breath fanning across Santana’s slightly dazed face.

Santana blinks a couple times before blushing under Brittany’s knowing smirk. She closes the door with her hip and busies herself with her phone while Brittany quickly strips out of her bodysuit and into her comfy clothes—it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before, but she knows that if she so much as glances at Brittany, her plans for the evening are going to fly right out of her head because Brittany is beautiful and distracting and basically impossible to resist.

Brittany appears beside her barely five minutes later, her candy cane back in her mouth and Santana’s favourite scarf wrapped around her neck, her blonde hair loose and flowing over her shoulders as she zips her jacket up. “Ready to go?”

Santana nods absently and steps out into the hallway, waiting for Brittany to grab the bouquet of flowers off the coffee table and lock her dressing room door before they head down the hallway. Brittany bites into her candy cane and crunches it loudly, and Santana can’t help the tiny smile on her face, because even though she usually finds it annoying when people chew hard candies, she finds everything Brittany does endearing and amusing.

They wave goodbyes and wish Merry Christmases to everyone they pass on their way to the back exit of the theatre, skipping the crowd of people probably still lingering at the front entrance. The cold wind sweeps right through them with a swirl of snowflakes as they step outside, causing them to both shiver and huddle together as they make the trek back to Santana’s apartment, where Brittany’s been spending so much time at, that Santana’s not sure if her girlfriend can even call the apartment she used to share with Mercedes hers anymore. It had gotten lonely, Brittany had admitted, once Mercedes moved in with Sam back in September, and Santana had hinted at the fact that her apartment—which was a little closer to the theatres they both worked at—had more than enough room for the two of them. They’d been quietly intending to move in together without actually saying anything aloud since then, but Brittany’s lease won’t be up until January, so Brittany’s mostly just been using her apartment as a storage space while all her clothes and toiletries and important things are slowly accumulating at Santana’s apartment over the course of the past couple months.

Brittany’s eyelashes are dusted with snowflakes and her lips and cheeks and ears are more red than usual against the freezing wind and Santana’s never been more in love in her entire life.

Brittany doesn’t say anything when Santana silently tugs her to a stop just to kiss her, but she looks a little bit windswept and a whole lot adoring when she pulls away and they continue on their way. And, when Santana pulls her into a chaotic grocery store, she still doesn’t say anything about it, even when she smiles wide and bright and happy when she recognizes the ingredients for cinnamon buns and World Famous Pierce Hot Chocolate and movie snacks.

They make it home around five thirty, the heat from Santana’s apartment nearly painful on their frozen thighs as they kick off their boots by the mat and hang their jackets on the coat rack. Santana disappears with the groceries and Brittany’s bouquet of flowers while Brittany is still struggling to escape from her scarf, and by the time she hangs up all of her winter gear, Santana is standing in the entrance to the rest of her apartment with a shy smile on her face. Brittany blinks in confusion before slowly stepping forward to take her girlfriend’s outstretched hand and allows her to pull them both through the kitchen and into the living room.

Brittany gasps at the sight before them, and some of the nerves in Santana’s stomach ease into proud delight at the wonder on Brittany’s face. She turns to admire her work, and can’t help smiling a little bit too, knowing that all her rushing around that morning after Brittany left for the theatre was worth it.

The living room is lit only by Christmas lights and the Home Alone title screen on the television and the fairy lights around the bookshelf and the quickly fading winter sun shining weakly in through the window, the kitchen and hall lights flicked off to give the apartment a soft glow. The tree in the corner was the result of Mercedes and Sam’s help; they left Manhattan yesterday to go spend time with family for Christmas, and they had offered their tree to Santana for the rest of the holidays, knowing that Santana was planning on surprising Brittany with a decorated apartment for Christmas Eve. It had been hiding in Santana’s spare closet until this morning after Brittany left for her show, and while Santana’s decorating skills leave something to be desired, it does its job of brightening the living room with a Christmasy glow. The tinsel and glittery trees on the windowsill are courtesy of Mike and Tina, who had answered Santana’s desperate plea for help sometime around eleven with fond eye rolls and no small amount of teasing. The rest of the living room—Christmas patterned blankets and the cookies on the coffee table and the small singing stuffies on the back of the couch and the small stack of presents under the tree—are all Santana though, and she surveys the living room with pride swirling in her stomach.

Brittany turns to Santana with eyes that sparkle in the dim glow of the Christmas decorations, and Santana’s stomach swoops a little at the love that sparkles in her favourite blue eyes.

“I know we’re still not all that into Christmas,” Santana explains, only a little bit bashful under Brittany’s adoring gaze, “and we’ve both been so busy with our shows lately that we haven’t really had time to do anything festive or anything. But I figured we should still get into the spirit at least a little bit, since we have new traditions and everything.”

Santana doesn’t even have time to give Brittany a smile before her girlfriend is cupping her jaw and kissing her fiercely, and Santana can do little more than wrap her arms around Brittany’s waist and kiss her back. Brittany’s mouth is warm and desperate on hers, but her hands are tender and still cold from outside against the sides of her neck, and it’s kind of a little perfect.

“So I take it you like it,” Santana gasps when Brittany finally relents in kissing her, just long enough that Santana can breathe again.

Brittany laughs and kisses Santana repeatedly, a series of quick pecks where she does that thing where she wants to talk and kiss at the same time and just ends up mumbling everything into Santana’s mouth. “Obviously, you giant dork.”

Santana giggles against Brittany and tightens her arms around her girlfriend, nuzzling their noses together and smiling when Brittany’s hands finally slide from her jaw to around her shoulders, tugging her into a tight embrace. “Good,” Santana sighs contently, “because I kind of really liked the new traditions we made last year.”

“That’s cause you got lucky at the end of them,” Brittany snorts against Santana’s hair, giggling and squirming away from Santana when she pinches her hips in retaliation.

“I wasn’t the only one who got lucky that night,” Santana sniffs haughtily, “And if you keep talking like that, you definitely won’t be this year.”

“Please—” Santana can’t see her girlfriend’s face, but she just knows that Brittany is rolling her eyes right now, “—as if you can resist me.”

Santana doesn’t argue that statement, because they both know Brittany’s one-hundred percent correct. “Come on,” she says instead, “we gotta get started on Home Alone so we have time to have supper and make hot chocolate and watch all the other movies and do other stuff like bakin—”

“Mmm,” Brittany interrupts with a hum as she finally pulls away from Santana and starts heading towards the living room, “Am I stuff?”

Santana’s been dating Brittany for a year by now, and it’s not like she’s a stranger to sex with her girlfriend, but she still can’t help the heat she feels rising in her cheeks. Brittany coos teasingly and playfully pokes at Santana’s dimples, even as she smirks and waggles her eyebrows in a suggestive leer. Santana swats at Brittany’s hand and ducks her head, but it does nothing to hide her blush.

Brittany just laughs at her girlfriend’s embarrassed grumbling as Santana throws herself grumpily down on the far end of the couch, shamelessly cuddling up to Santana under the blanket despite Santana’s protests—though, it’s not like Santana is putting up much of a fight considering she immediately sinks into Brittany’s embrace.

The snow continues to fall outside the window, but Santana’s apartment is warm and cozy and the lights from the Christmas tree and the television and the fairy lights on the bookshelf cast the living room in a soft glow. Santana’s pretty positive that she’s going to be doing this for every single Christmas Eve for the rest of her life and, even if she won the lottery or never had to work again or something else that most people dream of when regular life gets too damn depressing, she can’t imagine ever being happier than she is right now.

“Hey,” Brittany says suddenly as Kevin is in the middle of grocery shopping by himself for the first time, and Santana really should know that something’s up by the way her girlfriend tries to bite down on her smirk, “Are we watching Gremlins after this?”

Santana seriously considers suffocating Brittany with the blanket they’re cuddling under, but instead settles on beating her with a pillow, neither of them able to contain their bright laughter as they squirm around on the couch in a one-sided pillow fight.

When 11:11 comes around after supper and hot chocolate and even more movies (including—at least for Santana—the dreaded Gremlins), neither of them are even awake to make a wish like last year, the title screen song for How The Grinch Stole Christmas playing through it’s seventh repeat.

Honestly, it’s completely fine that they miss their new tradition of making a wish at 11:11 on Christmas Eve, because neither of them have anything else they could ever want for anymore, since they already have each other.

[authorkimberlygrey]

Shitty Things Nobody Tells You About (Self) Publishing And How To Deal With Them

This isn’t in my usual style because I got tired of trying to do the paragraphs thing. 

fuck that I think in bullet points and curse words, y’all can deal with it. 

There’s a readmore a bit further down because this it got long don’t worry. 

It's Expensive

When you self-publish, you are becoming your own publishing company. 

you have to pay for everything

Editing

Cover

Marketing shit

fifteen billion other things. 

There are places that you can get services for cheap but you gotta be careful about that cause you might just get what you pay for. tbh I dont’ have much advice on this, its just a thing you’re gonna have to figure out, sorry. 

Everyone wants a piece of the pie

The shittier members of your friends, family, and community will probably try to horn in on your hard work

“Am I in the dedications?” 

“Am I in the book?” 

“Can I have a free copy?” 

etc. etc. 

fuck these people, you don’t need that shit. 

you just wrote a whole ass book, go you! 

they don’t get to take away from that. 

Shitty businesses definitely will try to horn in on your hard work

you will get messages

and emails 

and offers 

and followers 

Fuck those guys

fuck them so hard. 

It may be tempting because they’ll sound nice and shit

but listen to me: 

The reason they’re trying to get you to come to them is that nobody else is and they want to prey on your assumed inexperience. 

because the reason nobody is coming for them is that they are shitty. They are so shitty. 

I have gotten three messages from a company called Doran 

They are very professional, pretty messages

I have my very own publishing consultant. 

Doran has a total of 1.8 stars on google ratings. 

Block these fuckers immediately 

Do not pass go, do not give them the 200 dollars that they are asking for. 

Fuck them. 

Again, you wrote a whole ass book

they haven’t done shit. 

They don’t get to horn in on your hard work. 

tell them to fuck off

I’m putting the rest of this stuff under the cut because it got too long and I don't want to obliterate y’all’s dashes.

Post-Publication Depression

 Not everyone deals with it

Some lucky assholes get to feel accomplished and happy 

But you’re not gonna know until you get there 

keep an eye on that shit 

I’m not fucking joking here y’all 

this is shitty. 

Nobody talks about it because Ya Gotta Keep Up The Happy Author Image 

But fuck that, I’m not letting yall trip facefirst into this shit unprepared. 

You might feel like nobody cares about you, about your book, about anything. 

You may feel like you’ll never write anything again 

You may feel like what you have written is a shitty, shitty pile of steaming garbage and you are doomed to die cold and alone in the night

You may miss the world and the characters and feel like they’ve died and taken a part of you with them

You may feel a billion different shitty things and it sucks so bad my friends

You just did like several solid months of stressful shit at the very least. 

You are a rubber band and you have just been stretched to the limit and unleashed against the unforgiving back of the head of reality by some dumb fuck kid who’s supposed to be paying attention in class. 

But look at me: It's not gonna be here forever

There are always people who care for real

You will write again and it will be awesome

What you wrote is awesome, no matter how many imperfections you may see in it right now. 

The world and characters are with you always. There is literally nothing stopping you from continuing to write shit with them. or even just daydreaming shit. They are yours and the world cannot take them from you. 

You will get through this, it may take a week, or a month, or longer and it may be shitty that whole time 

but it will end. And you’ll make it through. 

My advice?: 

Get a support system

Tell them that this is a thing

Have them check in on you 

Don’t try to do this alone because you don’t have to. 

It's Difficult to Find Information

Remember that part where I talked about how everyone wants to horn in on your hard work? 

yeah. 

It is entirely possible that I’m just shit at researching but all of the videos, articles, and free PDFs that I found fell into one or both of these categories: 

Either they’re from a publishing company that wants to discourage you from self-publishing so that they can publish your book for you. 

fuck you, pocket guide to publishing

Or for some godforsaken reason, its full of utterly useless fluff to give it length or to cover up the fact that the creator doesn’t actually know what the fuck they’re talking about

The thing you need

if its there

will be one sentence long and buried somewhere in all the fluff somewhere in the middle-end of the thing

somewhere

fuck if you’ll ever find it though. 

What I recommend is that you find a publishing mentor

Someone who’s been through this shit and can give you the short answer instead of letting you sit in front of your computer crying because you just need to know what button to push what the fuck

Again, maybe I’m just really shitty at research, but still 

publishing mentor

good shit

crying over ingramspark’s shitty, shitty website design:

bad shit

shoutout to @brynwrites for answering my neverending stream of questions when I finally gave up trying to find the information on the internet or on ingramspark

do not look for things on ingramspark 

just dont’

there is no logic or organization to that hellhole. 

the blog posts may have promising titles 

but the information you want is probably buried in the middle of a tangentially related article 

the rest of the internet isn’t much better tbh. 

Its Easy To Get Lost In The Crowd

There is a metric fuckton of books out there

and another two fucktons of WIPs 

because none of us writeblrs seem to have an attention span longer than two chapters before we get distracted by a shiny new idea

you know I’m right

People on tumblr are shitty in general at reblogging shit despite that being the point of the website

you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink 

People on writeblr are really busy with their heads stuffed up their own WIPs and they tend not to notice other shit

we’re all guilty of it, its fine

but it can be depressing

its not personal tho

What ya gotta do is make friends

yes, I am literally telling you to believe in the Power of Friendship.

You gotta make yourself an apocalypse survival group my pals

You and yours on the wild seas of greater indifference

it’ll be great 

All that matters is the people that matter 

Fuck everyone else or you’re gonna be crying yourself to sleep for the rest of your life

nobody wants that. 

Post-Publication Depression

y’all

seriously

I’ve cried myself to sleep more nights in the last two weeks than I have ever since I was hella depressed in high school

-100/10 would recommend

but I forgot to opt out of this subscription

this shitty, shitty subscription. 

God I’m so tired. 

Btw I’m going on hiatus for like a week after this last giveaway ends

Its been twelve days since Ascendant was published but it feels like a god damn month

fuck this shit I’m out

see y’all later

P.S please reblog the last giveaway or someth if you want a book. 

[juniperhillpatient]

Could you write Richie introduces Beverly to comic books? Obviously a friendship thing

Thank you for the prompt ❤️❤️❤️ I’m sorry it’s so late. I spent forever editing it and then Tumblr reloaded & I had to re-edit. Save stuff on Microsoft Word always, I guess.

 Anyway, this was so fun to write. Richie & Bev’s friendship is so important. I based this off the book partially because I’m currently re-reading and that’s where my mindset is and partially because I wanted to reference this really cool fifties horror comic anthology I have, so this is set in the fifties like the book. It’s just a fun little one-shot though so I think if you’ve only watched the movies this will (hopefully) be just fine!

Anyway, I really hope you enjoy  ❤️❤️❤️

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“You cheated!”

“Did not.”

“Richie, come on, you distracted me by pointing to the window and stole one of my cards.” The two of them were sitting in Richie’s kitchen, a bowl of chopped melon and two cups of juice as well as an array of card games between them on the table.

“But I tawt I taw a putty cat!” Richie protested, waving his arms wildly. Then, in his normal voice. “Come on Bev, I wouldn’t cheat. I saw a cat out in the yard and because I am a good friend who points out cute animals, I wanted you to see it too.” He paused and rolled his eyes with an air of over-the-top drama and spoke in his most sarcastic voice. “I’m sooo sorry for being a considerate friend, Beverly, truly, sooo sorry.”

Beverly couldn’t help but giggle, but she stood her ground all the same. “First of all, it’s wet and gross out there so if there was a cat it wouldn’t have been cute it would have looked like a rat. Second of all, Richie, I would’ve won if you hadn’t done that and we both know it.”

Beverly recognized a spark in Richie’s eye that told her yes, he had stolen the card and would admit to doing so but not until after some decent banter. It was a lazy sort of afternoon, and this was not the first time the two of them had fallen into amiable arguing. There was a light rain pattering against the window. Maggie Tozier was sitting in the living room reading a novel by Beverly Cleary & Went Tozier was away working at the dentist’s office. 

Beverly appreciated spending time at Richie’s, and her willingness to play along with his shtick was her way of thanking him for inviting her over. Neither of them would ever in a million years bring up the fact that he’d been staring at the yellowing bruise on her cheek the previous afternoon when the losers were playing in the barrens, or that he’d obviously overheard her confiding to Eddie, as the two of them sat quietly off to the side, that she didn’t want to go home. Richie thought privately that Beverly had told Eddie this because she thought Eddie might understand such a feeling. Richie, however, never would have shared such an insight with anyone.

“Why I never,” Richie said, taking on the voice and demeanor of an overtly proper British person. “How dare you accuse me of such blasphemy!”

“Beep beep Richie,” Bev said, rolling her eyes. “What is that voice even supposed to be?”

“It’s a British guy,” Richie said in dramatic outrage. “I know you know what a British accent sounds like, Bev. Come on, give me something!”

“A British accent is more like this, Richie. Listen,” she made her voice much higher and did her best impression of a British accent. “Jolly oh, jolly oh good sir, oh yes indeed.”

“That’s terrible!” Richie groaned, falling back in his seat dramatically and throwing his arm over his face in disgust. They spent the next twenty minutes or so arguing over what a British accent sounded like and doing horrible impressions. The notion of playing any more games, it seemed, was gone. Beverly hadn’t expected card playing to last long anyway. Any kind of activity that required lasting attention was unlikely to be of great success with Richie. Richie had suggested they go to the movies when he called her up in the morning, there was a good monster picture showing at the Aladdin, but neither of them had any money. So, instead, they were spending the afternoon at Richie’s, to which Beverly had no objection. The Toziers’ place felt the way a home should. She thought Richie knew that she felt that way, and that’s why he often invited her over on days like today when the other losers were busy (Bill with speech therapy, Mike with housework, Ben with summer reading) or didn’t want to come out in the rain (Stan and Eddie).

��Alright you two,” Mrs. Tozier, whom Beverly liked a lot, interrupted just as Richie was halfway through a stream of truly profane words in an embarrassingly bad British accent.

“Sorry, Mrs. Tozier,” Beverly said in a hurry.

“Yeah, sorry, Mom,” Richie said.

“That’s okay. Just keep it down a little, alright?”

“Sure, of course, Mom,” Richie said.

“And keep that trashy language out of your mouth,” Mrs. Tozier told her son. “Especially around a lady.”

Beverly, who had been squealing with laughter before Mrs. Tozier entered the room, felt her cheeks flush. Richie’s mom, she thought, got what being a mom was about. She always had snacks, though usually healthy ones due to her husband’s dental profession, and often said nothing when Beverly would stay over late into the night on days when the thought of going home made her too sick to handle and she just needed to listen to Richie talk about nothing and make stupid noises for hours.

“Come on, let’s do something else,” Beverly said, putting the cards away as Mrs. Tozier left the room.

“Yeah,” Richie said standing. “I’ll show you my new ‘Weird Love’ comic!”

“Your -what now?” Beverly asked, intrigued.

“My new Weird Love comic. It’s a great one. It’s all about this girl who’s in love with a man who acts in a circus as a clown. She really likes him, except she’s embarrassed because she’s dating a clown.”

“I’m sorry what? What the heck are ‘Weird Love’ comics anyway?” Beverly asked.

“Oh, you’re kidding me!” Richie cried. “You’ve never read a ‘Weird Love’ comic? They’re great. They’re horror comics but about romance. Like, people who fall in love with monsters.”

Beverly shivered. “Who would want to fall in love with a monster? Or a clown? Yuck.”

As Beverly followed Richie out of the kitchen and upstairs to his room, thoughts of another clown, a distinctly unlovable clown, clouded her mind. She shoved such thought way as she and Richie entered his room. On the floor were toy soldiers he and Mike had set up in lines facing each other in preparation for battle, a jigsaw puzzle he had been working on with Stan, and a Mad Libs story he and Bill had been filling in with increasingly dirty words.

“Check it out,” he told her, grabbing a comic with a clown and a pretty lady on the cover from his dresser and flopping onto his belly on his messy bed.

Beverly followed suit, laying on her belly next to him and looking over his shoulder at the comic.

Years later, Beverly would remember the comic book clown, who was called Ben, and his creepy makeup and how it had delighted her child’s mind. Sitting in a much nicer and fancier home than she could have dreamed of at twelve years old, Beverly Hanscom would put her feet up on the coffee looking across to where Richie sat, looking off into the distance, being much quieter than she was used to. As the sounds of Bill and Mike’s argument about who would win in a bike race despite both of them being too old, and, on that particular occasion too drunk, to participate in such a race, she would remember that rainy afternoon and ask Richie about it. She would ask him if he ever thought it was kind of amazing how much they loved those silly horror comics at the time, considering everything they had been going through. “Nah,” Richie would respond in a quiet voice. “We were kids. Kids aren’t as easy to rattle as adults.”

Adult Richie would be right. As the two children read the comic together, flipping the pages eagerly as they became acquainted with Janie, a respectable and pretty woman, and Ben the clown, they giggled and gasped in equal measure. Neither of them brought up the real clown, the one that was stalking their every move and taunting them with things they didn’t like to think about like the soft way Beverly’s dad would sometimes ask “are you still my little girl, Bevvie?” or the way that werewolf had been wearing a jacket with Richie’s name on it and maybe he was the monster and it was him and his bad and secret (dirty) feelings causing all this pain.

Instead, they read the comic and laughed and Beverly asked Richie if she could borrow it so she could read it again. 

“I don’t think so, I wanna show it to Eddie. He goes nuts over these things. Loves 'em more than I do. And he hasn’t seen this one yet.” He paused and rolled off the bed onto the floor. He dug under his bed for a moment and produced two more comics, also with 'Weird Love’ printed on the covers in weird, gooey looking letters. “Here though, you can borrow these. This one,” he tossed her a comic with a woman screaming in terror on the cover. “Is about a woman who’s going crazy, but the guy who loves her has no clue. And this one,” he tossed her a comic with a man standing in front of a group of serious-looking people, “is about a woman who falls for a commie.” He said 'commie’ like a dirty word, soft and reverent. Beverly giggled.

“Thanks, Richie!” she said with a grin.

“Well, you’re gonna have to let me know what you think of them,” he said. “I’ve already read those ones like a billion times.”

“You have no idea how much a billion is you dummy,” Beverly said.

Richie stuck his tongue out at her and she proceeded to whop him in the face with a pillow.

The rest of the afternoon the two of them watched television and argued over whether the girl in the comic, Janie, had been crazy for being in love with that clown or if maybe that circus clown had some odd charm about him after all.

Another thing Beverly would remember, years later as the losers sat together in Ben and Beverly’s house, visiting as they did every few months, would be how very happy they had been. Even with everything going on and their lives in danger, they’d laughed so much that afternoon. 

[harlevin]

Destined to do this forever update (and sneak peak)

Not sure if anyone from A03 follows this? but this tumblr was originally for my fanfics so I’m gonna talk about that. I’m slowly tidying up the rough draft of chapter twelve and I might get it done in the next couple days! Right now there’s nearly 6,000 words? Before I started editing there was 4,000 so... it might be a long one. I might cut it short. 

Here’s a teaser:

“It’s not as fun, is it?”

“What?” Batman lifted his eyes to Joker’s face, and the hand he’d been so intently watching before rose to press against his shoulder. 

Batman let it. The warm leather against his skin reminded him of when the Joker had been grabbing at him with scandalously bare fingers when he was in the manor. His hands had been soft. He wished he’d paid more attention. He longed to rip the gloves off.

Focus.

If you haven’t read it yet check out the rest of the fic here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11967591

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Grooming Night

Kaiser’s hands moved through Daisuke’s feathers, carefully checking each one of them. A few of those he lingered on, picking up the feather brush he kept nearby and smoothing them out. Others he gently worked out and set aside. Daisuke twitched and shivered each time he did that, his shoulders shaking whenever Kaiser’s fingers got too close.

They shook a lot. Any time Kaiser’s fingers touched him was too close, in his opinion. It also did not help that his molting season had finally arrived and Kaiser was grooming him. He did this for hours every day, making certain that Daisuke’s falling feathers were cleaned up and the newly growing ones came in nicely.

Molting itched. It was a part of growing and he needed a lot of food when it got started – food that Kaiser still insisted that he beg for. Daisuke couldn’t even begin to try to resist for that now. He’d considered it for a few hours, until the clawing empty gap in his stomach demanded food so strongly in between breakfast and lunch that he’d broken down and begged Kaiser for a mid-morning snack.

“How does that feel?” Kaiser murmured, one hand resting on the top of one wing. Daisuke closed his eyes and shivered all over. He had to stay where he was during the whole grooming operation. That made him wild to get moving – wilder than he normally was, with so much pent up energy.

He held it better than he had when he’d first been taken. Kaiser gave him times and places where he could burn it off, but grooming was difficult, more so than now.

“It feels all right,” Daisuke said at last. “They do itch over here, though.” He raised his left hand to indicate that side of his wings. “There’s a bad patch right in the middle.”

Kaiser now brushed his fingers through that area. “Here?” Daisuke nodded and Kaiser probed. “I see. Let me try this. I’ve been preparing it for you.”

Daisuke wondered what he meant. He didn’t have long to wait before something a bit chilled began to be smoothed into the feathers. The itching soothed almost at once and Daisuke heaved a deep, rested sigh.

“That feels wonderful, master. Thank you.” It did. He didn’t argue with himself about telling the truth to the Kaiser. It wasn’t really worth the energy that it took. He wasn’t ever good at lying; he never had been. If he thought about it, then being here meant he didn’t have to keep lying to his parents about where his bruises came from or where he got in his flying practice or why he kept bringing extra food back to his room.

“You’re quite welcome,” Kaiser said, satisfied. “I made that cream for you. I’m glad that you liked it. Since it does such a good job, I’ll have more of it made.”

Daisuke wasn’t so dense he couldn’t figure out the meaning behind those words. What Kaiser meant was that he’d need more. Not just this molt but for many molts to come. Molting happened more frequently when a Flier was growing up – like he was now – and tapered off until an adult Flier molted about once a year or so. The idea of spending years and years restrained, chained, under the Kaiser’s unyielding domination – he’d have nightmares about that. He’d already had a few but there were clearly more to come.

I wish I could talk to V-mon. He really wanted to do that but so far the Kaiser hadn’t seen fit to allow that. He wasn’t sure if he ever would. Kaiser was very, very possessive of him, after all. Those few times he got to see the others at distance grew rarer and rarer. Even if V-mon couldn’t stay or he couldn’t leave, he just wanted to see his partner again and talk to him, to know that he was all right. To let V-mon know that he was all right.

Even though he wasn’t. Being the Kaiser’s prisoner and pet meant that he’d never be all right and he refused to let himself forget that.

But then the Kaiser’s hands brushed over the arc of his wings and down the sides of his neck. Daisuke arched his neck backward, shivering, a frisson of pleasure rocketing through him that he wished he could ignore. The longer that he stayed at the Kaiser’s feet, the more the Kaiser touched him and the more often the Kaiser touched him, the more Daisuke liked it. Every moment of contact set every sense and every part of his body on unquenchable fire. At least not by himself…

Most people didn’t touch a Flier's wings. At least not with permission from the Flier. Kaiser never waited for permission. He ran his fingers through Daisuke’s wings whenever he chose to do so, finding all the places that made Daisuke make noises. It didn’t take long. Daisuke hadn’t ever had much in the way of self-restraint and when it came to his wings being played with – or parts of his hair being played with – then he had even less.

Kaiser had very talented fingers. Daisuke already knew that, from when they’d played soccer against one another in that time before. He knew it in an entirely different way now as Kaiser brushed and tended each one of his feathers and ensured that he was in perfect condition in every single way.

He wasn’t sure of how long he sat there under the Kaiser’s hands, his feathers being set in order, but at some point, Kaiser tapped him in the shoulder and he twisted his head around to look up.

Kaiser held something out to him – a bracelet. A real bracelet – not like a fancy piece of chains or shackles. Daisuke blinked at it and stared closer.

“Take it,” Kaiser said, voice a trifle gruff. “I had it made for you.”

Slowly Daisuke picked it up, not sure of why but certain if he did it, Kaiser would force it on him regardless. The bracelet was of a material he didn’t recognize, but as he turned it over, he could see one of his own feathers encased within it, wound about with a strand of blue hair. He blinked several times, trying to wrap his head around this.

“What -” He knew that shade of hair. He saw it whenever he looked at the Kaiser. He could hardly forget it when it was such a part of his life.

“Your feather and my hair,” Kaiser said, voice still gruff. “Encased together, forever. Just like you and me. It’s been six months since I brought you here. An anniversary present.”

Oh. Daisuke swallowed. Six months. He’d been away from home, his friends, his family, and his partner for six months. Half of the year. He thought he remembered what they all looked and sounded like but if he really tried hard – they seemed so faint. What he remembered clearest of all was his time here with the Kaiser. It was all but impossible to forget a moment of his time here. Held and bound, kept restrained in whatever way the Kaiser pleased, and unable to really do anything about it.

Some anniversary. He didn’t even get cake.

“That’s – yeah.” He wasn’t going to say it was nice. It wasn’t thoughtful. It was pretty much a nightmare that he lived on a daily basis.

Kaiser reached down, picked up Daisuke's wrist, and slid the bracelet onto it. He admired it for a few moments before he turned Daisuke’s wrist around and pries his fingers open, then dropped a kiss down on Daisuke’s palm. Daisuke closed his eyes. Kaiser kissed him there again, then did the same thing to Daisuke’s other hand.

“Tonight I have a feast planned for us,” Kaiser told him, eliminating Daisuke’s mental pouting about not having cake. Sometimes – all the time – Kaiser read him far too well. “Tomorrow we’ll take care of your wings again. And every day until your molt is finished.” Kaiser now tilted Daisuke’s head to stare at him before he pressed a kiss to Daisuke’s lips, tongue tracing along before probing between them. Daisuke tried to close his lips but Kaiser’s tongue kept him from doing so. Kaiser broke the kiss when he was satisfied, leaning back to run his hands through Daisuke’s hair. “Then I’ll take you flying. Don’t you want that?”

Daisuke breathed a sigh outwards. He knew the only answer that he could use right now. “Yes, master.”

Kaiser smiled. It wasn’t a terrifying expression, nor one of anger. It made Daisuke’s heart sink to see it regardless, even as it pleased him. He didn’t want to make Kaiser happy but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

“Very good, my pet. Very good indeed.”

Daisuke leaned back against his master’s legs as the Kaiser got back to work. He had to stay in flying condition. He had to be ready when the chance came. That was all.

The End

Notes: Poor Daisuke. Random dice roll was three & the words chosen were: order, perfect, and sense.

[fourwriter]

On the eighth, Ninth, Tenth and Eleventh day of christmas, Tumblr gave to me:

NONE OF MY SHITTY GRAPHICS FOR NOW BECAUSE I CAN'T WORK THEM OUT YET V.V BUT I PROMISE YOU ALL, I SWEAR IT, THAT I WILL MAKE THEM,NO MATTER HOW SHITTY THEY'LL BE BECAUSE THEY ALL HAVE A SIGNIFICANCE. ANYWAY:

Eight Exorcist for Zombiesfuckingloveme:

Our first conversation was me asking you which Exorcist character you liked, Yukio or Rin? That was the first time I talked to this wonderful person. It's only recently that we've started talking more, though I've been neglecting her even though I recently added her on facebook and I just want to talk to her so badly because she is genuinely the most nicest person I know. I have many nice people but she's nice D:. So muich niceness... I'm a very shitty person and the only thing I can tell you about her is that she isn't intimidating in the least, in fact, she's welcoming!. I just wish I could talk to her more but lately nerves have got the best of me when it comes to talking to people because recently things have been . . . hetic.

But I love her so much even though I haven't really got to know her apart from our curry adventures and that she's talented. Like wow, have you not heard her voice, jfc fucking angel voice up in this bitch. . . Sorry I don't swear a lot but god such  INTENSE FEELINGS FOR ONLINE FRIENDS ASDFGFHGFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFLARGBLARG!!

So, Here's to you my friend, I wish you a Merry Christmas and a happy recovery! That is, if you're still sick ifnotthendisregard 

Nine Erisol fan-fics for Davesthong:

... How do I start this? Easy like I always do. You, my friend are perfect. I've known so many perfect people and you. . . you are one of them what with your keen interest in the strider's underwear. I haven't known you for long, in fact we're only now talking to each other but I remember that before that we talked a long time ago . . . I think it was to do with porn I'm not too sure or not. 

I have to tell you something though . . . I'm sorry that I haven't been a good friend. Yeah I get we're only just talking but I've followed you for a while and I've read your read-mores and I've seen what you've gone through. I've seen the thoughts and the things you've wanted to do to yourself and I just . . . stayed there and watched as you went through what you were going through. I made no contact with you what so ever and I regret not doing anything. I'm sure you know how panicky it is when someone you care about (because I do care about you) is going through something horrible and words aren't enough, not even actions are enough, to take away the pain and I just . . . I'm sorry that I stayed away and instead of sucking in my shyness and nerves to talk to you, watched you suffer through what you go through.

Davesthong is a strong indiviual, stronger than I am, and I'm glad that she's still here with us  and with me and hopefully . . . hopefully we'll be friends. 

So here's to you, Davesthong, Merry Christmas and I hope you enjoy your christmas, I really do.

Ten gory porn flicks for a Sugoi-Twat:

YOU SHITTY PERSON. OH MY FUCKING GOD I HATE YOU/LOVE YOU IT'S UNREAL. LIKE JESUS FUCKING CHRIST ALE YOU ARE . . . SO FUCKING FLAWLESS AND THE FACT THAT YOU KNOW IT IS FUCKING AMAZING.

YOU GUYS. I'VE BEEN FRIENDS WITH THIS SON OF A BITCH FOR YEARS. SINCE I WAS FUCKING 13 OR SOMETHING. AND I LOOKED UP TO HER WITH SO MUCH FUCKING JOY THAT IT'D BE STALKING HER (THAT HABIT HASN'T CHANGED).

WE MET ON NARUTO-ARENA/BOARDS, SHE WAS A GFXER I WAS A NOVICE, WHAT MORE COULD YOU ASK FOR? I REMEMBER THAT WE WERE INTRODUCED BY JOSH (HOPEFULLY YOU REMEMBER HIM) AND WE WERE IN A CLAN AND EVERYTHING AND WE DIDN'T REALLY TALK BUT YOU WERE THERE AND YOU WERE TALENTED AND JUST . . . YES. 

THEN WE DRIFTED A PART FOR A YEAR OR THREE UNTIL SOUL-ARENA/BOARDS CAME OUT AND I JOINED DYSCA AND WE TALKED AND JESUS ALE YOU ARE TALENTED. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH IT HURTS 

I JUST . . . Don't know what else I can say about her? She's funny, she has a perfect blog and she's genuinely nice to everyone she talks to. Lord knows I don't deserve to be her friend but she's been kind to me and I love her.

Here's to YOU, YOU MARVELLOUS FUCKING BEAST. MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS AND I HOPE YOU HAVE A SHITTY NEW YEAR. But have a good one honestly you sexy beast o3o

Eleven pieces of well-made art for hidinginthesleevesofmycoat:

Along with you and Ale,my friend, we have bonded very well. Sort of. Maybe. I remember we talked when I joined Dysca a year ago now? Wow time flies. You're pretty cool and I'm sure I've been racist to you on more than one occasion or something And for that I'm sorry and stuff. We haven't actually talked since Dysca and it's a shame because we pratically reblog from each-other every other day.

I can't say anymore about you except thank you for reblogging what you have

you have a hell of a music taste and I need to listen to them all.

Merry Christmas dude, and A happy new-year and stuff.