#and then any fanfic comments and reactions would be something that he finds a way to share with 432

[queenburd]

and if I was capable of it (and not 28k deep in an unfinished fic already) I would 100 percent write a fic that culminates IN this point that love IS the point. but uuuuuh I dont have that in me rn so all you get is my rambling haha

[pink-sparkly-witch]

All She Wants, Part Three (Finale)

Summary: Dean’s experience with the wrong hormone suppressants makes him feral. The only person who can get him out of it and save his life is Y/N, the omega he had been mating with for years until she left six months ago. Without a claim and with no prospects of Dean ever giving her one, Y/N finally had enough and broke the bond they’d forged in their years together and left him, but with Sam now begging her to go to Dean and save his life, will she go, or will she leave the green-eyed alpha to his biological fate?

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Female Omega!Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Bingo Square: Alpha Gone Feral for @j3bingo

Warnings: tw: dub con claiming, omegaverse, A/B/O, A/B/O dynamics, language, ruts, feral alpha, agitation, aggression, smut, rough sex, biting, oral sex (f rec), fingering, p in v sex, hair pulling, heavy angst, aftercare, fluff

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Here we go… the super angsty finale of this alpha!Dean mini-series! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

You can catch up here!

My Masterlist     AO3     Ko-Fi

Y/N’S POV

The knocking on your motel room door startles you, and you grab your gun from the waistband of your jeans and cautiously step towards the door. Flicking the safety off, you place the barrel onto the wood and cautiously open it just enough to see who’s on the other side.

“Sam? Cas?” you gasp, throwing the door open wider.

“You should be more careful, Y/N. We could be demons or shapeshifters or any other kind of monster,” Cas speaks first, and you blink at him, amused, as always, by his directness.

“Nice to see you, too, Cas,” you smirk, opening the door wider to let them in.

“Hey, Y/N,” Sam says as he leans down to hug you. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Sam,” you smile as you close the door behind them. You know whatever this unplanned visit is, it’s about Dean.

“You seem healthy,” Cas states, tilting his head to the side and frowning as if searching for something. “And yet—”

“So!” Sam interrupts quickly. “How have you been?”

“Fine…” You narrow your eyes at the alpha’s strange behaviour. “This isn’t a social visit, is it?” You finally ask.

“No,” Cas confirms, and you don’t know if you’re glad he’ll get straight to the point or if you’d prefer Sam to dance around it all a little more.

“Dean.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement. You knew from the way your stomach dropped the second you saw them that this wasn’t a good news visit.

“I asked Cas to find you,” Sam said softly.

You and the younger Winchester have stayed in touch since you left the bunker, but you agreed you wouldn’t tell him where you were, and he wouldn’t ask. It was one thing for Dean to find out they were talking, but it’d be another entirely if he knew Sam knew where she was.

“What happened?” Your mind goes to the worst possible scenario, and you try to fight the rising nausea. 

“Dean has been taking store bought suppressants,” Sam says, and you feel your blood boil.

“What? Why? Why would he be so goddamn stupid? Did he know what they’d do to an alpha in his situation?” you fume at the men as you pace the threadbare carpet.

“No. He knew they weren’t suitable long-term, but the side effects he experienced weren’t typical,” Cas answered.

“I thought it was a mix of the drugs and rejection sickness and that it’d ease over time,” Sam says calmly and quietly. “But I think he suffered some kind of chemical reaction to them, and by the time I found out what he was taking, it was too late.”

“Too late? Sam, what are you saying?” You’re terrified of what he’s so anxious to tell you.

“He’s feral, Y/N,” Cas finally puts you out of your misery, and while it’s bad news, it’s not the worst thing they could’ve told you. “But I don’t understand why you are not.”

It’s not an accusation. The angel is just curious about alphas who mate with but don’t claim omegas. To his literal knowledge, an alpha finds an omega, they mate, there’s a claim, an unbreakable bond, and pups. Your situation with Dean had always intrigued the celestial being.

“Because I’ve been taking the suppressants I should. Prescribed by a doctor. Why didn’t he do the same thing?” Contrary to the angel’s question, yours is accusatory as you look between Sam and Cas.

“You know what he’s like, Y/N. He doesn’t talk about these things, and I didn’t know until a few days ago. He’s been overcome with guilt for how he treated you, and I think…” Sam trails off, noticing from the look on your face that you know what he was alluding to.

“You think this is some kind of self-sacrifice?” you ask in disbelief. Dean is well known for his self-depreciation, and it’s something you’ve seen and heard from him many times, but this? “No… No, I don’t believe that. Why would he put himself through that just to go feral anyway? Why not just lie down and let it happen on its own?”

“You really want me to answer that?” Sam asks, and you frown.

“Sam, you can’t be serious! Dean is not doing this to punish himself for hurting me. There’s no way,” you argue, but you know the green-eyed alpha better than he knows himself. It does sound like something he’d do to himself—some kind of fucked up repentance for his behaviour.

Sam only shrugs, and you sigh, knowing you’ve both come to the same conclusion.

“So, what? You want me to go to him? Get him out of this mess?”

“You’re his mate. Only you can get him back from this,” Cas says, and you laugh bitterly, taking the angel by surprise.

“I bet Dean loves that!” you scoff. “Anytime I told him that like it or not, we’re mates, he shot me down in flames!”

“I know he hurt you, and I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, and Dean knows it too. He told me not to look for you. That he doesn’t deserve your help, but I’m asking you to think about it. Please?”

“I don’t know, Sam. If I go to him, you know what it means, right?” you check, not convinced either of them fully understand what they’re asking of you.

“I do,” Sam responds.

“And you know it’s pretty much a done deal that he’ll claim me in his feral haze? And then when he comes to, he’ll regret it and reject me? You’re asking me to sacrifice myself for him? Because I won’t survive his rejection, you both know that, right?”

“He’d never reject you, Y/N,” Cas confirms what you know in your heart, but it brings no comfort.

“Oh, because a forced claim and being stuck with someone who doesn’t want me is a better fate than dying from rejection!”

“He does want you. He loves you. He just can’t—” Sam starts, but you interrupt with a scoff.

“Give me what I want. I know, Sam. He’s told me that so many times it’s imprinted in my memory!” You huff, quickening your pacing.

You want to say no. You want to protect yourself and your fragile heart that’s still trying to heal, but you know if you were the feral one, Dean would already be here, doing everything he could to get you through it—even claiming you just so you’d survive.

He doesn’t deserve to die, and yet, you don’t deserve to be someone’s mistake, but you can’t see any other option. If you don’t go to him, he’ll die. If you go to him, and he doesn’t reject you, you’ll be miserable, but you’ll both be alive.

“Fuck!” you yell in frustration. Once again, you feel that self-loathing that only Dean seems able to bring out of you. You hate yourself because you still love him even after everything, and you’d sacrifice everything to save him.

“Where is he?”

Walking up to the secluded cabin, you shiver at the deathly silence surrounding you. As if being this deep in the woods isn’t ominous enough, there isn’t even a bird chirping or an insect buzzing in the heavy air.

You’re so deep in the woods that the midday sun can’t even breach the trees. You drove as close as you could, but you’d had to abandon your car about a mile back. This is probably the safest house Bobby had ever found, and you have to admire Dean for choosing this one to hide out in.

Sam had given you the key. At first, you’d been shocked he’d lock Dean in with no way to escape, but you knew feral alphas aren’t to be taken lightly. There had been cases of ferals going on murder sprees, and the green-eyed hunter would never risk putting people in any kind of danger.

“Dean?” you call out as you knock on the door. “It’s Y/N. Sam found me. He said you need my help.” With no response, you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for being too late, and put the key in the lock.

Pushing the door open slowly, the sour smell of Dean’s feral rut slams into you, and immediately your body begins to respond to the distressed alpha. Your skin tingles, heat floods your veins, and slick pools at your entrance. You’ve never been more grateful for a heat to come on as you are now. If it didn’t, Dean could seriously hurt or even kill you trying to get himself out of this.

“Omega,” Dean growls from the doorway of the bedroom and with one look at his bloodshot eyes, you know there’s little to no humanity in him right now.

“Alpha,” you whimper and bow your head in submission.

“Mine,” he groans in front of you, and you jump, having not heard him move across the room.

Dean buries his head in your neck and inhales your scent, gasping as if he’d been suffocating, and your scent is his oxygen.

“My ‘mega,” Dean snarls and slams you against the wooden door. You whimper at the pain and remind yourself not to fight. If you fight, things could get ugly.

Pawing at your jeans, he tries to undo them, but in his desperation to get at you, he can’t grasp the little brass button and punches the wall next to your head in frustration.

“Hey,” you purr, placing a hand on his cheek and smiling as he leans into your touch, “It’s okay, Alpha. Let me.”

Loosening the button and pulling the zipper down, you kick off your shoes, slide the denim from your legs and step out of them. Moving to your shirt, you begin pulling at the material when Dean slaps your hands away.

“No!” he growls. “Mine.”

Dean isn’t gentle when he claws at your shirt, grabbing the neckline with both hands and ripping the cotton from your body. The groan that rumbles from his belly when your lace-covered breasts are exposed to his gaze has slick soaking through your underwear.

He wastes no time placing his lips on the tops of your breasts, biting and sucking the sensitive skin, marking you in a way he never has before. Dean pulls the cups of your bra down and quickly finds a hard nipple, and you groan from his overzealous assault.

You whine as the alpha pulls away from you, but before you can complain further, Dean lifts you on his shoulder and carries you to the bedroom.

“Strip,” he orders as he places you back on your feet, and you don’t dare disobey or take your time removing your bra and panties. 

“Good girl,” he praises as he takes his clothes off, and you wonder if just being here is making him a little less feral. “Get on the bed, Omega.”

Again, you don’t dare take your time and quickly crawl onto the bed and wait for his next instruction. Dean kneels at the bottom of the bed, pulls you down by your ankles, and pushes your knees down to the mattress.

“Mine,” he growls as the scent of your slick reaches him, and he lowers his head between your legs. He’s not gentle, anything but, and his longer stubble scratches and jabs at your soft, sensitive skin. It’s sore, yet you quickly fall apart on his mouth.

Before you fully come down from your high, Dean’s fingers are inside you, and he’s sucking and biting his way up your body. When this is over, your skin will be an interesting spectrum of colour; you can already see patches of red on your breasts from earlier, and Dean’s not done with them yet as he goes back to sucking and biting your nipples.

As your forced heat takes over, the pain from Dean’s bites and rough hands ease, and all you can feel and hear now is desire and pleasure and growls and snarls, and Dean, mumbling mine over and over again while his teeth nip at your neck.

“Present, Omega,” Dean growls as he pulls back from your body just enough to let you turn around. You crawl further up the bed and lean forward onto your elbows. You unintentionally wiggle your ass as you get comfortable in your new position, making Dean growl deeply and spank your round cheeks.

You feel his hands slide up your thighs and over your ass. His touch soothes and cools your heated skin. When he finally slams into your slick, aching pussy, it’s hard, rough, and deliciously painful.

Dean is fully feral, and there’ll be no stopping him until he comes out of the rut in five or six days. You know it won’t be pretty, and you won’t come out of this unscathed. At least your heat is making you feel like a wanton whore.

As your humanity is overtaken by omega, much like Dean’s is with alpha, your last thought is being grateful for being in a cabin in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere.

It’s been six days, and Dean still pounds into you like there’s no tomorrow. Your heat is starting to wane, but hasn’t subsided so much that you won’t still be pliable under his hands. Still, at least the heat fog is beginning to lift, and you hope it’s a sign that Dean’s rut is finally ending.

It took four knots to get him out of his feral state, but his rut is intense, and he’s insatiable. You suppose the combination of suppressants and being feral will do that to an alpha. 

“‘Mega,” Dean grunts as his hand slides up your spine and grips your neck. “So good for me, baby girl.”

His praise makes you purr, and you feel his hand slide from your neck into your hair and wrap his fist around it, making your body turn to jelly. Dean tugs your hair, and you’re forced to raise to your knees, your back pressed against his chest, and he pulls your head to the side by your hair, exposing your neck to him.

It’s already black and blue from the gnawing he’s been doing there this past week, but this is different. He’s scenting you and licking your mating gland and whining. Dean loves licking and kissing your neck, but not like this. It feels different. There’s a change in the atmosphere, and his thrusts are brutal and stuttered.

You try to move, try and get him away from you, but he snarls and yanks your hair painfully, keeping a hold of it so you can’t move.

“Dean,” you whimper, and he snarls again at the use of his name, and you know he’s not as far out of this rut as you’d hoped. “Alpha, please,” you beg, but it’s useless. He’s too far gone again. His mouth is sucking on your mating gland, and he’s growling and grunting as his knot swells and catches at your entrance.

“Please don’t do it, Alpha. It’s just the rut. You don’t want this… you don’t want me, please!” you cry. But as his knot slips inside, locking you together, your head falls back on his shoulder, and when his teeth break your skin, you scream your release and lose the little self-control you had earlier.

Coming down from your high, you notice that Dean is still latched onto you, and you can feel blood dripping down your neck. The sudden rush of hormones and pheromones from the claim makes you reach another orgasm, and this time, you take the alpha with you. Grunting and growling, Dean’s release coats your walls, and you let the blackness take over.

When you come to, you’re on your side, and Dean is cleaning and soothing the wound on your neck with gentle licks and soft kisses. You’re still locked together, and every twitch of his cock catches your G-spot and fills your womb with even more of his seed.

A brief thought that he could’ve gotten you pregnant crosses your mind, and you hope the fates aren’t so cruel as to have this be when you get your wish of pups; not like this.

The last week finally catches up with you, and the lullaby of Dean’s whines and whimpers, combined with his soft kisses, lull you into a deep sleep.

The sun’s warmth on your face begins to wake you from sleep. Your muscles feel heavy, and Dean’s lips caress your back and shoulders.

“Morning, Omega,” he rasps behind you, sliding a warm hand over your hip, and a pang of dread settles in your stomach. You’re tired, every muscle in your body is screaming at you, and your pussy is in agony from a week of rough pounding and knots courtesy of the alpha pulling you closer to his body. If he’s still not out of this rut, you don’t think you’ll survive another round.

“Don’t worry,” Dean chuckles. “I’m not feral anymore, and the rut has gone.”

You’re confused, wondering how he knew what you were thinking. You don’t think you groaned. In fact, you’re pretty sure you didn’t even move. Your body is too sore to even tense up.

Then you remember Dean claimed you and that he did it while in a feral rut. 

As your whole world comes crashing down around you, you do the one thing you’d rather die than do in front of Dean.

Cry.

DEAN’S POV

Devastation. That’s all he can feel radiating from the omega next to him. When he woke an hour ago, he’d been happier than ever. The second he claimed Y/N, there was a shift, and all felt right in the world.

He thought—naively, he now realises—Y/N would be happy. It’s what she wanted. What she needed, but the sheer anguish from her tells a different story. The worst part of all this is the shame he feels for claiming her without her consent and the knowledge that now, she’s stuck with him whether she wants to be or not.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay,” Dean tries to soothe her and presses his lips to her shoulder. “Y/N, look at me, please?” She remains on her side, facing away from him and crying, and the alpha in him takes over. His omega is in distress, and he needs to fix it. “Omega, look at me!” he growls lowly, and watches as Y/N obeys his order and timidly rolls onto her back.

Dean’s jaw drops, and he’s disgusted with himself as he takes in her abused torso. There are a couple of bites and bruises on her back and shoulders, but it’s nothing compared to what covers her neck, breasts and stomach. There’s so much bruising that barely any skin has been left unblemished. As he scans further down her body, he can see the same damage over the tops of her thighs and between her legs.

“Baby girl, I’m so sorry. I—” Dean can’t finish; he has no words for what he did to her. He immediately gets out of bed and fills the tub with hot water. There’s only so much he can do for her out here in the cabin, but the safe house is stocked with first aid supplies, medication and dry and tinned food. 

When the tub is full, he shuts off the water and walks back into the bedroom, seeing Y/N still lying on her back and seemingly void of all emotion. Whether it’s on purpose to shut him out or she’s in shock, Dean’s not sure.

Walking over, Dean lifts her from the bed and carries her into the bathroom. He lowers her into the hot water and bathes her gently, mumbling words of comfort, hoping she can hear him and that she can find it in her to forgive him.

Y/N’S POV

After tenderly bathing you, Dean left you to soak in the warm water a little longer, telling you there were clothes in the wardrobe and that he’d make something to eat.

“Please eat with me, omega. You need to get your strength up, and we need to talk,” Dean had begged before he left, closing the door but not fully so he could still keep an eye on you.

He was right; you do need to talk. And eat. You feel weak and lightheaded and desperately in need of something to take away the pain that’s pulsing through every inch of your body.

When the water has lost its warmth, you climb out and wrap yourself in a towel, avoiding the mirror in the corner. Dean’s reaction earlier is enough for you to know you’ll burst into tears if you see it for yourself. And you can’t bear to see his claim on your neck when it was given under duress.

Pulling clothes from the wardrobe, you choose the softest and biggest things you can find. You know from the smell that the sweats and t-shirt are Dean’s, but you’ve always gotten comfort from his scent, and you suspect you’ll get even more from it now.

Coming out of the bedroom, you follow the noise towards the main part of the cabin and find Dean spooning pasta into bowls in the kitchen.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asks, stopping what he’s doing to give you his full attention.

“Sore,” you chuckle, pulling out a stool. You hiss and wince, the throbbing—and not the good kind—between your legs getting worse for a few seconds as you sit.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean… I hate that I was so rough. That I’ve hurt you,” Dean says as he pushes a bowl and fork towards you.

“You were feral, Dean. It’s not your fault,” you reply, and you mean it. It’s really not his fault.

“It is, though, sweetheart. If I had taken the right suppressants, I wouldn’t have gone feral, and I wouldn’t have claimed you without your consent.”

“I knew what I was signing up for when I came here. I’m just sorry you’re stuck with me,” you smile sadly. “And if you want to leave, I get it. I know I’m not what you want—”

“Would you stop saying that?” Dean interrupts. “I do want you. I have always wanted you. I’m scared that tying you to me will put you in danger.” The desperation rolls from him in waves, and you know he’s telling you the truth. You can feel it. “I want you, Omega. I want this. I don’t regret claiming you. I regret doing it against your will, and if you want to leave me… reject me… It’s what I deserve, and I’ll let you walk out of here right now, but please stop saying that I don’t want you, Y/N. You’re all I want.”

The chemical bond you now share with Dean is overwhelming. He feels more deeply than he ever lets on, and regret over the non-consensual claim is putting it mildly. He’s distraught over it, and his feelings are so strong that you can almost hear the thoughts in his head telling him he’s stupid and he’s fucked things up before it’s really started between you. You can’t take it. You can’t let him think you don’t want this too.

“You’re all I want too, Alpha. The reason I got so upset when I realised you could feel how I felt is because it was a rut claim, and we’d be stuck together and miserable and resentful, and I didn’t want that for either of us, but I could never reject you, Dean. I love you too much.”

The relief that washes over him makes you smile, and because of your new bond, you know he knows every word is true.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m sorry I couldn’t admit it before, and I’m sorry I didn’t give you what you wanted sooner.” Dean slides off his stool and comes to your side with a tube of cream in his hand. “Now, let me see that claim. It needs something on it, sweetheart.”

You tilt your head to the side and pull the neck of the shirt down, exposing the angry, swollen bite mark. Dean gently covers the wound with the medicated cream, and you hiss at the sting.

“Sorry, baby girl.” Dean winces, feeling your discomfort as clearly as you can. “Now, eat and then bed, Omega.”

“Just to sleep, right?” you ask, scrunching up your face and wriggling in your seat at the thought of him going anywhere near your pussy for at least a week. “No sex?”

“No sex,” Dean laughs. “You need to rest, sweetheart, so just lots of cuddles and closeness and bonding and sleep.”

THE END

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[plasticfangtastic]

American Royalty. Ch. 8

A Homelander X F!Reader/ Dadlander fanfic.

A/N: Should be posting ch. 9 soon, thank you for reading and if you wish to be added to the taglist plz let me know in the comments, prev. chapters in my masterlist pin post and below... should be fixing my pin post soon to make it easier to find.

Tags: Mild gore, angst, slow burn, fluff, oc characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance.

Chapter Eight

Whisky

Being asked to leave by morning had been upsetting, but he was smart enough to know it was too soon... things had to be more formal before introducing this new stage of your lives to your children, admittedly he could tell something was off but as long as it didn’t ruin his plans he would pretend not to care, he loved the sex, and this feeling of fullfiment brewing inside him.

You were just as he had left you, every reaction just as he remembered, his only disappointment was not finding any milk in you, you taunting as he suckled with the facts he had missed out on just how full and amazing they had been when Helena was still feeding, even mentioning you had taken photos– for your boobs did look incredible. 

He parted after bruising your lips with his own, wanting to kiss you more, almost getting lost as he prodded for another round, you would have given in but as the neighbors woke up, you pushed him gently saying goodbye with a peck and the flutter of your eyelashes against his skin.

 But as he stared at your face before leaving, some improper desires clouded his vision, his own fantasies materializing as he headed home.

He left feeling starved, wanting to feast so desperately... wanting to see you again.

You sat on your kitchen bench, holding a bowl of oatmeal feeling sick, it had felt good, god it did– when was the last time you felt that good? And he could go on for hours with that mouth of his… but the weight of your actions had proven bitter on your tongue.

It was the natural course of things after all…

You didn’t need to love him, you just needed him to love you.

You just needed to win him over, no matter how dirty the tricks you had to use.

But as the little wannabe murderer walked into the kitchen, you fantasized of running away, far where nobody could find you… it made you sick, to feel this way... when you loved only her.

“So here’s the deal… I am going to push myself to be the best step-mother candidate he’s ever seen, I am going to get that asshole to be your dad and you are going to become part of the best fucking Superhero tag-team that ever graced this cursed fucking country! I want you better than the TNT twins, The Marvels and Legacy!” You hopped off the bench– Phantasma and Poltergeist will be household names!” You turned to her putting the bowl down– Helena you better get yourself so deeply rooted inside those labs that they will not know how to move a pen or take a shit without your input! So from now on we work together, no more improv.”

Helena was a tad surprised as she formed a stepping stool to take a serving of fresh oatmeal off the stove.

“I am glad we can see eye to eye, mother.” She took cinnamon and honey, building her breakfast as she watched you closely– I don’t think Elmo’s parents are going to like me after yesterday… had enough time to muse on that mistake last night.” she sounded apologetic.

“Leave it to me. Nigel and Sven will come around. Who wouldn’t want their kid to team up with The Homelander’s kid. Fuck I’ll even have your father make them work with us if that’s what it takes!” You spat.

Helena seemed pleased with herself as she heard you, proud that you would use the man if you had to, guess she had learned this from somebody afterall.

You didn’t take the day off, you had no time to waste in the end.

Ashley was busy, too many reports to read and correct, too many people to manage, and her research had finally bare some interesting results, she sunk in her chair giving herself a couple minutes to spare for this news preparing for the worse– Homelander had in fact impregnated at least 2 other women over the years. One had died tragically mid-pregnancy from a genuine freak accident, and the other had an abortion six weeks into her pregnancy, by sheer luck only you and Becca Saunders had won the lotto– that was one less headache on her plate, she care not for Saunders leaving that page behind with the legacy of Stan Edgar, content to just having Ryan around as proof that woman ever existed… You on the other hand, she felt sorry for, he had been honest with Ashley about your time together and reading the reports of his vendetta made her frustrated-- why he simply didn’t kill you back then… perhaps it would’ve been a mercy if he had killed you, wanting to see you suffer first.

So when she saw you walk into her office in the middle of the day, she took out the Advil.

“I thought I had to make an appointment for these things” You said.

“I've been waiting for you– take a seat please.”

Her expression seemed genuinely kind.

“What can I do for you?”

“Homelander… What is he writing? I have no choice but to agree, but I don’t really want to ask him just in case he skirts thru the important details… if he deceives me for no reason”

Ashley had the script draft on her cabinet but she wouldn’t hand it to you.

“Is simple… you and him had a torrid and turbulent on-and-off secret relationship, after Ryan was born he gained primary custody, then you guys got back together because you’re bad for each other and unable to leave one another for too long…you had Helena soon after you broke up– It will be spicy and romantic! lovers that just can’t get enough– a match made in hell!! Oh god it would be so dramatic, people are just gonna eat it up! anyhoo… you found yourself keeping Helena.” She swallowed looking down at her keyboard– There's a lot of little details we are working on for consistency. Already got a pre-production team looking at sets for photoshoots and we already have some cute babies in mind to play Helena and Ryan for some supplemental family videos and pictures.”

“I didn’t know him until after his kid was born… actually.” You did the math in your head there for a second for the first time, Ryan was tall– massive for his age. You assumed he was 12 or 13 at first glance, it stayed that way until you were told otherwise, Helena was on the other hand short, you still clung to a spurt growth down the line so your mind hadn’t noticed just how close they were in age– that motherfucker cheated on me!”

For all the grief he would give you, he hadn’t even hesitated to do the same.

Ashley sank in her chair.

“I assume you two would like to talk to him…” she bit her lips– we really need you, and your daughter… you won’t change your mind, right?” she cringed.

“Whatever…” You might as well have been cursing– I’ll do it but what is in it for me?” You tap your foot eager to run and leave.

“You will be financially compensated and have our very top in-charge of Phantasma… Homelander informed me of your plans. I’m thinking of giving her a team for when she debuts, got a couple talents that I'm sure could make a fantastic team alongside her when they become of age!” She spread her hands in arch to announce her grand vision– ‘Teenage Kix: The new order!’ We retired the name after the second iteration sold so poorly… but I can just imagine an all female team, and I guess one boy… of rebels with a cause! The next generation!” she says gleefully– We have been trying to increase our overseas Supe presence… so this new team would be a great launching pad for Vought!”

You looked at her with mild distress as she got all excited, clearly he had been talking without you around, for god knows how long.

“We got this nine-year old in Japan and this eleven year old Sudanese girl in France… their powers are so incredible, it would be a waste if we leave them as simple local celebs instead of bringing them to the global forum… to have them spearhead the most inclusive and international team Vought ever produced, heck we never even had an all-female team so Helena being captain would be historic!”

She dug through her cabinets to hand you photographs of those two little girls, you just saw girls much like your own, one with spider powers and one that could make vivid illusions according to the short report presented.

“I guess… and Ryan?”

Her excitement died immediately.

“Ryan would debut solo… but–” Ashley realized what you meant, pushing the CEO aside and forcibly bringing back Ashley to the front– We were hoping you and Homelander could take care of that whole family situation… we really don’t want this to go south… but Homelander well–

“He’s impatient and an asshole. I get it… I’ll talk to him.” You said while pushing the photos back at her– you have my full cooperation.”

Ashley said nothing when you left grinding your teeth as you pushed your chair back and headed out the door.

Marching towards 99th, he was in a meeting with The Seven at the sight of you, his serious expression softened demanding the room to be left alone for you, noting that crease on your nose with concern, you walked past them, his step was light as he basically frolicked towards you as you both gained privacy and just as he was at arm's length readying himself for a kiss– you smashed your fist on his face.

You squealed behind gritted teeth, clutching at your hand, beating in pain, your bones aching and your muscles on fire, huffing and cursing spit, blood dripping down onto the ground as you squeezed your injured hand, unsure if bones had broken, looking up your face boiling and shaky, as your hand swelled up.

“Ouch.” He said nonchalantly, tilting his head to try and catch a still glimpse of your hand– "you have no broken bones… but I’ll get you some ice.”

“Fuck you.” you hissed.

“What did I do now?” He took your hand by force, his voice winging as he spoke to you, pressing your fingers open to inspect the torn skin on your knuckles– do you feel better now?”

“You cheated on me!”

“What?” He blinked a couple times unsure as to what you meant– we aren’t… are we?”

“Becca.” You spat her name burning your tongue with the vowels– you fucked her when you were dating me! All the bullshit you did to me over “cheating”, everything you did to me you did while fucking some whore on the side!! You hypocritical piece of shit!! You fucked her and got her pregnant while you were with me!!” You shouted.

Homelander bit his lips, giving it a loud smack as he paced himself around you.

“We weren’t serious when that happened…” He said in a nervous tone.

“In what world do you live in where me calling you my ‘boyfriend’ and you calling me your girlfriend two months in– doesn’t mean you are my boyfriend you fucking bastard!!” Your throat cracked– you… you’re unbelievable… what happened last night… that was a mistake!” You cried in pain, squeezing your wounded hand.

“I was with Maeve when I started dating you, and that wasn’t a secret! Pardon me for thinking we weren’t serious but after Maeve and I broke up four months into ‘US’-- then that's when you and I were serious!!” He tugged at your wounded hand forcing you closer, you twisted and cried as he squeezed the wounds– Becca was a one night stand. Nothing just a couple hours of shit sex… Maeve and I weren’t doing anything… you… you were special… different.” he stuttered.

“What do you mean by that? You said Maeve was just a PR stunt to drive-up sales.” Your hand no longer bothered you, your mouth quivering lightly as a hole built itself inside your core.

“She had her stupid dyke girlfriend on the side… always moping about her as if I couldn’t hear her… It all stopped mattering after you– I know I was a whore. But once I met you. I decided I was going to become an ‘honest’ man for you.” He softened his grip on you, yet keeping you close, unable to leave you alone– I dreamt of us getting married in this lovely old church in Guatemala, of a life together, so I moved on from her– and Becca… just a blip. just a hole. Not you.”

“That’s a pretty way to say I was your mistress.” You could’ve cried, but he didn’t deserve to see you like that anymore, you couldn't dare letting him think he could comfort you, if you did.

“I never saw you in such manner… you were my Y/N… not my mistress… not once were you that to me… You were the one” he said genuinely upset, as you tried to taint those bittersweet memories even further– that’s the truth.”

You pushed him away floating to the nearest chair just to slump, as your legs began to give in, as the pain in your hand competed with the one in your chest.

“Before I run off up the stairs and throw myself down 99 floors– just tell me… is there any other life altering truths you wish to bestow upon me that you had so kindly sheltered me from besides informing me I was a secret homewrecker.”

“You aren’t going to kill yourself, right?” He was panicking inside.

“Piss off… now spit it out.” You looked away thinking solely of the door, and the tempting window.

“You know how I told you Becca was held captive– He blubbered nervously, his chin moving too much, his posture all twitchy– where they kept Ryan.”

“Yeah in a sound stage, what about it?” You replied frankly annoyed.

“Her husband thought I murdered her but she was alive this whole time and thought I did it– so he’s like my mortal enemy, and he even brought my dad to kill me– That terrorist attack was him and my dad. William Butcher and Soldier Boy plus Maeve came after me… but after my father tried to kill Ryan we had a truce… he’s been quiet but I still think he’s planning something… I also let that plane drop, couldn’t have saved them… could’ve saved some… but there’s a really bad video that could ruin me from that day… I also sheltered that headpopper from a while ago, and so many murders…”

“Soldier boy? Father?” You stared at him in confusion.

“My deadbeat dad.”

“WHAT!!!??” You jumped on your feet, the chair sliding rapidly behind you– wait isn’t that Butcher dude the guy who killed Stillwell!?”

“Yes… also Becca’s husband and I guess Ryan’s stepfather.” he said bitterly– "you don’t care about the other things?” He sounded anxious for a moment.

“Why would I!? We already discussed that years ago!” You responded apathetically to the situation, him killing had never been an issue– So you fucked some married floosy like the whore you are and drove a man insane… Helena and Ryan go to a very easily accessible school and you are telling me a serial killer-slash-terrorist you’ve been antagonizing for years is still out-there!! A guy who fucking brought a super-terrorist to US soil!!!”

“He would not dare to put a hand on them.” he scoffed at the idea, finding it beyond absurd.

“You mean he wouldn’t hurt Ryan.” you said, pushing the bile down your throat.

“Nothing nor anybody will hurt Helena… I promise.” His expression was confident– I can have a security detail keep an eye on her when she’s at school after we go public… thanks for agreeing with Ashley. I was thinking you, me and the kids can go have dinner tomorrow and break the news to them.”

You shot him dirty looks.

“Our kids could still be in danger. Why did you send them to school and not homeschooled them!!?” you argued, your voice turnign frayed– Are you insane!! They cannot be outside!”

“No!” He shouted– I will not deny my son of the childhood I never was allowed to have! I AM NOT going to be like Voguebaum!” He snapped shouting back at you.

You had to control your breathing, waiting for him to calm down as those red flares coloured your skin, he struggled with his labored breathing, brushing his temples as he relaxed, and you found somewhere else to shrink into.

“You literally let me come all the way here to break my hand.” You slouched on your new seat, chuckling lightly as you wiped some blood off on your pants.

“Is not broken.” he chuckled back– thought you just spit on me again.”

His mood straightened back to normal forcing a tad limp smile.

“I might after I get a drink… be a good boy and fetch mommy a scotch.” He did so obediently, you admired the city skylines as you waited for your drink, you took a quick sip before throwing it at his crotch– bitch ass.”

“Did that feel good?’ A little light reflected on your glass.

“A little bit” You giggled staring at the ‘piss’ stain on his crotch– don’t think we are fucking ever again” You growled– I’ll do my best Lorelai Gillmore impersonation and you’ll play the charming and faithful husband… I’ll help you raise your kid and you can help raise ours but we will never be together.”

“Only for the camera and around the kids… I guess we can go all 1950’s and have two nice little beds in our bedroom– maybe a blowjob for my birthday and whatever you want for yours.” He sounded as he was joking but you weren’t certain.

“Depends how nice of a wedding you had in mind. Otherwise I hope your stock up on tenga eggs” You threw the glass to the ground, letting it shattered by his boot– I wish you had been John Gillman all along and not Homelander… I wanted to marry that guy… there was this little place near my old house, a nice little park with lots of flowers…”

You had loved that memory, as embarassing tears returned, you now had no idea who was the man you had wanted all those years ago, everything built on lies, that younger you that had been ignorant was the happiest you’ve been, now you wish you could return to just being an overworked single mum, wished you could just look back at those days and still find glee if you tried… you wouldn’t dare complain anymore if you could.

“I’ll buy a million flowers just for you– picture this a carpet of flower petals as you walk down the aisle in a custom Lhullier gown, chiffon all over the ceiling, and chandeliers illuminating the roof of an antique church… Helena playing the piano, the whole world looking at you. So dinner?”

You gave him a sordid smile, more curious as to how he supposedly knew bridal designers– unable to shake up the picture of his bedroom housing a bunch of wedding magazines under his bed instead of porn.

“Let’s go to Junior’s– lovely family restaurant…" and full with people... lots of people, so he will behave-- and please don’t dress so fancy… just wear a baseball shirt and some khakis like a normal person.” You got up, your head heavier than your heart, aching more than your eyes– why didn’t you kill me a minute ago?”

“I am not making the same mistakes I did with Becca or Maeve, and you are angry… you’ll come around.” He pulled at you lifting your chin– so marry me, and make it official-official.”

“Sure. Okay. I’ll marry you. Why the fuck not?– am looking forward to a lifetime of celibacy while you fuck around all accross the tri-state area.” You sniffed a tad– love being a femcel.”

“Oh don’t be like that… my cock is all yours, just put a bag over my head and hate fuck me like a normal person, stupid– You know I can hold my breath real good.” He purred.

You gave his body a quick up-and-down, thinking of last night, he certainly was easy on the eyes, and still made sure to give you a happy ending.

“I almost think you will be happy with that.” you look at him confusedly, was he so desperate to keep you he would whore himself out so cheaply?-- just you and me playing house… is that all you want, really?”

“Well after last night, and after hanging out with Ryan and Helena together… I think I want another one.”

“Another what?”

“Kid.”

“Okay whatever”

His expression puzzled you, that wavy smile and the loud cogs in his brain working overtime as he realized that this was an event actually taking place and not a rehearsed and overplayed fantasy scenario, he had never anticipated your response, he had never expected the earnest response, it had only hit him… that you two had just gotten engaged.

He turned you around pushing you out the door.

Guess this wasn’t a cheap fuck from the local crackhead after all, as you realized you might've just agreed to have another kid... even if the odds weren't stacked in his favour.

“A son preferably” he spoke before disappearing at hyperspeed, leaving your hair glued to your face.

You broke down in laughter and tears, caught in a storm but it was absolutely hilarious nevertheless, people gawked at you as you cried and cackled by the foot of the metal statue.

You took your phone and googled the designer and gosh the work was fucking gorgeous, you made a note to have Helena break into his house to look for those bridal magazines later.

Homelander was choking on nothing, collapsed in his bedroom as his heart was about to explode, he couldn’t believe himself.

“You fucking imbecile! How are you so stupid!!?” The voice yelled at him, he recoiled, making himself small in the foot of his bed– you… you… goddammit tiger… how could you do such a thing” The voice was softer now.

“I didn’t think she would say yes so nonchalantly!” He cried.

“We didn’t even have a mariachi band! No flowers… god that was so ugly and cheap! So fucking embarassing.”

“But we got engaged didn’t we!?”

“Fake-engaged… send her flowers and go get a ring... make it real you cheap fuck!"

He nodded softly at his reflection, finally calming down, thinking he had actually done something right.

“A wife… finally a wife… and she can’t leave me… she can’t…” he whispered– so… we did it.”

“Don’t celebrate, she might change her mind.”

“Thought I was a pessimist,” he joked.

By night when you reached home there would be multiple knocks on your door, men carrying extravagant flower arrangements right after the other, even waking you up the next morning with carnations. Helena seemed pleased with your developments even if it made her nose a little itchy thst the house smelled like spring.

Leaving cards saying “thank you and I love you.”  for you to read.

It was cute, but excessive.

Homelander stared at the 30+ different cake options and the endless pages of the overwhelming restaurant menu, thinking of how many years it would take him to kill the calories, the place smelled sickly sweet and the people around were loud, at this point he might as well gone to fucking Chilli’s. His only consolation was that you did have a chuckle at his outfit, a dodger’s shirt, beige khakis and those sexy ass white New balance…the versace shades did come back, just to ruin the look.

Ryan and Helena exchanged expectant looks, both knowing you both were about to say something life changing and obvious, Homelander could smell his son’s anxiety feeding into his own as he shuffled in his seat.

The brown New York classic indoors were fun and charming, a hundred year old venue was cool, but he wanted this to be over and admire later.

“So… I have something to tell you Ryan.” He was so pale, ordering dessert first before dropping the news, his fork pushing the maraschino cherries around digging to get to the cheesecake he had no desire to eat.

“You guys are dating.” He blurted taking a bite of his layered carrot cheesecake.

“Well…” He swallowed hard, he looked at you for support, a little relieved inside admitedly.

Your hand reached out for this little boy’s arm, mustering a sweet honest smile, taking a long deep breath before speaking.

“Your father and I are getting married” Helena choked on red velvet frosting, trying not to die there, she expected you to get here but not immediately– I know I cannot replace your mother nor will I try, but I hope you can let me help take care of you, and that you can guide me to do so in a way that honors her memory.” 

You choked slightly on your own words.

As the kid looked at you in disbelief, unsure if he should take himself away from you, he looked at his father who hid his face with shame, checking if the people around this booth could overheard this.

“Your father and I dated for a couple years after he met your mother… We were both young and we led very different lives so we separated… but we had Helena…” He finally gave his son reassurance, stroking his back as you spoke camly– we had been seeing each other for a while now… so well here we are… We know it is sudden but after everything you went through in the last two years it just seemed irresponsible to throw myself into your life… but this isn’t better… is just not possible to contain, and is unfair in Helena.”

“She’s my sister…?” He looked at his father desperate for answers, with blotches of pink forming on his neck.

He had to give you points for how easy your lies flowed out of your tender lips, that was not in the script he had planned for tonite, he by now had forgotten all talking points he had planned for not that they mattered anymore, he even had you rehearse some but frankly you didn’t bother memorizing them either. 

“Did you know?” he asked Helena.

“I suspect it… I mean we got the same eye color.” she points with her fork.

“I didn’t know about you, Helena… your mother and I did not end on amicable terms.” He looks at you with believable tragedy, no doubt from years of acting on his belt and actual feelings– it is quite regrettable but we have reconciled, and that’s all that matters now.”

“I made mistakes when it came to my daughter and your father” Your mouth tasted like horseshit so you swallowed hard– I am sorry but I hope we can… get along… We both want you and Helena to grow up as a family. I won’t force you to accept me, and we won’t be moving in together any time soon but please give me a chance.” You said starting to tremble in your seat.

The kid and your kid looked at each other.

“You two are the worst.” Your daughter spoke on his behalf as the kid seemed lost.

“Is okay… I think this could’ve been worse” Ryan said– you seem nice Ms. L/N…”

“You can call me Y/N or a nickname if you like.” You said with your most saccharine voice– Your dad and I were thinking maybe going together for a holiday… bit of a bonding experience.”

Ryan and Helena contemplated the idea, Homelander was panicking as you forced your revisions onto him.

“Camping would be nice.” Ryan said.

“I always wanted to see Yellowstone.” Helena giggled at the idea of seeing geysers, and this man failing miserably to build a tent.

“You’re taking this quite well, honey” You said towards your daughter.

“It is what it is…”

A/N: will say what reader-chan said about Becca does not reflect my personal views on Ms. Saunders storyline, but in this story HL never told her about the events of Ryan's conception obviously nor hinted at anything unsavoury involving the matter... for all purposes Reader knows HL kills people willy nilly but isn't a sex offender.

Taglist-- hope you guys had fun reading @demodemo909 @immyowndefender @fromforeigntofamiliarity @666riddler

@ghqstfqce

[billybabear]

Some BillyBabe fanfic-writing advice needed ⊂⁠(⁠(⁠・⁠▽⁠・⁠)⁠)⁠⊃

So I fell madly in love with the Thai BL 'The Sign'. So much so that it had a horde of plot bunnies run wild in my head.

It gave me so much inspiration that I decided to just start writing again, which makes me unbelievably happy because I definitely forgot how much I enjoyed it.

My story is a RPF about the cast of the show, specifically Babe and Billy, because I just love their relationship (other cast members are featured as well, primarily Heng and Akk).

I don't have a good summary yet, but it's roughly this:

Babe Tanatat never anticipated how much his life would change the moment he stepped onto the set of 'The Sign'. He finds incredible new friends among his co-stars, experiences things he never imagined he would and gets to be part of something truly special.

But every success has it's downsides. From mishaps to accidents to sheer bad luck, everything that can go wrong does.

And if that doesn't make his life complicated enough, Babe finds himself grappling with some unexpected yet very confusing feelings for one particular coworker.

Babe has no idea how he got himself into this mess, nor how he can get out of it.

(Seriously, trying to come up with a half-decent summary is way harder than any writing I've done so far. But I guess coming up with a title will be worse 🫠)

In my story I'm following the episodes, going through them one at a time, picking out scenes that have the potential to go wrong / be funny / etc.. I'm also using the bts-material, as well stuff they said in interviews or offhand comments in their reaction videos (I'm a sucker for details, if you can't tell 😆)

Also, it might have gotten a little out of hand. I've already written around 130k words (not edited or in the correct order, but still), before I decided it might be nice to publish it. And I'm not even halfway through the list of stuff I want for each episode.

And yes, I actually made a list. A (not so) little file for each episode, detailing what scenes and prompts I want there with bullet points for the actual plot. So basically I already have a rough concept/script, but with enough space in between for new ideas.

Since this will be the first time I ever upload a story (on AO3), I'd like to get some opinions on it first.

What do you think about the overall idea? Is it something you might be interested in?

What tense do you prefer while reading - present or past?

What is your preferred chapter length (especially in longer stories)?

What do you think about pictures at the beginning of a chapter? Since I'm following the episodes/bts, there will almost always be a specific scene tied to each chapter. I'm playing with the idea of adding a picture/gif at the start of these. For easy reference where in the storyline we are (or just because they're all cute (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)). Is that something you'd enjoy? Or do you find it more disruptive/annoying?

And I'm always open to new prompts or plot ideas (tied to specific scenes or not).

I hope some of you can share your thoughts, since I'm a complete newbie to publishing stuff. Any other tips and tricks are always greatly appreciated as well 🤗

Have a good one!

(+ I promise my actual writing is better than whatever weird rant this is. Never done a blog post either, and I'm guessing it shows 😂)

[piracytheorist]

Violence ask game for SxF. Hmm... I think I knew your "topic that brings up the most rancid discourse", so I wanna know your opinion about either "22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores" or "25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing" please? 😳

To counter your point I would actually not say what you think I'd say for "topic that brings up the most rancid discourse" because from my experience there is no discourse around that matter. It's just some fans of a certain character firmly stuck on their headcanons and for some reason the rest of the fandom just rolls with that to the point that the latter might come to the former's defence if you dare point out some objective truths about the text.

And look, I get that there are some toxic assholes on the bird app who have nothing better to do than attack those fans, but I say it with the most genuinely kind intentions, if they feel attacked by someone simply not liking their blorbo or ship and pointing out some very well structured character flaws... they're in a very big need of a break from social media. I'm not being sarcastic or patronizing when I say they need to go touch grass. I used to be the kind of person who would see any criticism of my favourite character or ship and take it as a personal attack, and I know now it was NOT a healthy reaction, albeit understandable with the amount of toxicity in my then fandom. And that was a far more toxic fandom, trust me on that. People have the right to dislike anyone's blorbo and to make analyses and talks about how the character is not perfect. Babying a group of fans by protecting them from that idea can only lead to even more toxicity. So uhm idk if that answered your question XD

I've already answered #22 here but another thing I like from canon is how oppressive Ostania's government feels but there's very little focus on that. I understand why people would choose to focus on romance over the political situation, but I don't see the canon story being able to end with a simple "And then the Forger family fled and lived happily in a neutral country". I don't see the story ending without the cold war ending too. Again, I get it, not every fanfic needs to be so meticulous about it, there's no right and wrong way of enjoying the story or creating derivative works. It's just something I don't see that often. It's not a bad thing.

And on "25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing" again, I'm not very active in the fandom, but whenever there's a complaint about how slow the story is I'm this 👌 close from commenting "This story isn't for you." The point of the story is to have a slow burn for the family, to show how they bond through small moments and experiences. The point is to have Twilight slowly shed his spy persona and little by little reveal who he truly is, and then get shocked at how much he's changed since the beginning. You cannot do that fast. You cannot create family bonds after one intense experience. You cannot have Twilight and Yor have a deep, meaningful connection from one moment to the next. You cannot have intense identity reveals without the feeling of betrayal of "I've known that person for so long and everything about them was a lie" that only can happen if they've spent a lot of time and small moments together. And you absolutely cannot have Twilight, who's spent a decade suppressing his feelings and true self to the point that he'd forgotten what his actual purpose to be a spy was, suddenly be all happy and giggly and lovey-dovey within the span of a week (nevermind that in my fic I did that, fics are a different matter). If people want a quick found family story with a romance that develops within a couple weeks they have to find a different story. SxF is not here to do it fast, SxF is here to do it real. It's fine if some don't like it and wanna bail. But they shouldn't demand that the story does something the way they like it. They have to find that sort of story on their own.

And it's not like we don't want all of that development to happen. We want to see the family grow close, to see them come together happily after identity reveals, to see Twilight allow himself to feel and love and be loved... but all in due time. It's a long-term commitment. It's the slow burn that does it :D

[shmowder]

hi I can't reblog your patho x reader smut posts because I don't put nsfw on my blog but I wanted to let you know they're SO good and hot. also choosing to read them as aroallo daniil rep

Thank you so much!! AAAA <3333 I posted them bc of one person's encouraging comment, I didn't expect more people to actually like them, even in secret. Fr tho, even without rebloging, a sweet message like this is all it takes to make writing and posting things worth it.

There wasn't any x reader in Pathologic before so it was a bit intimidating to be the first one to break the seal in a small fandom but fosjofjsjd it was so worth it.

Oh my god, aroallo Daniil sounds amazing. I didn't write it this way on purpose. It was more of me thinking how he might act in these situations according to his personality. I'm so happy he could be interpreted this way! Hell I actually kinda see it now when rereading what I wrote. lmao it's so funny bc I am aroallo myself.

I'd love to expand more on AroAllo Daniil below, your idea is simply gold. As for the Hysteria fanfic, I do have an idea for part 3, I might even post it on AO3 afterwards as a complete piece.

His lack of romantic attraction would explain a lot in general and even in the pathologic story itself. To be capable of love for humanity, just not romantic love for its individuals.

But let's focus more on a "reader" in this scenario and their relationship with Daniil. Caring for you as he would to one of his patients, inquiring about your well-being constantly and if you feel any discomforts.

If anything, he's more fussing over you than he is to the average patient. It's a clear favouritism, but he doesn't see it that way. In his eyes, he doesn't feel anything more special about you than other people he cares about.

Your "dates" are more of him bringing you along on his daily errands and asking for your input or talking shit about the kains with you behind their back.

Your "romantic nights" consist of him going over his research while you get yourself busy somewhere in his room. He is content with just knowing you're there. If you get bored, then he will involve you in his studies, explaining his recent hypothesis to you and mentioning the latest experiments results on animating then 2 weeks old decomposed tissue sample. It helps him remember his purpose, recall information and think with a clearer mind.

But whenever he's frustrated by something in particular or just exhausted from the endless workload in a single day, you find him by your side, mentioning how long it has been since you felt properly relieved and as a doctor it's his job to take care of you.

To get plausible deniability of course, you see he is doing this for your own health and because he cares. Half of it is true, and in a way he technically does get off on taking care of you.

On having you at his mercy laid on a bed, willing to listen to the knowledgeable bachelor who just has the cure for the ache between your legs. You let him take his time with you and he never does something without asking for permission, you're treated with complete respect whilst having surrounded all powers to him to do as he pleases.

His eyes are cold, and his movement is technical, driven by curiosity and fascination. As the act between you progresses and gets more intimate, he doesn't shy away nor act coy. He doesn't feel any difference than when the two of you first started.

But there is an undeniable shine in his eyes, a gleefully fascination of the human body and how beautifully complex it can be, of all of its capabilities. Each time he's on top of you, he's studying your body, carefully testing your reactions and the sensitivity of your intimate zones.

What makes you shudder, what makes you tense uncomfortably, what makes you lean in for more.

Keeping notice of your growing arousal and your different responses to his various approaches. This is how he has fun, this is where he truly feels in his element in a field of possibilities and endless potential, exploring the human body knowing the other person is as enthusiastic about it as he is.

It's like solving a puzzle, the clear satisfaction on his face when you're on the verge of orgasm, the way his own body meets yours in calculated thrusts, the way he keeps his a clinical facade to the whole ordeal while his mask crumbles down to reveal the desperation and hunger in his eyes. For comfort, for your hot insides, for the rush of adrenaline washing over him just before the blissful release, making his forget the ache in his joints and the soreness in his back.

The way the corners of his lips curl in the aftermath is undeniable, his always straight back forgeting its pose and slumbing down in relaxation, hell even his headache is gone.

He looks at you with gratefulness for your existence, for being by his side. He is thoughtful of you and shows it by cleaning you up, by treating your body with gentleness as he wipes it down. In a way, the aftercare is also a huge part for him in sex, it's like the final bow in a theatre act before the curtains close, taking care of you makes him feel alive, makes him remember why he enjoys being a doctor so much.

You're the most grateful and sincere patient he has ever had.

[erithel]

Sorry people are being d***s to you about you having the gall to (reads writing on hand) ...Take the time and patience to release a comic one page at a time... consistently. A goal that has so far cost you MONTHS or work, time, and effort. It's deeply disrespectful to you and dismissive of how much work you put in. Also, it's not "dragged out" at all, your flow feels absolutely fine... That accusation was incorrect, as well as rude.

Other points I'm sure you don't need to know but I'm gonna say just in case:

1) It DOES flow absolutely fine, so far as I can tell: they just feel that way because they're just waiting on the actual kiss and aren't thinking about the surrounding context or how much work it takes to get to any point. They just want a smooch. (It's not an excuse but I genuinely believe people, especially younger folks, have been mentally conditioned by stuff like netflix and tiktok to have no blooming patience for anything that takes more than 30 seconds.)

2) Maybe, just maybe, getting to the big damn kiss isn't the point of the story.

They aren't thinking about the framing and how it's meant to convey character emotions. They aren't thinking about the weight of the situation. They aren't taking time to drink in the full page spreads and the immense amount of detail you put into it. If someone wants that, fine, but you don't owe it them and they can just go find a three page fanfic or art dumps on wattsapp (no shade intended to whatsapp writers) instead of nagging and bullying creative people for not working to their pace.

You have worked hard. You have shown respect and patience. And you are not beholden to us. I'm sorry we hurt you this way. Keep doing you. We are not owed anything. Your art is your art. I hope the behaviour of people online don't ruin it for you.

(...Also ngl you posting the two middle fingers page instead of an actual kiss would be kind of funny.)

I really appreciate you saying all of this.

And you are absolutely correct.

I'm sure there is a direct connection between the drop in people's overall patience that correlates with the start of full tv series being released on streaming platforms all in one go, as opposed to weekly.

And that has only been amplified with Tik Toks and youtube shorts and reels, where everything has to be as quick as possible in order to keep someone's attention. Maybe even vine had something to do with that.

My biggest concert or disappointment in all of this is how the actual story is being missed or glossed over for the sake of "getting to the big kiss."

The whole point of this comic (as I intended it) was to explain that getting over a traumatic event takes time.

Lance witnessed Keith die. He needed time to figure out how much of his heart he was willing to risk, because if this was something that was likely to happen again, it would be too much for him to handle.

Keith needed to understand that his actions had consequences outside of himself - that they had a huge, lasting effect on someone else, and that maybe he was hurting Lance even more by "protecting" him than any damage the actual shot might have caused.

They needed to talk, and they needed to reach an understanding.

As I said in another post, of course I know my work isn't perfect. And of course I know not everyone will enjoy my kind of storytelling. But I also think we've had to sit through too many shows and movies and books where suddenly everything was just fine in the end, or suddenly everything was just magically healed with a kiss.

If I take a step back from my own annoyance, it's actually fascinating because based on people's comments and reactions to this comic, I feel I could safely assume which readers have lost a loved one or been through something very intense, and which ones have not.

[breadvidence]

Today, on things I'm thinking about:

The medicalized model of the mind is more or less inescapable in the mainstream American consciousness (can't speak to the international scene, though I assume chapter five of the ICD has a similar hold as the DSM does in the States), to the point that I had a hell of a time choosing a phrase that wasn't speaking from that model. Whether the layperson's understanding and the clinician's understanding are the same is irrelevant to how it impacts media analysis, which is where I'm going with this, this is about Les Misérables, character analysis, and writing fanfic, what blog do you think you're on. I can't get out from under neurodivergence and mental disorder when looking at characters written by an author whose life predates those concepts, and there are two problems here for me, personally:

Victor Hugo's acuity in the description of the human experience (and his comedic faults in not depicting what I would call "neurotypical" people for shit) does not alter the inherent fact of fiction that you write from your understanding rather than reality—we're all in the cave—and his intent behind the characters' maladaptive, adaptive, and divergent behavior/personalities can't be meaningfully interpreted from the medicalized model—the author is dead, but he also dead-ass wasn't thinking about the diagnostic features of autism, either, or of autism as a neuropsychiatric way of being shared between humans across time and place. The fact that autism is a way of being that's existed across time and place (per my understanding!) is irrelevant. I'm putting aside, for the moment, the way Romantic tropes and symbolical choices impact verisimilitude as a journalistic depiction of daily life versus verisimilitude as the reality principle underneath... Y'know, no, I'm breaking off, what I'm saying is we're analyzing characters, their thoughts and actions, as if they have real people psyches and as such we're gonna leave aside the fun wacky way you can read, say, Éponine's ascent/descent from humanity to monstrosity, which prob cannot effectively be pointed to as a reflection of Hugo's understanding of how people work in the daily any more than it can be commented on as "hey, I knew somebody who did that, the doc said she had an adjustment disorder and that's why she became a ghoul with incredible powers over the plot". Anyway. When Victor Hugo writes of Valjean's eyes in 4.3.8 "they were those deep and glassy objects which replace the glance in the case of certain wretched men", I can pretty confidently say he's not thinking you know, a dissociative reaction, and that's a meaningful difference from an interpretive point than my looking at it and saying oh yeah, a dissociative reaction. To really feel how an author's understanding impacts their depiction of the human psyche, read literally anything written by someone who was a real close adherent to Freud. If you're just bip-bopping along looking for personal significance and meaningful patterns in the book this—don't really matter much, actually, we're not digging up the truth (there's no truth in literary analysis!) of the relationship between Hugo's framework for How Humans Work, In Their Minds and the book he made, we're just doing something fulfilling and fun. Still. It bugs me.

As you may know, I write little fanfics, which means (you also know, but to say it in a way that's fun for me to type out) parsing down the original text into a groundwork to then extrapolate from it in a way that is recognizable to readers familiar with it (sometimes very fucking familiar) (or sometimes readers familiar with other extrapolations from the text [I'm looking at you, Amis fandom], which I find mildly mind-blowing as a phenomenon tbh, just really neat—anyway). To some degree, point (1) kinda doesn't matter on whether or not I'm going to produce fic that makes readers happy, because fandom is about alteration of its beloveds (sometimes deliberate writing against its texts) as much as it's about mimicry, besides which y'all are also mostly living in the same cultural context as I am, reading Combeferre and Jean Valjean and Marius and whoever through the autism glasses right along with me. And yet still: it bugs me.

This matters less for Dammit, where the characters are living under the medicalized model¹, but it's disruptive to me when I'm working with the longer canon era pieces like Loup-Garou, where I'm aiming for a Hugo pastiche and the medical framework feels disruptive. Presumably the thing to do, here, would be to engage with some of the writing from canon era about why people experience outsized bad feelings and fuck themselves over—the root of psychiatry, right there—or to simply go "the fic does not actually suffer from this disruption, you have severe untreated anxiety and maladaptive perfectionism, you dipshit".

Which is a secondary roadblock to the present bigger problem with Loup-Garou, which is that I forgot to write down a note to myself about what the plot is and have forgotten it, because forgetting things is 90% of what my brain does. Oops!

Anyway, out of a resentful acknowledgment of my inability to escape thinking about social-mental ouchies and whoopses without medicalizing them, I will say that Loup-Garou Javert is deliberately not functioning with the same neuropsychiatric patterns as Dammit Javert—the latter has, at root, a history of severe crippling childhood anxiety that he has, as you do if you manage to survive to be an old functional lunatic, developed behavioral management for without medical intervention. He's functional. It's like a broken bone that heals without a cast, you know? And that characterization is based off of the line "When I have subdued malefactors, when I have proceeded with vigor against rascals, I have often said to myself, ‘If you flinch, if I ever catch you in fault, you may rest at your ease!’" (1.6.2—and in general Dammit Javert is more strongly aligned with the things that Javert says about himself in that scene than he is with what Hugo says about him in 1.5.5). Loup-Garou Javert has zero anxiety, he is Big Head Empty It's A Limpid Pool. In 5.1.1 we have "Thought on any subject whatever, outside of the restricted circle of his functions, would have been for him in any case useless and a fatigue", which fandom generally takes to mean he has not had thoughts: for Dammit Javert, he's had many useless and fatiguing moments in his life, he has thought things over, and his conclusions were either counterproductive/maladaptive/illogical or he bailed out before he reached them. Loup-Garou Javert aligns closer with the standard fandom interpretation of those lines. This is 100% because I wanted to play with an alternate take on the character. But that means I gotta somehow explain his perfectionism and rigidity and all without anxiety as a substrate, and I don't—actually 100% know where I'm going with that. Possibly puppy autism. Sometimes you don't know 'til you write it.

No real conclusion, here, just thinkin'.

(1) Lore! In one of those threads that inform the story but aren't visible, this impact Javert in particular—his medical record has OCPD as a diagnosis, F60.5 submitted on the insurance paperwork, and that means his psychiatrist [1] does not have a robust research literature to draw on when making medication decisions and [2] is working under the bigotry against personality disorders that doctors fuck over their patients with. If you ask me, the author, whether OCPD is a correct diagnosis, I would say [1] why do you want word of god, live your best Dammit interpretive life, if it's not on the page run free in the fields [2] I am highly cautious of the entire diagnostic framework of personality disorders as meaningful categories for human experience/psyches [3] without a sense of discontent over his career leveling out early, no close friends or family to push for change in damaging interpersonal patterns, and self-developed management of disruptive behaviors like angry outbursts, if I wanna armchair psych for a fictional character, there's not really something to treat as a medical problem, unless you wanna say that God this man is unpleasant in a way that fits a pattern of social maladjustment experienced by many people warrants medication the patient doesn't want, & so you might as well address his health problem under the label of an adjustment disorder and call it a day [4] all that being said, it's a better diagnostic framework than OCD, if you want a diagnostic framework, given all that maladaptive is consistent with his sense of self and he's not engaging in ritualistic behavior. Dammit Jean Valjean absolutely has gold standard PTSD and MDD tho, someone should diagnose that man and load him down with drugs.

[izzyspussy]

(tis Bougie on anon!! hi!!)

M, N, T, U and W for the fanfic ask!

What’s the weirdest AU scenario you’ve ever come up with? Did it turn into a story?

I'm not usually an AU guy so I don't really have a lot to pick from here. I guess I'll go with the Legally Blonde AU I thought of for OFMD, where Ed is a combination of Elle and Callahan and Izzy is a combination of Emmett and Vivian and Stede is... also Callahan and he and Ed get into a Callahan4Callahan relationship after Ed quits his own well-established successful law firm and his 20 year engagement with Izzy to go to fashion school where Stede is a professor. (If you didn't see me post about this when I thought about it, it was accompanied by Ed saying the line "It's a perfectly respectable place, Daddy," and Izzy responding "Don't call me that" because it was immediately after the infamous father figure comment ahowljsfk.)

Any fic ideas brewing that you’d care to share?

None that I'm not already working on or have posted about! At the moment, anyway. Still working on finishing Plan to Entangle, take away the glass, The Burden Easy, a few straggling whumptober fills from last year's prompt set, and the siren eggpreg series is gonna have like hjwojhgks 7+ fics because I've lost control. But that's all! Only that!

Any fanfic tropes you can’t stand?

Sickfic. It's just always the exact same wish fulfillment the same way slapped on to any old character regardless of if that specific scenario would actually be wish fulfillment for them or if it's a fucking nightmare and/or they just wouldn't need it or have that particular reaction to being temporarily mildly ill. I mean I hate trends that are just this - fanfic authors doing their wish fulfillment thing (which is fine on its own!) and pasting it over characters that already have their own personalities, and in my opinion it's usually characters that specifically have contrary personalities to the setup, not to mention I also find that characters that these fantasies would actually fit are not so uncommon that you have to pick ones that it doesn't to do it with. And I myself have a personality and fantasies that tend to be contrary to the Usual, and identify with the characters that are changed to fit them for the reason that it doesn't fit them as they are. Which is not at all even remotely unique to sickfic, and I'm sure there are exceptions, but in my opinion/experience sickfic is the most egregious example and if I've ever seen a sickfic that didn't do this I can't think of it. Obviously I'm not saying it's, like, morally wrong to do this or that people Aren't Allowed (?? I truly don't know why people react as if that's what is meant when someone says they aren't into something but I guess the disclaimer is necessary idk) or whatever, but I do find it heinously annoying.

Is there a pairing you would like to write, but haven’t tried yet?

Izzy/Buttons is imminent.

What is your favorite pairing to write? Favorite pairing to read?

It cycles, as I'm sure it does for most. At the current moment it's Ed/Izzy. Probably. Who can say.

Fanfic Writer Asks

[nobodysdaydreams]

trick

or

treat

Ah hello my friend! Not sure if you’re here for fic stuff or for candy, so here’s the candy: 🍭🍫🍬

And here’s the fic stuff:

Okay. So a while ago you sent me a fic suggestion when I reblogged a post of fanfic tropes that said “you should do the academic rivals, but competing to be the WORST in the class with Constance and Kate”. Now I have not written a word of this yet and between SOS, my wolf359 reactions, and my hatchetfield theory posts, that might be a while coming if it ever comes at all (sorry). However, I do have something for you: the plot outline.

Here’s the pitch: The kids are at the Institute and their mode of communication is compromised. However, they eavesdrop and discover Curtain knows Mr. Benedict’s location and intends to bring him in. Someone has to go back and warn him. Meaning someone has to get barged (they might be memory wiped, but they’d come with a warning note hidden on them somewhere, and they know Mr. Benedict & co. are monitoring the docks in case any of them show up brainswept). Obviously as messengers, Sticky and Reynie can’t go back. Both Constance and Kate assume they’re the best for the job (Constance DID find a way to sneak onto the boats, but Kate doesn’t know that, and she’s the most athletic and likely to fight her way out if the plan went sideways). The girls fight about it, and decide the best compromise is to strive to be the worst students, academically and generally, that the Institute has ever seen and see who Curtain expels first (Reynie and Sticky have several objections to this plan, but they cannot stop it). The girls take it to the extreme: disrupting class, pulling pranks, vandalizing the school, anything they can think of that would get them expelled.

Now here’s where the story gets fun: Curtain finds that his messenger duty for the day has been cancelled. He goes to yell at Garrison, who informs him that barging so many brain swept children back to the mainland so frequently has created suspicious people who seek answers, which means more people for her to brain sweep, which takes up her entire schedule, which means less time to send out messages, which means less of Curtain’s influence reaches the world and now even more people grow suspicious of their operation. Curtain is angry (though he begrudgingly knows she’s right) and demands to know what he should do about this. Garrison, frustrated, suggests that Curtain do his job and actually be an educator: the next time a student is struggling academically or acting disruptive, perhaps he could try giving them positive encouragement and working with them to improve so they don’t have to get barged. Curtain dismisses the idea, and Garrison makes a comment implying that he wouldn’t be able to handle it. Curtain, in a moment of pride, declares that if he can be one of the most brilliant scientists of his time, then he can certainly act as an educator a few troubled children. He tells Garrison that the next struggling child at the Institute will receive positive mentorship and tutoring from him and that she won’t have to worry about barging anyone for a while. Garrison seems skeptical, but Curtain is resolved to keep his word lest he look like a failure.

After all, it’s just tutoring and mentoring a couple of troubled students.

How hard could it be?

[i-will-always-be-happy]

Well, today, February 8, is the birthday of our beloved Water Hashira, Giyuu Tomioka. So, to celebrate, a dose of love and smiles for this emo that everyone loves and deserves love. (Of course I had to do a second part, this guy deserves love)

Warning: This fanfic contains tickles. Also remind them that I don't speak English, so if they find any errors, let me know to correct it. I hope you like it!

Summary: This is a aftermath to my previous tickle fic. Giyuu will receive a kind gift from his partners

Lers: Iguro Obanai, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Mitsuri Kanroji, Rengoku Kyojuro and Uzui Tengen

Lee: Tomioka Giyuu

(Part 2)

The party was fun, they danced, they told some stories, they ate together. Tomioka was happy, although he didn't show it, he felt extremely happy to be with his classmates and friends. Although he would have liked Tanjiro to stay a bit longer, but he couldn't because he was entrusted with a mission.

'There's still a little bit of food, would you like another plate? I don't want it to go to waste', Mitsuri and Rengoku's eyes lit up and they quickly helped themselves to more food. 'It was to be expected, do you want more?', Obanai denied, he preferred to see Mitsuri eat, Muichiro was already full, Gyomei and Sanemi accepted a little more and Giyuu still hadn't finished his plate. 'Thank you, ehhh Tokito, what's that next to you?', Sanemi pointed to a gift next to Muichiro, who looked at him confused, he didn't remember how he got there. 'I don't know, is it supposed to be a gift?', Mitsuri avoided laughing at his answer and took the gift. 'This is Tomioka-san's gift?', Muichiro thought again and nodded slightly remembering. 'I think so, happy birthday'

'Open it Giyuu, what is it?', Giyuu opened his gift, it was a scarf with almost the same patterns as his haori, he couldn't help but smile a little. 'KYAAAA!!!', Mitsuri noticed that smile and got very excited, the hashiras looked at her confused until she pointed to Tomioka's slightly smiling face. 'Wow, Tomioka, you should smile more often! You have a very striking smile, I like it. What do you think Rengoku?' 'Totally agree! Your smile is so cute Tomioka, you should smile more!!' These comments embarrassed Tomioka, who covered her blushing face with his haori. Shinobu and Gyomei smiled when they heard that their classmates were having fun in their own way.

'EEEE!! Tomioka-san is blushing!! So cute~', Mitsuri kept throwing such comments, which made Obanai jealous. 'Hey Mitsuri-Chan, do you want to see something amazing?', Obanai whispered in her ear and she nodded excitedly. 'Sanemi, give me permission', Obanai whispered to his friend, he didn't ask anything and they switched places. 'I hope that's how you learn that damn piece of trash not to make Mitsuri blush or praise you', Obanai pressed on one of Giyuu's hips which made him jump. He felt all the eyes of his companions on him, his blush appeared again and it got worse with this.

'That...? Tomioka did you...?' 'No!', Tomioka knew what they were going to ask, it was bad enough that Obanai and Sanemi knew, and now the other hashiras, it was humiliating

Giyuu frowned and looked at Obanai, who was smirking under his mask. 'Please Giyuu, you know you can't help that', he raised his fingers and slowly approached him, Giyuu stepped back but collided with Rengoku's chest, who imprisoned his arms while laughing. 'Hahahaha careful Tomioka! You could fall! Now why don't we let my aniki tell us more of what he knows? Obanai?', Rengoku found this discovery amusing, but Giyuu knew he was in danger, now that Tengen, Rengoku and Mitsuri knew, they won't miss the opportunity to tickle him.

'Rengoku, let me GYAH!!', his words were interrupted by a shriek. sting that Rengoku gave to his stomach. 'Now now Tomioka, let you go? This is just beginning! Coochie Coochie little one!' Rengoku began to scribble his fingers on Giyuu's stomach, who gritted his teeth trying not to laugh. 'No! R-Rengoku! St-stop!' 'An unnecessary reaction! Let me show you an extravagant way to make people laugh like him!', Tengen raised his fingers approaching Giyuu, who started to get more nervous and embarrassed.

'Dohohon't!' 'OHHH SO CUTEEE!! I WANT TO MAKE TOMIOKA-SAN LAUGH TOO!', Mitsuri tried to get closer but was stopped by Obanai, he only stopped her to say something in her ear, whatever he said made her smile and moved to new heights.

'Tengen, go get his ribs! I'll take his hips!', he quickly approached and climbed on his legs to make sure he didn't escape' 'Whatever you say!', Giyuu felt like he was going to die, the 3 worst lers of the hashiras now knew his secret. 'No-! wait! GYAHAHAHAHA!! NOHOHO!!', he arched his back as he felt 10 fingers on his ribs and hipbones clinging to those places like magnets. 'HIMEHEHEHEJIMA - SAN HEHEHEHELP!!!', he tried to ask the Stone Hashira for help, but he found this a way to make Giyuu feel happy, so he only recommended stopping when he couldn't take it anymore. 'Hahaha! Take that Tomioka! Do you know what's the best? He enjoys being tickled!', Sanemi exclaimed when he then felt Shinobu's angry look, because they had promised not to talk about that secret. 'Oh oh oh! Really?!', Uzui laughed more as Giyuu tried to nod.

'Ohhh what a softie, ​​isn't that lovely?!', he teased to switch places with Rengoku, this time holding Giyuu so he wouldn't move. 'Of course! Tomioka, you could have told us that! We are your friends! Isn't that so guys?!', Rengoku decided to give him a little rest, tickling his side and part of his stomach. The other hashiras only nodded, well except for Obanai and Sanemi 'Stahahahap! Dohohon't tehehehase me! Plehehehehease! Ehehehehe!!'

'Oh Tomioka-san's laugh is so adorable! You know you can tell us to tickle you as many times as you want, we're delighted!' Mitsuri smiled as she gave his hips a few friendly squeezes. 'Okahahahay okahahay! Now stohohop!', he was lying, he was enjoying a certain part. 'Oh please, we know you don't want them to stop, you love tickling!' 'Yohohou're nahahat one tohoho tahahahalk, hypocrihihihite', Giyuu replied, now part of the gazes were directed at Sanemi. 'Oh, so you too, Shinazugawa?', Sanemi knew how to control his embarrassment

'You already screwed yourself!', he approached moving his fingers, at that moment he regretted having answered him. 'Nohoho! Sanemi! Plehehehase NAHAHA!!!', Giyuu dropped his head on Uzui's chest, it was the only thing he could do, he couldn't kick or wave his arms, he was trapped and helpless as Sanemi attacked the space where his armpits and ribs met

'WAHAHAHA!! SANEMI!! I'M SOHOHORRY!!' 'Prepare to meet the wrath of the Wind Hashira!!', Mitsuri, Rengoku and Uzui, just laughed and also helped Sanemi 'destroy' the Water Hashira. Sanemi his ribs, Mitsuri his thighs, Rengoku his hips and Uzui his armpits, after all Uzui only needed one hand to keep Giyuu's arms away from his body.

'HAHAHAH!! HEHEHEHEY!! NOHOHOHO FAHAHAHAIR!!! YOU ARE TOHOHO MAHAHAHAHCH!!', Giyuu squirmed at the combined touches of the 4 hashiras

'It's not like he's asking me to stop, it's obvious that he likes it' 'SHUHUHUT UHUHUHUP!!', well he couldn't deny that, he was having fun but it was definitely too much, besides he was already tired from the round he had before with Shinobu. 'Oi, who are you silencing?', Obanai approached Mitsuri and took one of his hips but unlike her, his tickles were stronger and more precise. 'GYAHAHAHAHA!! I'M SOHOHORRY!!', Giyuu was on the edge now, it wasn't long before tears of happiness rolled down his flushed cheeks.

'STAHAHAHAP! *hic* E-ENOUGH!! *snort* PLEHEHEHEHAHAHAHSE!! *hic*' 'That's enough, let him rest for a moment', with that order given the 5 of them moved away from Giyuu who was panting on the ground trying to catch his breath

Muichiro walked over to his 'brother' and hugged him 'Are you alright?', Giyuu smiled goofily and nodded. 'Cute~', Mitsuri cooed at that scene. 'Sanemi, Obanai we'll have a serious talk about this later, okay?', Shinobu smiled at both of them, but his intentions weren't good. 'O-okay Shinobu, it-it's not necessary. T-thank you... It was the be-best birthday', Giyuu smiled at his companions before closing his eyes a little tired.

[fountainpenguin]

34 & 38 for the fanfic meme? [Can skip 38 if you're uncomfy posting it ofc]

[Current Ask game]

34. Was there any fic that you wrote that really surprised you in the fandom reaction? Was it just by the numbers or did they take it an entirely different way?

The stories that are my favorites frequently go unloved, and the stories I don't care for are more likely to be popular, which I'm sure can be largely attributed to me liking obscure characters instead of popular characters, and my taste of liking long, raw emotion 'fics with relationship drama more than I like my surface-level one-shots.

My three most popular (in terms of kudos) stories for the 130 Prompts project are "Mama's Boy," "End of the World," and "Weakening" which are all near the top of my personal "'fics I don't like" list. I personally think they're poor examples of my writing abilities, but people like them, so to each their own. I'm glad people like them enough to leave kudos on those pieces so that if I choose to ignore their opinions and move forward with my own, at least I'm aware of what I'm doing /lh

(The love for "Sunk Too Deep" always surprises me too, but I'm happy for it and I do feel it's deserved even if I "don't get it," ha ha).

I was also very touched when I returned to writing 'fics again after an extended hiatus and discovered that my most popular 'fic on AO3 is "AlgoRhythm." I wrote it in 2018 and it got its first AO3 comment in November 2020, plus it received multiple comments in 2022. I was on hiatus at the time and not keeping up with my 'fic feedback, so that was a very cool thing to see when I came back and already had the urge to write WordGirl again.

It was just kind of a /pikagasp moment that was really cool to me, because I always loved this 'fic and it was so cool to realize it had become the fan favorite in my library without me knowing. I'm really sad that I missed the resurgence of WordGirl popularity in early 2022, but I'm glad my 2018 'fic was there for people to enjoy even if I wasn't around to be involved.

I wrote a 'fic once years ago - I won't say which one - and a reader commented on it saying that they loved it, it made them cry, etc. Excitedly, I explained that I didn't like the way the show writers had pulled off X scene and so this was my fix-it for that, and I loved my angsty scene and I was so happy they loved it too.

The reviewer pulled a 180 on me and completely changed their POV, saying that my story was ruined for them now because they found it disgusting that I had written such a middle finger against the show creators and their canon.

It was a big slap in the face to me that hurt a lot at the time, especially since my entire brand is canon compliancy, but it's not something that still hangs over me today. Just an interesting story to keep around as a reminder that not everyone's going to love your ideas. I'm glad I have other nice comments on that story I can enjoy because man... sometimes you just get comments that bite. One of the risks you take in posting writing online.

38. Have you ever purposefully written something you know your readers would find uncomfortable/would not enjoy? If yes, why?

I'm going to assume that people who choose to read things like angst desire the angst, so this isn't about that.

I do like to set expectations, especially in long 'fics. Case in point: Frayed Knots Chapter 2 is Chapter 2 for a reason. If you can't get through Infant Marsupial Rescue Mission, you're not gonna like the rest of the 'fic, so just drop off now.

Like... seriously. Frayed Knots GOES PLACES and delves into THEMES. We've got an evil villain of a protagonist who is gonna do some upsetting stuff like manipulate his S/O into dubious consent situations, willingly put HIMSELF into situations of dubious consent as he tries to flirt his way through politics, and also he's a chronic cheater whose entire backstory is built around the idea of betraying others in pursuit of science, so... chances are high that it is not your type of 'fic if the dead marsupial mom scene is too much for you.

That said, I still think that scene was objectively tame because it's blood-free, it's the death of a character we don't have a connection to, and the characters talk about what they're about to face before they arrive at the scene, giving the reader time to bail early if they start growing uncomfortable. I tried to make it as un-upsetting as I could while still setting up this idea of "Buckle up, because we're only in Chapter 2 and I want you to be aware that the content warnings are there for a reason and this story's okay with discussing dark topics and non-human biology."

As a fun parallel along the lines of setting expectations, the opening line of Origin of the Pixies seems absolutely wild: "On a daily basis, it still baffles me to remember how many people don't know that squids keep libraries."

Perhaps an odd move for a Fairly OddParents 'fic that explores the Head Pixie's backstory, but it's important to me. The Yugopotamian library holds a lot of meaning for H.P. because he's stationed there during the war with the Anti-Fairies. He's in the eye of the hurricane, the universe falling apart around him, and... this is his little safe space where he has his pixies around him, and the library keeps them safe. He reads, researches, and it becomes a meaningful place to him.

I like to think of this as an exercise in patience. Those who remember the opening line might be chomping at the bit for a while, wondering when we get to see the squids and the library, but reading the 'fic requires you to slow down and absorb the little moments, which is exactly how H.P. learns to live his life.

By the time you get to the Yugopotamian scenes, chances are that you've completely forgotten this was the opening line of the 'fic. But Origin is a 'fic that's full of secrets that you'll only catch upon a reread, and this is one of them. It's a secret little nod to the fact that H.P. values the library scenes even when it's not obvious... which is the overall theme of the story. Not sure if that counts as upsetting, but it counts as deliberate.

I have a lot of private opinions about my headcanons that I don't normally talk about unless asked directly, because I'm very aware that my opinions are unpopular. I've seen some widely accepted fandom headcanons that certain fandoms like to hold up as canon, and I don't agree with those headcanons, which is sometimes awkward. I often ship rarepairs, and some of my rarepairs are so rare that I've never seen anyone even discuss them in a fandom space, let alone actually draw or write for them.

A lot of my favorite characters are ignored, poorly treated, or outright bashed in 'fics. I've been nipped at over the years for enjoying X or Y part of someone's characterization - tbh I left one of my fandoms because a ring of people were talking behind my back about how they thought my character analyses were stupid - so a lot of the time I just sort of... surface skim past the things I want to delve into. One day I'd like to get into the stuff I really enjoy, but for now I'm just playing out some tamer storylines.

I'd really like to work more on writing emotions, especially angst. I consider myself as someone who writes very tame content that might tickle your brain "logically," but doesn't really touch emotions (as far as I know; as the writer, everything falls flat to me because I already know what's coming and don't get to be surprised, so I just have to go off what readers tell me to know if something is hitting right or not).

I'd love to write some hard-hitting angst one day and (separately) I'd also love to write some enthralling romance. Some people who follow my current work might find some of that upsetting, but someday I'd like to start a new project where I do this sort of thing.

[Current Ask game]

[eolewyn1010]

Lotsa stuff happening, so babble I shall! And because I don't wanna write another entry the length of a whole Dracula chapter, I'll split the comment up in three.

Well, first to babble is Jack. He, Arthur, and Quincey are strung along by van Helsing, and none of them is all that thrilled at the prospect of opening Lucy's tomb, or convinced that van Helsing is anything else than a nutjob. Also, language goes haywire? According to Arthur, pigs are bought in pokes (do Scotsmen actually say that?) and what the hell does he mean by "pourparler"? Probably not the dish, no? Van Helsing is all, "if I could spare you one pang, God knows I would" - DUDE. You could have spared him the pang. Neither Arthur nor Quincey needed to know about this. Had you gotten on with it way back when, Lucy would already rest in peace and the children of the surrounding area would be safe, with Arthur none the wiser and coping as he should. But no, we have to threaten Arthur with Lucy being condemned to hell for all eternity and ask for fucking permission to cut her head off and then be surprised and upset when met with an angry reaction.

Near midnight, the dude squad enters the cemetery. Atmospheric description of a cloudy-but-moonlit night, as is Stoker's wont, and upon checking the coffin, we find that Lucy is on a stroll again. Van Helsing seals the tomb from the outside with, I think, churchyard soil and some crumbled Eucharist bread (Host? Communion wafer? whatever the correct English term is) while they wait for Lucy to return. Apparently, van Helsing even got an Indulgence for abducting innocent wafers from Amsterdam and stuffing them under crypt doors. Seeing as Stoker is such a Protestant, I'm amazed at his praising all the oh-so-idolatrous Catholicism as the only stuff that'll help against vampires. But lo, Lucy enters! Baffles me a little that she's decribed as a dark-haired woman; I could swear the last time there was talk of her hair, it was likened to sunbeams. But there she is in her funeral gown, her newest toddler snack in her arms, and the dude squad is spooked to actually recognize her in the moonlight. Vampire Lucy is hereby acknowledged as a reality. Let's not forget that the grossest thing about Lucy is that she has something wanton on her now instead of her former purity! I wanna point out that Lucy died a virgin, so this argument doesn't even hold any steam. Stoker, get over your hang-ups. Sexually alluring women aren't creepy; people who eat children are creepy. Being in perma-trance with no control over one's actions is creepy.

Still, when Lucy realizes she's caught, the most gruesome thing she thinks of is dropping the kid, hitting on Arthur and asking him to join her in an undead embrace. Side note, Jack is one of the people who describes his formerly beloved's eyes as "gentle orbs". That's either a meme to ponder or a bad fanfic in the making. Also, he could have killed her "with savage delight"? Jack, calm down with that murder boner. I get the loathing; I do not get the vicious sadism. Lucy seems to have a little vampire hypnosis going on already as Arthur is pretty helpless to her call, but when she leaps forward to get him, van Helsing is there all golden crucifix and iron nerves. Lucy flees but cannot enter her tomb, and she shoots one hell of a death glare at the dude squad, prompting Arthur to give his permission to van Helsing's proceedings. So van Helsing allows her to get back into the tomb (Lucy does that cool "dissolve in moonbeams" thing to enter through the smallest opening), and then traps her inside before picking up the poor child Lucy has tossed to the ground. The kid is left someplace where the police can find him, again (dammit, van Helsing, just hand him over to SOMEONE!), and van Helsing can feel a bit superior in having Lucy nice and safe locked up.

[eyeswaitingfortuesdaynight]

omniscient reader's viewpoint liveblog day 2 😅 (chs. 2-6: ep. 1 - starting the paid service)

i'm going to take notes as i go for the first 120 chapters or so since i've already read it before (and also sort of re-read them via the webtoon and various fanfic)

completely forgot about the world after fall plug looool. i need catch up with the webtoon at some point for that one

kdj is so freaking awkward talking about himself and his hobbies, it's painful. compared to how he never shuts up later, it shows how comfortable he's gotten with kimcom. how uncomfortable he was with anyone in the before times

i think he's....dissassociating? has trouble mentally staying present? either way, ysa had to address him 3 times before he answered a simple question about language app, damn. this bitch is Not Alright

kdj uses 'ruined' as a search term, not 'survival' or 'survive' when looking for twsa. that's a habit, so he likely did that the first time he was searching for novels too, huh.....

when a train stops for me, i think 'mechanical issues' or 'security incident', not 'suicide'. i can't tell if this is a cultural thing or a kdj thing or both, but in any case not a good sign of mental health that that's his first and only guess

killing anyone who outwardly rebelled against the dokkaebi...pretty smart in establishing dominance tbh. and it means that any surviving incarnations are either going to be too scared to protest or too smart to voice their opinions outloud and potentially incite other incarnations into rebelling

"If you want to enjoy happiness, it is common sense to pay a price." - 😬

'Department Head Han pulled out his business card as people cheered him on.' - this was very 'and everyone stood up and clapped' energy, but irl, crying

'Finally, I slowly controlled my breathing.' -meaning he wasn't controlling his breathing before? a point in favour of kdj having therapy in the before times, but idk. i feel like kdj DOESN'T have 4th wall yet. he's not 100% chill about the scenarios happening......it's suspicious that he's actually narrating his emotional reactions at this point and having to work at being calm instead of just telling himself to calm down

i didn't expect or remember that matrix ref lol. now all i can picture is hsy shoving the red pill down kdj's mouth and telling him to wake the fuck up

lhs.....so earnest..................also pretty sure the seoul dome doesn't go up until after the 1st scenario is complete if lhs is still getting messages on his phone

with all these political assassinations...i wonder if the dokkaebi got rid all of the nuclear weapons and such too. just to make sure they don't interfere the scenarios. bihyung's comments show that some research can be done and the existence of the disaster of questions is proof the dokkaebis have observed earth for at least some time now. the 4th and 5th scenarios were designed too specifically not have had extensive research beforehand

'Subconsciously, I made a fist using all my strength.' - that one arthur meme 😂

ljh ...... 😭😭😭😭😭

'confused for a moment' 'stunned for a moment' - HIGHKEY BELIEVING HE DOESN'T HAVE 4TH WALL

interesting that kdj doesn't even think of opening his attribute window until after he gets his mysterious attribute (maybe 2nd?).....almost like he didn't have the 4th wall to help him block his profile and also calm him down enough to think of it beforehand...............

if yjh is in car 3707....and the rest of the gang are in 3807.....who the fuck is the pale guy mentioned to be in 3907? throwaway line? typo? side story tie-in?????

knw......i know thematically he has to die here but also goddamn it would have been so funny to have him tag along and become part of kimcom. kdj picking up all the teen rivals lol

"Think carefully. The world you have known so far has just ended." - pretty sure kdj says something similar later. ~thematic parallels~ .....also i need to find that teen!kdj au fic as soon as i finish reading the novel, i have been dying to read it

...poor grandmother. what an awful way to live your last few minutes before you die.

kdj would have been so fucked if this wasn't a round where yjh killed everyone in his car with an explosion.

lgy is crying, oh nooooooo 😭😭😭😭

'The locusts and grasshoppers were jumping around in the collection net.' - insects, not just grasshoppers. this coupled with knw's uniform makes me think it's late summer/early fall....i need to lookup the korean school calendar later to be sure, but i don't get the impression it'll be winter anytime soon

'Right now, I was facing the explosive madness that tried to kill the grandmother yet a smile emerged on my face. Why? Even in this breathtaking tension, why was my heart beating with joy?' - adrenaline and having control for the first time in your life maybe

i always wondered who the 2nd constellation wanting knw was........

also wondering if knw would have joined the military asap after finishing school

man wouldn't it have been so funny if one of the grasshopper eggs slipped out of kdj's hand and knw stepped on it and he passed the 1st scenario anyway???

i know knw is a total homicidal weirdo ....but he didn't have to go like that 🥺

kdj doesn't recognize his own face....doesn't notice there's no actual blood on it......feels like he's looking at a novel......is it dissassociation, the 4th wall, or maybe it's maybelliene

'…And I was the only reader who knew the ending of this world.' - what a dramatic ending to those chapters. fitting as well!

[gylaan]

I've been reading a lot of Raildex fanfic recently, which, predictably, resulted in trying to smash it into my current hyperfixation, which resulted in this snippet.

---

Waking up is a surprise.

In light of that, waking up in a hospital is considerably less so.

Beside my bed is a doctor, a balding, elderly man with a wide face that makes him look a bit frog-like. He must have noticed me wake up, because he turns to me with a gentle smile. “Ah, ohayou.”

Japanese, I identify. Meaning “good morning.” Slightly facetious, going by the high angle of the sun coming through the window.

“What happened?” I ask in the same language.

The doctor’s smile fades, but doesn’t quite turn into a frown. “I was rather hoping you could tell me,” he says. “You were found unconscious in an alley about an hour ago, but we’ve only found some minor bumps and scrapes. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Nothing.” My answer is unthinkingly honest, and I immediately regret it – for all I know, this man is in some way responsible for my situation in the first place. But no, I realize, lying about something this basic would just get me in trouble down the line; honesty will get me answers, for now. Still, I resolve to be a bit more circumspect going forward.

In the half-second or so it takes me to reach that conclusion, the doctor blinks twice in surprise. “Just to be clear, when you say ‘nothing’…” He trails off, but the specifics of the question are inconsequential.

“I suppose I am slightly exaggerating,” I concede. “I can recall a face here, a snippet of conversation there,” the smell of burning flesh, I don’t add, “things of that nature. But it’s all disconnected and stripped of context; no way to tell if or how anything goes together or in what order.”

“That’s certainly troubling,” he says, brow furrowed in concern. “And yet I can’t help but notice that you seem less worried about this than I am.”

“Frankly, I’m more surprised to have woken up than to have lost my memories,” I admit. “Which, to me, suggests that whatever I was doing, I knew in advance that it had a high chance of leaving me without memories, if not comatose or dead.”

The doctor scowls. “A girl your age shouldn’t be saying something like that so matter-of-factly,” he mutters, quietly enough that I don’t think I’m supposed to have heard it.

Something about his words triggers a surge of irritation. It’s mild, somehow worn and familiar; how often must people comment on my age for it to prompt a reaction like this? Or perhaps I’m missing something.

 Before I can ponder further, the doctor speaks up again. “Well, regardless, I’d like to schedule a CT scan to check for brain injury. In the meantime, do you at least remember your name? You didn’t have any identification when you were brought in, so we haven’t been able to find your files.”

My thoughts stall for a moment when my name doesn’t immediately spring to mind at his request. But I do find, among the scattered ashes of my memories, something that might be a name. It doesn’t inspire inexplicable nostalgia, nor do I have some mysterious attachment to it, but I decide it will have to do.

“I think it was… Carol.” And saying it aloud makes it feel right. “Yes.

“Carol Malus Dienheim.”

[zoyalannister]

Hellooo

So It's me hi

Again

You know me already

So let's got to it

This time a bit snippetery but not really let me explain.

Basically from each WIP you have, Geranium, endless sunlight, hntf and sisstg (not counting the rest of tlf as I think you have more advanced these ones) you have to give 5 facts (choosing the gabrily property number? you can bet on it)

Which can be things that may or may not happen, backstage ideas, headcanons you have of that universe in each of them that hasn been mentioned (like I see in ES that Kit owned a dog at some point, even if this doesnt show in the story´), things that have surprised you of them while writing, or reactions you didnt expect, or comments of them you loved. Very very free basically

So that's it

Good weekend

Hi Anon,

I reply here to your other question because you forgot to put the anonymous function and I don’t know if you want your nickname to be public. 5 is totally fine as a number!

The thing is that I talk so much about my fanfics that most facts are known now. But I will try to see if there are new facts!

How (not) to end a feud

1. I had the idea for this story because I was getting super bored during a course.

2. Poor Joshua was created mostly to make Kit jealous. He will have a good conclusion, though, just not a romantic conclusion.

3. I discarded an idea about Kit feeling proud if Joshua got himself off while hearing him and Grace having sex, but I deleted it because Kit isn’t that much of an asshole.

4. Old Isidore being gay and having a relationship with the town priest when he was young are amazing ideas by @fimproda

5. You know the scene where Grace tells Kit that Old Isidore knew the truth about Kit? I imagine that conversation on the porch of the house, both of them on an armchair with Grace holding Little Isidore (a few months old at this time) as he sleeps on her chest. There's the sunset as they speak, and after Grace confirms what Old Isidore suspects about her husband, she kisses Little Isidore's head and says something like "He's the only thing I have left of my husband."

Geranium

1. The foreshadowing in chapter 1 for what happens in chapter 5 is much more obvious than you think. It's the kind of thing "so obvious I rule it out immediately".

2. I told @fimproda the ideas for Cecily giving Alex to Grace (chapter 2) and Cecily defending Grace from the mean thing her nieces say (chapter 3) at 4 a.m. when I was drunk. Poor woman she had to listen my drunk rambling the morning after...

3. I said it for the meme, but I literally don’t know how it became from a Gracetopher to be focused on Cecily and Grace. At some point it just happened that Grace was super paranoid about Cecily’s opinion of her, and wanted her attention, and wanted to be loved like a daughter but at the same time was scared of this love. In any case, the both of us loved this change.

4. I told quite randomly to my friend that I had the intention of inserting a line like "can you please hug me and pretend to be my mom?" and she said I had to find a way to insert it because she loved it.

5. Somehow @fimproda can make the scenes even more disturbing. When you read her version of the chapter preview I posted today, you will understand what I mean.

Still insists she sees the ghosts

1. The title is a misquote of a book I love.

2. I will do something I never did: a third rewrite.

3. I'm a bit scared that for months there was too much hype about this fanfic that it won’t actually be at the height of your expectations.

4. I was a bit worried that ChoT would contraddict something in the later chapters, but that plotline was totally overlooked so I can use it however I want to.

5. The main functionality of Cecily’s POV at 18 is to set up and explain why in the current timeline she acts a certain way. I hope the final result will make sense.

Endless Sunlight

1. There's a scene heavily inspired by V for Vendetta. You will recognize it immediately.

2. It's not a big spoiler since you will see it immediately in chapter 1, but Kit took over Chiswick Manor. He did a lot of renovations and it will be cool describing the new version through Grace’s eyes who only saw the decaying house in canon.

3. It's heavily influenced by videogames, especially the fighting scenes are very Dark Souls like. It will be fun to see the result since I never wrote fights...

4. One of the big changes you will find in Thule, happened already in TID years. I loved playing domino with the events and the consequences they have.

5. There's a BDSM scene.

I think it’s all and (almost) everything should be news ahah

Thanks for passing here once again!