#and now I want to wriiiiiiite

[softer-sunny]

Chaotic Rex tickle headcanons bc I’ve got him on the brain

Rex is a moderately ticklish person. It isn’t to a ridiculous level but he’s definitely got sweet spots and he sees tickling as like. A fun game.

One of those sweet spots is his sides. And he’s totally week to anyone squeezing them.

IDK WHY BUT HE GIVES ME BEING WEAK TO ANY SORT OF SQUEEZING OR KNEADING TO HIS STOMACH I CANT EXPLAIN IT’S JUST THE VIBES

The lower tummy area gets him to snort I don’t make the rules (I do)

His laugh is just so… warm and comforting and every single time Cody hears it he just has to smile so big because that sound is so good.

Rex goads Cody into tickling him by being a little shit. Because Cody needs to play around more and Rex loooooooves being a menace to his brother.

Cody sits on his back sometimes and absolutely goes to town and just smiles and teases while Rex CACKLES he’s evil I love him

When the twins come into the picture they tend to gang up on him but he also sometimes maybe let’s them win because they tend to get really excited about it when they do and he’s a sucker for that

Rex wrestles with the twins a lot and almost always ‘cheats’ by tickling them to get the upper hand. (Even though he doesn’t have to cheat to take them down)

He’s a menace and does the whole “what’re you laughing for? What’s so funny???” Routine when he’s tickling someone. Here I repeat: menace.

sneAKS HIS HANDS UNDER BLANKETS TO TICKLE HIS BROTHERS BC IT MAKES THEM EXTRA SQUIRMY HE IS EVIL

Rex has the absolute genius idea one day to get the dominos to help him take down Cody and it is probably the most adorable thing he’s ever witnessed

It turns into a free for all because Cody is simply too good at tickle fights and it gets them all to turn against each other it’s so unfair

Wait okay I have this really wholesome image of Echo having a tough day and just crawling into Rex’s bed for some comfort while Rex reads or does paperwork. And once he realizes Echo is upset and doesn’t really want to talk about it he just gently traces on tickle spots to get him to smile. After Echo has giggled himself out Rex throws an arm around him and cuddles him and my heart literally can’t handle that it’s too much. I need to WRITE THAT OMFG

Fives keeps trying to sneak attack Rex but… cmon. The captain always knows he’s being followed it never works and consistently ends up with Fives being the one laughing his head off

Rex is super playful about it and he thinks it’s fun to shed the serious professional captain image every now and again and that is the hill I will die on

[fragilecapric0rnn]

tagged by my lovely friends @gothbat99 & @fastcardotmp3 ❤️

rules: post five of your favorite fics that you've written and talk about why you love them. tag some mutuals so they can do the same and we can all spread some positivity about our writing ❤️

in order from most to least hehe

Anyway, It's About Old Friends My (unfinished) magnum opus. My heart and soul on full display. I love this fic with all my heart. I love this Steve and Eddie with all my heart. Writing an AU based on my favorite movie of all time but staying true to who these characters are has been so much fun and honeslty has taught me a lot about how I write long winded stories. Writing their struggles, especially writing Steve in this fic has been such a joy and a pleasure. It's on a brief pause as I wait for the WHMS bug to bite me again (its coming on fall and winter so its bound to bite me any day now). But I love this story and will always hold it close to my heart.

Catch Me (I'm Falling) This fic. Lol. This FIC. I know, I know, she was offline for a bit BUT she's back baby! In a different sense, this fic is also my heart and soul on full display. A lover of romantic comedy, wanting to write something that brings light and joy and laughter, much like the romcoms I love have brought me <3 Also, one of my favorite characterizations of Steve that I have ever written tbh! Bitchy Steve you will be my muse in any and everything that I wriiiiiiite!!!! Writing this fic also taught me that burnout is real and that I need to re-fucking-lax, no matter how much a story excites me lol.

Faces Freedom With A Little Fear JJ Harrington, our communal wife 💗 No but fr, Steve Harrington has always given me younger brother of an older sister vibes. Idk if its because I'm an older sister of a younger brother or what, but it works! I also loved creating an OC that was pretty three dimensional on her own, but also added so much to the characterization of Steve! It was also a bit healing to write this, as someone who is in a similar situation as JJ. Wanting to live my life away but having someone at home who you just can't help but worry about. I can only hope there's no monsters or alternate dimensions involved in my case. I do want to continue this verse, I want to write more of JJ, she is too special to be a one-time gal!

you can take the heart from your chest to use as a compass when you are lost Missed connections fic 💗 I have a lotta feelings about this one. I was still figuring out my voice, my first long fic. Re-reading this is like looking at pictures of you and your friends from middle school. It's cute and sweet but at times it makes ya full body cringe. I would love to rework this, rewrite certain scenes, add entire scenes. But, I also love the idea of my writing acting as a time capsule, a snapshot in time of what my writing looked like at a particular time. And at the heart of it, it's a story about subjects that are super close to my heart. Found family, holiday angst, steddie getting together, and Thanksgiving belonging to friends who feel like family <3<3

words caught in my throat (who talks first?) LOVED writing this one and also love rereading this one! A lot of the story is told from Steve's head as he navigates a very awkward and difficult situation of being locked in a house with his ex. Of which I was able to work on a lot of prose, and as someone who's strength is in dialogue writing, was a real treat! This fic also taught me that I am not just a one trick pony in that I can write difficult subjects and its not all just goofs and romcoms and meet-cutes. The stepping stones toward writign a fic like Old Friends. Snowed in fic!!! I love youuuuuuuu!

Tagging some fellow writers<3<3

@cheatghost @figthefruitfaeth @kkpwnall @hellsfireclub @gideoncharov @judasofsuburbia @thefreakandthehair @sharpbutsoft @legitcookie

[todoslosdiasdemivida]

Alright. I may be here now. We shall see. I hope so because I want to wriiiiiiite!

Anyway, if you have any interest in any of these, let me know!

[snarkymonkeyprime]

I'M SO CLOSE TO BEING DONE WITH MY CROSS-STITCH PROJECT IT'S MAKING ME RAGE.

[intheseautumnhands]

I want to wriiiiiiite, but every time I try to start my brain just starts beating me up telling me it’s going to be terrible and why bother and nobody’ going to want it. ...Then I start beating myself up more because why does that matter, do it for yourself.

It’s a vicious circle. :|

[thessalian]

The Hermit and/or The Hanged Man for Alisaie :D

(In fic form, because I want to wriiiiiiite.)

Five Times Alisaie Did A Soul-Search (And One Time She Didn’t)

Age 9

“Not your usual order today, Mabel?”

The young woman with the untidy brown hair sighed. “No. I’m copper-counting at the moment. We took a ... bit of a pay cut this month.”

Alisaie Fearfield, not usually inclined to curiosity, frowned as she studied the woman named Mabel. She recognised this woman; the last house her parents had sent her into, she’d seen this woman. This Mabel woman had come in earlier than anyone had expected - something about wanting to get a head start on the breakfast for Sir and Missus - and had nearly caught Alisaie sneaking out a window with a gaudy piece of jewellery and a scroll tube.

She’d never thought about what happened when people noticed things missing from their big rich houses. Her parents always said they could afford the loss. Now she looked at the whole thing from the perspective of the rich people. People who could afford servants ... but maybe didn’t pay them very well. They couldn’t prove that one of their servants had stolen their fancy stuff, these rich people, but they’d still want to discourage it. Punishing all the staff unless one owned up to the theft was probably a way to do it. At least it might get people to snitch if it’d save their pay packet.

After a moment’s long hard thought, she stepped forward, clearing her throat to cover the sound of her somewhat meagre coin purse hitting the ground behind Mabel’s feet. “Excuse me, ma’am,” she said, hoping Mabel really hadn’t seen her exiting the rich house but being willing to take punishment if it meant doing the right thing. “I think you dropped something.”

Mabel turned around, stepping back just enough to catch sight of the coin purse on the ground, and blinked in confusion, She looked up, either to just identify the speaker or to thank her - but Alisaie didn’t stick around long enough to find out. She ducked between a couple of stalls slick as anything, only hanging around long enough to hear Mabel say, “Well. I ... guess I can get my usual order after all." To hear the relief in her voice, and in the voice of the butcher as he said, “Right you are, Mabel” and tucked enough meat to feed a family, albeit carefully, into her bag.

Alisaie didn’t really care about the people she’d stolen from - people so rich that their shiny things would just sit and gather dust if not for people like Mabel earning a base wage to clean them. But she did care about the Mabels - all the Mabels who might have taken a pay cut or lost a job because something went missing on their shift.

She didn’t want to do it anymore. She wouldn’t do it anymore. She wouldn’t take the food from the mouths of Mabels and their families just to put food in her own. She’d do odd jobs and errands and feed herself ... and avoid her parents as much as she could. They wouldn’t understand. They’d get angry. They’d probably hit.

She didn’t care. No more.

Age 13

This wasn’t her fight.

Alisaie looked at the herbs on the counter in her parents’ house - the house she hadn’t thought of as ‘home’ for awhile - and searched desperately for a solution. This wasn’t her fight. Her parents were still bigger than her, and armed, and ruthless. This was a job for guards, for people who got listened to when they said, ‘hey, don’t drink that, I know it looks like a healing potion but it’s poison’. Not for teenage girls who looked like they lived in a gutter because they usually did live in a gutter.

But by the time she found guards, it would be too late for Edrik’s father Brawdr, and his whole band of adventurers. It would get her hurt, no question, standing up to her parents. It might get her killed. But a bright, radiant part of her soul wouldn’t stand for this nasty, dirty trick of her parents’. She couldn’t let Edrik face that kind of grief - she might not miss her parents if they were to suddenly die, but Edrik’s father was a good man who’d raised a good son and didn’t deserve this. She couldn’t know it was happening and not even try to stop it.

No more.

Maybe it wasn’t her fight ... but she could take it as her own if she wanted to.

Age 13, not long later

Falling seemed to take forever. It left way too much time to think, somehow. That was worse than the imminent death; the chance to think about how hard she’d failed.

It couldn’t end like this, with her pitiful attempt at a threat display. Not when she’d had the salvation of her friend’s father literally at her fingertips. He hadn’t been breathing ... and then there had been light, just a tiny spark of light ... and then Brawdr had been breathing again, and conscious ... but too weak to fight. Now he got to see how he would die, and was that better? That he got to die to a blade instead of a poison? Or would it be worse, knowing he was still too weak to defend himself--

You can heal, said a quiet voice inside her soul, one she’d only ever heard as a dim sound, once or twice, when searching her soul for the right thing to do. What else can you do?

All of this happened in a bare second, but it was still enough time to search her soul for the answer to a more practical question than she’d ever asked her soul before:

Can I fly?

There were no words when her soul replied, in the simplest and most visceral way possible, that she could. There was simply triumph, and joy, and determination to not let the Fearfields do more harm.

The Fearfields, not her parents. Any parent who tried to kill their child was no parent, and she was no Fearfield. She was renamed Featherfall through trial and betrayal, and to that name she gave the same answer as she’d given every other shitty thing the Fearfields had done, or made her do:

No more.

Age 18

The People’s ceremonies and celebrations for coming of age were surprisingly quiet for such a physically boisterous people. Feasting happened, of course, and a lot of drinking ... but before any of that, there was a day of fasting and a visit to the Urdzheja - Fate’s Ladies, the tribal elders who read What Is, What Was, and What Might Be on the runes and the wind. Some of the less religiously inclined of the People thought the Urdzheja were simply very good at reading people, no miracles or god-granted powers required. Alisaie thought that knowing who people were that well was miracle enough.

Upon entering the Urdzhejas’ aur’denen (a structure build of ice and snow, kept for the long winter hiatus months and for those for whom roaming the ice plains was unwise) she made the standard gesture of greeting, honed to perfection after five long years of practice, and knelt on the thick fur rug, waiting. The three Urdzhejas looked back at her, long enough for it to be uncomfortable. This was one of the few places where everything was handled verbally. The posture of Fate’s Ladies gave away nothing.

Then, the youngest of the three - only in her mid-sixties, and comparatively brash - broke the silence. “We - all of us, and you - have all tried to make Eun-Bac, and the People, your home. But nothing is enough to make that be a truth. You survive here. You live here. You have learned much here. But you have not truly thrived.”

Alisaie stared, not sure whether to feel hurt or not, not sure whether to protest. The People had taken her in when no one else would, had finished raising her, and taught her, and accepted her--

...not quite for who and what she was. There were things she’d never told them. Where she came from, she could have got away with it, but now she could see it through the eyes of the People; in a culture that spoke more with posture and gesture than with words, she might as well have been screaming ‘I don’t fully trust you’ at the top of her lungs. So, after that moment of self-reflection, she nodded a regretful, apologetic acknowledgement of the point.

The eldest of the Urdzhejas nodded back, pride in Alisaie’s unflinching acceptance on the matter evident. “You have trained with us to be of the snows, but only in part,” she said. “Your soul cries out for the sun. Seek the sun.”

“You may fall,” said the middle Urdzheja. “But you have fallen to red and black before, and rose again with light and love to bear you up. It may become a theme.”

The eldest nodded. “So may wastes,” she said. “Such places need a warrior.”

“They need common sense more,” said the youngest, smiling a secretive smile.

Alisaie could search her own soul from here until the end of the world, but those the People gave to Istas were inscrutible.

Age 21

She leaned on the rail of the airship, feeling torn, feeling ill-at-ease. She’d accepted every major change, every flight from a bad situation, every retreat with grace and aplomb - even this one, at least outwardly. But this wasn’t right. Leaving felt wrong. Going back to the People felt even more wrong. The Urdzheja were right; she was more of sun than snow. She’d had more chances to prove it with the yahoos who called themselves the Cupcake Coterie than she’d ever had in her life. Her wings had been something to marvel at and then just take as part of the whole. As Hazel, their cleric, had more or less constantly repeated, they walked in the sun. The Urdzheja had told her to seek the sun, and she’d found it, and now she was walking away?

They’d even known the name for what she was. Remi had. Leaving Remi felt the most wrong of all the wrong. She hadn’t thought of herself as a particularly monogamous or romantic sort of person. But while Remi Crestwind’s drive and spirit were wonderful, and her looks and skill in the bedroom were bonuses, it was the fact that she’d had a name for her race, and spoken it with a matter-of-fact approval, that made it hard for Alisaie to walk away.

But Tiamat would send problems her way, and obliging those problems to find her first would give the others some time. it was the right thing ... somehow. While also being the wrong thing. All she could tell from digging through the depths of a soul infused with a spark of the celestial was that sometimes you had to go through darkness to get to light. But how she was going to get to light from this, she had no idea--

A roar tugged her head up, and she saw a large flash of angry-looking red - on the horizon and coming fast. Tiamat’s ‘problems’ were coming up sooner than expected ... and they were about to land on an airship full of innocent people.

No more!

Alisaie’s bag was still down in her little corner of the passenger berth, but she was more likely to go out without clothes than without her axe (much more likely, given her last occupation). She paused long enough to shout, “Crank the engines! Push them hard as they’ll go! Fly hard, fly fast, get out of range! If you need to sacrifice cargo for speed, do it!” Then, with a deep breath, she extended her wings and met the huge red dragon head-on.

It was the last thing she really knew, beyond the blur of battle, for quite some time.

---

You have fallen to red and black before, and rose again with light and love to bear you up.

---

When she saw the truth in that, opening her eyes to find herself among friends she thought she’d lost and a dragon she’d sacrificed to gravity, she didn’t bother to ask many questions - of them or of her own soul - about whether this was the right thing. Some things were too obvious to question.

[corpsetsang]

Hi. I have had A WEEKEND but am home now and ready to be here for a bit. If anyone wants to go back and forth on a short thing, let me know because I am ready to wriiiiiiite especially if it’s some weird shit.