#anyway thanks for reading this far if you got through all those tags <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

saw One tiktok and now all i can think of is jensen and bryce cry laughing over barry sitting on jensen and making little biscuits into his stomach

[crow-girl-cock]

Hai :7

I love you!

yes you!

click this.

now for introduction.

my name is Renée Corbeau

but you can call me ren or crow

I love crows! they feel like family to me and I hope next cycle I get to experience the life of a crow.

I have gone through alot in life and fancy myself some sort of activist by proxy of that pain, am I perfect? fuck no! I am still learning and probably operate under toxic bias still despite all the effort I have put into growth.

I'm adhd, autistic, anxious, depressive, dissociative, probably some degree of plurality.

I'm a gender non-conforming transwoman, definitely puppy coded, and severely down bad for women, especially butch women!

that being said the human body is beautiful. especially fat bodies, I'm a sucker for meat :3

all my guys, gals, and non binary pals deserve kisses (assuming that they want them)

I love gender fuckery, people who actively blur those lines are doing the lords work.

despite being very friendly and appearing slightly outgoing sometimes, I am very shy and dont have a very large social battery.

if I ever dont respond dont take it personally there are loads of reasons why this could be.

U⁠^ᴥ^⁠U U⁠^ᴥ^⁠U U⁠^ᴥ^⁠U

I am kind of a red mage when it comes to special interests, I know a little bit about alot.

(all lists are not ordered and not exhaustive)

some examples include;

from gaming~ pokemon, zelda, elderscrolls, darksouls, minecraft, osu!, space sims (elite dangerous, astroneer, dyson sphere project, hardspaceshipbreaker), roguelikes (noita, deadcells, gungeon, vagante, slaythespire)

from other media~ pokemon again, bluey, adventure time, atla, bee and puppycat, studio ghibli (nausicaa is goat), csm, bleach, dragonball, naruto, she-ra, dungeon meshi

from *gasps* real life~

space (and metaphysics), nature (it's peculiarities and the many funky adorable little guys born in it) I'm definitely a poser but skateboarding and rollerskating (I really want to get into rollerderby) philosophy (to the extent that any skid is);

History!

(not as well read as I would like because there is so much of it, and so much of the truth is buried under misinformation, but I have deconstructed the whole western myth of how things went and painted myself a much clearer picture as to how things got so bad and am learning new things about the world all the time, please feel free to info dump about anything history related I'd love to hear it. anthropology and archaeology too obvs)

Art!

(this is my chosen field for better or worse >⁠.⁠< I am going to college for web and graphic design (2024-2026) I might extend that an extra 2 years to make it a bachelor of design and hope to one day make graphic novels, beautifully illustrated with deep thought provoking stories)

໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ ૮꒰՞⸝⸝- ༝ -⸝⸝꒱ა ໒꒰՞⸝⸝. ̫ .ܸ⸝⸝ ꒱ა

Kink! (definitely subject to change)

petplay, musk, intox, bondage, impact, cnc, degradation, somno, hypno, blood, knives, size difference probably more I haven't thought of

I'm poly and very t4t

I'm a switch but this hellsite has been steadily turning me into a bottom day by day heheh

but no actually

I used to be a hypersexual dom pre-transition

but E has made me alot less uncontrollably horny and far more sensitive and inclined to seek vulnerability, all my drive to dom has dissolved

also I suck at tagging and will sometimes will reblog art/random things from tags without checking bios

if that upsets you or makes you uncomfortable please see the block button for more info ;3c

.♡. .♡. .♡.

anyways since you made it this far

here have some headpats

spread kindness please and thank you ^v^

As above, So below.

Hai :7

I love you!

yes you!

[lemotmo]

I have to laugh (and apologize this is prob longer then i intended)

So as we all know the 911 insta posted a certain video today. And he who shall not be named was in it.

And what should happen tonight but Oliver reshares it…. but cuts the video after Bryan, and right before *he*shows up 😂

https://www.tumblr.com/justdoitthejaneway/763014791683014656

We also see from his story (side note the fact that we live in a world where the op was able to actually get that screen shot of Ryan like that on Oliver’s insta story and it not be photoshopped is 🤯. Like truly how far we’ve come lol)

ANYWAY 😂 as we see from it, it would appear that they told the cast what bee related pick up lines to say. So the fact that we had

JLH - are you a bee? Because you’ve been buzzing around my mind all day

Ryan-Do you take care of bees? Because you look like a keeper to me

Bryan- if you were a bee, id be pollen for you

Aisha- are you a bee? Because you are the buzzzzz around town.

Oliver- changed his to sound like a bee was talking with his buzz buzz buzz buzz buzz buzzzz.

And then you know who with- do you believe in love at first flight? Because my heart takes off when I see you.

Clearly one is not like the others. Now the two possibilities are A) they didn’t bother giving him a bee related pun. Or B) it was supposed to be do you bee-lieve in love at first flight and he just…somehow failed to act it out correctly and they just didn’t care enough to fix it. Either option is..telling lol.

Our other Oliver related incident tonight

He shared and liked/commented in fan arts from (at the time of me writing this 3 artists)

I will preface this now that this is in no shape way or form a knock at the work itself, or the artist and their talent, nor should anyone else take it as such because the art work itself is good.

But he liked art from 1 BT shipper. And 2 buddie shippers. Which honestly 👏 to them all because their works are good and I’m excited for all 3 of them that they got noticed by Oliver. M

But the point of interest for the BT one is. We know Oliver will scroll through fan accounts looking at the arts. So it’s not just a case of oh he just got tagged.

So They have a handful of BT art. They have one from yesterday in fact of their moment behind the couch in 8.1.

But the one he liked and shared was Buck and Gerrard. He had plenty of artwork that showed off Buck and Tommy to pick from and he went and picked the 1 single art they have of Buck with someone other than Tommy.

I know people got worried because of that old bts video dropping but like you and Ali have said multiple times now. Take the cues from the people who matter. Tim. Ryan. Oliver. And for Oliver his message is clear. He’s engaged with fans. He’s sharing promo and cutting it before he’s there. He’s liking actual buddie fan art but not engaging with specific ones of *that* ship.

I read all of this this morning Nonny. Thank you for the summary.

I don't want to be that person, but Instagram cuts off the video by itself. If you want to see the full reel you have to click it. So Oliver had nothing to do with that cut. But he did obviously post it just to talk about his own 'pick up' line that he obviously didn't like, so he changed it to some weird buzzing. 🤣🤣🤣 He is so weird and I love him for that!

Those bee pick up lines were kinda fun. They were just some random lines, so I don't think a lot of thought went into who would say what. They just gave everyone their lines and they said them. Well, except for Oliver who decided to be 'creative'. 😂

And yes... I'm stil stuck on Ryan on that bed, staring into my soul, using that bee pick up line on me. It felt very personal. 😋😋😋

Finally, all of those artworks were stunning. I don't care who made them and what they ship. They were beautiful. I fully agree with you on that one Nonny!

But it is kinda funny that he posted the Gerrard one, I agree. There were plenty of other really gorgeous options there. I mean, I may not ship BT, but they do have plenty of creative talent in their fandom.

For me this was just another sign of Oliver -once again- refusing to post anything BT related, because he doesn't want to lead the fans on. 🤷‍♀️

Have a great day Nonny!

[tlbodine]

Overthinking Goosebumps

It's been a long, ugly year for me. So I suppose it shouldn't be a surprise that I've be craving some intense comfort and nostalgia this fall. Which is, I think, why I found myself gripped by a sudden and intense desire to re-read the the Goosebumps books.

Like every horror-loving Millennial, I cut my teeth on R.L. Stine books. The Haunted Mask was the first chapter book I remember reading, checking it out from the library on a whim. I was 7 years old and completely enthralled.

I spent my weekly $5 allowance on Goosebumps as often as I could and read them from libraries all over the country as we traveled. I didn't have a complete set -- my interest waned by the end of the run, as I'd shifted over to Animorphs -- but I did have a couple dozen of them that I foolishly donated. I haven't touched one of these books in 20 years.

So when the craving hit, replacing my copies felt expensive and daunting. They're collector's items that are worth more than the $3.99 I paid for them in the first place. So I tried to quell my craving by watching videos of people who had done a "read every Goosebumps book challenge," except that just made me want to read them more.

Then I found a bunch of them in audio. They just so happen to be the perfect length to knock out in a day or two of commuting - 2-3 hours per book. A perfect indulgence. I started listening and discovered that not only was I enjoying myself, but that I even had some big thoughts! So, hell, why not blog it?

No promises that I'll blog about every one that I read, and no telling how far I'll make it into the series before my enthusiasm wears off, but for now...I'm overthinking Goosebumps.

So follow along at the "#overthinking goosebumps" tag and come tell me about YOUR experience with these books!

Some General Notes

There are a few things that are kind of a given for every Goosebumps book, which I'll acknowledge here so I don't have to re-tread the same ground over and over in future reviews:

Every chapter ends on a cliffhanger. A lot of those cliffhangers are fake "gotchas" and a lot of the stories rely heavily on practical joker characters in order to add some conflict. Sometimes this is more annoying than others, but I can't really fault Stine for doing it. These were pulpy books for young reluctant readers. When you're 7 years old, this kind of stuff keeps you engaged.

Every book has a twist. At least, most of them do. Some of these twists are better than others. I'll probably talk about a lot of them, but just...you have to go into this anticipating that a lot of these books are shaggy dog stories.

Adults are useless. That's just middle-grade fiction for you. Kids don't want to read about parents solving problems. They want to read about kids having cool adventures.

Oh yeah - I also may mention the TV show from time to time, but I was not much of a fan of the show. I know a lot of other people are nostalgic about it, but I didn't like it as a kid and it certainly hasn't aged well. The effects look cheap, the acting is uniformly terrible, and the episodes generally aren't well-adapted from the books. So sorry if I piss on your parade when I bring up episodes in relation to the books. The theme song is a banger though.

The average Goosebumps book is around 20-25k in length. Stine released a new one every month for the entirety of its 62-book run. He was writing these in a couple weeks. EDIT: Apparently he did employ some ghostwriters, which is news to me and makes me sad, but I still respect him anyway. His background in magazine and TV writing really shows through with these, both in terms of speed, process, and humor.

(I admire the hell out of R.L. Stine. I got to very briefly meet him at NYCC and thank him for his influence. It was great.)

Ok. Fangirl flexing over.

Looking forward to re-visiting these books and giving some of the ol' classic T.L. Bodine deep-dive treatment to them ;)

[bee-saucee]

Hello, again~!

I've been doing all I can to not bombard you since last time, so now here I am. I love seeing men and people in general being able to show their ability to cook and nourish their loved ones through food. What does that look like for Shinso and Denki? Are they adventurous in their cooking? What kinds of dishes and foods are always in the fridge? Snacking? Who cooks the most? And when is a time that they would eat food outside the house? Anyhoo, hope you're doing well this first month of the year. And go bonkers sksk wherever your thought train takes you. ^-^

summary: ShinKami’s habits with eating, snacking, and cooking!

word count: 496

warnings: eating/food centered content

a/n: Hello again, friend! I’ll start with the important thing: This request is split up into three separate ones. I have a headcanons (this post), a short oneshot, and a longer oneshot. They have different vibes so I didn’t want anyone to not be able to read something or be put off because of one of these pieces. I’ll link the other posts at the end of this piece as well!

Anyway, I am so sorry I’m getting this back to you so late. I started my new semester at University when you sent this so I’ve been reeling trying to get back into the swing of things. That being said, I wanted to try and write something substantial for you to make up for the long wait. I’m also taking two writing courses the semester for fun so hopefully you see a bit of improvement here!

Hope you’re doing well. Thank you so so much for the request. I’d love to write something for you again.

I think that ShinKami has a lot of fun in the kitchen! When they met, they weren’t the savviest in the kitchen. They’re the type to know how to make maybe 3 dishes well but when they got together they decided to start on the journey of learning how to cook together! Cooking along with YouTube videos every night is a time that brings them together and they love cooking a homemade meal for date night

Even before learning how to cook for one another, Shinsou grew up on homemade soup when you’re sick so he always always makes Denki some chicken noodle soup when he’s sick and it never fails to make Denki cry a bit and get even snottier from the tears

Denki knows he’s not the best chef but he likes baking because the steps and measurements are a lot more clearly defined so he has an easier time with it. For just about every holiday, Denki will make some cookies for his loved ones. They come out lopsided and aren’t fully cooked a lot of the time but it's the thought that counts for these and he’s gotten better over the years.

From watching so much food content on YouTube to learn how to cook they have become hardcore sauce people

Shinsou is by far the more organized between the two of them so he keeps everything in the fridge in Pyrex tupperware they got as a housewarming gift from Aizawa. He also writes the date they made the food on masking tape he slaps on the tupperware because the thought of eating expired food makes his toes curl

They are busy pro heroes so while they like fresh food (especially Shinsou, see previous bullet point), they tend to keep rice ready to go for each night and they usually have pasta sometime during the week because they can never finish it (Denki swears you have to use the entire box of pasta each time. He’s working on scaling it back)

For snacks, I think that they always have peanut butter pretzels and apples in the house but they also love going to the store and trying out new snacks, especially those chips with with odd combos

They really do try to cook together but Shinsou will wind up picking up cooking by himself a bit more than Denki does because he tends to forget about things or tag along for hangouts last minute while Shinsou is a homebody

Shinkami also LOVES eating out! Of course for celebrations but they also love going out to a restaurant for date nights to slow down and get a chance to just talk. They’ll also stop at hole-in-the-wall type places near their work at the end of the day when they don’t have the energy to cook. They’re not super big takeout people because they hate the delivery fees but they will get it occasionally!

Lots of eating batter off the spoon when they bake

Check out the other posts based on this request: short oneshot | longer oneshot

or see my masterlist for more!

[latenightsimping]

THE EDGE

“...There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who’ve gone over.” - Hunter S. Thompson, Hell’s Angels

Summary: A part of the deal to freedom included a stay at Pennhurst. It’ll take everything to keep the hope that one day the locked doors will open, the windows will no longer have bars that block the view, and that one day, the name Eddie Munson will be synonymous with the word ‘innocent’. The hope, he never realised, would also come to be synonymous with your name.

Chapter: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: angst, heavy themes of inpatient treatment/hospitalisation, heavy themes of mental health, institutional deprivation of liberties, body injuries, mentions of suicidal ideation, themes of institutional abuse, can be a dark read (continue with that in mind, look after yourselves), canon divergence, Eddie survives the demobat attack, post-S4 timeline, slow burn romance, eventual smut, 18+, eventual fluff

Chapter warnings: angst, hurt (no comfort), bittersweet feelings, it's a difficult one ngl but I'll make it better I swear lmao, reader is described as having scars but no specifics, story tags still apply

AN: Ayy another chapter done. I'll try and find time to keep updating, but bear with me as I switch between this, other oneshots, and my own personal work. To those who follow along, thank you. This is such a passion project, and I'm loving the story so far.

October, 1984

It all still feels like one horrific nightmare. You’ve still got blood in your hair, staining your skin, with no idea who it belonged to. For a while, the pain had vanished, as you clawed your way to a nearby road. Perhaps a leftover survival mechanism passed down the generations. But now, now you couldn’t ignore the agony that your wounds created. The gashes that would forever disfigure you, a reminder that would become apparent every time you looked in the mirror. For now, covered with clean white bandages. You had no idea what it looked like beneath them, and you weren’t ready to look anyway.

 Everyone had looked at you with such vitriol that made you want to wither into nothing. The doctors and nurses were doing the absolute bare minimum for your care, giving you minimal pain meds and spending as least time with you as humanly possible. The steel handcuffs that clasped your wrist and secured you to the hospital bed were starting to chafe, but you knew better than to say anything. Not like anybody would care, or even do anything about it. You knew the police officer that sat outside your door from high school, someone that had graduated when you were a sophomore. Harmon, you think his last name was. Either way, he hadn’t said anything to you yet. Not even made an appearance, just sitting himself down and reading the newspaper. You couldn’t see it, but you wondered if your name was in the news yet. Unlikely, considering everything had only happened a couple of hours ago. You prayed for it never to happen, but it was unlikely anyone up there was listening anyway. 

Someone came through the door and stopped by the end of your bed, a small notebook in one hand and pen in the other. Horned rimmed glasses framed eyes that bore into you, a squint that conveyed the disgust he had for you. He was dressed in a police uniform, the Hawkins P.D badge on his chest slightly glinting under the fluorescent lights. Callahan, the name badge opposite it said. You’d seen him around town, but had never crossed paths with him until tonight.

He said your name with a tone that told you he’d rather be anywhere else than here. You nodded in affirmation, as he looked down at the notepad, pen tapping against the pages. 

“Wild night you’ve had,” he drawled, a slight sneer as he shook his head. “Wanna tell me what happened?” 

For a moment, you said nothing. How could you possibly begin to explain it all? It was all such a blur, time doubling in rate with no hope of slowing. Your gaze lowered to the thin blanket that covered you, free hand picking at the off white fibres. “I don’t know.” Your voice was quiet, far away. You didn’t sound like yourself. 

A scoff. “You expect me to believe that?”

Another pause. No, you didn’t. You expected absolutely nobody to believe you. 

“We’ve found two bodies so far,” he continued. “Are we going to find any more?” 

You shook your head. They’d found Cynthia and Scott. Cynthia was your friend since Kindergarten, your neighbour that you grew up with. Your best friend, who never judged you. Scott had started dating her when you were all sixteen, and you actually liked him. Thought he was good for her. Thought they’d end up the childhood sweethearts that actually stuck together through life; would get married, have 2.5 kids and a white picket fence. Get a dog, and live a boring but fulfilling life. 

Where had it all gone so wrong?

“Done any drugs tonight?” Callahan asked, though he sounded like he already knew the answer, and way just testing you to see if you were going to lie about it. 

“I uh, smoked some weed,” you admitted, rubbing the heel of your hand into your eye. You still felt fuzzy around the edges, but it was wearing off all too quickly. “Drank some beers.” 

“Nothing else?” he asked you. “Hallucinogens, PCP, anything like that?” 

“No.”

You swore you saw an eye roll, though his glance away was helping to conceal it. “We’re going to be testing your blood, you know. Easier to just admit everything now, rather than it coming up in court later. I’m tryna’ help you here.” 

No, you aren’t, you wanted to say. You’ve decided I’m guilty. And you want to lock me up to rot. 

You could barely remember the rest of the interview. A lot of “I don’t know,” and “I can’t remember.” You can remember being sent to the place that terrified you as a child, though. Family horror stories of a great Aunt who went in and never came back out. You remember crying every night for the first six months, only for nobody to comfort you. You remember having to clamp down on your emotions, to bury them deep and hope they never resurface. 

You can’t remember your parents ever visiting you. 

August, 1986

The sweltering heat of Indiana summers were finally starting to break, cooler air filtering through the iron bars of the gaps of the slightly opened windows of the dayrooms and cutting the thick scent of sweat and cleaning products. You and Eddie had engaged in small talk during the countless games of cards, and you’d learned quite a fair bit about him. You learned he liked pickles on his burgers. His favourite album was still up in the air, citing that “you just couldn’t do that, it’d be like admitting you have a favourite child.” His favourite colour was red and black, leading to a couple of hours of heated conversation about black being technically a shade, not a colour. He missed being able to play electric guitar, but there was something about the ward’s battered acoustic that he appreciated. 

And in return, you’d shared the tiniest amounts that you hoped sated him. Safe little facts that couldn’t be used against you. And to his credit, he never pried. Instead, he did what he was best at. Talking enough for the both of you, when your social battery wasn’t at its fullest. 

“I swear man, Miller’s got something going on at home,” he mumbled under his breath as his eyes bounced between the project in his hand and the Doctor that seemed to be in the middle of an under-the-breath argument with an orderly on the other side of the dayroom door. Time had been allotted for arts and crafts, or rather, whatever shit they could throw in a box that could vaguely be suited for the occasion. Dried up glue and mangled pipe cleaners, a box of googly eyes that Eddie had pocketed for ‘later use’, and egg cartons that were probably older than you. But you’d found some lengths of different coloured string and a pair of the bluntest craft scissors known to mankind, and had decided on weaving them together to make bracelets. Eddie had decided to join in, and after a crash course in the most basic braids you knew, you were both winging it in trying to make something that wouldn’t just fall apart. 

You looked up from the strands of black, red and white that you held in your hands to follow his eyeline, shaking your head as you spared a glance at the man opposite you. “She still givin’ you shit?”

You knew full well about the meetings he had with her, from the venting he always did afterwards. Apparently, medium security was a privilege, not a right. As if Eddie was capable of doing any harm with what little means he had in here. Fuck, you saw him shed a tear when you watched Bambi together not last week. It had only been a month, but you were absolutely positive of one thing, given you’d had enough time to make your own conclusions. Eddie wasn’t capable of his charges. Not for a second. 

You expected him to frown at your question, but instead, a lopsided smirk played upon his lips. “Same as always, but nah. I’m talkin’ about what I overheard one of the nurses mention about her.”

You couldn’t help but snicker as you continued braiding. “Really, Munson? What’re you, a housewife at a damn Tupperware party?” 

“Hey, I’d look fuckin’ fantastic in a pair of heels and a flouncy dress, thank you very much sweetheart,” he playfully chided, pointing at you with faux accusation and making you chuckle. “But seriously. Apparently, someone found a bottle of vodka stashed in the filing cabinets in the records room. And apparently, there’s only a handful of people that have access. She’s one of them.”

Finishing the last knot of the makeshift bracelet, you looked up to give Eddie your full attention. You had to admit, he was pretty. The long hair, full lips and rounded eyes were a given, yes. But it was the way that he looked at you, how much kindness he gave you, that sealed the deal. The way he would duck his head to make eye contact with you when your eyes felt glued to the floor. When you felt like all hope was lost, stuck in your own misery with no way out, a large hand would be felt on your shoulder, a slight touch that didn’t push your comfort levels. His shit jokes that cheered you up, and the fact that he seemed to know just what to say to make you feel better. In another life, you might have asked him on a date at one point. Maybe to get milkshakes, or to see a movie. But those ideas were bitterly shoved back down, when you remembered where you were. That’d never be an option. Not again. 

You rolled your eyes as you leaned back in your chair, fiddling with the length of woven bracelet as you raised an eyebrow. “So you think she’s drinking on the job?” you asked, pulling the conversation back to something nonchalant. Before you had a chance to think of him in any way other than a friend. 

“I think she’s doing a lot of things on the job, and caring for people ain’t one of them,” he muttered with a slight sneer. His demeanour seemed to change with the final touches of his own craft project, a triumphant look crossing his face as he held it between his fingers. “Here, gimme your arm.”

You shot him a look of confusion as you crossed your arms instead. “Why?”

“So I can yank it out of its socket and use it as an improvised weapon,” he drawled, sarcasm heavy on the words. “Just trust me, alright?”

You did trust him. Or at least, trusted him better than anyone in the whole building. “You’re a sick puppy, y’know that?” you chuckled, holding out your arm on the table. 

“So I’ve been told,” he answered, tone ever so slightly taking on an edge of bitterness that you noted. Calloused fingertips brushed the sensitive skin of your inner wrist, and it took everything within you not to shiver at the sensation. The softness averting your eyes to the window past his shoulder, your inner critic beating down whatever sticky feelings got caught in your ribs at a deep inhale. Get it the fuck together for Christ sake, he’s just-

“Aaaand done.” You looked back to see that lopsided grin of his, though his eyes betrayed him with a slight sense of panic at what you guessed to be the impending sense of rejection. “You like it?” 

You finally allowed your eyes to dip down to your arm, twisting it to get a better look. Purple, blue and lilac threads had been twisted haphazardly into what could technically be considered a braid, though on every fourth or so knot, it twisted at the seams and knocked all uniformity right out of it. But a part of you hoped it was made with intention. The same intention that middle school girls gave them, when they swore up and down to be best friends forever to the other girls they’d bonded with at summer camp, only to forget their names in the next couple of years. The same that still rattled around your old jewellery box back at home, buried under tacky hoops and cheap pendants that teenage you liked wearing. You still remembered the pale pink half of a heart that you kept there, on a chain that’d seen better days. The other half at Cynthia’s house, hanging on her notice board underneath a picture of you two together, smiling at the lake five summers ago. 

Friendship. A word that up until now, had lost all meaning to you. Something that was beginning to spark, though the rockiness and unease of having it for a long time was throwing you off balance. Something that was being offered, and you were so starved for it, you let yourself believe it. Even if it was fake, you’d take it.

You let the smile that graced your lips grow wide, as you nodded your approval. “Bit of a bold colour choice, but I dig it,” you shrugged, your tone taking any malice out of the words. 

“Yeah well, I’m not exactly in a position to waltz on down to Hobby Lobby to get the perfect shades or anything,” he snorted, now idle fingers seeking stimulation by opening a new pack of cigarettes. “Cut it off if you don’t want it.”

And there it was. That slight drop to his smile, as his eyeline averted. No doubt already trying to soothe the sting of assumption, to protect his dignity. Laugh the pain away, don’t let anyone see into it. This was about more than a seemingly simple act of kindness, and you knew the feeling well. God, you wanted to soothe it. Make it go away for him. Because it would be a damn sight easier cheering him up than the sheer amount of effort it’d take to try and do the same to yourself. 

But it needed to be carefully done. Replied to with the same jest, play the same game right back, otherwise the raw vulnerability would cause him to clam right back up again. “Nah, I’m keeping this sucker. Really makes my eyes pop, don’t ya think?” 

You both shared a look of amusement, before your hand darted out before thinking. You noticed the way he flinched, and again, the inner critic was back with the whip to flagellate yourself with at the ready. You willed it away by turning your hand around, an open palm rather than a grasping claw. “My turn?” you offered, hoping the look on your face didn’t give off the desperation you felt. 

You noticed the way his expression morphed, brows furrowed and lip darting out to moisten his lips, as he usually did when he was thinking in rapid motion about something. It relieved you to see his arm come into view, elbow to the deep gouges of the wooden table, an offering of his scarred wrist. You noticed the way his muscles tensed if the pads of your fingers brushed one of them, and you were careful not to make too much contact in securing the bracelet, pulling away when you were done to a respectable distance. Letting him bring his limb back to assess the new adornment, wrinkles around his eyes fading slightly and crinkling into a smirk as he picked at the fibres. A hum of acknowledgement, of endearment, rattled around his chest as he looked back up to you. “Same colours as Hellfire.”

Hellfire. You remembered that name, and you rattled your brain for the memory. “That’s the club you had, right? The one you had with your friends?” 

“Yeah.” He fiddled with the smooth braids, rubbing the tip of his thumb back and forth across the length. You noticed how his voice had taken an edge to it as he shrugged, seemingly to shake off an intense emotion. 

You wondered if the memories of the group was sinking him back into the realisation that he’d most likely never have a meetup with them again. Never have that sense of normalcy, of feeling a part of something. You knew full well that remembering could be a dangerous thing. Something that should be avoided, lest you fall trap to the longing of your freedom, sending yourself mad with the knowledge that things would never indeed be normal again. 

You were still thinking of something to say, a distraction, when Eddie’s name was called from the hallway. His neck nearly snapping with the force of him looking over with a shocked expression, as the orderly grimaced at him as he beckoned him over with two fingers. With a glance at the clock, you noted the time, and something uncomfortable settled in your stomach as you waved the orderly in the room for a lighter. You’d seen a couple of people over the years be summoned around this time, to a part of the building you knew you’d probably never see. You didn’t want to give Eddie the heads up, just in case you were wrong, and this was all just mere coincidence. You bolted that heavy mask to your face as you swung your chair on it’s back two legs, a balancing act as you waited for your turn with the sacred lighter. 

“Better hope Miller hasn’t picked up on your suspicion about the records room,” you smirked as you waggled your eyebrows, a sarcastic laugh volleyed back your way as he got up to cross the room. You spared him one last glance as his shoulders slumped, head down and eyes glued to the floor as he trailed behind the staff member. For all his bravado that he was slowly getting back, you knew that was the true Eddie. A man caged against his will, and the strength long since stripped away from him. A husk of a person, just like everyone else in here. Just like you. 

You just prayed that for his sake, your assumption was correct. 

~

In Pennhearst, knowing where you were going wasn’t exactly something that got shared often. An orderly would begrudgingly call out a last name, and with a jerk of the head, you were just expected to follow behind. At first, it had scared Eddie something fierce. Long were the days of coming and going where he pleased; in school, it was common for him to just wander out of the building for a smoke, and classes were optional in his mind. Part of the reason he could never graduate. Why bother going into a room where you’d be belittled? Where a label was instantly placed on you, and where it stuck no matter how hard you tried to shift it. He’d practically had ‘troublemaker’ stamped on his head since his Junior year. So why even bother? 

A trick he learned was to look at the signs, commit them to memory. Try and figure out a map in your mind, and follow it. The orderly in front of him had passed left at the laundry room, and past the West wing bathrooms. He’d lost track of where he was since the right hand turn by the low security ward doors, and he was going down the corridor blind. Asking wouldn’t help. He wasn’t expecting an answer anyway. 

The sight of a battered sign that seemed to be straining free of the plaster caught his eye, craning his head back to see it. The two words seemed foreign to him. A feeling that he knew them, knew the meaning, but hadn’t seen them put together before. The two words that both made his heart skip a beat and his stomach to churn in anticipation and excitement. 

VISITOR ROOMS 1-5

It ached how much he was wanting them to stop at one of the doors. How much he needed them to. He started praying to anything and everything, things he didn’t believe in, right up until the man in front of him stopped at the door with a number three painted on the front. His hand stayed on the handle, and over his shoulder, Eddie could just make out a window that most likely let staff keep an eye on the patients without having to enter. He could just make out the fabric of a deep blue denim jacket in the bottom left corner, before it shifted and moved out of sight. 

“You’ve got five minutes,” the orderly growled through gritted teeth, finally making eye contact with a venomous glare. “Any funny shit, and your ass is getting thrown into solitary so fast it’ll make your head spin. Am I clear?” 

Eddie’s tongue darted out of his mouth to moisten cracked lips, nodding fervently as his hands clawed at his issued shirt to ground him. It took the raised brow of the man in front of him, a sign that he was quickly losing patience, to make him respond verbally. “Y-yessir. I understand.” 

With one last glance into the room, the door opened, and Eddie was ushered inside. His breath getting stuck between his ribs as he took in the sight of two faces he thought he’d never see again. 

Dark blue eyes, and a gruff face marred with wrinkles and tanned from the sun. A face with the expression that reminded him of being ten years-old, when he was just a kid with a bruise on his cheek and tears that wouldn’t stop falling. The hand of the social worker on his back doing nothing to comfort him, but the look of ‘I get it kiddo, I understand. You’re safe now’ that was worn by a man that looked so similar to his Dad but didn’t have any resemblance at the same time. And like the kid he once was, a sob bullied its way out of his throat as he rushed into the open arms of the one parental figure that never beat him, bellitled him, or expected anything more of him than trying as hard as he could.

The hug was crushing from both parties, with how Eddie clung to his Uncle Wayne, and how those solid arms around his chest added the pressure he so sorely needed. Gave him a reminder of just how much human contact he’d been starved of for five months, and how much he needed it more than oxygen. If Wayne was bothered by the way he buried his face into the older man’s neck and wracked out stifled cries, he never said anything. The large palm that cradled the back of his head seemed to encourage it, as if he knew this was what his nephew needed.

It seemed like an eternity, time suspended in the air, until firm hands carefully grasped his shoulders and tenderly pushed. Eddie relented, a hand flying up to wipe away as much snot and tears as he could. He recognised the next look that he was given, too. A look of pure worry, as Wayne’s eyes flitted from feature to feature. Eddie wasn’t stupid, he had access to some sorry excuses of polished metal as mirrors in this place. Dark circles practically tattooed onto heavy eye bags from the lack of sleep, features getting gaunt as stubble tried to force itself through the skin. Eyes no longer shining like they used to, now replaced with a soulless stare. Once, when he stomached a flash of eye contact in the mirror, he was reminded of his Mom. The way she looked after a blowout fight with his old man, when she lay in bed and cried for what seemed like hours. 

“Eddie… You uh- you look good man,” another voice said quietly from his right, causing his head to snap violently towards the noise. 

Dustin’s mop of curls were hard to mistake for anyone else's, the fondness in his facial features still the same as they were before. That certain look about him that occasionally glimmered underneath it all, the one that gave away that he’d grown far too fast for a kid his age. Had seen too much, and had to deal with far too much burden for a grown man to carry, let alone a fifteen year-old. The comment made Eddie gargle a sort of chuckle, hesitantly pulling away from his Uncle to wrap the kid up in an iron grip. He was happy to feel it returned with fervour, rocking his friend as he swayed with each bounce on the ball of his foot. 

“I look like shit,” he weakly responded, making Dustin laugh as he squeezed even tighter. How long had he waited for this moment? To see someone from the outside, and to know that they were as happy to see him as he was to see them. That they wanted to hug him, and show him tenderness, even when he felt he didn’t deserve it. 

Eddie jolted away as soon as he heard the latch of the door forced open, as if his friend was made of blistering coals. Eyes habitually returning to the faded and torn excuse for carpet, as the harsh words of the orderly that had brought him here made him flinch. “Hey, no contact in here,” the voice barked. “It’s against the rules-”

“Now you listen here,” another voice hissed, though through the venom, it sounded so much louder than it actually was. A southern drawl that Eddie was familiar with, but only when Wayne was riled up to the point of fury. Sparing a glance upwards, he could see Wayne’s finger pointing towards the door with an accusing jab. “It’s the first time I’ve seen my boy in God knows how long. If I wanna give him a damn hug, if his friend wants’ta give him one too, then we’ll do as we damn well please. Y’hear me?” 

He could hear the orderly start to splutter, as if it was the first time he’d ever been refuted. Knowing that the staff around here liked to elevate themselves above all, as if they were some kind of capricious deities, it was likely to be true. “I’ll be letting my supervisor know about this,” was his answer, a thinly veiled threat. Wayne’s short burst of laughter was devoid of all humour. 

“Go ahead,” Wayne replied. “I got my numbers t’ call too, if I think Eddie’s not gettin’ the help he needs. Wanna see who wins the little pissin’ contest ya got goin’ on here?” 

For a second, no reply. Then two. Another look showed both men in some sort of stand off, before the orderly finally sneered his final taunt. Door slamming shut behind him, making Eddie jump out of his skin. Dustin’s gentle guidance got him to sit on one of the uncomfortable plastic armchairs, his fingertips finding the bracelet on his arm to fiddle with. Back and forth, stroking the braid and focusing on his breathing to try and even it out. He heard the two other inhabitants take a seat, Wayne’s clasped hands just in view as his elbows rested on his thighs. His voice now gentler, as if coaxing a frightened animal to come closer. “How’re you holdin’ up, son? They treatin’ ya decent in here?” 

Eddie didn’t mean the bitter laugh to escape his lips, as he swiped the back of his hand across his face to try and clear his face. Finding the bracelet again, studying it as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. Normally, he’d make a joke about it all. Call this place a five star hotel, but make a comment about how they could use better pillows. But he couldn’t find the words, no matter how hard he tried. Resigning himself to the truth, as he shrugged. “S’fine.” 

“Did uh… Did you get moved to medium security?” Dustin asked, and the puzzled look Eddie gave him in return as he looked up to see the boy must have prompted a further explanation. “Hopper put in a call. Well, several. Explained to the right people about what happened. He uh- he sends his best, by the way. Everyone does.”

Hopper? He thought the old chief of police had snuffed it in that Starcourt fire. More questions than answers given, and Dustin sighed wearily before explaining it all as best he could. As best as anyone could, given they had such a short time period to meet. 

Hopper was alive, something about being in Russia for a while. El was back from California, and shit was still going south with the upside-down. Hawkins was still in trouble, but they were on the case. Some sort of higher ups were working on Eddie’s case, but it needed to go through proper channels to keep an illusion of normality. Evidence to be hidden, to be planted, to clear his name. They were waiting on Max to wake up, so she could give her statement and have all charges officially dropped. All of it barely sticking in Eddie’s brain, no doubt the meds he was on still keeping his neurons dulled. 

But one thing stuck out. They were working on clearing his name. It was a shot at freedom. Not much, but it was there. In the darkness, came a small glimmer of hope. Like seeing a seam of gold in a coal mine. Something to cling onto for dear life, to keep putting one foot in front of the other for. 

It was hope. 

“You’re gonna get me out?” Eddie questioned, timbre cracking on every other syllable. Daring to look up to see the two people who probably cared about him more than anyone else on this Earth, and being met with a soft smile in return. 

“Yeah, we’re getting you out,” Dustin echoed, voice soft as he rubbed his palms on his jeans. He reached over to retrieve a plastic bag, leaning over and placing it by Eddie’s feet. “But for now, we’re allowed to come and see you every two weeks. And we’re allowed to bring stuff, too. I mean, it’s something, right?” 

Eddie felt too full of emotion, an experience he usually wasn’t fond of. A big reason he liked to get stoned, or listen to heavy metal music, or play his guitar. An outlet always helped, and right now he had nothing. Nothing but three pieces of string circling his wrist, and his leg bouncing a fast tempo. Peeking from the bag, he could see a book and a carton of Camels so far. Something he’d previously took for granted, but not any longer. He’d sworn to himself an oath during his two month mark in this place; if he ever got out of here, he’d never take the little things for granted ever again. 

He nodded along to the words, unlatching the harsh grip his teeth had on his lower lip before answering. “Yeah, it’s… It’s something. Thank you.” 

“Don’t sweat it man,” Dustin replied. “If you need anything, just… Just tell us, alright? We’ll see what we can do.” 

It took all the self restraint he had not to openly laugh, instead scrubbing his palm down the length of his face. He needed a lot of things. He needed a good night’s sleep, and a shower with water more than lukewarm and to never again smell carbolic soap. He needed to be able to take a long drive, maybe to the woods, avoiding lover’s lake to not have to remember those frightening and isolating days of hiding. He needed a good ounce of bud and his record player. Lots of things were needed. None were likely to actually be received.

“So, uh… Where’d you get that from?” Wayne asked after seconds of silence that went far too long for his liking. He knew better than anyone what a downward spiral looked like in his boy. 

It took Eddie a moment to realise what he was talking about, before clicking all the pieces together when his uncle stared at his arm for too long. He said your name, softly at first. Like a secret that wasn’t meant to be shared. An eyebrow raise prompted him to clear his throat and explain. “She uh… She’s helping me out around here. Someone to talk to.” 

Wayne didn’t seem impressed in the slightest, arms folding as he leaned in his chair. “You sure you can trust ‘er?” he asked, head slightly tilting. 

Eddie’s head nodded erratically, sending split ends and frizz flying. “She’s like me, Wayne. Innocent.” 

“And you believe her?” 

“...Yeah.” 

He did believe you. He couldn’t explain it, but there was a sort of gut feeling to be had around people that meant others harm. He’d felt it a couple of times in his life. Hairs on the back of his neck standing up, a nausea that couldn’t be replicated by an illness, a sense of unease paired with an urge to run. He first remembered it when his father would come home drunk, the front door slamming open and shut with heavy footfalls. He’d felt it when Jason and his lackeys were chasing after him that night on the boat. Hell, he felt it when that patient with the missing piece of his ear came a little too close for comfort, before you’d come to his rescue. 

He could trust you. He had to. The only other option was doing all of this alone.

He watched the wrinkles in Wayne’s face to deepen for only a few seconds, before they relaxed to his natural frown. The Munson men had a habit of speaking without words, knowing each other well enough to be able to see slight gestures and eye contact to mean something that nobody else could pick up on. This particular eyebrow raise meant ‘I believe you’. Eddie’s slight nod was a thank you. 

It was all over before it felt like it truly began. The sense of normality, of a conversation between three people who knew each other well, was cut short by an orderly opening the door and barking Eddie’s last name. With the faded grocery bag in hand - after yet another check of the contents, as if a shiv would magically appear after opening it for the fifth time - he was led back to the common room to engage in the mind-numbing routine that never changed. 

But at least you were sitting there, waiting for him. Lounged in one of the threadbare sofas, flipping through a magazine that he’d seen you read at least a half dozen times. You looked up, the ghost of a smile playing on your lips as you nodded towards the other side of the couch. No judgement, no questions barraged at him as he crossed the room. Just patience and a slight eyebrow raise. Thank God that won’t change, was his first thought. The smallest bloom, like the first of springtime, got caught in his ribcage. Swallowed back down, bitter as whisky, before it could cling to his heart and not let go. 

“Visitors?” you asked as he leaned over the armrest, your eyes not leaving the freshly turned page. He could sense something in your voice; something that caught his attention. It wasn’t anger. It was deeper than that, hitting at a lower emotional register. He noticed an ever so slight furrow of your brow, eyes ever so glossy. Then it hit him. Visitors. 

Something that not once, he had ever seen you leave for. 

He recognised that feeling. The feeling of always being left out at the playground, never allowed to join the other kids. Of being dumped at a doorstep you didn’t know by your piece of shit father, the memory of the back of his jacket exiting view through a haze of tears. It was being called names, or worse, being flat out ignored. He knew it all too well. And he’d always hated seeing it in others. 

But there was no point lying about it, either. “Yeah,” he nodded, plucking the carton of cigarettes from the bag and beginning to unwrap them. “My uncle and a friend. Hadn’t seen ‘em since…” He trailed off, shaking his head as he grasped a few packets from the sleeve. If you noticed his choice of words, you weren’t showing it.

 He placed them by your feet where they were half tucked underneath you with a wry smile. “For all the ones I stole when I first got here.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” you frowned, finally tossing the magazine to the floor. He noticed the way you seemed touched by the gesture, though. “This place gives ‘em out like fucking candy.” 

“Yeah, but you hate the brand they give out,” he chuckled, remembering how often you complained about it first thing in the morning, still half asleep and grumpy from the medications used to sedate you. “Just take ‘em. Save them for special occasions.” 

For a moment, he expected more of a fight. But to your credit, you took them with grace. Opening a pack and handing him one, you motioned for the lighter as you nodded your head towards the bag. “What else you get?” 

“Uhh… Good question,” he shrugged, finally taking everything out to inspect. The Colour of Magic by Terry Pratchett, and from the looks of it, it was secondhand. A quick inspection of the first page gave him the name of the previous owner.

D. Henderson. 

“Love that little shit,” he mumbled under his breath, a fond smirk as he plucked the last item. Well, items. There were various envelopes, already torn open and no doubt already read, bundled together by a rubber band. He recognised the one on top from the character sheets he’d had handed in over countless times. Lucas’ neat handwriting spelling out his name. Already, a lump formed in his throat as he hastily shoved them back. Not here, he reminded himself. 

“Good haul,” you said quietly, no doubt well aware of his sudden shift in mood. It was strange, how two people adrift could find equilibrium. He could sense your fluctuations, the small changes in behaviour, that let him know to tread carefully. And now, it was happening in reverse. 

All he could do was nod. Allow the static of the silence to wash over you two, and to your credit, you never pushed.

He was thankful for that. 

~

Small stacks of paper surrounded his silhouette on the bed, the one he was trying to read gripped tight in his fist whilst the other hand muffled his sobs. Eddie hadn’t had many good words heard about him over his short life. Words were usually spat with venom, and he flicked barbs back. But now, it was there, all in black and white, and in various calligraphy. 

“Be strong man, you got this,” wrote Steve. 

“We’re fighting for you as hard as we can out here, just hang tight,” Robin scrawled. 

“I’ve always known you didn’t do it, son. I need you to know that.” In a font he remembered the most. 

His ribcage broke with the force of how much his heart hurt. The grief, the sadness, the shame. It was washing over him like waves, threatening to drag him under for good. He grieved for Chrissy, and he grieved for himself. It just kept pouring, like molasses sticky in his throat, and he couldn’t breathe. It didn’t stop until dawn broke, when he finally managed to put a lid back on everything and shut it away. Close the door and refuse to look, for fear a monster is in the closet. 

Hide it away, so it doesn’t hurt. Hide it until it’s safe to come out, if it ever does. Hide it, conceal it, consume it until it’s as dense as a neutron star. And if you did hear him crying from across the hall, you didn’t say anything. God, he was so thankful you didn’t say anything.

[nightimedreamersworld]

20 questions for fic writers

Big thanks @artsyunderstudy and @prettygoododds @confused-bi-queer @bookish-bogwitch tagging me in this! And to everyone else who's tagged me in a tumblr meme recently. It's been a while since I've done one of these.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

33!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

Around 370k, but of those about 40k aren't mine. So in reality, something like 330k?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Only Carry On! I don't have the attention span for more of one at a time lol

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. How I wonder what you are aka baby fic

2. Mess is mine aka secret dating fic

3. Every little helps aka snickers fic

4. You and I will not be shaken aka huddling for warmth fic

5. From across the room aka my FIRST fic

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I don't 😭 which makes me feel guilty and ungrateful, but alas. Every time I've tried to in the past, I'd run out of steam after half a dozen comments or so. Don't get me wrong, I love comments, they fuel me etc etc. Replying just makes me unreasonably anxious

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Technically it's Love of Fate because it doesn't have an ending. It was supposed to be a prologue to something longer that would eventually have a happy ending, and that I simply never wrote lol

That said, the true angstiest ending is probably my All there's left is a ghost of you series - same moment, one from Simon's pov, the other from Baz's. Set between carry on and wayward son, which tells you everything about why it's here :) (Although arguably, those are hopeful endings. Kinda.)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Almost everything I write has a happy-ish ending, but the one indisputable happiest ending is probably How I wonder what you are

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not necessarily hate, but one time I did get someone mocking my fic for a mistake I made. Which, like, I deserved, for straying so far out of my comfort zone lol

Anyway. I have upped my research game since, so. Lesson learned?

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes! The kind I want to read lol

Seriously, though, I tend to write weird stuff I can't find elsewhere. Someone once mentioned there's little mirror sex fic in the fandom, and BAM! I got the itch to write one. I've also tried my hand at web cam sex, body modification, and... [reads smudged handwriting] cemetery sex?

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I haven't yet, but never say never, right? Although I'm much more likely to just write AUs instead. As in, take the world of the original, chuck the characters and just replace them with snowbaz lol

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Probably not? I mean. I hope so lol

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. I've thought about doing it myself, but there's roughly any engagement with fics in Portuguese on AO3, so it doesn't feel worth the trouble

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Birthday man! Though I might be open to it if a) someone with a compatible style is interested, and b) I find some free time to actually write lol

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Do I even need to say anything? (It's snowbaz)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Sigh. It's probably Let your colours bleed, because It's been 3 years, so I've just... sort of grown past the story? Which makes me sad, because I still like the concept, I just can't connect to anymore

There are a handful other WIPs still hanging on my ao3, but I still have hope for them.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like writing plot! And also actions scenes. And banter, maybe a bit too much lol

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

The beginning of a fic. And also the ending. And also the mid-

Seriously though, I find that I tend to be either too verbose or too succinct when I don't know exactly what I'm trying to say. Like, I either charge through it and the thing falls flat, or I drag it on for several paragraphs that amount to barely anything. Hopefully, I can mitigate that with the power of editing and beta readers

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I think it's cool depending on context! Like, is this a situation in which this character would simply switch to another language? Also, why?

I haven't done it yet, though.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Take a guess. (It was actually Harry Potter)

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Dance Like a Flame! My specialest baby. My little darling. My magnum opus.

I'll jump at literally any chance to talk about this fic, so beware.

Phew! Can't believe I actually answered one of these for once... now, I'm pretty sure almost everyone has done this already, but I'm going to tag a few people anyway just so this doesn't get lost in the abyss

@palimpsessed @captain-aralias @cutestkilla @larkral @aristocratic-otter @hushed-chorus @whatevertheweather @ivelovedhimthroughworse @whogaveyoupermission

[dewdropreader]

❦ ➷ get to know your fellow fanfic writers better ༊ ✧.*

I was tagged by @bebx and @loki-is-my-kink-awakening for this “get to know the writer” tag! Thank you! 😊

when did you post your first ever fanfic?

I believe in 2012-2013? I was around 13-14 years old, so around then anyway (my first one doesn’t exist online anymore as far as I know so I can’t double check.) it was the usual middle school fandom girl era lol. First for my current account was February of 2022!

first character you wrote for:

It would have been Rin Matsuoka from Free! Iwatobi Swim Club! Specifically him and Nitori, they were one of my fave ships in that series!

main character(s) you’re currently writing for:

Basically anyone from the Loki series but especially Loki and Mobius and Sylvie, not necessarily in that order or all together but some combo of them 💚

character(s) you haven’t written about before but plan on writing about soon:

I haven’t written for OFMD but would really like to! I’ve had a lot of feels s2, no solid ideas yet but maybe something will spark some inspiration! Also Red White and Royal Blue! I haven’t gotten a chance to read the book yet but I watched the movie and got hooked and love those boys too 💕 so maybe one or both of them if the Loki series even temporarily gets it’s hooks out of me (with s2 though I’ve been as bad if not worse than before with my obsession so who knows lol)

And for within marvel the ship that got me into fanfic and got me to make this current ao3 account was Stucky so even though I only read for them and never wrote, they always have a place in my heart!

fandom(s) you’re currently writing for:

Also just Loki atm! But who knows for the future.

platonic pairing(s) you currently write for:

Mobius and any of the void Lokis as the best found family ever (Mobius and kid, Mobius and classic, Mobius and all of them my beloveds)

I haven’t written it recently but also wrote B-15 and Sylvie in a non romantic context and even though I think they’re also cute romantically I love them as a platonic pair and want to do more with them too! Similarly Sylvie and C-20, I wish they could have been friends if things had gone a bit differently 🥺

romantic pairing(s) you currently write for:

Lokius and Sylkius! Haven’t written any pure Sylki but who knows (I just like Mobius too much to not include him atm)

your top 3 tags on AO3 (if you post your works on AO3):

Hurt/comfort, fluff, and hugs 😂 sounds about right to me! I like some pain and crying and working through stuff but need the hugs and comfort alongside it/after it for sure.

your current platform where you post your works

AO3 is the same as my name here!

I try to post my fics links on tumblr too but don’t always remember so ao3 is always best bet if you want to read my stuff!! 😍

snippet of the wip you’re currently working on:

Right now I’m most heavily focused on a character study type fic cataloging different moments with Sylvie adapting to her McDonald’s life but specifically looking at her relationship with Jack, I think she would have such a great big sister vibe and they could learn a lot from each other 🥹

“Good job today, Sylvie,” Jack says, his lopsided smile clear even before Sylvie glances his way. He’s always got compliments and kindness at the ready, and he’s young and gentle enough that they’re always believable.

“Thanks, Jack,” she feels a smile curl onto her face. She still, even after knowing Loki and Mobius and B-15, feels like she doesn’t know how to have friends or family or any genuine connections at all. But Jack is the first in a long time to feel so real to her, to feel like a relationship she can stick with, with these new more permanent circumstances and her distance from the trauma of the TVA. She doesn’t remember what it’s like to be a sister, her memories of Thor long gone beyond the occasional glimmers in her dreams, let alone what being the older sister would be like, but this is what she suspects it is. A fierce protectiveness and gentle care, the ignoring of any silly flaws or naïveté because you just care about the person. That’s what she has for Jack, ever since he took her under his wing as an employee, she’s done the same for him as just a person.

“Mind if I stay here for a bit? My ma is going to be a few more minutes.”

Sylvie just smiles softly and scoots over on the wide hood of her truck, gesturing to the empty spot.

Jack nods rather sagely as he awkwardly hoists himself on to the hood of the truck, pushing himself up with his arms and then practically throwing himself on to it.

He pants softly as he adjusts to lay on his back a foot or two away from Sylvie, giving her another boyish grin. “Hey.”

“Very smooth, Jack,” Sylvie snorts.

“Your truck is huge! I’ve ridden in trucks before but yours is massive! I’m not sure how you even get up here, you’re shorter than me!” He laughs.

“My little secret, I guess,” Sylvie shrugs with a slight smile, returning her gaze to the inky sky, dotted with a trillion stars.

I’m excited to keep writing this, I’ve got some Lokius ideas in the works too but this one has been my focus for a few days!!

I’d love to see anyone do this that is interested but I’ll tag my usual group!!

@insert-witty-user-name-here @starport-seven-five @lgwilt @mirilyawrites @cha-melodius @chaos-monkeyy @waterhorseyblues-ao3 @blackbirdofasgard @dreamycloud @queen-of-meows

[astarionfreak]

The blood on your hands is mine (3/?)

// Spawn Astarion x Wren (Fem!Durge)

Wren is a wretched thing. Dark thoughts consume her mind, urging her to kill, kill, kill. Her hunger for murder is only matched by Astarion’s thirst for blood. She’s fascinated by him. After all, he makes for such a perfect, pretty corpse.

Astarion thinks Wren looks particularly exquisite when she’s killing to protect him. If only he can figure her out, then he’d have her wrapped her around his little finger. It should be easy, right? Manipulate her feelings and ensure her dark thoughts are directed at his enemies — never at him.

Tags (cw): Smut, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Violence, Trauma, Dark, Suicidal Thoughts, Dissociation, Blood Kink, Sex pollen, dubcon

Read on AO3.

***

Wren had every intention of traveling through the Underdark. But a last-minute scolding from Lae’zel encouraged her to change her mind. Besides, this path offered Astarion more time in the sun.

So, through the Mountain Pass they went. But there were no answers at the Crèche. There was only death, destruction, and more questions. Tomorrow they would begin the long journey back and enter the Underdark anyway.

Wren sat by the fire alone. She flexed her fingers and rolled her wrist in a small circle, it cracked and popped. The motion sent a sharp pain up her forearm. She’d jammed it escaping the monastery.

How many died? Wren tried to push down the excitement that thought gave her. As much as she’d preferred to have taken their lives in a more intimate manner, this was still a lovely option. Effective.

She tried not to retch. Disgusting. Horrible. Monster. She had yet to find a reprieve from the dark thoughts that haunted her.

Astarion stepped out of his tent, he was an exquisite distraction. The evening sun lit him perfectly. Gods. He truly was the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen.

Oh, but he could be far more beautiful. She pictured those pale, refined features, those delicate, white curls — adorned with blood.

Wren squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed back the bile that crawled up her throat. Fuck. She hadn’t hurt him. Not yet. But the desire was there — her wicked urges. As long as she remained in control of her body and mind, everything would be fine.

When she opened her eyes, the object of her obsession was standing right in front of her. Shit. She flinched, startled. How he managed to step so quietly, so quickly, was beyond her.

“Did I scare you?” Astarion tilted his head, studying her with an almost-amused expression.

“No,” Wren said.

Astarion smirked. “Liar.”

“Did you want something? Or did you just come over here to annoy me?”

“Simply checking in. I wondered how you were holding up after the earful you got from Lae’zel.”

“Yeah, about that. There’s a chance that blowing up the Githyanki Crèche was the wrong thing to do,” Wren said.

Astarion chuckled. “Oh, you’re just coming to that conclusion now?”

The playfulness in his eyes was there, a curiosity that made Wren want to surrender herself to him completely.

“I mean, they did try to kill us,” Wren said. “But — it really was an accident. I have apologized . . .”

“You can apologize until you’re blue in the face, but Lae’zel isn’t the particularly forgiving sort.”

“You forgave me,” Wren said.

“Oh, did I? I can’t seem to remember actually saying the words I forgive you. What I do remember is you unleashing all sorts of chaos and blowing me to bits.”

“What was it you said again? Something about the full concentrated power of the sun.”

It’s not funny, surely. But Wren still had to bite down on her lower lip to prevent herself from chuckling.

“I’m not laughing, Wren. I died.”

“And Withers brought you back.”

Astarion leaned back, offended. “I’d rather not rely on that dusty old bag of bones for my continued existence, thank you very much.” Astarion sighed. “Next time, just warn me before you do something stupid. At least then I can get out of the blast radius.”

“Fair enough. Next time I steal an ancient weapon protected by an incredibly destructive lance, I’ll warn you,” Wren said.

Astarion rolled his eyes and huffed. “Thank you for reminding me how much that hurt.”

“Speaking of pain, do you have any healing potions to spare? I don’t want to bother Shadowheart, I think she’s sleeping.”

“What’s mine is yours,” Astarion said with a wave of his hand. “There should be one in my pack.”

Wren darted over to his tent. She located Astarion’s bag and rummaged through until she found something that looked vaguely like a healing potion.

It was nearly identical, the only difference was it seemed to reflect the sunlight in a way she could only describe as odd.

She popped the cork, gave it a sniff, and pressed the bottle to her lips.

“Wren, wait, there was actually —”

Too late. Wren downed the entire bottle. She wiped her mouth off on the back of her hand. It only took a few seconds for Wren to realize she’d made a mistake. “What was that? It didn’t taste like a healing potion.”

Astarion closed the distance between them and eyed Wren with a particular level of concern. “Honestly? I’m not entirely sure. It was one we swiped from the hag’s lair.”

“Shit,” Wren said.

“Shit, indeed. Do you feel any different?”

Wren shook her head. “No. I feel like myself."

“Maybe it was nothing.”

“Maybe,” Wren said.

“But probably not.”

“No, probably not.”

A pleasant tingling began to spread outward from the center of her chest. Had she mentioned how beautiful Astarion was? He should be closer. So much closer. Wren moved toward him.

Astarion took a few small steps back. “Ah, I have a theory.”

Wren tilted her head and frowned. Closer. He should be closer. Not farther away.

“What’s your theory?” she asked. The words felt heavy on her tongue. Was she slurring?

“Consider this an educated guess, but I suspect that potion was an aphrodisiac,” he said. “Fast acting too, it seems.”

Wren laughed. No, that couldn’t be right. Could it? “What makes you think that?”

Warmth pooled between her legs. An overwhelming desire crashed into her. Fuck.

“Hm. Let’s see. For starters, the size of your pupils. Then there’s the way you’re staring oh, so eagerly at me,” Astarion said. “And, now you’re trying to pull down my trousers.”

Astarion captured her wrists in one swift motion and held them above her head. The pain in her wrist from her earlier injury was nothing compared to the throbbing ache between her legs.

“Oh.” Wren gasped. Even something as simple as his fingers curled around her wrists sent a wave of pleasure cascading across her body. “I seem to remember you offering me a night of depraved, carnal lust. Can I finally take you up on that?”

Even through her lust-fueled haze, Wren noticed Astarion frown. “I’m not sure if that’s the brightest idea, darling. Ethically speaking.”

“What can I say to convince you?”

“I’m sure you’d say anything to get what you want in your current state,” Astarion said.

“Please, Astarion.” She squirmed, trying to get closer to him. “I want you. I wanted you that night. Now, I need you. Please.”

Astarion held impossibly still, but there was something in his eyes that let Wren know begging was having some sort of effect. If begging worked, would jealousy?

“If you won’t have your way with me, maybe I should find Wyll?”

Astarion laughed. “Wyll? Really, Wren? He’s far too pure to take advantage of you like this.”

"Lae'zel?" An empty threat. They were barely on speaking terms after Wren's explosive mistake.

"You can try that, but she very well might cleave you in half." Astarion barked out another laugh. "I mean with her sword and not her tongue, to be clear."

Wren growled softly. “Fine. Gale then?”

Oh. That struck a nerve. Astarion spun Wren to face his tent and pushed her inside. He kept his grip on her tight as the tent flap fell shut behind them.

Wren shifted to press her back against Astarion’s firm chest. Anything for more contact.

He made a frustrated noise. “Wren.”

“Astarion.” She whimpered and tried to get closer.

Astarion wrapped his arms around her — holding her body tight against his chest. “Do you want Gale to fuck you, Wren?” His lips ghosted over the shell of her ear.

Her heart slammed against her ribcage and that ache between her legs grew more intense. “Use the tadpole. Go in my mind. See for yourself.”

Wren was too consumed by her desperate need for contact, for him, to realize how risky this offer was. As long as she stayed focused on sex, hopefully, he wouldn’t see any of her other — more dangerous — fantasies.

She recalled the first night she masturbated while thinking about Astarion. Then, she opened her mind. She waited for the telltale squirming in her brain before letting the fantasy play out.

Wren on top of Astarion, lowering herself onto his cock as he held her with a bruising grip. Wren in his lap as his teeth sank into her breast, her shoulder, then her neck. He’d drink from her in lazy pulls as she rolled her hips. They’d come undone together. She’d whimper his name again, and again, like a prayer. Her blood would spill, drip, and smear between them. They’d sweat, and moan, and she would lose herself in him.

Astarion freed himself from her thoughts. He shifted, still holding her close. One of his hands though, slid beneath her pants — nearly low enough to offer her pleasure. The other arm remained wrapped around her chest. His face stayed tucked against the curve of her neck.

“In the forest, you said you needed more time to get yourself under control. This . . ." He slid his hand down, fingers just beginning to dip into the heat between her legs. “This isn’t under control.”

Wren closed her eyes and let herself melt into his touch. She tried to grind against his fingers, but her efforts were wasted. She needed him. She needed more. His fingers, his tongue, his cock -- fuck. She'd be happy just to grind against his leg if that's all he'd allow.

"I need to come, Astarion." Wren pressed her body back and felt the beginnings of an erection. "It seems you want this too."

"It wouldn't be right, Wren." He said one thing, but his dexterous fingers did the opposite. He dipped two fingers down into her slick and glided them back up to find her clit.

Wren choked back a moan. "Please, Astarion. Please. Gods. Your fingers feel so fucking good."

"That's all you get, Wren. Two fingers. Nothing else. You're going to come, right here, standing while I hold you. Then you're going back to your bed." His fingers began to move torturously slow circles around her clit.

Wren's cunt clenched around nothing. Her body trembled. She could come right here, with only his feather-light touch bringing her over the cusp of ecstasy. But she wanted more.

"No." As soon as the word left her lips Astarion stopped and withdrew his fingers. "No, no, no, don't stop. I just --"

Wren groaned, body aching for his touch to return.

"You just what, Wren?"

"I want more," she whimpered. "What if we make it fair?"

Astarion's fingers trailed up and down her stomach. "And how would we do that?"

Wren's breath caught in her throat. She pressed back into him again. "Bite me."

Begging? Check. Jealousy? Check. Blood. On offer. If those three things wouldn't encourage him to fuck her senseless, Wren wasn't sure what would.

"Wren." Once again, her name was being used as a warning.

But there was something else in his tone, something that made her think -- maybe -- she won this round.

"Astarion, please. Pretty please." Wren shifted, chasing the path of his hand. Desperate for more.

"I could list a thousand reasons this is a dreadful idea," he said. But his fingers continued to travel back down, down, until they were lightly brushing over her clit again. "But how could I say no when you're just so pathetically wet for me."

Wren choked back a moan. "It's all for you, Astarion. Please. I'll do anything."

She meant it. Anything. Anything at all. Just to feel him near her, on her, inside her.

"Careful what you wish for, darling." Astarion punctuated that sentence by slipping one finger into her weeping cunt.

Wren gasped and rolled her hips, trying to claim more from his tender touch. "Clothes. Less clothes," she whimpered.

Astarion removed his finger, released his hold on her body, and gently pushed her toward his bedroll. "Strip and get on your back."

Wren stumbled and then spun to face him. There was an intensity, a heat in his gaze that sent a shiver up her spine. How could she have forgotten that he was just as dangerous as her?

Wren stopped wasting time. She tugged her shirt off, then her pants, and stood before him in just the thin fabric of her underwear and bra.

His gaze trailed over her breasts, down her hips, and between her legs before snapping back up to meet her eyes.

"Your turn," Wren said. She tugged at the straps of her bra, slowly starting to pull it off.

Astarion tutted. "You said you'd do anything. So, you will obey, or you will get nothing."

Obey. The command went straight to her cunt. Another wave of desperate need crashed over her, this time making her knees weak. "I will obey," she said.

"Good girl," Astarion purred. He looked so fucking smug, and yet Wren would do anything he said just for a taste of what he could offer.

So she tugged her bra off and slid out of her underwear -- which she noticed had been completely drenched. Her thighs were slick as well.

She moved to the ground, stared up at him, and then shifted to lie on her back. Her heart thrashed around in her chest. Her bare skin buzzed with anticipation.

Astarion dropped to his knees at her feet, grabbed her ankles, and spread her legs apart. He crawled forward, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're sure this is what you want, Wren?"

She nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes, I need you. Please, Astarion."

This need for him ran far deeper than some hag's potion. This stranger. This man. This vampire crawling between her legs understood her in ways she didn't even yet understand herself.

Maybe trusting him was an objectively stupid thing to do. Maybe she was putting her life at risk by baring everything to him -- her body, her mind -- her heart. But maybe some things are worth the risk.

Astarion's lips met her thigh. He kissed and bit gently, the light drag of his fangs elicited another quiet moan from her throat. Then he licked a line along her thigh with the flat of his tongue, tasting the mess she'd made between her legs.

Wren grabbed at the furs beneath her, body tensing as he inched closer to the spot that would provide actual relief. "Fuck, Astarion, please."

"Shh, darling. Not too loud. Why don't you cover your mouth with your hand," Astarion said.

Wren did as she was told.

"Good girl. Now, I'm going to bite you right here." He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. "I'm going to drink. I'm going to use my mouth and my fingers to make you come. Then, if you still want more we'll continue. Nod if you understand."

Wren nodded, her eyes never leaving his face. Such a gentleman. It made her sick. He was so fucking close to where he needed to be and he was checking in.

But she didn't have much time to dwell. His fangs sank into her skin, drawing a muffled moan from her throat.

Wren clenched her jaw and did her best to hold as still as possible while he fed from such a tender place. 

"F-fuck," she whimpered against the palm of her own hand.

He drank, and drank until he was satisfied. Until her blood warmed him. Until the hag's potion took effect.

Astarion tore himself away from her veins. His tongue chased rivulets of blood as it dripped down her thigh, mixing with her sticky desire.

Is this what he saw when she took the potion? His pupils were blown wide and he looked at her with such an intense need. It thrilled her.

He seemed to consider biting down on her other thigh, but instead chose to lap at the twin puncture wounds once, twice, a third time. Then, finally, he gave her what she'd waited oh, so patiently for.

He moaned against her warm cunt as his tongue dove between her folds. His tongue traveled up until he found her clit, where he offered just the right amount of pressure.

Wren kept her hand firmly clamped against her mouth, trying to muffle the ungodly sounds that were trying to escape her. Each skillful flick of his tongue brought her closer and closer to the edge of bliss.

Wren's body tensed and trembled as he worked with perfect precision. She squeezed her thighs against Astarion's ears. Her free hand, the only she wasn't using to silence herself, grabbed hold of Astarion's delicate curls.

She pushed him into her and rolled her hips gently, trying desperately to get more -- more, more, more. The low rumble of another moan against her cunt nearly finished her.

Then two of his fingers slipped inside her with ease. When he curled them, that is what finally sent her over the edge.

Astarion lazily pumped his fingers in and out of her cunt as her orgasm claimed her. At the height of oblivion, his fangs sank into her other thigh -- the sharp pain only deepened her pleasure.

Wren removed her hand from her mouth and reached down to gently touch the tip of his ear. "Fuck, Astarion. I need your cock. Please," she whispered. "Please fuck me."

His eyes snapped up to meet hers, a stare so intense her body shivered. Wren swallowed thickly and watched him from behind her heaving chest. She still hadn't managed to catch her breath.

"Keep begging," he growled. Astarion crawled slowly up her body, planting gentle kisses along her stomach, her chest, and her breasts.

Wren tugged at his shirt and he helped her pull it off, finally revealing his perfect chest. "Please, Astarion. Please. I want you. I need you. I need you to fuck me, please. Please, please, please."

Astarion nipped at her jaw once, twice, before silencing her pleads with a rough kiss. Their lips moved at a bruising rhythm. Astarion rolled his hips, taunting her with an erection still covered by the fabric of his trousers.

Wren put an open palm on his chest and pushed him back. He stared down at her and licked his lips. "Pants off, please. Please, Astarion."

He rolled to his side, shifting to remove his pants. When they were off, he sat up, and Wren used this opportunity to crawl into his lap.

"Bad girl," Astarion said. But his hands settled on her hips and he pulled her closer. "If I remember correctly, you had some ideas similar to this."

Wren lifted herself up slightly and pressed her body closer to him. "A few ideas. If you're still interested."

"Do I not seem interested?" Astarion released his grip on one of her hips to grab his cock, angling it at her entrance.

"It's hard to tell with you," Wren teased. Her breath caught in her throat and she slowly, slowly began to sink down onto his cock.

Astarion tucked his face into the curve of her neck. She felt another low rumble of a moan against her skin, then his gentle lips as he searched for where her pulse beat the strongest.

Wren took the length of him with ease and then began to slowly, carefully roll her hips, fucking herself on him. She continued this languid pace until she knew they were both close. "Bite me again, please, she whimpered.

Astarion growled against her neck. "If I do that I'll come inside you, Wren. Is that okay?"

Fucker. Asking permission. She'd rather he just take what he wanted from her. "Y-yes," she said.

But he gave her what she wanted. His fangs tore through her flesh and he fed as her cunt clenched around him. She picked up the pace until she came, whimpering his name. Until he spilled himself inside her.

She rolled her hips a few more times, riding out her climax and working him through his. When he pulled away from her neck her blood dripped down her heaving chest and between her breasts.

Wren rolled off of him and onto her back. She tried to catch her breath. Her vision blurred and exhaustion overtook her limbs. She glanced over at Astarion, who sat rather still with his eyes closed.

Her stomach lurched. "Are you okay?" Wren asked. Her voice soft.

Astarion nodded, then slipped on what appeared to be a practiced smile. "Of course. That was . . . delightful. I only need a moment."

It was when he leaned forward to reach for his shirt that Wren noticed the scars on his back.

"Interesting scars," she said. "How did you get them?"

As soon as the question left her lips, Wren knew it was a mistake.

It was brief, only a second, but Astarion froze. His body stiffened. Then he grabbed his shirt and pulled it on over his head. "It's a poem. A gift from my old master, Cazador. He considered himself quite the artist and used his slaves as a canvas."

He grabbed his underwear next and shifted to pull them on. Then his trousers. Wren mirrored him, also pulling her clothes on.

"He composed and carved that one over the course of a night. He made a lot of revisions as he went," he said.

"What does it say?" Wren asked. She knew she should let it go, that he didn't want to talk about it -- but she pushed anyway.

Astarion sighed, frustrated. "I don't know. But whatever the bastard wrote it won't change anything he did to me."

At least she knew him well enough not to offer pity. She made her way to the exit but paused to face him. "Astarion?"

He looked up at her from his bedroll. "Yes?"

"Thank you, for tonight." Her heart sank. Something was wrong.

Astarion gave her another one of those practiced smiles. "Of course. Now, go, before I regret my restraint."

Wren slipped out of his tent and made her way to her own bedroll. Sex with him was supposed to be easy, fun, even under the effects of some potion it shouldn't have been complicated. So why did she feel this way?

[lulu-balu]

Booooy howdy here's a bit of a doozy. Where do I begin!

Well I chose my old username back in mid 2017 when I was a wee lass writing silly fics on fanfiction.net. I chose it because it was Italian for "You are beautiful", because 1) I'm half Italian and 2) I thought it was sweet and wholesome.

To start: as I said above, I'm half Italian. That's because I'm Italian-American, that side of the family *has* been for quite a few generations now and they absolutely fit ALL the stereotypes you could think of when you hear "Italian-American". Stupidly proud of their heritage, and usage of silly botched up slang all while knowing little to no actual Italian. I know some stuff mainly through osmosis but yea. I definitely can't speak the language and I'll admit I simply do not have the brain power to memorize another language. I tried it with Spanish in high school already and it didn't go very well LOL

So yeah. I was one of "those" people as a teen. Idk why, it's stupid and I'm simply not like that anymore! So that's the biggest reason, but it's also not the only reason.

Number two is simplicity. Seeing that it's a common Italian phrase it's no surprise that "Sei Bellissima" straight up is taken across different sites, leading me to have to make some funky additions so that I can make accounts on there. This can lead to some confusion. Not to mention those additions can make the username long as hell in general and a pain to type out. So I went for a shorter name that will still be easier to remember, even in the cases where additions are necessary.

And uhh regarding the "Sweet and wholesome" thing- I still try to be positive where I can, but I've been through the wringer a *lot* since then and I simply do not have as much happy energy as I did back then. Believe me, it's sad and I really had no idea what was coming for me at the time but- being that overtly positive all the time definitely drained me a lot more than necessary. I guess that's another reason for a change; it all just didn't fit who I am anymore.

So yeah, to put it all simply: it doesn't represent the kind of person I perceive myself to be today, so I decided it was time for a change. As for my decision-making process behind that change?

Lulubalu is pronounced "loo-loo-buh-loo" and is derived from the word "hullabaloo", which is a word used to refer to a commotion or fuss over something. I kinda think it fits how I react to things I really enjoy and hyperfixate on; I just go absolutely nuts. Mostly not publicly but uh. Yeah I'm very enthusiastic sdfjkhsk

The "Lulu" part is just because I like that name and the way it sounds when spoken. It isn't even my real name I just like it a lot lol. Speaking of. When you wanna speak to me now, you can use "Lulu" to address me

ANYWAY. I'm still me; I've certainly changed a lot over the years and the username change is a nice way to reflect that, I think. All of the stuff I've posted over the years is still here so if you've got anything bookmarked you'll want to update that (I will be changing my art tag to [#lulu's doodles] and will be taking the free time I have to update all the posts skdjfhskj). Buuuut otherwise I think that's it. If you've made it this far, thanks for reading and enjoying the stuff I've put out over the years <3

[seokiloquy]

Shift Pt 1 - Kozume Kenma

Au: Regular (timeskip)

Tags/Warnings: Dual POV, use of a pseudonym (username) instead of (Y/N) in most cases, swearing. More of a prologue

Word Count: 1.6k

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4

“Are you friends with any other streamers?” You paused momentarily, making your chair creak as you sat back. “Ya. I’d say so. I’m not best friends with any of them; I haven’t had many opportunities to get that far. But I’m friends with a few. Uvo TV and Solarii I talk to the most. If you haven’t seen their streams, they both do a lot more first-person shooters.”

You glance at your main screen, waiting for the final portion of the loading animation to finish. Back at your secondary monitor, comments continue to roll by.

“I sadly can’t stream any earlier in the day. I’ve got work to do. Be happy you have me most hours on the weekend… I have a job, yes; you must be new… I went to university, yes….”

Your lips purse. “Theatre and film.”

A slew of comments fly by, each saying the same few words, all with the same sentiment.

<THEATRE KID>

They were laughing at you.

Clicking your tongue, you turned to your main screen. “I’m ignoring that. Half of you are theatre kids anyways. You can’t talk.”

Moving your fingers against your keyboard, you finally got your game going. Pushing your 3D rendered character into the next leg of the story. You’ve played through this game many times; first in high school. A classmate, sitting in the seat in front of you, had been watching the teaser trailer when he screeched in the middle of the teacher’s lesson. It caught your attention from over his shoulder, and you approached him after class to ask about it. You played it repeatedly that year. The second game came out in your first year of university when you had become so sickly and depressed that all you could do was play the game while your fellow theatre-major roommate read out your scripts for you. The third instalment came out a month after you graduated. You decided to stream your playthrough on a whim since you had no job and could spend hours every day in front of your monitor.

Arcadia’s Inferno. An open-world adventure game that tells the story of a seemingly harmonious world full of lively nature but holds secrets to a long since dead society. The story progresses with each game, and the world becomes more and more horrifying despite the beautifully designed scenery. It’s masterful, unexpected, and you eat it up every time.

You had become established in the community of ADI quickly within a year, gaining way more followers than you could even fathom. And despite playing more games than Arcadia’s Inferno, they stuck with you.

But then the developers contacted you, and you had to sign an NDA because they were making the series’ fourth game. You were blown out of the water because they asked you to voice the main character for that game, which is the biggest dream come true, especially after training for 4 years to do voice acting. Still, you couldn’t tell anyone because the trailer was only about to be dropped next week, and no one that wasn’t working on the game knew anything about it, but you were one of those people and—

You flinched as your player fell off a cliff and died at the bottom.

“Don’t say a word.”

The chat had already jumped on you.

“I blame you guys. You sabotaged me. NO, I WAS NOT THINKING OF HAMILTON. Now I am, though. Thanks.”

You could hardly wait for the trailer to be released.

Kenma pauses his fingers to squint at his chat. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere (since all he’d been doing was typing a note for himself off-screen while the game was paused), his chat had sent rapid messages as if they were having their own conversations.

He sighs, moving his mouse to scroll through. “What’s going on, you guys?”

<ADI 4!!!!!>

< Arcadia’s Inferno 4 trailer just released!>

<AAAAHHHHHHH>

Kenma paused, heart thumping. He quickly opened a tab and found the video to share on the screen; it was released five minutes ago and was already trending. He hit play.

There have been rumours and speculations about the series’ return. It was common knowledge that there would be more games. A sudden trailer release was a new approach. It was just a matter of when, so as months pass and then years, fans wait patiently for any inkling of news.

The trailer started with a weapon slicing across the screen, followed by the sound of a falling tree, before panning up from darkness to the sight of raging fires with a shadow inside and trees crumbling.

ADI always had something new to face, not quite a villain. The games really told a person vs nature story, set in a fantasy world with a protagonist that was more morally grey than good or evil. 

The sound from Kenma speakers roared, and a colossal monster slowly emerged through the flames. 

The trailer ended as soon as it started, finishing with the logo and release date.

“That’s in a month?” Kenma asked, primarily to himself.

Games developers, Dungeon included, often spend years making their games, even after their initial announcement. One month would mean that the game is already finished, and they had started it before the third game was released.

Kenma’s chat was hysterical over the change in scenery of the world, distraught over the destruction and chaos.

Kenma leaned in his seat, fist over his mouth as he lifted his legs onto the chair. “They wouldn’t spoil the climax of the game, right? That was a lot… Hold on.” Kenma typed into his browser. “Got it. That dragon is Mayzuth, the same as at the end of the last game. But more in distress, injured. That scar on the eyes is new.”

Comments flooded in, all around the same tune of calling themselves dumb for not noticing or complimenting Kenma on his use of game knowledge and memory. He ignored it, though, glancing briefly and ducking into his shoulders. He replays the trailer again, looking for more clues in the flames.

“I may be wrong, but I think this place is supposed to be near the dense forest. Which is supposed to be the burial ground of the Biolor, the giant in the first game, whose decomposing body is why the forest is so dense. That place burning down is not great.” Kenma pauses momentarily, rewatching the trailer before turning to the chat. “That’s all I can piece together.”

<As if that isn’t the whole trailer> someone commented.

<ForestFire said the same thing!>

<I’ve got no idea>

Between each comment were several emotes, mostly of cats, which he ignored in favour of zeroing in on one comment.

ForestFire, though commonly just called Forest, Fire, even Flame, or just their name, was an avid Arcadia’s Inferno fan. One that quickly overtook Kenma in the category. He quietly huffed.

“Hey, this is my stream. You’re my fans; no talking about other streamers in my chat. I have your attention here.”

<Just watch their reaction!>

<Watch it! Watch it! Watch it!>

“I’ll do a poll. But you guys better not choose to watch someone else’s content.”

Of course, that’s precisely what they did. The pole was overtaken by an 80% vote to see ForestFire’s reaction. 

“I hate you all.” He switched over and, upon entering, was quickly greeted by ForestFire’s excitable chat.

“Oh, Kodzuken! Welcome! Everyone say hi.”

His chat flooded in as well.

“Ahh, you want to see my reaction? I’ll play it. Did anyone clip it?”

Soon enough, the slip was playing and just as his chat told him, Forest went on the same tangent he did, making the exact same predictions. He huffed.

Forest was knowledgeable about the series, and the predictions weren’t too far fetched, but even so, making the same guess made an annoying zing go off in his head. He grumbled, sending a quick and friendly response before returning to his stream.

“We are never doing that again.”

His chat teased him for being so shy.

You waited for Kodzuken to leave your stream before letting out a sigh of relief. The man carried silent intimidation as if he was criticising everyone he interacted with. You would watch his streams often in university, appreciating his soft voice as he played through your favourite game. It was an honour to be a sort of colleague to him. But it also made your heart ram against your lungs every time you came close to interacting. 

Sucking in a breath, you gave your chat a blown-out stare. “What the hell was that? I nearly died.”

<Literally? Yay!>

<Ooooooh Forest has a crushhhhh>

<theres worse ways to go>

“Chat, Ken is scary. And smart. Him popping into my chat and hardly saying anything gives me the spooks! No, stop shipping us!”

You sighed as a debate started about ship names, one that even your moderators decided to chime in on.

“I’m not going to encourage this.”

That only seemed to drive them further.

You wake up late the following day to a message from Uvo.

<Multiplayer game! You’re joining!>

Followed by a link to the game lobby.

You cringed.

<Dude. Why do you have to do this to me?>

<Trying to get you a social life>

You grumble and smack your fingertips against your keyboard.

<I have friends>

<ya, like 3>

< That’s good for me>

<Well, too bad, I already told everyone you were joining>

<Bro….. Whos gonna be there?>

<Me, you, Solarii, Tawny, Dust, X, Patty, and Ken>

<Kodzuken?>

You hoped it wasn’t.

<Yep!>

Fuck.

I hope I can make this mini-series actually good. - Bacon 

IT’LL BE AMAZING - Kiwi 

Posted: 07/05/2023

[kitkatt0430]

Answer the Questions and Tag 5 Fanfic Authors

Thanks for the tag @goldheartedchaoticdisaster :D

1. How did you get into writing fanfiction?

Writing fanfic was something I just started doing because I wanted to have more Voyager stories about Seven of Nine when I was still pretty young. Actually posting up fanfics I'd written? Junior High, I think - so preteens/early teens - when a friend introduced me to the wonderful world of Fanfiction.net; I started reading fic and worked up the courage to actually post my own after a bit.

2. How many fandoms have you written in?

51? I think? It's at least that many, anyway.

3. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

I joined FFnet in 2002 so let's just go with 22 years. I did write some stuff before that, but none of it was posted and all of it is lost.

4. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

I read more, but I certainly do write a lot. :D

5. What is one way you’ve improved as a writer?

I've gotten a lot better at world building. But also establishing initial characterizations and making character growth make sense.

6. What’s the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Not necessarily weird, but I've looked up information on various degrees and how long they take to complete as well as different types of power of attorney - yes, there is more than one! - and the different ways they apply.

7. What’s your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

I like the comments that have reactions to different parts of the fic/chapter and maybe favorite quotes as they read along. Those are the types of comments I like to leave most too.

8. What’s the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

Lol, does writing a Fringe/Flash crossover fic count? ;)

I've got some pretty rare pairs that I've written for - Reverb/HR and Savitar/Reverb and Savitar/Eobard are probably the most rare thus far but I find I enjoy the challenge of rare pairs that are of the ships that pass in the night variety so I may wind up with more very rare pairs as time goes on.

There's been a few experimental-ish fics I've written, like Spiral which… I'm not really sure how to describe the style for that fic.

9. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

I struggled a lot with the ending to You Must Live (For Me) because it was a bad guys win fic and so I knew from the start I'd be killing off Iris. But it was still difficult to do.

So overall I think fics that kill off main characters in some way? I don't write that often, but even just the aftermath of such a thing can be really difficult to write. Grief is just… hard to write because it hurts so much.

10. What is the easiest type?

Fluffy, silly fics. Things like Buzz Buzz often just flow easily because they're silly and fun.

But often also fics that address things I feel strongly about. Not always - sometimes I get in my own way with those fics - but sometimes that strong emotion will just carry me through writing something until suddenly I have an entire fic. Seeress was definitely one of those where replaying the ending of Final Fantasy 13-2 where the bad guy has basically pulled a 'heads I win, tails you lose' scenario (which the final game rectifies) had me speculating on how some of the foreshadowing in the game indicated there could have been a different ending to things.

11. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

On my computer - though a tablet + keyboard combo will do in a pinch. Rarely on a notebook these days because I can't guarantee I'll find the motivation to transcribe it later, though notebooks are a good place for making story notes instead of fic writing.

I'll typically use LibreOffice because it's easy to use and free. I'll also use Notion, which has a free tier and is good for when I want to be able to work on a fic from my tablet or on a different computer from usual.

For my sins… sometimes I'll write a fic directly into Ao3's editor.

12. What is something you’ve been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

I'm trying to get better at making 'one day' become 'today' when it comes to this sort of thing. I feel like my Flash/Fringe crossover series falls into this because what I want to do for the series is ambitious and so while I don't want to bite off more than I can write (as it were), I don't want to keep putting it off because it makes me worry I won't do it justice. I won't do it anything at all if I don't at least try.

13. What made you choose your username?

My sister picked it out when she helped me make my first email account as a kid and I've been partial to it ever sense. Kitkatt0430 is in many ways as much my name now as my real name. I've used it for FFnet, my short lived attempt at Live Journal, Ao3, Tumblr (though I have Starstruckpurpledragon here too), and a few other places.

@sophiainspace @coldflasher @incorrectcoldflashblog @terrie01 @fezwearingjellybananas & anyone who wants to play :D

[acromandus]

Finally getting around to doing this! Thank you @thelifeinmyshadesofgrey for tagging me ♥♥♥♥♥ I haven't done these in ages so it was fun to feel like we were back in the 'golden era' of tumblr xD

Tag someone you want to know AND/OR some of your besties: I don't wanna pressure anyone to have to do this, so consider this a warm suggestion rather than a I-will-judge-you-if-you-don't kind of situation @heyitszev :) (and if anyone else reading this feels like it, go ahead, the more the merrier lmao)

Favourite colour: This is a tough one because it all just depends on context so much. I'd say typically I veer more towards darker tones in general: really like a nice dark green, or a dark red or crimson. Purple is lovely too :D

Last song: Two Knights and Maidens by Crash Test Dummies https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5NS2EcHzdYY

Say what you want about the lyrics, but the chord progression in this song is *chefs kiss*

Last movie: 9. A bit of a strange one perhaps, but an interesting take on a post-apocalyptic world brought to life in a style that reminds me of Tim Burton a little bit. Basically, the world has been destroyed in a war between humans and machines, and we're introduced to a group of sentient dolls, each with a number on their backs from 1 to 9, who have had to survive in this strange new world while figuring out why they were made in the first place. I don't wanna spoil this for anyone who hasn't seen it, so I'll leave it at that :)

Currently watching: I'm in-between series atm haha. Waiting for season 4 of the Boys, and just finished watching season 2 of 30 Coins. Might just do a rewatch of Andor or the Punisher to fill this void.

Other stuff I watched this year: Err… from what I remember (and yes, since we're only in January, I'm counting 2023 into this as well) I'd say Moon Knight, Andor, 30 coins, a rewatch of Supernatural (up to season 12), and the One Piece live action series. Out of all these Andor was perhaps my favourite, but I enjoyed all of them, and was pleasantly surprised at how well the One Piece adaptation remained loyal to the original works :D they obviously had to adjust some things but it still felt true to form. With Andor, I was hesitant to watch it at first because the last SW series I had watched had been declining in quality (weird writing, etc), however… Andor completely blew me away. The way it builds up to the climax was just so well done, the writing is superb, music fantastic, and it's one of those series I wish I could forget about completely so I could experience it for the first time again.

Shows I dropped this year/didn’t finish: I haven't watched many series I've not finished since I usually watch them to the end anyway, but looks like that new Percy Jackson series may unfortunately fall into this category?

Currently reading: I've been powering through the Harry Potter books. Started during the Christams holidays and I'm now on book 6. So far so good, though I've had to slow down with holidays being over. Might need to reread the Robert Langdon series as well after this as it's still one of my personal favourites.

Currently listening to: This changes daily but I do find myself drifting back to Riot music very often. So, that's music made for League of Legends, Valorant, etc. Not the soundtracks, but songs like Worlds anthems like "GODS" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C3GouGa0noM) and 2021's "Burn It All Down" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Z6CHioIn3s). I also absolutely love "Breathe" from the official launch video for Legends of Runeterra (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TNhKAJwlj04). I also like this vid for it heavily featuring Darius, the only champ I ever played when I attempted to get into LoL before the toxicity got to me and I decided it's not for me :3 (didn't take long, but left me with a bit of a soft spot for him lmao)

I absolutely do not play any of these games but man… the music is on point imo. Something again about chord progression, don't ask what my obsession with that is lmao.

If I'm not listening to these and songs like them, I'm listening to heavy metal (industrial or symphonic), movie or game soundtacks, or oldies belonging to various genres from the 70s and 80s, occasionally 90s as well. Here's a couple examples:

Once You've Tasted Love by Take That

Take the Long Way Home by Supertramp

Evil Woman by Electric Light Orchestra

Misplaced by Sonata Arctica

And I will leave it at that as I've already included too many songs lmao

Currently working on: I'm currently making a backend for a gym app I'm working on. I somehow got the GraphQL elements working, now I need to get it saving to a database of somekind. I could do this locally or learn to save data to the cloud but I haven't yet decided which approach to take lmao. Overall, I'm just upskilling in the hopes of eventually landing a job as a full-stack developer. NO LUCK SO FAR aside a couple freelance frontend opportunities :/

Current obsession: Hmm….. good question. I'd say, despite me not playing it as much as I used to, I am slowly getting back to Elder Scrolls Online? Fire Emblem Fates is another, as well as Bleach.

[xenon-demon]

WIP Wednesday ✒️

Tagged by @stobinesque - thank you so very much!!

RULES:

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

WIPs:

steddie domestic hairwashing

steve overstimulation projection manifesto

cheerscoops fake dating season 3 au (steddie/buckingham)

when you come back, it's gravity (kas!steve au)

med student steve & nurse eddie who is sick of his shit

Gonna be real with y’all, the only WIP I’ve wrote anything for in the last week is #2 because it’s been A Week. (Also don’t let the WIP name fool you I mean overstimulation in the autistic kind of way, not the kink way lmao)

No pressure whatsoever buuuut I’m gonna tag @onirislanding and @sailors-ink!

Snippet from “steve overstimulation projection manifesto” (under a cut for length):

This time, however, his alarm clock says it’s only 1:27 AM. What’s more, it was even on his nightstand this time. Sure, Eddie had to move a bunch of papers from his campaign planning and a magazine or two he’d haphazardly dumped there to be able to read it, but it was actually on the nightstand. Where it belongs. Eddie’s really winning in the game of life tonight.

His winning streak only continues as he hears the shuffle of footsteps and the squeak of the trailer door closing behind Steve. Because at this time, Eddie knows it has to be his boyfriend; Family Video closes at midnight on Saturday nights. Factor in the time it takes Steve to close up shop and then drive over to the trailer, and there you have- wait.

It definitely doesn’t take an hour and half for Steve to get home after work – even if Saturday is one of their busiest nights.

Eddie is suddenly struck by the realization that it’s one of those nights.

“Stevie? Sweetheart?” Eddie calls out. He starts standing up, gingerly stepping over the notebook and loose pages scattered around his feet so he doesn’t crush them. He’s got probably three half-songs’ worth of chords and tentative lyrics in there somewhere, he doesn’t want to lose them. By the time he’s done that, put his guitar down, and quickly scooped all his papers into a rough pile he can sort through later, Steve’s entered his bedroom.

He doesn’t even spare Eddie a glance before immediately planting face-first onto his mattress.

“Oh, baby,” Eddie coos, coming over to sit next to Steve on the bed. Steve makes a noise in acknowledgement, although it’s heavily muffled by the mattress. “Stevie, can I touch you?” Eddie gets another muffled noise in response to that, but this one sounds distinctly like an uh-huh. Taking the confirmation for what it is – this is not Eddie’s first rodeo with nights like these, after all – he reaches out and rubs a firm hand up and down Steve’s back.

Steve sighs contentedly at the contact, some of the tension slowly leeching out of his muscles. They sit like that for a few moments, Eddie half massaging him and half just letting him know he’s there, before Steve says something else. He says it directly into the mattress, just like before, so Eddie doesn’t understand a single word of it.

“Wanna try that again, sweetheart?”

Steve lets out an enormous sigh, and then turns his head to the side to face Eddie. “Wan’ you to lay on me,” he says, and it still comes out a bit slurred. Whether it’s from the way Steve’s cheek is still smushed into the mattress, or talking is just a bridge too far for his baby right now, Eddie doesn’t know and frankly, does not care.

“Sure thing. You want your work uniform off first?”

“Just the vest.” Steve’s eyes are shut, and there’s a faint frown between his brows. It’s adorable, and Eddie knows he’s going to do something stupid like bite Steve if he keeps looking at his gorgeous face, so he quickly busies himself with removing Steve’s work vest. It only takes the gentlest of encouragement for Steve to move his arms as needed, Eddie trying his best to take off the vest without making Steve feel unnecessarily constricted. As he does so, he hears Steve taking some deep breaths in and out, and he smiles.

That’s one of the things they both find helpful, when they get overwhelmed like this; taking a moment to just breathe, as deep as you can. Slowly, in and out, and feel the stretch of your chest expanding each time you breathe in. It’s grounding – and plus, it’s harder to freak out about something when you’re physically forcing yourself not to hyperventilate. Eddie knows he and Steve have very different levels of success on that front, though.

Now that Steve’s vest is gone, however – and Eddie’s just flung it somewhere across the room, deciding it’s Future Eddie and Steve’s problem – it’s time for what his darling boyfriend actually asked for.

[elizabeth-mitchells]

20 questions for fic writers

thanks for tagging me @lilolilyr !! ily <33

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

120 works!

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

oh i didn't want to be outed on this but... 1,262,993

3. What fandoms do you write for?

i have written for 18 fandoms! currently i'm only writing for yellowjackets. but i might write more for ronance, i could update the warrior nun fic. and who knows, maybe a new season/movie will get me writing wednesday and the old guard again!

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Aftermath Kudos: 3,605 - aka "holy shit a lot of people were reading wednesday fanfic huh??"

make my menace into someone you'd adore Kudos: 2,179 - ronance coworkers enemies to lovers my beloved!

through the grief can't fight the feeling of relief Kudos: 1,381 - very soft warrior nun fic

five times Deena and Sam met in secret (and one time they didn’t)  Kudos: 1,154 - ngl i didn't think fear street fics got these many kudos but this was a lovely time!

Elvis cloned by aliens (you never know...) Kudos: 912 - it's literally insane to me that a one shot got this many kudos! (let's get it to 1k? 👀)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

yes!! i think like 99% of the time. i just love it so much. i love saying thank u because i'm genuinely SO thankful for every comment. and i have a feeling if i reply it might inspire people to leave more comments. and also sometimes it's a chance to just talk more about the fic! which i love doing, there's nothing like getting to talk about it

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

hmmm i don't love writing angsty endings, as you'll see by the fact that i wrote these two super angsty endings and then i went and wrote a sequel/alternate ending for both ghsjfdghkdfjg but anyway there's:

I'm sorry (it should've been me) - nancy tells robin she loves her but she's too late (in the rain)

If I could hold you for a minute (darling, I'd go through it again) - laura lee reincarnated as the bear and you know what happened to it

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

oh most of them lmao hmm i think i’m going to go for these “everyone survived post canon and they move in together to be happy and heal as a family” Extremely Uneventful Subject for tog and Who would I be without you, without them? for yellowjackets

8. Do you get hate on fic?

hmmm no i think that’s never happened! the closest thing might have been someone suggesting i always killed certain character when it’s the entire opposite. or the funny alternative, when someone literally only mentioned the men in the background of the story in every single comment they left lol but even those were mostly nice comments!

9. Do you write smut?

i do yes! not much and i only yielded and started writing it recently but i’ve loved it so far lol four of my most popular yj fics are smut, one of them is one of my favorites ever, and there’s that one ronance fic i posted on anon first… iykyk

10. Do you write crossovers?

i’ve done two! Immortals and Librarians for tog and gunpowder milkshake and (Red) Room For 8 for ocean’s 8 and hill house

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of!! hopefuly not

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes! 【翻译】Being with you (Makes the flame burn good) by R_H_Felidae_Athena

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i have tried but they haven’t been posted/finished yet :(

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

okay so that’s a Tough question. judging by amount of fic written it’s robin and nancy, my current favorite is lottie and laura lee, but i also just rewatched bly manor and let me tell you, there’s no one at the level of dani and jamie <3

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

there’s too many 😭 going as far back as the ocean’s 8 days there's the haunted house one, then fear street enemies to lovers, my warrior nun fic, yellowjackets coffee shop au, and all the ideas i haven’t even started ghsjfdghjf

16. What are your writing strengths?

oh don't do this to me. i literally never know what to reply to this. i... well i'd like to think i'm good at characterization and maybe dialogue!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

hmm i think i have a serious lack of discipline that means i only write when the mood is right and i will never stick to a schedule or plan or routine lol and okay i'll admit it, i might be too lazy to do the research necessary to write certain things/stories so i just avoid them 😭 but in my defense it's because too much research for academic reasons made me allergic to it

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

hm. i did this somewhat regularly with the old guard and in one ronance fic but looking back i don’t love it very much, it’s just okay i guess. this is just for me personally!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

ocean’s 8 hgsjdfghjf closely followed by the haunting of hill house

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

VERY very tough question!! they’re all my babies and i couldn’t possibly pick any fav- actually i have a few! but i’ll keep it to 3 special ones that funnily enough are far from being my most popular ones (pls read them i worked so so hard on them)

God's very simple and love shouldn't burn - aka my lottielee manifesto! 

If you rewrite your life, may I still play a part? - stranger things, nancy wheeler choose your own adventure fic!

my heart (is like a haunted house) - tog, andy falls in love with quynh’s ghost

tagging: @natscatorrcio @dufrau @eskawrites @scorchedhearth @sapphicscience @yee-hawlw @reesesfastbreak (if you want to! no pressure!) and pls pls anyone that sees this and wants to share say i tagged u!

[bagheerita]

Thanks @chaniis-atlantis for the tag!! ❤

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

currently 66 though next month I'm hoping to have time to finish transferring over the rest of my old fics from FFN

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

1,495,124

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, Stargate Atlantis previously (deep breath): Star Wars (OT & the novels that are now called Legends [I think]), X-Men, Kiesha'ra, Valdemar, Pet Shop of Horrors, Fruits Basket, Inuyasha, Saiyuki, MCU/Avengers, Avatar: the Last Airbender, Angel the series, The Last Unicorn, Lord of the Rings, Dead Poet's Society, Homer, Gargoyles

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1- "Nemo" (SGA) 2- "Nykteridolotry" (SGA) 3- "One and One and One is Three" (MCU) 4- "Regina Donum" (SGA) 5- "Your Prison is Walking Through This World All Alone" (MCU)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! I've met some great people through comment discussions. 😁 Probably the only time I don't is when someone comments on multiple chapters at a time on their read-through; in those cases I tend to only respond to the comments that I find the most interesting rather than to all of them, though it depends on my mood.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Um probably "Beast of Venery" (SGA) though it is part 1 of a series that ends much more happily. Oh! I forgot about "Lie Still" (AtS)! It's a character profile of Wesley Wyndham-Price that literally no one has read (the only fic of mine at FFN that has 0 interactions). Very angsty, and probably very "in my own head" which is why no one else liked it lol.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I am an absolute sucker for happy endings, so this is like choosing... i dunno, a best flavor of ice cream. They're all happy. I might say "Ivory Fanged" (Kiesha'ra) is the "happiest"? Or maybe "One and One and One is Three" (MCU)? Just because the first involves 2 kingdoms worth of people celebrating, and the second like 5 realities/multiverses of people being (relatively) happy at the end.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not really? I do get weird comments sometimes. I got a comment on "Reunion" (IY) where the reader complained about the story being unfinished (when it was clearly marked that it was unfinished/abandoned) and that it had ruined the series to finish it on that note. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

lol. Yes. A lot. Mostly m/m, though I've occasionally branched out into m/m/m, m/m/m/m, and f/m. As far as kinks or types of smut, I honestly don't think I could remember all the scenes I've written, though I love power dynamics so I play with that a lot. And I've written both rape and incest, if by "kind" you mean the stuff that really gets people hot and bothered.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

LMAO. Crossovers are the reason I write fic in the first place. My favorite characters meeting each other is like... the shit. The craziest one (that ever made it to being partially posted anyway) was called "Twenty-Four Hours of Midnight," and was a crossover between The Three Musketeers, Dragonheart, X-Men, and Angel the series.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I don't think so? But that would be awesome.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

No, but sortof? Eos (Eos_x) did illustrations for my fic "Aubade" so we are credited as co-authors.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

I don't know if I can answer this. I ship whatever smashing together of my favorite characters works for me at the moment, and I have a lot of favorite characters. And do you mean to read, or to write? Conceptually, in my head? Or best execution, either in fic or canon? Because I feel like these would all be different answers for me...

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I have a fic currently working-titled "Though Far Away, We're Still the Same" which is a multiverse John/Todd/Rodney fic. I realized I wanted to change the arc of an OC, which will require rewriting the whole thing, and I'm realistically never going to have time for that.

16. What are your writing strengths?

For 3 fandoms now I've written snarky asshole/ancient villain as a ship, and I think I've gotten pretty good at the dynamic lol. I'm pretty good at dialogue I think, and while it's a bitch to write it I'm pretty good at action (as far as making everything make sense spatially).

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Conflict. Usually I start writing a story knowing how the conflict will be resolved and then I lose all interest in it and have to keep reminding myself that the characters are still in it, they don't have resolution yet.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Author's discretion (because you write fic for you) but in general I don't care for reading it unless it's short endearments, non-plot relevant, or well known information. (Or the meaning gets otherwise explained in the surrounding text.) I never liked it in old books where the author will just throw in lines of French or Latin and expect you to know what it means. I think it pulls the reader out of the story, so I don't recommend it unless that's your intention. If you have two characters who are speaking a foreign language to each other, fully understanding each other, you should write the dialogue in the same language as the fic (because in the reality of the fic, everything is happening in that same language, if that makes sense). Though there are definitely some concepts that don't translate well; when I was writing a lot of anime fic I experimented by having one fandom where I stripped out all the Japanese honorifics and one where I kept them in, and I feel like it gives a different vibe to the fic. I've recently been reading a lot of Mandalorian adjacent Star Wars fics and I have to say I do not care for uses of excessive amounts of Mando'a. A few endearments, concepts that are very common knowledge, fine. But whole sentences? It better not be anything I needed to know for the plot because I am not looking that up. (lol I did not expect to have such opinions on this topic 🤣)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

OT Star Wars. First posted fic was "The Secret Life of Harrison Ford." Don't read it, it's not good. (Unless you like the same high school humor that me and my high school friends did?)

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Technically, this is a fic that isn't posted yet, but it's 90% written so it counts... lol. It's called "Circumvolution" (SGA) and I've been writing it in the background over the last few years whenever "Regina Donum" started giving me fits, so it's very much a work of love and a story I wrote for me. It was originally conceived as the ending of the "My Name Forevermore" series, but it's done (mostly), so I've moved it to be the next big fic I post after I finish "Regina Donum."

Npt: @tiltingheartand @judgeverse @only-in-december @lord-aldhelm @anomalousrobot @ladyofparchments @anyone i missed who wants to join in