#and it can be fun to spot a writer moving from one to another without really knowing the one they're now trying to write.

[nostalgia-tblr]

don't take this the wrong way i am very into the loki series but is tva loki based on those fanfic versions of movies loki where he's a soft sadboy who respects women and likes to read poetry written by ants humans?

[matthewtkachuk]

somehow still stuck on you

navigating the realities of your post break up friendship with quinn is exacerbated by how much you’re not over him

pairing: quinn hughes x reader

warnings: a bit of exes to lovers angst

word count: 2.4k

a/n: hi @boqvistsbabe i’m your fic exchange writer, i’m sorry for the wait but i hope you enjoy!! i was feeling mad regret over not signing up for the fic exchange so when @wyattjohnston asked if i wanted to step in as a pinch hitter i said duhhhhh. this is as much a love letter to vancouver in late july as it is a quinn fic

Quinn’s back in Vancouver. 

It’s not exactly revolutionary given the millions of dollars and the capital C handed to him by the Vancouver Canucks, but it is noteworthy given the timing.  

Training camp doesn’t start for another month, which makes it highly strange for Quinn to be back in the city already. Last you heard he was having a Brat Summer in Michigan. 

Not that you were keeping tabs on your ex-boyfriend-turned-just-friend, of course. It’s not a crime to click through the first five Insta stories when you open the app, even when it showcases how much fun he’s having without you. 

Although it might have felt like it when you were dating, the sun and moon didn’t rise and fall at the behest of Quinn Hughes. It was just easier to remember that fact when you weren’t faced with him—quite literally faced with a giant banner of his likeness leaving the Stadium-Chinatown SkyTrain station. The start of the regular season would be bad enough with his name on every one of your coworkers' lips. 

All this to say you thought you had more time before he re-entered a position at the center of your universe. 

Summer had been kind to you, giving you the time and space needed to move on and heal. Even with the colder than usual June, you’d managed to sneak away to Osoyoos a couple weekends with the girls. Your skin? Glowing. Your hair? Shining. Your thoughts? Totally devoid of one Quinn Hughes. 

Until you’d been swiping through the aforementioned stories and spotted one of your favorite walking spots in his story. Very much downtown Vancouver and very much not Michigan. 

It wasn’t a terrible break up and you’d been friends long before ever getting together, so it’s not unreasonable to receive an invitation to get the gang together for drinks and dinner in Gastown to celebrate the return of Quinn and others in your friend group to your city. 

The time and place all but guarantees you have no way of getting out of it, and truly you are happy to get together with everyone, so you have no choice but to react to the “thumbs up if you’re coming” message. 

All the healing and the positive thinking in the world can’t  stop you from dressing a little better than you ordinarily would for a casual hang or spending a little more time on your hair. 

You’re glad for the extra effort when you stroll in right on time. Everyone is loitering around the entrance, clearly waiting on an open table. It kind of foils your plan to slip into an empty chair, thereby avoiding the initial how are you hug train. Before you can even think of another way out of it, you find yourself being passed along from one friend to another until you reach Quinn, fumbling into a quick and stilted hug. 

“Awkward,” Sienna hisses but all you can do is shrug pathetically. 

You’re saved from much more embarrassment by the hostess informing your group the table is ready and you’re so grateful you could almost kiss her. The long table means you’re not sat immediately beside Quinn which is a blessing because you’re not sure you could take any more close contact. Conversation flows easily around you, the usual topics of work, families, and shitty roommates. 

Everything is going well until the conversation turns to Quinn’s summer in Michigan. The distance between the two of you isn’t large enough for you to miss the way Quinn’s eyes flicker over to you when someone asks him if he’s seeing anyone. 

It’s not fair the way your vision briefly turns to black, your heart constricting in your chest. The feeling of almost betrayal that floods your veins isn’t fair either—it’s been months since you broke up and you’ve been on your own fair share of dates. Failed dates to be fair, but dates all the same. 

Sienna is your saving grace in the form of a clenched hand around your forearm, hauling you to the bathroom with some fake excuse you don’t hear. 

“Are you okay?” she asks outside of the table’s listening distance 

You can only shrug pathetically, all words failing you now. 

She waits a solid three minutes before leading you back. 

“Crisis averted!” she declares when you both return, flipping her hair over her shoulder. 

The conversation has turned away from romantic endeavors, circling back to someone’s work drama. 

You get the sense that Quinn is trying to meet your eyes, but you don’t dare look in that direction until it’s time to leave. Your exit is hasty, the excuse of needing to catch the sky train in the next eight minutes excusing you from any further contact. In the sea of goodbyes, Quinn’s is the clearest. 

-

It’s not technically avoiding if your workload has you so busy you barely see your roommate, let alone your friend group, right? 

There’s a major deadline coming at work and it feels as though you’re wasting money on rent when all of your time is spent at the office. Wake up, work, eat, sleep, repeat. 

It’s easier to just mute the group chat, rather than be bothered by the buzzing of your phone. 

Easier until Sienna ends up bursting through your door after work using the key you’d given her for emergencies only. 

“This is an emergency,” she says before you can speak—caught red handed knee deep in an episode of Love Island UK and a tub of ice cream. 

Neither of you speak as she grabs a spoon from your drawer and burrows into the couch beside your pathetic cocoon. It’s born of burnout rather than heartbreak, but you’re aware of the optics of it all. 

“You’ve been avoiding us,” she says while some hot blonde cries in the confessional on TV. 

“Have not,” you rebut, unceremoniously pulling the tub of ice cream away from her so that she scoops up air instead. “I’ve just been so busy with work. I haven’t even had the time or energy to go grocery shopping, hence the ice cream for dinner.”

Her eyes flicker down to the tub in your hands but she doesn’t say what you’re both thinking. That there’s more to the unconventional supper than just laziness. 

“Come to fireworks this weekend,” she says instead, her motives for the impromptu visit finally becoming clear. “You missed last weekend and yesterday. I’m asking in person so you can’t ignore the group chat message like the last two times.”

“If I say yes will you be quiet and let me watch my show?” you ask. She nods emphatically, apparently proving that she can in fact be silent. Truthfully the festival of lights is a highlight of your summer, and watching the last two shows through other people’s stories isn’t your favorite way to view them. 

“Fine.”

She squeals and throws her arms around you. You want to ask if Quinn will be there, and the look on her face says she’s waiting for you to, but you don’t. 

At the end of the day it doesn’t matter if he’s going to be there or not. Exes or not, he was one of your best friends and will always be a major part of your friend group. There’s no separating the two and the sooner you get over it and everything returns to the way it was before you started dating the better. 

She doesn’t push any further, content to sit alongside you and soak in someone else’s love drama on screen rather than your own. 

“Remember a sweater!” are her parting words to you, notorious for always neglecting one. 

-

You forgot a sweater. 

It’s not until you’re sitting down on the 99 beside an old lady that you realize. You’re already running a little behind schedule and it would double your transit time to head back, so you settle into your seat and hope it doesn’t get too cold later. 

By the time you reach the beach the group is already together, sitting on a couple beach blankets lined up end to end. You spot Quinn’s unruly dark hair before you even realize you’re looking for him. 

“Look who finally showed!” someone says, and you roll your eyes as you drop down on the only spot available, right next to Quinn. 

“I’m at the mercy of Vancouver transit, we all know this.” You’d rather rake your naked body over hot coals and then confess your lingering feelings for the boy beside you in front of everyone you know than waste time in traffic and pay the outrageous inflated parking price on a night of fireworks. 

Quinn doesn’t tease you like the rest of your friends, and you wonder if he’s thinking about how the last time you saw fireworks together he’d driven. Or how he kissed you for the first time after driving you home from a different fireworks show. 

The late afternoon passes by with an impromptu game of frisbee that you don’t partake in—there’s way too many people at the beach for it to be enjoyable and you’re more content to people watch and gossip while picking at the charcuterie spread someone else brought. The active rest of the group seems to reach the same conclusion you had and someone breaks out Uno. 

By the time the sun sets, you’ve considered murdering both your friend to your left and your ex-boyfriend to your right. It’s bad enough you’re walking around with a still broken heart, now they’re ganging up on you with draw four cards and Uno reverses. The group is spared by the darkness making it too hard to play. 

If circumstances were different, Quinn likely would be teasing you about being a sore loser, offering to kiss it better until someone inevitably fake gagged and told you to get a room. 

Instead he’s silent as you turn your back to him in order to face the direction of the show about to start. The sea breeze hits and you can’t hold back your shudder. 

“Did you seriously forget a sweater?” Sienna asks. “I told you.” 

You spin around. “Yeah yeah yeah.”

Quinn is quick to pull off his hoodie, offering it to you with an outstretched hand. “Here.”

It feels too personal, too heavy, too full of implications and so you start to shake your head. “Oh, that’s okay.” 

“You’re literally shivering,” he says. “Take it.” 

It’s warm and soft and smells just like him. As you pull it over your head you’re taken back by just how right it feels. Like if you closed your eyes, you could almost pretend things were different. 

The train of thought is broken by the first firework, and you spin back to watch. 

The fireworks are beautiful and you sit in awe, ‘ooh’ing and ‘ahh’ing along with the crowd around you. 

Someone up ahead stands up to take a photo and Sienna has no problem heckling him. “Sit down!”

They do and you just shake your head at her antics. 

It turns out that sitting on the sand on a blanket isn’t the most comfortable position to be in. Mid way through the show, you find yourself shifting and leaning back to find a better way to situate yourself. In the process you brush your hand against Quinn’s, quickly pulling it back like you’d been burned. 

“Sorry,” you murmur over your shoulder, unsure if the blush coating his cheeks is just your imagination. 

When it’s over, you help everyone pack up and follow the group through the beach, quietly bitching about the sand getting into your sandals. 

Everyone starts splitting up when the sand gives way to pavement. Sienna lives close, within walking distance and she gives you a tight hug and heads off in the direction of her house. 

You’re turning away to start towards the bus stop when Quinn grabs your arm. 

Thinking he wants his sweater back, you begin to pull at the hem but his words have you freezing in place. 

“Do you want a ride home?”

Your place isn’t the exact opposite of his, but it’s also certainly not on his way home. Call it masochism, call it a desire to return to the way things were before you loved and lost, you agree with a quiet ‘yes.’

The walk to his car is quiet, and you resist the urge to ask him how much he paid for parking tonight, not sure you want to break the silence first. 

That silence continues in his car, at least between the two of you. Something soft and acoustic plays through the car speaker as the lights of Kits turn into downtown. 

When you get home, he offers to walk you to your door. Once, it was his way of making sure you got in safe. Then, it was his way of trying to prevent the night from ending. 

Now, you’re not sure of his reasoning. 

You get to the door, and he doesn’t say much more as you unlock it and step in. 

“Do you want to come in?” you find yourself asking despite yourself. 

He hesitates, hands in the pocket of his shorts. It kind of looks like he’s contemplating between stepping inside and running away. 

It makes you angry, that bitter edge of hurt you haven’t quite gotten over yet surfacing. 

“What do you want? You need to use your words, Quinn. Because your actions are confusing me!”

You have a very formulated argument prepared, full of evidence and conflicting actions—the result of hundreds of mini one sided arguments playing in your head since he’s been gone and since he’s been back. Arguments that don’t come to fruition because the look on his face is dangerous. 

He cups your face in his hands and presses his lips solidly to yours. You don’t even have enough time to fall into the kiss before he’s pulling apart. “How’s that for confusing?”

There’s no answer from you, not verbally at least. Just the momentum of you throwing yourself at him, crushing your lips to his. 

Words can wait. 

[jacaerysw1fe]

wrong : ̗̀➛ Cooper Adams (trap) 🎀

synopsis: cooper is trapped backstage trying to find an exit without having to go through the police questioning. he is trapped, until he finds you. the perfect solution to his problem.

AN: this is my first ever post, and my first ever fanfic, so PLEASE be nice to me lol. I’m not a very good writer but i needed to put out a fic for cooper since there is literally only one other one!!! guys pls start writing for this hot man! okay thank you for reading goodbye!!🖤

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Cooper didn’t know what to do for the first time, he was truly trapped.

the security was checking at every exit even backstage. there was no good way for him to leave undetected from the fbi.

that was until he spotted her. lady ravens sister and assistant manager walking down the hall.

perfect.

“hey you’re lady ravens manager correct?” he asked trying to seem a little concerned

“oh yeah that’s me, can i help you with something? Hi riley, looked like u had fun up on stage” you winked at riley.

“i did i had lots of fun!”

“im glad to hear it! so what was it you needed…?” dragging out the last bit of your sentence to get his name.

“cooper, i just uh wanted to speak to you for a second. privately… please” he said in a low tone looking straight and deep into your eyes.

you assumed he wanted to speak to you about his daughters cancer so you quickly agreed “oh yes of course follow me to this room” you say as you walk quickly to a room down the hall.

once he follows behind u just a foot behind you he closes the door behind him. he glances around the room to look for any exits and sees none. great. it’s just a dressing room.

you lean against the vanity in the room patiently waiting for what he had to say tapping ur nails against the wood. he made you nervous for what ever reason. he had a dark aura surrounding him. cooper was a good looking man in his 40s, tall, dark haired and eyed. while you were about a foot and a few inches shorter than he was, you were only freshly 20 years old. you felt small compared to the man in-front of you.

“i need something from you.”

the eerie silence of the room making his words sound even more dark , than they had sounded coming out of his lips

you swallowed, throat bobbing, spit thick in your throat and mouth. “and what could that be?”

he stepped closer , foot after another, suddenly he was just a hairs length away from you. hands on either side of the vanity. his breath fanning slightly on the lower part of ur face. his dark brown eyes looking closely into yours.

Cooper looked closely at your face. your eyes still had a few specks of innocence, your youthful face that had a blush growing on it. oh how doe eyed you looked, looking up at him. He saw how your breathing starting picking up unconsciously. he was affecting you and he knew it.

he moved even closer to you, his thigh spreading your legs apart just enough to perfectly fit his leg. getting close to your ear he whispers “i need you to get me out of this place, and you know why and who i am so do not act stupid. no police. nobody. i know you are one of the only people they won’t check on the way out. get me out and no one will get hurt.” his hands slowly coming up to your hips as he slowly lifts you onto the vanity.

you let out a small gasp as he lifts you without any effort. he starts to move your hips in a perfect pattern against his thigh. your cunt rubbing just perfectly through your thin shorts onto his leg causing friction. you let out small whimpers at the feeling.

“that’s it good girl” he growls out.

you whimpered at that, burying your flushed face into the crook of his neck. inhaling his cologne. moaning quietly at what your body was feeling. suddenly he stops.

he gripped your hair and pulled your head out of his neck moving your face up close to his. both your lips parted and quick breathing becoming one. and then you surged forward crashing your lips onto his. the tall man groaned into the kiss gripping the inside of your thighs spreading them even farther to fit his own body between them. he could feel the heat coming from your clothed cunt. you were aroused and he knew it.

was this fucked up? yes. did you care? absolutely the fuck not. you needed him and bad. you hands wandered down to the waistband of his jeans. tugging at them.

cooper was so hard and he needed to get into your warmth as fast as he could. so he listened to your silent pleas and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants letting them fall down pulling his boxers down with them.

when you looked down you saw his length and knew it would hurt. but pleasure comes with pain and you knew you could take it so you quickly pulled down your shorts along with your panties.

he got even closer to you staring deep into your eyes as he let his fingers wander to your pussy. his fingers feeling the hot wetness of it dripping down his fingers. he lifted them up as he stared at you and put them in his mouth. moaning at the flavor of you.

you whined chest moving up and down at a rapid pace. with a broken raspy voice. you said “please…i need you”

“is that right my precious girl?” the smirk and arrogance in his voice was loud and clear.

you quickly nod ur head tears forming at the corners of your eyes. you needed him inside of you right now if not u might just die.

finally letting himself go he pushed himself into you. not letting you adjust to the feeling or pain he starting moving at a hard and fast pace. hips snapping up to yours.

you moaned loudly at the feeling of his dick perfectly filling you. eyes rolling into the back of your head. god he felt so good.

quickly gripping your throat so no sound could come out of you. the last thing he needed was for someone to walk in and see him sliding in and out of the assistant manager.

“so so tight baby” he groaned into your hair. taking in the sent of your shiny hair. taking in the sent of you.

tears starting coming out of your eyes at just the feeling of pleasure he was giving you.

you were about to come undone and he knew it too. he felt your cunt gripping his dick even tighter and deeper.

“i’ll let you cum if you help me get out of here sweet girl.” he moved his hand off your throat and placed his hand against your warm cheek. continuing to pound into you. the lewd sounds of his dick slamming into your wet pussy. euphoric.

you look into his eyes and quickly nod. “yes, yes, god yes!” you moan out to him.

“that’s a good girl” he leans down and kisses you deeply, tongue sliding into your mouth, teeth clashing together from the shared passion of you both.

at his words you felt the knot in your stomach coming undone. you were so done for.

“ i- i’m coming” you whimper out to him pussy trying to milk him dry.

“i know that’s it, let go, all for me” and that’s all you needed. you let yourself go. moaning out, chest arched into his.

when you came he let himself come undone, quickly pulling out and letting himself come on your thigh.

both of your breaths heavy and the air around you warm.

he let himself recover for just a second before he pulled his clothes back on. he reached behind you and grabbed a few tissues and wiped up your thigh and your pussy that was dripping your own pleasure.

he helped you get dressed before pressing a kiss to your lips.

“thank you sweetheart”

“of course” your breathed out still in a haze from your orgasm.

you walked out of the room him following behind you as lady raven was just speaking to riley.

you quickly smile at the both of them and then get down to riley’s level. “so riley how would you feel riding in the limo with me and lady raven?”

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I HOPE U ENJOYED!! LEMME KNOW IF I SHOULD CONTINUE WRITING FOR HIM!! PLS COMMENT AND EVERYTHING🖤🖤🖤

[sissylittlefeather]

Ficmas song request: Just a little bit

I am looking forward to ficmas you are my favorite writer. Thank you for writing!

12 Days of Ficmas

Day 4: Just a Little Bit

A/N: Omg, thank you so much!!! I'm sorry this is late! My house is a shit show right now with me sick, both kids sick, and the dog sick, all of us with different maladies. However, I hope you enjoy this one!

Special shout out to @ccab for coming up with the idea for this one!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, cussing, kissing, p in v sex, unprotected sex, ejaculation

Word count: ~1.4k

You've always been good with your hands. You have nimble little fingers that work quickly over the articles of clothing you handle. And your attention to detail is unmatched. You can spot a missing button from a mile away. That's how you got this job tending to Elvis's jumpsuits. Someone else designs them and makes them and another person cleans them, but you take care of them, sewing on pieces that have fallen off, patching tears, and keeping them looking their best.

It didn't take him long to notice you. The first time you were called in to mend one while he was wearing it, he flirted with you shamelessly. The next night, he faked needing you to tie his macrame belt and that became your job any time he wore one. You swore he was purposely ripping the brocade off just so you'd have to take fabric glue to his chest before he went on stage.

You've untangled fringe, reattached beads, sewn on conchos, and fixed eyelets all while he's wearing the jumpsuits. He somehow always seems to damage them just by putting them on. You have a sneaking suspicion this is a ploy to get you to his dressing room, but you'd never say that. Instead, you take your little tackle box of supplies and patch him up however he needs. He greets you the same way every time, calling you “Little Bit” because you deal with the little bits on his suits. You've fallen into a kind of routine with him before every show and it's fun and comfortable. He breaks something, you show up, he hollers “Little Bit!” and flirts with you while you fix him up, then he kisses your cheek and heads out to the stage.

But it catches you off guard when you get a call to come to his dressing room after the show. Still, you grab your box of bits and make your way to him.

“Little Bit! Thank God.” He dismisses all the other people in the room, leaving you alone with him.

“You called for me?” Despite the weeks of flirting, you still get a little nervous around him.

“I did. I need help.” You walk over to him and set your box on the table, opening it.

“What seems to be the trouble?” He smiles slyly.

“Can't get my zipper undone.” You look up at him quickly.

“You… can't…”

“The zipper is stuck. C’mere.” He gestures for you to come closer, so you do. Then, he makes a big show of trying to undo the zipper, but it doesn't budge. “See?”

“This is not really… I don't think I can…”

“Oh, come on, with your little fingers? I bet you can.” Your hands shake a bit, but you reach out and try the zipper. Sure enough, it's stuck. You tug a little harder, but it doesn't move.

“Hm.” You keep trying, but after a few minutes, he covers your hands with one of his big ones. When you look up at him, he puts his other hand on the side of your face.

“You sure are a pretty little thing, Little Bit.”

“Oh, um, thank you.”

“Can I kiss you a little bit, Little Bit?” His smirk gives away how pleased he is with his joke. You swallow hard, not sure what to say. He runs his thumb over your lips. “Just a little bit.”

Finally, you nod and close your eyes. He smiles and leans in, pressing his mouth to yours tenderly. Your eyes flutter open as he pulls back.

“See, now, that wasn't so bad, was it? Close your eyes. I'm gonna do it again.” You do as you're told without hesitation. This time he starts at your forehead, presses his lips to each eyelid and cheek, then your nose and chin, and lands at your mouth again. He hovers with his nose touching yours. “Little bit more this time.”

When he kisses you again, he parts his lips and teases yours with his tongue, waiting to be granted entry. You open your mouth and he pushes past your lips, sending his tongue in to tangle with yours. As the kiss deepens, he moves his other hand to the small of your back and pulls your hips into his. You feel his hard length where it pokes you, straining against the fabric of his jumpsuit.

“I'd love to touch you a little bit?” He says it like a question, but his hands are already roaming all over your body. “This okay, Little Bit?”

“Yes.” You whimper breathlessly.

“Little more.” He kisses down your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses. You're wearing a button-down shirt that he rips open, sending the buttons flying around the room. You gasp as his kisses continue down your body and he pushes your shirt off. He slips one bra strap off your shoulder, exposing your breast to him. “Gonna taste you a little bit.”

You moan softly as he runs his tongue around your nipple and then pulls it into his mouth. He eventually just takes your bra off, pulling back to admire your chest.

“Not so little.” He chuckles, taking both of your breasts in his hands and squeezing gently. His hands slide around your back and down into your slacks to grab your ass. He pulls you in hard against him, grinding his hard-on into you and whispering in your ear. “Wanna fuck you, Little Bit.”

“Just a little bit?” You whimper as he pushes your pants and underwear to the ground.

“No, Little Bit. I wanna fuck you a lot.” He reaches up to unzip his jumpsuit as he kisses you hard, but the zipper is still stuck. “This fuckin’ thing.”

He pulls on it, but it's not moving at all. Without thinking, you turn back to your box and grab a pair of scissors. You both know that the maker of the jumpsuit is gonna kill you, but right now in this moment you do not care at all and neither does he. He inhales to give you room and you slide the scissors in and start to cut. After a few seconds, he decides you're taking too long and just rips it open, frantically pulling it off of his shoulders and down with his mouth pressed to yours wildly.

As soon as he's free of it, he turns you around, bending you over the small table. He uses one hand to guide the tip of his cock to your entrance and the other to steady your hips.

“So good and wet for me, Little Bit.” He coos as he slowly starts to push into you from behind. You moan as he fills you up, holding both of your hips as he bottoms out inside you. “Fuck.”

And then he pulls back and fills you again, picking up a steady rhythm of pounding you with his cock. Your eyes cross and you whimper while he slams into you over and over again. He stands you up and kisses the back of your neck and shoulder as he fucks you, his cadence getting more and more erratic. You get louder and louder with each thrust as your own climax approaches. He feels your walls start to squeeze and flutter, so he slips his hand around you to rub your clit while he hits your g-spot relentlessly.

“Come on, Little Bit, cum for me baby.” He grunts, trying to hold off his orgasm.

“Just a… little bit… more… oh fuck!” You yell and grab onto the table as you cum, your release washing over you as your body pulses and throbs around him. He manages to pound you just long enough to get you through before he pulls out and pumps himself with his hand, shooting spurts of cum on your ass. After you catch your breath, you hand him your shirt and he uses that to wipe you clean before stumbling backwards to the small couch. He pulls you with him and you settle onto his shoulder. As you sit there, he starts to laugh.

“That suit is ruined.”

“Little bit.” You giggle and he kisses your forehead. “So is my shirt.”

“You can have one of mine.”

“Oh yeah? You like the idea of me wearing your clothes?”

“Little Bit, I like the idea of you. What you're wearing is irrelevant.” He pulls your fingers to his mouth and presses his lips to them. You sit there for a bit longer before you sigh, looking around the room at the mess you made and whispering.

“Well, that was unexpected.” He chuckles.

“Little bit…”

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley

[ikigaisvt]

dirty dancing

in which you get a little too excited about seeing your boyfriend on stage.

pairing: idol!chan x reader words count: 2.4k content: smut, idol au warnings: kinda switch!chan x switch/brat!reader, semi-public sex (they don't get caught but it's implied everyone ends up knowing), talk of jealousy, kissing, begging, swearing, dirty talk (m giving), hair pulling, teasing, edging (m receiving), blowjob, orgasm (m receiving), petnames (for reader: babe, baby, vixen, whore) pls lemme know if i forgot anything :) note: haiii! this is inspired by dirty dancing (new kids on the block ft. dino, dokyeom, vernon) so credits to them/the writers for the lyrics i used (in italic between each paragraphs). this is absolutely not inspired by the title of the song so don't expect someone to dance/do a strip tease for someone else 😭 also had to include idubily chan (go look for pics in case u don't know Him) in this someway, somehow,, minors/ageless blogs dont interact or i'll hard block u. hope everyone enjoy!

Roll that body, feel the energy

Chan has always been made for the stage and that’s something he knew from a young age. His love for dancing, for being cheered on and noticed has always been the biggest driving force of his life. His fans, too, have always been the most supportive towards their music and their stages. Here he is, performing in front of his fans for one of their Japan concerts of the Follow tour. He just went through Highlight’s routine with his Performance Team members before starting to perform I Don’t Understand But I Luv U, one of their newer songs. He puts his all in, trying to concentrate on giving his best – and he does – but his mind keeps going back to you and how you’re waiting for him backstage. Chan loves his fans and he is the most grateful for them; they gave him a chance to make his dreams come true. But despite being loved by so many people, Chan really awaits only your praises to know he did well on whatever he’s working on. Ever since you two started dating 2 years ago, your opinion has been the most important; he would hate to disappoint you, in any way. As his body keeps moving naturally through the moves – despite his mind being elsewhere – he realizes him and his team are nearing the end of the song. He tries harder for the last minute, you on his mind as his biggest strength to do his best; to always do his best.

I know that lingo, I think that she’s into me

Him and his three brothers stand still for a few seconds after doing the last move as the crowd cheers so hard he can hear it through his in-ears. The lights go out and they start to exit the stage as the screams never stop; it feeds into that feeling that settles in Chan’s stomach – a fire, something burning. He feels it overtake his thoughts as he finds himself backstage, in-ears off, searching for your eyes in the crowd of staff. He finds you, sat down on a chair in the corner – you probably chose this spot to watch the performances on the TV without being in the way. However, when he sees you, your eyes are already on him, as you take in his outfit, how his hair fall down on his forehead and the way you can feel the passion overflow from him. What he doesn’t notice is how much you want him; seeing him perform on stage made your belly ache with desire, made you want to please him. He slowly walks up to you but you don’t have the patience to wait a few more seconds; you almost run up to him, immediately taking a hold of his hand, not even answering his pleas, before dragging him through a series of corridors to the small – unoccupied – dressing room.

“Babe, what’s happening?” he says as he stops abruptly, closing the door behind him, “Are you okay?”

“I-” you start, not knowing how to explain you’re horny without him making fun – at least a little bit ­– of you, “Fuck,” you whisper as you take a hold of his face and kiss him fervidly. Your hands roam on his chest, to the opening of his shirt, working another button open as Chan gets lost in the kiss, in your scent, in the way your hands play with his outfit, his hair, lighting his skin on fire.

“Baby,” Chan mumbles in your mouth, trying to break free from your hold on him, “Fuck, baby, we can’t- I have to go up on stage,” he says under his breath after breaking the kiss, your forehead resting against his.

“Please,” you already beg even though he hasn’t even touched you yet, “Just let me suck you off,” you whisper, playing with his shirt’s buttons as his fingers tighten on your hips. That’s when you know he wants it; he thinks it’s a bad, bad idea, he knows he’ll get in trouble – no matter how good you are, he won’t be able to come in time. But when he sees your pleading eyes, lips slightly jutting out, as you grab down at his shirt, his determination breaks down. You can see the change of answer – and behavior – in his eyes as you sink down on your knees, his hand finding rest on top of your head as his cock twitches in his pants.

You’ll get me in a whole lot of trouble

“Was I that hot, up there?” he teases you as he brushes back your hair, your hands working his pants open.

“Hm, yeah,” you sigh in pleasure at the way his hand feels in your hair – and at the sight of his hard-on, “You’re lucky I’m not the jealous type because I can bet there are people in this crowd who wants you as much as I do,” you tease him back as you rub his cock through his briefs.

“You, not jealous? You should have seen your face when I showed some of the DMs I got on Instagram,” he sneers, blood instantly going to your face as you remember vividly some of the texts – and the jealousy you felt.

“So what?” you say, ticked off, as you rub his dick harder in your hand, precum oozing at the tip, leaving a wet spot on his underwear, “Should have told you to flirt back with your lovely fans? To give them what they want?”

“Enough about them,” he breaths out, leaning his head back as pleasure builds up stronger, faster, hotter in his body, “Come on, baby,” he whispers as he looks back at you, taking a hold of your hair and bringing your head closer to his hips, “You wanted to suck me off, didn’t you?”

You roll your eyes at his comment – knowing you’ll get pay back for this later, before getting his briefs down and holding his cock in your hand, jerking him off slowly just to tease him. You see his patience wearing off as seconds tick by, his jaw clenching, his eyes turning darker, his hand tightening in your hair. You can read what he thinks off his face; when he’s had enough, when he decides to come into action and make you take it and just as he’s about to speak, you take his tip in your mouth which he answers to with a guttural moan.

“Fuck, baby- Fucking finally,” he swears which makes a giggle erupt in your throat as you take him deeper, resting your hands on his thighs.

You don’t linger on the way you suck him off; you don’t stop taking him faster, rougher, deeper, always trying to get him closer to his release. You look up at him, his hands tightening against your skull as low moans come out of his mouth constantly, his eyes almost rolling back but he holds it off, trying to look at you through it all.

Feel the bass, feel the boom, feel the rubble

“Babe, can you hear that?” he asks through moans, as you stop sucking him to stroke him instead, “We can hear the music from there,” he whispers getting a hold of your face as you kiss the tip of his thumb.

“Hm,” you answer him as he plays with your lower lip before sinking his thumb in your mouth which makes him shudder. You two stay like this for a few seconds before he quivers, feeling the pleasure build up almost too much. As the first song comes to an end, you both start to hear different sounds but the one who stands out the most is the sound of someone walking down the corridor leading to this dressing room. Chan realizes after you, still in that pleasure-filled haze, his eyes widening and he starts to put distance between the two of you before stopping him.

“Don’t worry,” you reassure him, “I locked the door,” you whisper, your thumb rubbing his tip as you can hear a new song playing in the dome, the walls and the floor vibrating with the notes.

“Fuck, baby-” he moans lowly at the feeling of your hand on him, “you’re a little vixen, aren’t you?” he starts again as the sound making him tense get further away. You giggle, proud of how you got him to be, and stay, with you.

“You’re getting me in trouble, you know?” he sneers, hand feeling heavier on the top of your head as you smile innocently up at him, precum still dripping out of his tip, getting on your fingers.

“I know,” you say with a smirk, “but you’re loving this trouble,” you chuckle as you lick your own fingers coated with his pre-cum.

Caught up in the daze, caught up in the maze

His eyes get darker at the sight, thoughts running wild – your innocent mouth usually saying sweet words but now here you are, licking him off you – as you beam up at him, guessing how hot he thinks you are.

“Get to work, whore,” he tells you, pulling at your hair as you take him back into your mouth, moaning around him at the taste and the heaviness of him, “You’re loving this, aren’t you? Bet I’m getting you dripping right now,” he groans, as you feel him twitch in your mouth, “And I’m not even touching you.” He can feel the pleasure build stronger, his fingers tingling with want for more as he loudly moans, your hand pinching at the sensitive skin on his thighs.

“Fuck- I’m so close,” he mumbles, gripping at you harder as you suck at his head harsher before slowing down, always trying to build his want even higher, and letting go of him to take a breath.

Time is standin’ still, but I’m already late

“Baby- We gotta be quick,” he tells you, pushing back some hair out of your face, “Come here,” he says as he brings your face closer to his hips with a hand on your cheeks. He holds his cock in one hand as you open your mouth to let him push his cock into you, “Fuck- You feel even better than a second ago,” he moans, his bliss building higher and higher – waiting to come crashing down.

Before he can come, he hears sounds outside the door – he can almost hear voices calling out to him but his brain quickly focuses on you – you are everywhere; your hands rubbing at his thighs and abs, your sounds as you take him in – as you drown in his scent, in who he is, your eyes, looking up at him with a universe shining in your pupils, filling with tears as his hips bucks, faster, harder.

“Fuck, I think the song is over,” he mumbles under his breath, “Come on, make me cum, make me cum,” he urges you, voice breaking, as you take him deeper, not needing to keep stroking the rest of him – you choke on him, on his scent, on his heaviness.

Imma need an alibi

He knows, deep down, behind the pleasure you’re giving him, he’s fucked. Completely, utterly fucked. He’ll get out this room and will have probably a minute to make up something, a reason as to why his panting, his eyes and cheeks reddened and his pants wrinkled. He tries so hard to buy himself time, to make something up right now but you’re so much, he’s losing all coherent thoughts. You’re the one who has him in your mouth and yet he can taste you on his mouth – he moans at the memory of your taste, of your moans when he pleases you – oh, how much he wishes he could have you right now.

I’m tryna think of something, I can’t concentrate

“Fuck, my little vixen,” he groans, as you feel him twitch in your mouth, as he chases his orgasm, “I can’t even think of anything but you and your sweet, sweet mouth,” he mumbles, his hips bucking again, “I’m so close,” he says again, gripping your hair harder, “Don’t stop, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groans before cumming down your throat.

If before was getting burned, then this is fucking hell; his eyes rolling back as his head tilts backwards, his hand holding you still as his hips work himself through his bliss, bruising your throat. You feel him everywhere, all the way down to your belly. It’s when he starts to feel sensitive that he slows down, until coming to a stop and pulling out of your mouth. You’re proudly looking up at him, Chan still in the post orgasm haze to realize he needs to run.

He looks down at you before gently patting your head; “How are you feeling?” he asks you, your eyes still shining a little and your cheeks reddened.

“I’m okay,” you whisper, your voice coming out huskier than usual – you know you’ll need a lot of water after this, “I really am,” you reassure him after seeing how worried he got at the sound of your voice. You get up, Chan cleaning himself up and pulling up his pants, before you cross your arms behind his neck as you kiss softly.

“You did really well, by the way,” you smile after your kiss, looking at him oh so sweetly.

“Thank you, baby,” he blushes before kissing you again, one of his hands resting on your cheek, “You did, too,” he whispers against the shell of your ear.

“Thank you,” you giggle, “So, when are you leaving me?” you ask him, knowing he forgot where he was and what he needs to do.

“What-” he starts, confused of your question, before realizing he is late for his show, “Fuck! Fuck, baby, okay,” he says as he lets go of you, walking to the door, “I need to go! I’ll talk to you later, okay? Don’t go anywhere,” he tells you after opening the door – as soon as he gets out, he runs down the corridor, not even waiting for your answer.

“I won’t!” you scream behind him as you watch him get to his stage, “Love you!” you say before he disappears in the corner. A few seconds after, you hear him answer with a screamed “Love you too!” before you get back in the dressing room, smiling to yourself.

Chan, apologetic as ever, but more energized than before, gets back on stage a little later than planned – he gets disapproved looks from his members and he knows he’ll get scold after the concert. But he’ll always like a little trouble with you – and a little dirty dancing.

thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it 🫶 do leave a like/comment/reblog if you liked it and i'll love u forever 🫶

[poetrysmackdown]

what makes a poem a poem? does it have to be written in a certain way? is this question a poem if i want it to be?

Fun question! This is just my personal sense as an avid reader and less-avid writer of poetry, but for me it’s useful to distinguish (roughly) between poetry as a genre and poetry as an attitude or philosophy through which language and the world can be understood. And of course these two go hand in hand. I see poetry the genre as essentially a type of literature where we as readers are signaled, somehow, to pay closer attention to language, to rhythm, to sound, to syntax, to images, and to meaning. That attentive posture is the “attitude” of broader poetic thinking, and while it’s most commonly applied to appreciate work that’s been written for that purpose, there’s nothing stopping us from applying that attentiveness elsewhere. Everywhere, even! That’s how you eventually end up writing poetry for yourself, after all. There’s a quote from Mary Ruefle floating around on here that a lot of folks have probably already seen, but it immediately comes to mind with this ask:

“And when you think about it, poets always want us to be moved by something, until in the end, you begin to suspect that a poet is someone who is moved by everything, who just stands in front of the world and weeps and laughs and laughs and weeps.”

Similarly, after adopting the attentive posture of poetics, there’s plenty of things that can feel or sound like a poem, even when they perhaps were not written with that purpose in mind. I’ve seen a couple of these “found poems” on here that are quite fun—this one, for example. The meaning and enjoyment you may derive from the language of a found poem isn’t any less real than that derived from a poem written for explicitly poetic purposes, so I don’t see why it shouldn’t be called poetry.

That said, I do think that if you’re going to go out and start looking for poetry everywhere, it’s still important to have a foundation in the actual language work of it all. Now, this doesn’t mean it has to be “written in a certain way” at all! But it does mean that in order to cultivate the attentiveness that’s vital to poetry, one needs to understand what makes language tick, down at its most basic levels. It will make you better at reading poetry, better at writing it, and better at spotting it out in the wild.

Mary Oliver’s A Poetry Handbook is an extraordinary resource to new writers and readers, and a great read for more experienced folks as well. Mary Oliver’s most popular poems are all to my knowledge in free verse, and yet you might be surprised to find her deep appreciation for metrical verse (patterns of stressed/unstressed syllables), as well as for the most minute devices of sound. In discussing the so-called poetry of the past, she writes,

“Acquaintance with the main body of English poetry is absolutely essential—it is the whole cake, while what has been written in the last hundred years or so, without meter, is no more than an icing. And, indeed, I do not really mean an acquaintanceship—I mean an engrossed and able affinity with metrical verse. To be without this felt sensitivity to a poem as a structure of lines and rhythmic energy and repetitive sound is to be forever less equipped, less deft than the poet who dreams of making a new thing can afford to be.”

In another section, after devoting lots of attention to the sounds at work in Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”, she writes,

“Everything transcends from the confines of its initial meaning; it is not only the transcendence in meaning but the sound of the transcendence that enables it to work. With the wrong sounds, it could not have happened.”

I hope all this helps to get across my opinion that what makes a poem a poem is not just about the author's intention, and not just about meaning (intended or attributed), but also about sound and rhythm and language and history, all coalescing into something that rises above the din of a language we would otherwise grow tired of while out in our day-to-day lives.

I'll always have more to say but I'm cutting myself off here! Thanks for the ask

[proshippers-against-censorship]

I’m gonna be completely honest I’m a little baked so apologies if I make no sense

I would just like to start with I am a very big fan of dark fiction. My favorite movies are Silence of the Lambs and Midsommar. My favorite fanfiction at one time contained a violent rape scene. I have no issues with murder, torture, brainwashing, rape, or any flavor of violent/sexual depravity in my fiction, fan-created or otherwise. But the thing is, there’s a reason for it to occur within the narrative the writer is trying to tell. Characters don’t kill and die for no narrative reason, that’s just bad writing. If there is a torture scene, or a rape scene, or incest or pedophilia or whatever depraved shit you wanna put here, you can analyze that piece of fiction as a whole and deduce why the writer might’ve put it there. Media analysis. There is media to analyze. It’s a huge leap in logic to assume that the director included Buffalo Bill’s obsession with skinning women because they had fantasies about skinning women. It is also a huge leap in logic to assume that Vladimir Nabokov wrote Lolita because he is a pedophile. When you read the book or watch the movie and think about it critically for more than ten seconds, it becomes very evident that that isn’t true, even with an unreliable narrator like in Lolita.

However, the (fan)fiction I take issue with isn’t like that. There isn’t much to analyze when the only part being posted (or written at all) IS the rape scene, or the incest scene, or the necrophilia scene, especially when that particular author/artist exclusively posts about that one thing. Fetish content is pretty easy to spot in my opinion, and if you aren’t turned on by that particular fetish, it doesn’t provide you much in the way of storytelling. That kind of fiction was created to feed someone’s fetish, whether that’s the author’s themselves, a friend’s, or a random requester who asked them to write it. (You can also only deduce what is and is not fetish content via media analysis).

The issue isn’t that the writer had the gall to include these topics in their fiction, the issue is that someone is way too into those crimes they’re writing about and it shows. People who are also way too into violent fantasies are just as big of an issue. The comparison shouldn’t be Adult/Child PWP Oneshot Fanfic to Call of Duty, it should be Adult/Child PWP Oneshot Fanfic to that kid in the back of class scribbling in his notebook about school shootings but with different names than his real teachers and classmates. Compare Call of Duty to Lolita (example), and compare sexual fantasy fodder to violent fantasy fodder.

I think it is immoral to fantasize about harming another person. Whether that harm would be sexual in nature or not is completely irrelevant. If someone believes that having certain fantasies is morally objectionable, the fiction they create to stroke that fantasy is also morally objectionable. Obviously I can’t stop anyone from creating whatever kind of fiction they want for whatever reasons they want, even if I find them immoral. That’s censorship. But I don’t think anyone, antis or proshippers, have been taking into account the full nuance of the topic at hand.

TL;DR: You can portray acts of violent or sexual crime in your fiction with all the gorey details you want, without it feeding into a fetish or a fantasy. The fantasy is the thing I take issue with, not the fiction. This is true of both violent and sexual fantasies. Everyone oversimplifies it as “good/okay in fiction” or “bad/wrong in fiction” and that isn’t a conducive discussion to be having.

Anyway. I have the munchies, I’m gonna order a pizza now I think

-🐜👔

Fair enough.

There's still nothing wrong with finding fetish/fantasy/for-fun content gross or highly immoral.

So long as you just block the creator and move on with your day.

[ofmermaidstories]

Here are my answers :3

No (but regardless of self-insert or xReader, I can sometimes never imagine myself in these scenarios XD and when I do I somehow conjure up an extremely 3D uncanny valley image of myself next to my 2D blorbo which gives me the heebie jeebies lol. So I imagine this lil 2d girlie that has my likeness, morals and brain but just... better XD)

Yes (tbh after any form of media crosses a certain popularity it becomes valid for criticism. I personally believe in the notion of enjoying things for what they are, and if you don't... then don't make yourself suffer and sit through it lol. Cause when I get down to it I can nitpick things to hell and back but thats nooo fun :( )

Yes (the thing that I fid the hardest to do is to transition from one scene to another without making it too awkward of jumpy)

lmaooo you’re so valid for all of these things. 😌 1. HMMM do you use the same amalgamation girlie for your own writing, vs. when you read someone else’s?? i envision different people for each fic or scenario i encounter tbh; if i have a preconceived notion of what i think the writer looks like then it’s basically just them, imported, lmao, but sometimes i’ll read a fic or thought and be like “hmmm… this Reader should be blonde 😌😌😌”

2. ohhh we’re opposites LMAOOO i loveeee clawing into things. �� sometimes it’s more in a, fellow-hobbyist disbelief kind of way (“the set up was right there!!”) and sometimes it’s more as a reader that’s been disappointed or otherwise thrown for a loop. tbh being able to spot and articulate (even just to yourself) the shortcomings of a piece (in general, not just fic lmao) is like the best way to becoming a better reader in general and also getting halfway to decent, as a writer (decent being subjective but. 💀 u know what i mean).

3. transitions suck ASS. sometimes you just gotta smash cut to the next part. 💀 altho!! sometimes even just a brief sentence before (whatever next part you wanna jump to) helps to move you and the reader along. 🥺

[mythica0]

Hey! I'm finally back, sorry for the wait. And I hope you're doing well! If isn't any bother, may I please ask for some Ler!Splinter and Lee!Donnie? Can the plot / idea of the fic be both Splinter and Donnie are training, and Donnie is the last one standing - so Splinter uses his weakness against him?

Again, I love anything you write, so idm! Sorry if this was a lot to ask for.

Last one standing

🎂:ROTTMNT

🧁:Donnie, briefly Leo

🍫:Splinter, briefly Raph

Summary: Splinter thinks Donnie is doing a little too well in his training and decides to play dirty.

A/N: I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER. Writers block is kicking my ass and my musical rehearsals are taking up a lot of my brain space. Anywho, ENJOY!

TW: mild swearing

Last one standing

This. Is. Awesome.

It wasn’t often that Splinter trained with the boys anymore, but today he was, and boy was it fun!

He had taken down Leo, Raph, and Mikey down, one by one, In that order, with fair ease. But, somehow, Donnie was the last one still going.

In fact, he was kind of kicking Splinter’s ass.

He felt great, and was really putting his whole body into the fight. He was doing well, too well, and Splinter didn’t like it.

He thought for a moment, still fighting, about some tactics that would take Donnie down. And eventually, he had a lightbulb moment. He remembered a little something from when the turtles were younger, something that might give him a leg-up on the situation.

He stopped moving, throwing his opponent off gaurd for a moment. Donnie stopped himself and smirked smugly. “What? Am I too much for ya’ , pops?”

Splinter let out a laugh and replied quietly and confidently, “nehever, my son. I simply need to… change up my methods, one could say.”

“Try me!” The Softshell declared dramatically.

Without another word, Spinter grabbed the softshell by the shoulders and pulled him close, moving his nimble paws along his son’s arms and hands.

Donnie broke down into shocked giggles, fighting his urge to melt into the touch.

Leo spoke up from the sidelines frantically and tauntingly. “Ooo, Mr. Cocky being taken down by tickles? What a shame.”

Raph looked at him incredulously. “Oh, you don’t have any room to talk Leo.” He spoke as he poked Leo’s plastron sharply, causing the slider to squeak. “Ohokay! I get the message!”

They looked back over to the wrestling mat where Donne was still being held and attacked, drowning in his own giggles.

“Are you going to tap out yet, my son?”

“Nuhuh-uh!” Came the sharp exclaim.

“Oh well.” Splinter continued, still targeting the soft shells melt spot.

It wasn’t long before Donnie stopped struggling and gave in, letting himself melt. Everyone in the room had to fight the urge to coo.

Splinter finally let up, claiming that he won(he was right.) “Im going to take purple to bed now. Good night, my sons.”

A chorus of various “night’s” and good night wishes came up.

Splinter took Donnie and laid him in his bed, the softshell passed out as soon as he hit the pillow, only getting out a quiet and mumbled “Night, dad.”

“Goodnight,purple”

It looks like Splinter was the last one standing, after all.

———THE END————————————————

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Go with the flow like the autumn koi and swim away without a care in the world

I should strive to be more like the autumn koi in the Moonlit Choral Brook. They follow the rhythm of the river like it’s a dance, always moving forward. I wonder how the world looks from their point of view through the crystal clear water.

We’re in Sunburst Villa for a fishing tourney involving autumn koi obviously. They’re kinda like the village’s mascot, so it’s no exaggeration to say that they’re everywhere. I don’t mind, I think koi are pretty, especially the autumn koi with its warm and vibrant colors.

Along with the journey, there’s MellowCon, an anime convention where Alexi and Emma are attending. Of course, I got a couple signed prints from them, one of them having been commissioned from Cheyenne, who regretfully couldn’t make it. Luckily, the next convention Alexi’s going to is about half an hour away from where Cheyenne lives and they have plans to meet up with some old college friends during that weekend.

We’re also hanging out with Jamie and the Linnea Squad for some sightseeing. Jamie wanted to treat the Linnea Squad to a vacation when she found out an old friend and her traveling party was in the area, so she introduced them to us.

The fishing tourney has been fun in a chill, low-key kind of way. I always prefer events more of that pace than something big and extravagant. Sure, those can be fun, but they also can be draining. For me, fishing is about taking it easy, so it makes sense for it to be a low stakes kind of thing. It would be nice to catch lots of huge fish and get a nice trophy, but that’s not a priority for me. I’m just here for the cool sea creatures.

MellowCon was also fun, although it’s not really my scene, so I didn’t really spend a lot of time there. To be honest, I really only hung around Alexi and Emma because I’m not familiar with the other shows and games over there. Really, I only know a very small handful of characters they play, specifically from Pillars of Stone and Flame. Still, it was fun looking around and seeing all the art and cosplay.

At least I was able to get into the conversations revolving around Pillars. Along with Emma and Alexi, it seems like a lot of the English VAs really kicked off their careers with Pillars - and most of them happen to be fans of the game too. The new update’s coming next week with a new exploration area and story chapter, both which I’m hyped for.

Along with the excitement for the new update, we also talked a bit about that dev, the one who was memed in an interview for coming off as a snob — and rightfully so, to be honest. Apparently, she made a spectacle of herself in a podcast by being sort of passive aggressive towards the fanbase. From my understanding based on translations, she doesn’t like the criticism towards the writing, except she kinda blows it out of proportion.

I mean, I kinda get it, but at the same time those criticisms are usually valid. I got interested in Pillars for the story and exploration, and while I am invested, I find the writing to be uneven at times. In other words, when it’s good, it can be really good, but when it’s bad, it falls flat. At least, in my opinion, the story has improved a lot since the beginning, though pacing seems to be its weak spot.

The podcast also goes a bit into Constellation Matrix, which is another game produced by the same company as Pillars, and that was what prompted the dev’s rant as she worked on both. I don’t know too much about Constellation Matrix’s lore, but there’s a lot of comparisons made between the character Fury and Pillar’s October - who happens to be played by Emma - in terms of their character arcs being similar.

From the gist of it, Fury was a fan favorite, at least until the writers butchered her character arc so badly that she died an anticlimactic death. In other words, she was a well written character with a lot of potential to take the story in another direction. Fans speculated that the writers didn’t want to commit or something, so they decided to kill her off and then act like she never existed. Of course, fans protested and the phrase “offed like Fury” became a thing. Even the company and the devs poke fun at it occasionally.

I mean, imagine screwing up so badly that you sort of became a cultural phenomenon, like, damn. I can see the parallels between Fury and October, which are likely intentional, though I think I have faith in Pillars to not pull an “offed like Fury” with October. I mean, October’s second character story chapter’s coming out in the new update, so she’s not disappearing from the spotlight anytime soon. Really, the only thing I’m worried about at this point is the pacing, especially later on when the story begins to focus on other characters.

And on an unsurprising note, that dev isn’t a fan of “offed by Fury” and went off on a tangent on why it was necessary for Fury to die and people were too dense understand what it meant for the narrative or something. I didn’t understand most of it, but she seemed really defensive over that for some reason, which is what people are memeing over because it really is ridiculous.

Aside from hyping about Pillars, the biggest highlight of MellowCon for me was seeing Alexi and Emma with their fans. Both of them never imagined that they’d make it as voice actors, not with the way their families discouraged them from pursuing it. And now here they are, living the life they never imagined would be possible if they hadn’t taken the plunge. It really is amazing to see.

Alexi had a pleasant surprise when her brother showed up with his friends to support her. She mentioned that out of her family, she has a difficult relationship with her oldest brother and their father after the accident. The way she describes it, they see her as damaged goods, a traumatized amputee who should be ashamed to be alive. Sounds harsh, but that’s just the sad reality of how some people are.

While things are far from ideal between Alexi and her brother, at least they’re talking. It’s sad that they used to be close, only for him to pull away when she needed his support the most. She said the worst thing was that he was being dishonest, always making up excuses to justify treating her like she’s less of a person. And when her voice acting career took off, she felt that his “support” was purely superficial, as in he only cared when it benefitted him.

As for her father, not only he looks down on her, he also thinks that voice acting is not a real job. His response to her getting more recognition as a voice actor was basically along the lines of, “Do these people have anything better to do? Aren’t they tired of her yet?” How rude.

Alexi said she wasn’t super close to him as they didn’t really have a lot in common to begin with, but they got along pretty well back then. She described him as old fashioned, the kind of person who thinks that people should just develop a thick skin and get over it. Basically, although he’d never say it outright, he’s ashamed of having a disabled and mentally ill daughter.

By now, Alexi’s accepted that they’ll never see eye to eye. She admits that she can be difficult, though I don’t think that’s an excuse for him to cast her aside like that. Sounds like the kind of person where there’s just no winning with them. When you’re at your lowest, they make fun of you for being weak. And then when you stand up for yourself, they complain that you’re unreasonable and stuck up. Sometimes you just have to say “Fuck it, I’m not bending over backwards just to get your approval.” Alexi’s been through a lot of shit and she doesn’t have time to deal with people like that. Good for her!

Then we met up with Jamie and her friends, the Linnea Squad and Caerwyn’s adventuring party. Linnea and her comrades are still traveling with Jamie from time to time, mainly because they need a mentor figure to look up to. They’re still at large, so going off on their own isn’t the best option.

Linnea’s still trying to reason with Jet and Gabe, but it seems like her pleas go in one ear and out the other. There’s no point in forcing them to talk if they refuse to, so she has no choice but to let it go. She and the others are still hoping for a reconciliation, but knowing how stubborn and hardheaded their friend is, they’re gonna need a lot of patience before things settle down. As long as he’s not causing trouble, and potentially putting the rest of the squad at risk, Jamie advises that it’s best to leave him alone for now. Sounds like a tricky situation, though I think the squad’s handling it well.

As for Caerwyn, she’s an elf mage who’s adventuring with her apprentice mage Salka, and Kalle, a warrior from the Glacial Mountains. They were planning to travel further up north, but they encountered problems at the Hallowed Pass. There was another member, a healer mage they picked up during their travels who later parted ways not too long ago, right before the group headed towards the Hallowed Past.

The ordeal the party experienced over there caused a considerable setback, but since they’re not on a strict schedule, it’s not that big of a deal. Basically, there were a bunch of curses and monsters acting haywire to the point that the roads became inaccessible. Caerwyn said it was just their luck that their healer mage just left because he happened to have an innate immunity to some of those curses, which would’ve made cleaning up a lot more easier. Still, it wasn’t anything that Caerwyn couldn’t handle.

While Caerwyn and Salka took care of the curses and flying monsters, Kalle handled the beasts and whatever physical obstacles came their way. The whole cleanup took nearly four days and they succeeded in reopening those routes, a feat that Caerwyn said would be considered impossible for most mages and warriors. I don’t think she’s exaggerating, otherwise, I think Jamie would’ve called her out.

Those four days really tested their stamina, especially for Kalle, so they have to take it easy for a while before going back on the road. Since they have to cross the mountains and blizzard season is approaching, which can get deadly in these parts, the group figured that it’s not worth risking their necks out there. Along with overexertion, Kalle also sustained some injuries while fighting, so he had been on strict bed rest orders.

Caerwyn and Salka are almost fully recovered while he still has to take it slow. And of course, he’s gone a bit stir crazy from being in bed all the time, but at the same time too tired to really do anything. That can be a drag sometimes. At least he was well enough to join us on the tourney for a bit and catch some autumn koi.

Since there’s no way of knowing when’s the next time they’ll cross paths again, Jamie and Caerwyn have a lot of catching up to do. Jamie says Caerwyn doesn’t have the best sense of time because she has a long life, so Salka often has to keep her in line or else she’d be taking them on detour after detour. After all, she may have all the time in the world, but for us humans, we don’t really have that luxury.

Salka has explored the village in and out, so she’s become our tour guide. The three of them tend to do their own things when they’re staying somewhere for a while. Caerwyn likes to look for shops that sell magic stuff, according to her, shadier a place looks, the more likely you are to find some treasure. Jamie wasn’t exaggerating when she said that Caerwyn’s a walking tome on magic. While she’s off doing that, Salka’s exploring the shops and replenishing on supplies, and Kalle’s running around helping the locals out.

There’s a cafe that’s not too far from the tourney, so it’s become our hangout spot. Not only the pastries are good, they also have these cute autumn koi rice cakes for the occasion. It’s kinda become our thing to end the night with rice cakes, green tea, and a couple card games.

The nightlife is pretty active here, so Caerwyn and Salka have been using these game nights to seek out a new member to join their party. As their journey goes on, they realize that they need a healer, preferably a licensed medic. The guy who left, Emlyn, wasn’t a medic, but he was a mage who Caerwyn considers a genius. Not only he’s immune to most curses, which is considered unusual, he can easily heal ailments that are difficult for even the most experienced mages. And the worst part, according to Caerwyn, instead of putting his gifts to good use, he spent most of his life living with regrets. Based on her tone, I wonder if she’s speaking from experience.

Before going off their separate ways, Emlyn left a notebook on various spells and medicinal herbs for common ailments, which has been a godsend for them. While that alone has been helping them get by, Caerwyn’s open to recruiting a medic just to be safe. According to her and Jamie, those kinds of mages are considered to be very niche, which is why it’s hard for them to find one. Basically, mages aren’t very common, and licensed ones, especially in the medical field, are very few and far between. Emlyn happened to be a unique case, so their replacement has some big shoes to fill.

Well, like Caerwyn says, there’s no rush. It’s not healthy to live life burdened by worries and regrets. Sure, there are things that are outside your control, but don’t let that stop you from living. Although Caerwyn’s made a name for herself as a powerful mage, she says she can’t help but feel like she hasn’t done enough, which is why she’s on this adventure now, to take it slow and really get to know her companions before she inevitably outlives them like most of her friends.

After getting burned out with the incident at the pass, she said seeing the autumn koi swimming in the river reminded her why she and Salka set out on this journey in the first place. Instead of a definite endpoint, they’re just going with the flow like the koi, and they’re content with that. Even if you decide to stop moving, the currents will take you along anyway whether you like it or not, so you might as well let it carry you away. You’ll end up somewhere, and you have the choice of exploring your surroundings or just burying your head in the sand. Like I said before, sounds like Caerwyn’s speaking from experience.

It won’t be long before we all go our separate ways again. Jamie hopes it won’t be too long before she and Caerwyn cross paths again. There may be no guarantees, but considering how much Jamie travels, Caerwyn bets that they’ll meet up again in the future, and hopefully introduce her to their medic. From how Jamie, Salka, and Kalle talk about her, Caerwyn is an interesting figure, one who I really hope to meet again in the future if fate allows.

Read on AO3

[threewaysdivided]

I just wanted to say: I love your art and especially your banner rn by talos! also your fic as well thank you for creating everything that you do for people, it’s awesome!

Second: what’s something that you’ve been chewing on lately, story wise? What character conflict, or plot point can you tell me about (that doesn’t spoil too much of course)? I wanna hear your thoughts about the characters you write and your head-cannons on them too! Just spit some word vomit at me!

Thank you! 

My current banner art is actually a crop of the first paired piece I ever did to go with my Deathly Weapons fic.  (Specifically Chapter 11, which I still have a soft spot for since it’s one of earliest chapters that really let me lean into scratching the thing-I-haven’t-seen-too-often-in-fanfic itch.) 

I recently got my hands on a discounted Wacom (my digital art process got tanked a few years ago when my poor art-compatible hybrid tablet-laptop was tragically taken from us by a cracked motherboard) so I’m looking forward to getting into a faster art workflow again and maybe putting some new pieces out more easily.  I’d like to do more comic art pieces for the Chapter 18 mission, and there’s a silly little concept drawing for the planned Mission 5 that might be new-blog-banner material if it turns out nicely.  We’ll have to see how that goes.

As for what I’ve been chewing on story-wise lately… I’ve sort of been all over the place.  I’m still on burnout recovery so I’ve been letting myself move non-sequentially, working on the bits my brain feels like focussing on rather than trying to force creativity where the juice isn’t flowing.   (One of the things about being my type of writing-nerd is that “self-indulgent” for me means a story with plenty of material to analyse, which is very fun as a reader but has created a lot of work for myself as the writer.  As mentioned in another post, I have a full-blown TV-show-style story-bible for this one.)

Recently, my authorial ping-pong-ing has been going into a fair bit of spoiler territory.  There are some chunks of the Act III endgame plan which are underdeveloped in the specifics of what the big-boss bad-guys’ plan is, whether I want to involve the Anti-Ecto Acts more, and the logistics of both the counter-strategy our heroes are planning to use and how to make its more action-heavy parts look cool in writing.  When I’m not doing that I’ve been focussing a lot on the upcoming Wally-centric chapters, which are a set I’ve been wanting to keep schtum about since there’s a small potential spoiler mixed in and I don’t want to risk giving the game up or pre-setting people’s expectations before they have a chance to blind read (even if a few people have already made some close guesses in the comments).  It puts me in a bit of an odd-spot right now because the chapters I’m drafting are an immediate spoiler, the later sections I’m working on are a major spoiler and there’s a good chance that a lot of the character stuff going on in the middle won’t make a whole lot of coherent sense without prior context because of how I like to layer foreshadowing/development.

That said, Wally-centric chapters mean Wally thoughts, and of those I have plenty to share:

First of all, I want to establish that I really do like Wally as a character.  The DW chapter set comprising Flashpoints through to Equilibrium is going to explore and develop some of his flaws and insecurities, which means he isn’t going to be looking his best, but it’s not meant to be a Ron The Death Eater situation.  He’s just a complex person, and taking him warts and all means sometimes you have to get up close and personal on the warts.

Something that I’m maybe a bit over-conscious of when reviewing my DW story notes is worrying about letting Wally slide into just being punching-bag joke-fodder.  Wally is quippy, irreverent, a little tactless and prone to being a bit of an impulsive goober who sometimes gets possessed by teenage boner-brain, which makes him easy to fall back on as a default source of incidental levity (whether cracking the joke or being the punchline).  Because I’m now writing an 8-character ensemble where most non-focal characters only get a few lines per conversation, it’s easy for characters to slide into being defined by their strongest surface level trait(s)… and something I worry about with Wally is that his availability as a source of jokes runs the risk of Flanderisation into a disposable Scrappy/ Flirty Comic Relief, which isn’t his character.  Wally is actually really important – not just for his scientific book-smarts but for his perceptiveness, earnestness and ability to function as one of the emotional barometers for the squad – so I always have it in the back of my mind to make sure I include enough moments that actually demonstrate those qualities and the other characters’ appreciation of them/ their friendship, so that it counterbalances the more light-hearted goofery.

I think he’s walking the same tightrope as Sokka from Avatar: the Last Airbender – yes, he tends to take the L more often than the others for comedy purposes and sometimes he gets stuck with supremely dumb side-plots for the sake of tonal balance, but to claim that it’s the entirety of his characterisation really misses the point by a wide mile.

On that note, I actually really like the decision YJ!Animated decided to go with in its first and only season (ahem) in giving Wally a normal and functional family background.  I know that’s not the typical background for his comics counterparts (and no shade on other fan-writers who want to write AUs exploring the abuse dynamic, those are really interesting stories) but I think it was a smart deviation for the purposes of a large ensemble, and offered a fair bit of potential for cast-balance.  It lets him serve an important role as the normal one – not only as an easy window into what the current lives of ordinary middle-class civilians look like (which is good because ordinary people are who our heroes are donning the masks to protect) but also as a touch-stone for the others, most of whom either come from different cultures or from very atypical backgrounds.  Even if we discount the Impure Atlantean with military training, the ostracised White Martian and the Half-Alien clone-weapon, the other members of this line-up are an orphaned circus acrobat adopted by a billionaire, a girl from a dangerously dysfunctional criminal household where she was forced to fight her sibling, and a fledgling sorceress raised by an overprotective single Dad.  The others might intellectually understand what a “normal” childhood and family look like but they don’t necessarily know it as intuitively and intimately as Wally does.  That normality gives Wally the potential to be a more stable foundation for the others, a source of emotional contrast and of a necessary wholesome mundanity.  That is a good thing for the Team to have.  I think it also speaks volumes to the heart of his character.  For this Wally, the Flash and heroism weren’t an escape from a bad personal situation.  His life was actually pretty comfy and privileged - he didn’t experience a brutal wakeup to the injustices of the world or some other personal call to action.  This is a Wally who opted into the game because he loves the players and sincerely believes in their values and mission.  And while that might mean he has a more romanticised idea of what heroism entails – and will probably face some rough shocks down the line as that rosy vision runs into those more brutal realities – it also means he brings a sincere hopefulness to the job that is less hardened than a lot of his roughed-up, pre-jaded peers.  Underneath the teen sarcasm and surface-level lancer/smart-guy traits, this Wally has as much power to be a stealth-Heart as any of his Flash!counterparts.

Something else I find interesting when using Wally is how a lot of his strengths and flaws feed into each other – and I think this alternate backstory is part of it.  For all of his good heart Wally can come off as insensitive, and I think some of that could be read as a product of living a more charmed life.  I think he’s susceptible to a thing that a lot of real people do – universalising their own personal experience as the default – and that while he is canonically a geek and somewhat genre-savvy about hero cliches, he’s a geek about in-universe media so he probably doesn’t think to apply those tropes to “real people” like himself or his colleagues.  While this Wally is a skeptic, he’s not a cynic, and I think he might forget how much of an outlier he is in a world where things like living parents and loving parents are often mutually exclusive.  He’s smart enough to connect dots but there’s a little blind-spot where he simply might not think to until one of the others jabs an elbow into his ribs, because his default view on humanity is in some ways a little kinder than typical due to that small but still significant amount of privilege.

At the same time, Wally is also someone who has probably run into (or watched his mentor run into) a lamp-post at high-speed at least once in his career.  He contains multitudes and among those multitudes is an endless capacity for some absolute Looney-Tunes nonsense, which the world is 100% better off for having.

I love him, your honour.

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Falling For The Sky

Words: 1,340

God of Storms AU: Sora/Lover

Maito Gai/Sora (OC) (Background Gai/Kakashi)

@garden-writer

The world disappears when they begin dancing.

All other sounds vanish, leaving only the music that leads them through their dance, and their laughter beautiful and sweet.

The people he’s just been chatting with cease to exist, his eyes drawn to their beautiful form as they work their way through the dance floor, taking a moment to twirl beside everyone she passes before moving on to the next person.

One by one they dance with them all. Their eyes light up when they see their dance partner approach them, and when they leave each of them carries themselves with a little more pride.

“Go,” A shoulder bumps against his, pulling his attention away from their beautiful form so he can stare at Kakashi. “You want to dance, right?”

“I do,” he confirmed. “But-”

Was it wrong, the way he felt?

Should he keep his distance rather than walk straight into what is so clearly a trap laid out just for him? 

“Go,” Kakashi lays a hand over his, a tender smile shining in his eyes. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

“It’s alright?” his question is greeted with laughter, bright and cheerful. An intoxicating sound rings in his ears and wraps itself around his heart like a warm hug. Laughter is one of Gai’s favorite sounds, but there are few people in the world whose laughter can compare to Kakashi’s in his eyes. 

“It’s fine,” Kakashi assured him, giving his hand a squeeze for extra comfort before pulling back. “I’ll be here.” Placing his hand on Gai’s back, he gives him a little shove. Just enough so that he’s forced out of his seat. 

Once his feet are on the ground, Gai’s off. 

He walks with a brisk pace, terrified that if he doesn’t hurry he may miss them. they danced so quickly, after all, and never seemed to stop. If he can’t catch them before they move on to the next person, he may find himself standing in the middle of the dance floor all alone.

Not that he wouldn’t dance alone if it came to it. The music that Bee created was delightful, and even without a partner he could easily find himself following the beat across the dance floor. It wouldn’t be as smooth as the other God’s movements, but it would be fun.

“Hey!” A voice calls out, calling for the dancing god’s attention. “I think you have a willing partner!”

Kakashi’s voice. Gai recognizes it almost instantly, and he can’t help but turn to glare at his lover. The smile he’s greeted with is so wide that the Storm God’s eyes are closed, the edges crinkling upwards and leaving little indents in his skin. 

“Oh, hello,” dragging his eyes away from his lover, he’s greeted by another smile, this one a little bit smaller but no less dazzling. All of a sudden he feels a swarm of butterfly’s bursting to life in his stomach. “Gai, right?”

“Gai,” he nodded, finding it difficult to speak as he stared into their smooth brown eyes. The colors swirled around their pupil like a deep pool calling for him to lose himself in them forever. 

“Come on,” taking hold of his hand, they spun around and tugged him along behind them as they headed straight for the center of the dance floor. When they came to a stop, they turned to face him once again and grinned. “You know how to dance?”

“A bit,” he nodded. 

“You didn’t learn from Kakashi, did you?” their eyes darted toward the other god before quickly returning to Gai. “He has two left feet. That’s the mortal saying, right?”

“I didn’t learn from Kakashi,” he promised. “

“Good,” adjusting their hands, they slipped their fingers between Gai’s. “Ready?”

Before he could muster up the strength to respond, Gai found himself being led into the next dance. A slow side step to the left, followed by a step back, and then a step forward, and finally a step to the right so that they came back to the exact spot where they had begun.

A simple dance that was easy for him to follow, and after a few more rounds he noticed that he was no longer being guided through each step, but was following his dancing partner's lead with ease.

“You are a good dancer,” they declared before leading him into a half spin. 

“Is it really that surprising?”

“You never know,” pulling him along, they spun around with such a boisterous laugh that Gai couldn’t help but throw his head back and laugh along with her. His time as a god had been short, but every moment he’d spent clinging close to Kakashi’s side, feeling a wave of calm washing over him every time he grabbed Kakashi’s hand or laid his head on his lap.

The sensation he experienced now was completely different.

There was no tranquility in their movements, but rather a rambunctiousness that Gai hadn’t realized he’d been missing. Kakashi was tranquillity and peace, but they were something different.

Something that made his feet travel a little faster and his hands hold on a little tighter, as if they were going to disappear at any moment and he had to cling to them to keep them at his side.

“Sora!” They called out as the two of them danced their way around the crowded floor. 

His heart pounded in his chest. “Sora?”

“My name,” chuckling, they released their grip on his left hand and quickly ducked under his arm for a twirl. As they completed the twirl, coming to a perfect stop right in front of him with their eyes glimmering with excitement, he couldn’t help but beam.

“Sora,” he repeated, feeling the weight of the name on his tongue. 

It made sense. 

To fall in love with a scarecrow meant stability. It came with a sense of security in the knowledge that his lover would never disappear on him, and Kakashi so perfectly matched his name.

Sora was no different. Falling in love with the sky didn’t come with stability, but it came with freedom. It felt like gravity had vanished and he’d begun falling straight towards the clouds, with nothing to grab onto.

Not that he wanted to stop himself from falling. The sky was exciting. It was forever changing and always moving. The sky he looked at today was completely different from the one he had laid his eyes upon just yesterday, and tomorrow’s sky would be equally unique. 

“You done dancing?” They asked, eyes focused on him as they slowed to a stop. “Or are you just distracted?”

“Neither,” he answered with surprising ease, his eyes flickering over their shoulder to Kakashi who now seemed to be in deep conversation with the Goddess of the Ocean, though he still managed to catch Gai’s gaze and offered that closed-eyed smile that Gai had fell in love with the first moment he saw it.

Not just once, either. No, he’d fallen in love with it in every single lifetime, from the beginning of time to the moment he opened his eyes as a newly born God and was greeted by a warm, kind smile. 

“Oh?” Sora glanced over their shoulder and waved toward Kakashi, giggling when he immediately waved back. “Do you want to go back?”

“Not now,” his fingers curled around Sora’s, holding onto them for just a bit longer. “I’m good here.”

His Scarcrow would wait. he always had, no matter how many times or how long Gai left him standing there alone in an empty field. The sky was fleeting, though. As soon as he released his hold it would disappear and there was no guarantee he’d ever be able to reach it again. So, he held on. He clung to that beautiful sky, with its swirls of brown staring back at him. 

“Good,” their smile grew, stretching from one ear all the way to the other. Pulling him along, they led him into another spin and laughed when he tightened his grip on their hands.

[scarletlove2]

'Cause Us Traitors Never Win.

Hi! So this book will also be posted on AO3. Um, also I'm still not the best at writing so any help would be really nice! Also, this is meant to be multiple chapters, but knowing how much I get writer's block. This will go months without another chapter, Also this isn't meant to make anyone upset or anything. It's just something I whipped up for fun! But with that, I will put a list of the warnings now.

Warnings: Betrayal, Death in later chapters, Guns, Knives, killing, General Sherped, poorly translated Spanish, my writing is a warning itself, please let me know if there's anymore

I aimed the gun's barrel toward his head, the briefcase held securely in my free hand. The helicopter blades whirled, causing my hair to sway rhythmically. Tilting my head, I offered them all a smile just before the gunshot pierced the air.

I stood beside General Shepherd in the boardroom, surrounded by members of Task Force 141, Los Vaqueros, and Shadow Company.

"Many of you are well aware of the threat posed by Hans Miller," Shepherd began, his voice stern. "His actions, including the abduction of civilians and numerous war crimes, cannot be overlooked. That's why I've brought Scarletta Sokolov into the fold to address this matter." All eyes shifted briefly to me before returning to Shepherd as he continued speaking.

"Let's ensure Miss, Sokolov feels welcomed and work collectively to strategize ways to bring down Hans. With that, the meeting concludes."

Everyone nodded in agreement and began to leave the room. I gave Shepherd a nod of acknowledgement before trailing behind a man named John, who also goes by Soap. As we moved, another individual, Kyle, known as Gaz, joined me.

"Scarletta, right? I'm Kyle, but you can call me Gaz," he said in a friendly tone.

"I go by Scarlet, Scarletta is for formal greetings and business. But Nice to meet you, Gaz," I responded, maintaining a composed demeanour.

"A Russian addition to the team! We've been missing that diversity. It's great to have people from different backgrounds on board," Gaz remarked, showing no signs of surprise or curiosity.

"Not many of us are eager to join international military operations, given the unfortunate stereotypes surrounding our loyalty," I explained, sensing he might already know this.

"Well, it's a pleasure to have you here. Our team is like a family, you know. Price plays the father figure, Ghost's the enigmatic teenager, Soap's the energetic cousin, and I suppose I'm the normal one in the mix," Gaz elaborated.

"How delightful," I responded, as we approached the waiting vehicles. We all entered the cars, and I found myself seated between Ghost and Soap as we headed to the base.

"Scarletta, Soap and Gaz will show you around. I need to have a word with Ghost," Price instructed, and he and Ghost walked toward his office, leaving us behind.

"Let's begin with the medical bay. Along the way, we'll cover other key spots," Soap suggested, leading the way to the medical area.

"On your left is the shooting range, and on the right, you'll find the training room," Gaz pointed out to a few rookies honing their shooting skills. As we ventured further, we passed the communal showers and boardroom.

"Welcome to the common area. We have regular movie nights and take-out evenings. Feel free to join us," Gaz added, offering a warm smile.

"You're also welcome to use the fridge and pantry. If you need supplies from the city, just let Price know. You'll need to use one of the vehicles," Soap chimed in.

"One more stop on the tour," Gaz announced as we walked down a corridor toward the living quarters. He pointed out the rooms, explaining that each member had a personal bathroom except the rookies, who shared the community showers.

"Why the separate room and bathroom for me, and not the rookies?" I inquired, tilting my head curiously.

"According to Shepherd, higher-ranking members get their own rooms. It's a fairness thing," Gaz clarified.

"Understood," I responded, and we finally reached an empty room.

"This is your room. We'll get a name tag for it soon. We hope you like it. Some of us chipped in to make it feel welcoming. We'll leave you to settle in, and the rookies will bring your belongings from the France base to your room," Gaz explained before he and Soap left.

Standing in my room, I observed its spaciousness, a rarity in a military setting. After placing the items in the basket on the bed, I read the note left for me.

"Hey newcomer, Shepherd gave us some insights about you, so we put this basket together. We hope you like it. P.S. The jelly cat bat is a joke."

I set the card aside, smirking at the bat before arranging the contents of the basket. As I examined the candles and a Task Force 141 patch, a smile formed. These small gestures showed camaraderie.

Having settled in, I kicked off my jacket and lay back on the bed, taking a deep breath. A knock interrupted my thoughts, and I grumbled as I answered the door. The rookies left my belongings, and I took my time unpacking.

I finished unpacking and I picked up my phone and put in a number, I put it to my ear I heard the ringing noise and then heard the woman on the other line,

“ I’m calling to make sure that my animals are alright?” I speak into the phone waiting for a reply 

“ Ah yes Miss, Sokolov, they're doing alright!” I could hear the chirp in the woman's voice as she spoke

“ Good good I just want to make you have all their diets and when they’ll all meant to eat?”

“ Yes Miss Sokolov we have made sure to read everything and double-read everything before we get started” 

“ Good I’m glad cause you all cost me a pretty penny but I have to go I’ll call again tomorrow to check in” 

“Yes Miss Sokolov your animals, are in great hands We’ll talk tomorrow Good day Miss Sokolov”

“Good day,” I said taking the phone away from my ear and pressing the button to hang up

I slipped into my leather jacket, effortlessly tucking my cigarettes into one of its pockets. Retrieving my phone from the nightstand, I casually slid it into my back pocket before exiting my room. As I shut the door behind me, I continued down the hallways. My phone vibrated in my jeans pocket, prompting an eye roll from me. Retrieving it, I glanced at the text and promptly replied. Lost in thought, I reached a corner without paying much attention, resulting in a small stumble when I collided with someone. I quickly stepped back, looking up to find Alejandro Vargas in front of me.

"I apologize; I wasn't paying attention to what was in front of me," I said, slipping my phone back into my back pocket.

"It's alright; I wasn't paying much attention either," he replied casually.

"Where are you off to?" he asked, engaging in small talk.

"I was about to head out for a smoke and some fresh air," I responded, offering him a small smile.

"Ah, alright. I won't stop you any longer," he said with a grin.

"Alrighty then, I'll see you around, Alejandro," I replied, walking past him.

"See you around, Scarletta," he called out, causing me to turn around, tilting my head slightly.

"You can just call me Scarlet," I responded, causing him to turn around, putting his hands up in defence.

"Alright then, Scarletta," he replied with a smirk playing on his lips. He placed his hands back in his pockets before turning away.

A small smirk of my own played on my lips as I shook my head and continued walking, heading toward my destination for a smoke.

[fruti2flutie]

fanfic title cards (2024)

happy new year!! i had a spontaneous burst of inspiration at the end of 2024 to pick up handlettering, which... wow, it's really been a while. can't remember the last time i picked up my sketchbook!! i'm pretty much only reading skz fic these days, when i have the time & energy, and i found comfort in so many of them. these were fics that stood out to me & i thought about a lot. sketching these out was so fun, and writing the excerpts by hand really made me practice patience LOL

anyway. idk if i'll do any more any time soon, but!!! maybe in the future. i really loved all of these 🥺🥺🥺

here's the original thread posted on twitter as well tagging the writers :)

Matters of the Heart by 8BitSkeleton – minchan, T

A business arrangement. That's what they'd agreed to call it. As a doctor, Minho knew that ignoring Chan's diagnosis was a surefire way to complicate his disease, to play with his life. So, when Chan had brought up proposing to his partner for their insurance, and when he’d come back with a clear ‘no’, Minho couldn’t just let him walk out of the hospital without a plan. That’s how they’d ended up at the courthouse with a witness and no rings, just a signature and a handshake to seal the deal. A business arrangement. That's all it is.

or: minho and chan get married, but only for practical reasons. at least, that's what minho tells himself.

holy theory by gift — binsung, E

He swipes his pointer over the smudge to get rid of it, but the flesh gives easily, the pad of his finger dipping shallowly into it. Not a spot or a mark. Not a blemish. A hole. His eyes travel from the hole to his face, studying his features, his unshaven chin and upper lip, his heavy eyes, the dark circles. A stray eyelash sticks to his cheek. He glances back down and runs his finger over the spot again, feeling it give, feeling it twitch.

Jisung wakes up with a hole in his chest. It may or may not have something to do with the desire he has for his roommate.

Two Bros by velooscuro – binchan, E

Chan stops and takes stock of his situation. What decisions have led him to this exact position, straddling his best friend’s lap, having his nipples experimentally toyed with?

Wherein the road from bromance to romance is an extremely slippery slope.

sweet tangerine by bulletbulletbullet – minchan, E

When Minho looks up from the sink, Chan is watching him. He flushes when Minho catches him looking, but he doesn’t look away. “Are you okay?” Chan nods, but it’s delayed, like he’s starting to slip deeper into his rut. Minho can smell him over the bright lemon scent of the dish soap, and it makes his teeth hurt a little, makes him crave another cup of coffee. “I think,” Chan says, and then he stops himself. Minho rinses his hands off and turns off the water, reaching for a towel. “I think I’d like to hold you now, if that’s okay.”

Minho's a beta who works for a company that provides rut companionship for single alphas. Chan's an alpha in rut. What could possibly go wrong?

in every season by fireemblem – 2min, T

“You have a crush on Chan, then?” Minho asks, head tilting.

The question catches Seungmin off guard, even if he knows he’s probably teasing.

“I…,” he starts, blush creeping up his neck as Minho continues staring at him, waiting for an answer. Maybe he was serious. “No, I don’t.”

Minho hums. “Yeah. I am more your type anyway.”

Sanctuary by coley_merrin – minchan, T

When Minho moves to a new town to teach, he meets a group of seven people outside of town who are deemed outcast.

at least i've got you in my head by afterthedisco – hyunsung, T

“You and Jeongin’ve been dating for three years,” Hyunjin moans one night to Seungmin, sniffling into his glass of rosé. He’s coming down from the emotional trauma of a hookup that ended with Hyunjin getting canceled on by not one, but two Ubers as he waited out on the cold curb in his sluttiest miniskirt. The guy hadn’t even offered a coat to cover Hyunjin’s shivering bare shoulders. “That’s three years longer than I’ve ever been in a relationship. And I love that for you, you and your fruity little promise rings and all that, but when will it be my turn?”

“Hyunjin. Maybe you’re looking for something you aren’t going to find in someone else,” Seungmin says, too wise for someone drunk off just a few sips of his own glass of wine.

And that sounds pretty accurate, but it also sounds like a lot of fucking work. Hyunjin would rather find his second half and call it a day before even thinking about embarking on the mortifying journey of loving himself first.

Enter Han Jisung: Charming, talented, kind, hot - and straight.

-- Hyunjin likes to think himself a hopeless romantic, but maybe the truth of it is that he's just hopeless.

summer child by mortals – minchan, T

Flowers grow where Minho walks. It's not all it's cracked up to be.

---

“You’re easily… the best person in the forest,” Chan attempts, bravely.

The canopy of leaves rustles gently above them, and there is the distant call of an owl. Minho waits to see if Chan will see what's wrong with his statement– but no further words come.

“Chan, I’m the only other person in the forest,” Minho says, patiently.

the blood on your lies by inkin_brushes – chanlix, hyunsung, seungbin, minjeong, E

It’s desperation that drives Felix to place himself at the mercy of someone he has no right to expect kindness from. Six months on the street with his funds running low, if one of his father’s men doesn’t kill him then the oncoming winter will. Going to Chan is a decided risk, he might put a bullet in Felix's skull instead of taking on the job he's offering, but— well. At least that death will be quick.

But Chan doesn’t kill him. He gives Felix shelter, gives him a home. And Felix finds himself in way too deep with a man who doesn’t even fully know who he’s falling for.

amor fati by ohhennyhenny – minchan, E

Chan’s eyebrows furrow, and he sets down his glass. “If you knew there was a truth spell on the wine, then why did you drink it?” “I don’t have much to hide,” Minho says. “And I’ve always wanted to try this wine.” Brow still crinkled, Chan continues to stare at Minho. “Who are you?” “I’m Lee Minho.” He says this with the most deadpan voice he can muster. Chan snorts. “You know, I asked around about you.” “Like actually asked around? You didn’t just go on Naver?” “Naver? What’s—” Chan shakes his head. “Never mind that. They said that you run the best magic shop in the city, that you’re smart and reliable, but that you’re also hard to predict.” “We also ship worldwide,” Minho adds.

Minho captures the interest of the king of demons. He's not sure if that's a good or bad thing.

Wormwood and Garlic by AbstractKittens – minchan, E

“You’ll sooner find me dead than having werewolves on my street!” – Lee Minho, age 325, vampire

A small pack of werewolves move in next door to a trio of unfriendly vampires. The vampires are not pleased.

neko-ya by dwaekkiss – minbin, T

Changbin gets hexed into a cat and Minho takes care of him.

Alternatively, that one fic where Changbin is Minho’s fourth cat.

case study by pietrotheclown – chansung, E

That’s how most of his life feels, where Jisung is concerned. Like Jisung appeared one day. Didn’t even move in—Chan just blinked, and there Jisung was. Seventeen years of him. The figurine collection above his bed. His favorite spoon with the plastic hamster handle. The park they used to go to and Chan’s friends complaining about him always bringing his brother along until Chan found new ones who didn’t care. Homemade kongnamulguk for dinner and peach gummies from the corner store for dessert. Shared hobbies. Shared graduation gowns. Shared alma maters. Jisung’s jacket in Chan’s backseat. Jisung’s fingers twined in Chan’s shirt.

Or: Chan gives in to his step-brother—and himself.

[dallasareaopinion]

It is all phenomenal

in your head.

Writing is fun, however it is also work. I can think of a thousand stories and they run rampant inside my brain for hours, days, weeks, years, but putting them on paper can be difficult.

And I am not talking about the physical act of forcing myself to sit at a keyboard, which can be difficult too. I am talking about to make that phenomenal story work you have to make it realistic, believable, coherent (that helps), and a whole of host either points to be made, or keeps the readers attention, to keeping facts in line and drama that must be cohesive to create a story from start to finish.

I spent half a day doing research for a story I am writing. And then you start questioning how much research must be done. What is enough that a reader feels the information in the story is believable and based in some reality without boring them with details that have nothing to do with the story. And all this research only moved about half a chapter along.

And then no matter what, somehow somewhere someway you will still miss something. This is the intangible miss. What works for one reader, may only partially work or not work at all for another reader. What is too much, not just research, but story, description, dialogue or fiction? Yes, can you have too much fiction in a story. I think so. There are all these lines to be drawn, characters to be developed, stories within the story to get to where you, the author, thinks it should be. Yet again, not every reader is going to be on the same page as you.

With some physical work you know when you are successful. You can clean a window and look through it with a light behind it to see if you missed a spot or there is a streak or smudge. Everyone can see the window and pretty much come to the same conclusion it is clean or needs more work. With a story, that doesn’t happen.  Someone will be glad to tell you there is a smudge or mud spot or the edges are smeared in a story, but everyone sees it differently. And you do need to have someone or a few people point those out, but they didn’t write the story and their interpretation may not be how you want the story to be read.

In some ways writers and authors who stick to a genre can find an audience and that audience can understand a clearer picture of what you are trying to say. And yes they may have some research to do, but with sticking to this genre they know exactly how much glass cleaner to put on to clear up the spots. And over time their research is already built in to what they are doing. For example Tom Clancy became very adept in writing stories like “Hunt for Red October”. He had very specific research he could do to flesh out his story and make it very realistic for his readers. And then there is authors like Stephen King, hard to say what kind of research he did to write “The Shining”. Did he visit old hotels, study mental illness or what? I am suspecting he did some of both and much more to make “The Shining” so impactful. And he can fall back on years of writing in one genre every time he writes a new book. Somewhere early on though he had to break through that invisible barrier to find the ability to make sure his window was clean for his readers.

And professional writers have the same problem in a different way. Their audience knows the topic. They have to research in great detail and cannot have gaps or glaring errors. And then there are people who have to write for one person. Much of what attorneys write is for a judge. And each judge has their own personality. Do successful attorneys study not only the law, but also the judge?

I enjoy writing. Even after spending half a day researching it was a joy to flesh out the story with the details I included. Once I got started it was two hours later before I knew it. Yet for the life of me I have no idea what people are going to see. Or most likely people may never even see the window. And if they do, can they see my complete picture? Or what points or thoughts are covered up by inconsistencies or incorrect research or is just boring. I cannot see that because in my mind it is all phenomenal.

And switching gears I am struggling with the upcoming debate on Thursday. I do not like expressing negative thoughts or desires for people to fail. Yet I am hoping that my prediction that both Trump and Biden are going to come across as two old farts that cannot keep it together come true so the Republicans and Democrats are forced to do the right thing and give us two new candidates. I still won’t vote for either, but since so many of my fellow countrymen and women are stuck in the duopoly’s rut I can at least hope for better choices for the people that will vote Democrat or Republican until they come to their senses and realize we need new major parties. Who knows maybe the MAGA/GOP fissure may end up creating a center right party that comes up with some practical public policy, especially in regards to our economic situation. We need to cut spending, shake up the tax code, build in better protections for consumers since corporations are overly focused on stock price, not their actual business and customer. And as you know I could go on. Anyway I bet most of you aren’t going to watch anyway, but even though I hate being negative I hope this event is one big eye opening failure.

Cheers

[eddysocs]

The Real Housewives Of Beverly Hills OC Masterlist

Name: Camden Barnes

Face Claim: Mickie James

Love Interest: Adrienne Maloof

Fic Title: That Fighting Spirit

Plot Summary: After retiring from the boxing ring as a fan favorite, Camden Barnes decided to pursue her other dreams. The first one she has in mind is to open her own recording studio. When that turns into owning her own record label, she’s launched into some of the inner circles of Beverly Hills. While at a party, she’s approached by Adrienne Maloof, a feisty little woman that Camden finds herself drawn to immediately. And while she’s mostly put her athletic career behind her, she can’t quite say no to a private training session with Adrienne and some of her friends. It’s only when Adrienne is able to knock her flat on her ass that the sparks start to fly between them.

Name: Janice Bailey

Face Claim: Sue Perkins

Love Interest: Camille Grammer

Fic Title: Mrs. Write

Plot Summary: After her divorce from Kelsey, Camille was in no hurry to date again. And Janice, having just gone through a similarly messy break up with her a-list actor girlfriend was feeling much the same. Yet when the two meet at charity gala filled with tv writers and personalities, they just click. A friendship soon blossoms between them and Janice starts feeling the all too familiar butterflies that she just knows she’ll have to quash. Yet when Camille makes the first move, Janice will have to reconsider everything she thought she knew and decide if she wanted to take another chance at a potentially devastating heartbreak.

Name: Jocelyn Page

Face Claim: Sydney Sweeney

Love Interest: Kyle Richards

Fic Title: Page Six

Plot Summary: Meet the charming wildcard of Beverly Hills, Jocelyn Page, a breath of fresh air in a world of calculated elegance. Her lavender marriage to a high profile fashion designer isn’t without its flaws, but largely she’s kept out of the glaring spotlight of gossip columns, at least until she starts palling around with the "Real Housewives", landing herself a spot on their show and getting herself entangled with the beautiful, and maybe not so unattainable, Kyle Richards.

Name: Joey Maynard

Face Claim: Kate Siegel

Love Interest: Sutton Stracke

Fic Title: Southern Charm

Plot Summary: Joey is first brought into the world of the Beverly Hills Housewives when she’s recruited to do a gallery showing and art auction for charity. It’s not something she normally gets involved in, but she’s happy to support a good cause. Her anxieties about the evening fade away at the arrival of Sutton Stracke, with whom she’s immediately smitten. When Sutton comes to talk to her about one of the pieces, Joey is tripping over her words and trying to make a good impression. Sutton ends up buying the painting and Joey volunteers herself to help her bring it home and so begins a beautiful friendship, though can Joey ever convince Sutton to let it be more?

Name: Kira Kay

Face Claim: Sierra McCormick

Love Interest: Kim Richards

Fic Title: Support System

Plot Summary: Kira's mother is throwing a block party in celebration of Kira being home from college for the summer and Kira is tasked with hand delivering the invitations to the whole street. It’s a task she’d rather not be doing, but when she meets the recently moved in and newly sober Kim Richards she thinks maybe it wasn’t all so terrible. And while her mother is less than pleased when she spends the whole party chatting up Kim and paying zero attention to her other guests, Kira couldn’t care less. She’s enamored with the fun and zany Kim and wants to make the effort to be a part of her life no matter how unconventional of a relationship they might have.

Name: Rayna Max

Face Claim: Renee Rapp

Love Interest: Erika Jayne

Fic Title: Pat The Puss

Plot Summary: Rayna Max is a pop artist making waves in the music scene with her unique sound and captivating stage presence. When she gets the opportunity to collaborate with Erika Jayne on a new single called Heat, the two quickly hit it off. Their working relationship turns into a friendship that has the other Housewives curious, and some even envious as they see the two heat up the stage, and the music video set. As Rayna grows closer to Erika, she learns that in this world, loyalty and alliances are just as crucial as talent.

Name: Ruby Carlton

Face Claim: Hayden Panettiere

Love Interest: Lisa Vanderpump

Fic Title: Pretty In Pink

Plot Summary: After Cedric moves out, Lisa starts feeling like her house is a little empty. Of course there’s Ken and her dogs, but Cedric gave the place a youthful energy, one that Lisa found herself missing, despite them having parted on such bad terms. And it’s not that she was ready to go looking for someone to fill the void that he’d left behind, but when Ruby Carlton applied to work at Villa Blanca it’s like fate had offered her up to Lisa on a silver platter. Though she didn’t want to make another impulsive mistake, it wasn’t long before Lisa welcomed her into her life, both helping her to pursue her dreams as well as meddling in her personal affairs. But Ruby didn’t mind Lisa's intrusions. Lisa could probably do anything to her and she’d take it with a smile.

Name: Tiffany Forrester

Face Claim: Gracie Dzienny

Love Interests: Lisa Rinna, Eileen Davidson

Fic Title: Share The Spotlight

Plot Summary: A young actress just getting her start in the soap opera world, Tiffany Forrester is thrilled to be taken under the wing of Eileen Davidson, soap veteran and icon. And when she takes Tiffany to lunch with Lisa Rinna, the three of them really start to hit it off. Soon Tiffany is joining up with them all the time for all sorts of things and while Tiffany starts to catch feelings for them both, she doesn’t know what she should do about it, and a drinking game with the whole group certainly doesn’t make things any easier.