#because what good is it being an artist if i can’t insert my oc’s into my favourite media

[solastalgiart]

🫐🍓 fanya/venisha + jab we met but it’s yuri

[shmowder]

Hi it’s immune reader anon back again! Here to submit my Patho oc i actually have two Patho self inserts but for privacy reasons not submitting either of my self indulgent sillies :D so please accept my offer of the third Patho character I’ve made

The basic stuff is that Her name is Franziska Novikov, her age is a good question as she doesn’t have a birth certificate her parents would only accept a son so they refused to register her at all! Treating her like a shameful secret who needed to prove she deserved to even be alive at all but she’s close in age to Dankovsky possibly a year or two older even. Job/Credentials: she mostly wanders town from town trying to sell snake oil cures so basically she’s an MLM girlie who might also lit your house on fire for fun! If you call her out on being a snake oil salesman

Healer, Bound, or NPC?: I imagine her more so working as a bound but her as a healer would be insane as she straight up has no clue what she’s doing so she just gaslights all the town leaders into thinking shes qualified for this situation. Dankovsky absolutely hates her and at any turn tries to expose her for being a scam artist to everyone unfortunately nobody wants to listen to the capital dandy. she is one but damn let the girlboss scam people bachelor (bachelor stop the girlboss immediately!) Nevermind she’s a healer now…

She only gets involved in the events of the game because she views this as another town to pass through, sell her miracle cure for an over charged price then depart with her riches only to get stuck in a situation where people genuinely believe she is a qualified health professional and now she’s gotta deal with the plague, all the while getting increasingly more and more paranoid which leads to setting fires compulsively in order to ease off the stress… she refuses to believe in any of the more mystic things at play constantly scoffing at the mistresses claims as if she lies for personal gain then everyone else is as well! She projects her own guilt of her lies at everyone else…even when the proof is right in front of her she simply refuses to acknowledge its existence due to her own lies. She doesn’t make any friends for the most part at most she has respectful conversations with Maria and aglaya but they are not friends at all but maybe in another world Franziska would have loved to be friends…but not in this life, she’s actively hostile to everyone else but gives the occasional nice interaction to Clara and yulia on rare occasions. Her interactions with Aglaya and yulia would absolutely have some queer subtext to them as Franziska is a repressed lesbian so deep in the closet she’s found the Bermuda Triangle.

Her ending unsurprisingly doesn’t end with her curing the plague no instead she gets the town wiped off the map completely! Not to mention before this she takes it upon herself to burn both Dankovsky and burakh’s research as she truly believes that if she can’t claim the fame and fortune from creating a cure then nobody should!, her view of life is distorted she only views her existence as one to be proven she has to get fame! Show everyone she deserves to live but in the quest of the broken girls, she dooms the town not out of misplaced good intentions she does it out of selfish desires fueled by an utter obsession to prove herself….she sacrifices all of the damn town leaving only her and the other three healers left…she’s absolutely going to go back to the capital and get executed for her crimes…she’s an absolute awful person but seeing what led to her acting so cruel is tragic I love my evil tragic daughter so much!

That evil tragic lesbian daughter sounds like she'd fit in with our already colourful cast just fine!

A 31 girlboss con-woman who gets people to sign up for her MLM snake oil pyramid scam.

And her having a slight soft spot to Clare is so precious, especially since Clara forces people to tell the truth with her magic sometimes. By all definitions she should be an conman's nightmare yet this fine lady is fistbumping her on the street before giving her a piece of old candy or two.

Any character that adds to the misery and frustration of Dankovsky has a special place in my heart, the Capital dandy being forced to come to terms with how the real world works and that your actual qualifications do not matter as long as you have high enough charisma to convince people snake oil is a viable substitute for antibiotics.

I see Anna Angel falling for her scams on multiple occasions, because Anna already gets scammed like twice ingame canon. Maybe even Peter who just drinks the snake oil? But then you'll have a very vengeful pissed off Andrey on her trail. Oh! Katerina is definitely falling for her scams, much like she fell for the rat prophet ones.

God I love a repressed lesbian who's so deep in the closet she discovered Narnia. Especially her talking with Yulia, Aglaya and Maria. The lesbian icons of the century.

When you mentioned fire and her wiping the town off the map, one idea came to mind. Fire technically eradicates the plague right? She might have set them off to vent stress but indirectly she "cured" these buildings from the plague.

So what if in a last ditch to not be exposed as a fake healer, she pretends that the only way to cure the town is to set it whole ablaze. After burning Daniil and Artemy's research so there is no other alternative.

[ciaossu-imagines]

hi, hun!! can you do numbers 9 & 16 from fanfiction questions?

Hello to you too, my lovely 😊 Of course I can answer these! Honestly, thank you so much for being curious – I find it super flattering! I just hope the answers will be interesting to read for you lovelies!

If any, what music/artists do you like to listen to while writing?

I think I’ve mentioned this a few times, but I definitely listen to music while writing. I used to not do so, but I’ve found that I’m able to stay focused longer and actually write faster while listening to music. Before everything that I sit down to write, I make a playlist specifically for that story or that writing session. I probably have over 100 playlists because of that. With big stories, I tend to pick a lot of instrumentals that give the vibes of the ideas I have, with some non-instrumental music that fit scenes, characters, or thoughts I already have in mind. With individual sessions, like today’s where I’m writing these and Christmas posts, I have a playlist of holiday themed music, a lot of Christmas carols, soundtracks from Christmas movies, etc.

Are there any ideas you are currently playing around with that you would like to write sooner or later?

Oh, the problem is that there’s so, so many different ideas that I want to write. I’m forever coming up with ideas that sound great, so much so that I’ve taken to carrying around a pocket sized notebook to take notes on them. There’s still what I thought were good ideas that slip away, because I can’t take notes on them in the moment (like at work), but if they slip away, I’m sure it’s because they weren’t as good as I thought they were. The problem, besides lack of time, is that I get a lot of anxiety around fanfiction writing now. Requests aren’t as bad, though I still occasionally get anxiety around them, but there’s a real pressure that I feel now, when I sit down and think about writing full on stories to post on here, on Wattpad, on AO3, to produce these really polished, professional stories, with no loose ends, with no self-indulgence, with tons of character development, no deviation from canon, and, lately, with all the extreme hatred I’ve read about them on tumblr, with no reader inserts (which is what I’m most used to writing and do enjoy) or with no feminine OC’s that aren’t incredibly flawed or portrayed as obviously weaker than the canon characters (because the Mary Sue label is still unfortunately used).

But I will admit that there’s a story I really do love the idea for and wish I could be self-indulgent enough to write. I have this idea about the Reader, or even an OC, being in just everyday, our world. They’re shopping at this weird little pop-up shop, something kind of like a mix between a pawn shop and an occult shop that advertises itself to sell ‘useful items’. It’s there that they find this remote looking thing. The owner of the store says that it can control anything, warning them that it’s the ‘true universal remote’. When trying to pair it later on to their stuff, the reader/oc changes the batteries, press a button and find themselves isekai’ed into the world of one of my fandoms. And throughout the story, things keep happening with the remote – accidents, someone fooling around with it, the remote malfunctioning – and they just keep popping into all these different fandoms/universes. They’re trying to figure out how to not only stay alive because some of the fandoms/universes are quite dangerous, but how to get themselves back into their own universe. I think it’s a cute little idea, even if it is cliched and has been done several times before.

I also do want to take a chance and write that KHR Dungeons & Dragons group going through a campaign together, just because there’s such a weird little blend of characters there and I think it would be funny as fuck. Along the same lines, I keep thinking about what fun it would be to have some characters from various fandoms gathering together for a Blades in the Dark campaign and how much fun that could produce.

In more fluffy stuff, I want to do a little drabble collection of reader inserts or character specific stories.

I want to write out the actual stories for my OC’s or even just little scenes and ficlets for them, especially for Ailidh and the Accardi Family.

I want to get more done on The Ever Young (I have about four chapters done and it’s not even gotten into the first major arc.)

There’s an original story about the world’s oldest bar, which is frequented by supernatural creatures and is neutral grounds for them, that I want to get around to finishing too.

Like I said, there’s just a lot I would love to write, if I made time and wasn’t so scared of the current fanfiction scene.

[wordynerdygurl]

Someone to Watch Over Me

Part 1:  “Love is Blind”

Author’s Note:  Do you think the Duffer’s realized what they were doing when they brought Eddie Munson to life on paper?  I don’t think so.  Because it’s been, what, nine or so months now, and I’m still all in on my favorite ne’er do well metal head.

This is my first time with an Original Character standing in for “reader”.  Just like with my reader insert fics, our OC is female and plus size. Pairing:  Eddie Munson x Plus Size OC Amanda Patterson Summary:  It’s love at first sound, pitch perfect and fated, everything in harmony.  If only life were a love song.  

Amanda and Eddie meet by chance but their connection is real.  Some night music and milkshakes maybe all it takes to show that Hawkins’ resident bad boy is worthy of love.  The kind of love a misfit like Amanda is ready to give to the right guy.  Have they each found the right someone to watch out for them? Warnings:  This is a slower burn than my usual, but I think it’ll be worth it.  There will be SMUT in additional chapters, but for now, there’s making out, eating a lot of junk food, some size shaming and self doubt.  Oh, and a character gets slapped.

“There’s a saying old, says that love is blind”

1990

“So, Eddie, how’s the tour been going?”

Pulling a long strand of dark hair over his cheek, a nervous habit he couldn’t seem to break, Eddie raised his dark eyes to the reporter asking the questions, ignoring the video camera and boom mic hovering overhead.  It took everything in him to keep the sarcastic edge in his tone to a minimum, “Well, Chuck, it’s been a helluva time.  Me and the boys, we’re just taking what comes.  It’s been fuckin’ amazing to see so many cities and of course, our fans.” “Oopsie!  Can’t curse like that, Eddie.  Can we cut around that?”  Chuck was asking some producer, talking over Eddie’s head, ignoring him all in the name of being appropriate for television.  Already he was over this whole experience.  What Eddie really wanted was to get back to the green room, have a beer or a smoke- scratch that.  And a smoke, before having to play tonight’s show.

The conversation around editing was still happening, Eddie’s interview on pause.  It gave him a minute to evaluate the man asking the questions.  Smarmy, yea, that’s the word Eddie would use for a guy like Chuck.  Hair slicked back and suit a little too colorful to be classy, the guy was cheesy as hell, but he was going to film a piece about the band.  Something for MTV to use in promos or some shit.  Eddie didn’t really care to know.  There were people for that now.  The same people who kept assuring him that there was no such thing as bad publicity.  Not when there was a nationwide tour that needed to sell tickets and t-shirts and records, so he bit his tongue and smiled sheepishly, waiting for the next question. “We rolling?  Great.  Ok, ready Eddie?” Nodding in answer, Eddie gave him the green light.  The interviewer tapped his finger against the skinny microphone in his hand, picking up seamlessly from where they had stopped earlier, “That’s good to hear.  Now, Corroded Coffin plays specifically metal but who has influenced your musical journey?  Which artists do you listen to?” Blowing out an exhale, his lips parting, Eddie thought for a minute.  “Ya know, all the greats Chuck.  I mean, I cut my teeth on Led Zeppelin.  Heart, Black Sabbath, obviously-” he rolled his eyes for emphasis, “-Iron Maiden and Metallica.  You play metal music and I’m there, man.” Chuck nodded along, agreeing with everything coming out of Eddie’s mouth, trying way too hard to seem interested.  He seemed more like a Madonna kinda guy, too caught up in the look of something to worry about its substance.  It grated on Eddie’s nerves, set his teeth on edge. “Gotcha.  So, the people want to know-” Chuck drug out the question, clearly enjoying the way he baited his interviewee, “-What is Eddie Munson’s favorite song?” Toffee colored eyes widened.  Despite the movement around him, the roadies hauling in speakers and gear, the conversations between stage crew and security guards, the clicking of boot heels on parquet flooring, Eddie could hear it.  His favorite song.  Clear and distinct, the memory a perfectly preserved bubble of sight and sound.  From over his shoulder someone coughed, bringing Eddie back to the here and now.  “Uh, sorry.  Didn’t mean to zone out there.” “Don’t worry, we’ll edit it out.”  Chuck’s hand made a motion urging him to continue. Eddie’s ring laden right hand rubbed across the skin on the back of his neck, internally debating just how real to be with his response.  In the end, Eddie told the whole truth.  He spilled one of his deeply held secrets to a douche bag with gelled back hair and a smile that was too much teeth. Looking directly into the bubbled lens of the video camera, Eddie offered up a reluctant, almost embarrassed smile, “My favorite song?  That’s a great question, man.  And, uh, ya know, I wanna say something hard rocking and fast.  But honestly?  Someone to Watch Over Me by the Gershwin brothers.” Eddie’s voice was practically a whisper at his admission.  He was ready for a ribbing.  A hard rocker like him, known for bad boy behavior and leaving a lady behind in every city?  No way Eddie Munson could possibly be a romantic at heart, right? Fully expecting a laugh from smarmy Chuck, some jab about the softness of his choice, or a comment on it being a standard, something old fashioned or behind the times.  But Eddie only heard the insipid agreement of the interviewer, “Great song.  A classic.” “Yea.  It is.”

—

1987

It had always come naturally to Amanda.  She opened her mouth and the sound just came out, warm and round, with the right amount of inflection and sweetness of tone.  Singing was what she did.  From the time she could talk, Amanda was making music, using her body as the instrument. Church choir taught her how to sight read sheet music, her voice moving up and down the scale in time with the half and quarter notes.  Learning how to let her high Soprano melt in with the other members of the chorus so that no individual could be heard over another.  Discovering the power of dynamics; an effective hushed line that built into a climaxing crescendo, the rush of belting out a powerful note with all of the choir members doing the same.  Amanda continued to discover the best ways to utilize her voice, really only ever happy when she was humming or whistling or belting out a tune. One Christmas there was a tawny wooden guitar under the tree.  She carried it with her everywhere she could.  Teaching herself the chords from a beginner’s guide until she could play “Frosty the Snowman” without stopping.  And her unquestionable love of music grew with every new song she memorized until the entire book had faded from overuse. There were high school musicals, of course.  Grease, Annie, Guys and Dolls, Anything Goes.  And even if she was always the sidekick with no solo, hanging around in the back of the chorus lines, she loved performing.  Being on a stage, with the lights and excitement, the tension of anxiety turning into the power needed to propel her through the show.  Amanda lived for the thrill of it.  Something could go wrong or things could go incredibly right.  In either case, you could never truly know which way it would play out until it was happening.  Then, the curtain would fall and there would be bows and applause. Amanda loved the spotlight, absolutely and unequivocally.  Only, the spotlight didn’t love her back. Her round, full cheeks wouldn’t do to play Sandy.  The curvy, womanly figure she’d grown into wouldn’t work for Annie or Pepper or even Mrs. Hannigan.  Despite the lovely, lyrical quality to her voice, it wasn’t enough to outweigh her looks. So Amanda sang out loud and long from the back row of the chorus, her robe tight across her ample chest.  She learned the simple choreography for musical numbers and was told, “you’re so light on your feet” as if it was shocking to see.  Every year was a new chance to gain that place in the middle of the stage, singing for all she was worth for everyone to hear, but never making it due to a healthy appetite which made her soft in the places where people would rather she be firm. It was the bitterest of pills, but she swallowed it, happy just to be involved.  Pleased to have her name printed in the program as a participant even if she was living off of the scraps of lesser performers who just so happened to look prettier under the hot stage lamps.  She accepted hugs from the pretty boys who tried on singing and dancing as a way to meet girls, but wouldn’t give her a second glance.  The boys who saw her as the funny, talented friend of the group.  Always happy to drive everyone home, listen to everyone’s troubles, offering sage advice and asking for nothing in return.  That was Amanda.

All too soon, school was ending.  Over.  And college loomed in front of her, full of promise and secret worries.

She knew what she wanted, what she had always wanted.  It had never changed despite the wacky directors who hid her behind scaffolding or pushed her to the dim corners of the stage.  Amanda was on the earth to do one thing only: make beautiful music. It was, after all, her favorite thing to do. Unfortunately, it was also incredibly difficult to make a career out of, something her parents constantly felt the need to remind her about.  They only wanted what was best for her, that’s what they said anyways.  And what was best, in the opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Patterson, was a steady job as a hairdresser or nurse or preschool teacher.  Anything really to fill the gap until she met “the one”, got married and started having their grandchildren. Too bad Amanda loved the music so much more.  It had taken a lot of work, hours and hours of debating and shouting but somehow she had convinced them to let her go to school for music.  The catch?  She’d also study education.  It was a compromise Amanda was willing to make, just to get her foot in the door.  Worst case?  She’d wind up a music department chair at some high school or another, a great back up plan to her real dream: musical super stardom like Linda Rondstadt or Carol King. Only, school was expensive, especially when you were trying to make music your career.  And her parents did as much as they could, which she was incredibly grateful for, but everything cost so damn much.  So, almost broke and entirely desperate, Amanda searched around until finding a part time position at The Music Shop.  She started selling sheet music and drum sticks, auto tuners and guitar straps from a squat building painted an obnoxious shade of ocean blue that could be seen for miles in any direction. Occasionally there’d be a student in need of some musical mentoring and she’d drag out her acoustic guitar, the tawny one she kept in its cardboard case after all these years.  Showing them where to hold their fingers and how to press against the tough strings in order to get a pretty sound out of the instrument brought her a lot of joy.  It was still making music and that was enough for her between class work and socializing and generally trying to be a good person. The college classes related to music and music theory were fascinating.  Her collection of records and tapes had grown significantly.  It seemed as though every new person she talked to had a list of bands she “just had to listen to” and Amanda did. How could she ever thank her roommate’s boyfriend for turning her on to Lou Reed?  Did she live before knowing all the words to Pirates of Penzance?  How did Whitney Houston sound so incredible all of the time?

Writing a paper on the importance of Tom Petty’s ability to pen pretty lyrics, Amanda found herself surrounded by like minded musical folks.  She was invited to parties where everyone sang along to the radio, getting rowdy in the tame way theater kids everywhere are prone to do.  Drinking beers was fun.  Smoking cigarettes killed her throat through and Amanda refused to damage her instrument with nicotine like that.  Besides, she couldn’t afford them anyway. When she wasn’t studying or singing or stocking, Amanda did gig out.  Sometime during her first semester she had been approached by Jim, a cellist, Mark, a drummer and Carly, a pianist.  Having met the threesome at someone or other’s pre-Thanksgiving break bash, Amanda hadn’t realized it right away but she was casually auditioning for their band.  Not once did her size come up.  All the three seemed to care about was how quickly they could get her into a rehearsal.  They had a jazz trio and wanted someone to vocalize for them, someone with a soft tone, an easy timber that could get them playing in front of bigger crowds.  That she blended in with their group dynamic made it an easy fit and soon, the four of them were playing shows together all over the area and regularly too. Now, well into her third year at school, Amanda had a good idea of what her life was going to look like.  She would work the store, teaching a couple of private students the ways of the guitar, and sing out with the band on the weekends.  If they happened to get a wee bit drunk after a show, who could blame them?  After all, they were barely twenty and the world still had so much left to show them. At the music shop, one late September Saturday, Amanda took a minute to hang up the flier for Hawkins’ Autumn Concert Series.  Their quartet had been asked to entertain, practicing for weeks now getting the set list perfect for their biggest concert yet.  Smiling happily to herself, she gently forced the pushpin into the cork board where the typical announcements of used instruments for sale, lessons for keyboard or piano, and imploring alerts for new band members all co-existed in a colorful, clashing collage. Stepping backwards, Amanda wasn’t entirely paying attention, her mind already drifting to the highlight of the performance.  What she was going to wear, how she’d do her hair, all the little details that she liked to get right in an effort to make sure that the show went off without a hitch.  That’s how she missed the fellow who was crouched down behind her, ringed hands reaching for the Iron Maiden song book that was propped up on the bottom shelf. Her booted foot hit something solid, something that shouldn’t be in the aisle, and she turned quickly.  A blur of black leather and curls flew upwards fast.  The joint of her ankle rolled and Amanda reached out blindly, connecting with a solid wall of a person, holding on with a death grip to keep on her feet. Holy shit, did this chick have pretty eyes.  It was his first thought and boy, was it a doozy.  Eddie could see the shock clearing as worry crept in, crowding around the wide irises, her lips parted in a panicked “o”.  Clipped nails clawed into the denim vest he always wore, holding herself upright against the unfair tug of gravity, her forearms pressed tightly to his chest.  Bringing a steadying hand to her wrist, he shook his head, shyly smiling, “You alright there?  Took a bit of a tumble, didn’t ya?” Inhaling shakily, Amanda nodded dumbly, her heart still thrumming.  Still standing much too close to a stranger.  She had been certain of falling but having this, this guy break that fall, was disconcerting in an entirely different way.  “Oh, I am so sorry!  I didn’t see you, and-” “Hey, it’s ok.  No harm done, so long as you’re ok.  You are ok, right?”  There was a brief flash of concern that crossed his face, but it faded when Amanda bobbed her head at his question. She hadn’t moved.  Eddie was still looking down at her upturned face, the way her hair fell softly against her cheeks and the sweet sweep of her nose making her look about as precious as he had ever had the pleasure to see.  Eddie didn’t want to look away. For another beat they stood there, together, surrounded by score books and tutorial materials while an instrumental version of “Don’t Stop Believing” played through the store speakers.  Shifting in his Reeboks, Eddie swayed to the melody and Amanda let herself be carried along with him.  In another second, Amanda was certain that she would wrap his arms around her waist and call it a day.  Already, Eddie’s free hand was sliding towards her shoulder, another point of contact with this unknown, but very cute, man. “Yo!  Amanda?  Are you-”  Kyle’s voice cut through the force field around the pair.  At the sound of her manager’s shout she panic jumped back far enough to thud against the very cork board which held her proudly hung announcement, knocking the air out of her lungs with a grunted, “Oof!” “Jesus!  What are you doing?”  

Amanda’s eyes went wide at Kyle’s intrusion, and she pressed a hand to her chest to stop her startled heart from bursting free from the unused adrenaline, “Me?  Kyle, you scared the crap out of me!” Eddie’s head had snapped towards the interruption before pivoting back to the pretty lady he now knew was called Amanda.  His hand reached for hers reflexively, to help steady her, the same shy grin tugging at his lips.  That she took it and held it like a lifeline sent a zig-zag of energy from his fingertips straight to the muscles of his tummy which tightened at the contact. One of Kyle’s eyebrows shot skyward, his face skeptical, “What’s going on over here, anyway?”  He asked as if he already knew the answer, questioning eyes full of judgment. Amanda’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly.  What was going on back here?  She didn’t know, really. Luckily, Eddie did.  “Uh, your beautiful sales associate was just helping me find this-” holding up the song book with Iron Maiden’s logo splashed across the cover, he continued, “-and uh, then you came around the corner and, ya know, scared her half to death.” “Were you dancing?” Sneaking a quick glance her way, Eddie chuckled, “Dancing?  While she’s supposed to be working?  Naw man.  Like I said, she was helping me out.” His arms crossed over his chest, Kyle stared directly at Amanda, all but demanding her side of the story.  Running a palm up her neck, leaning into her hand, she exhaled loudly, “He’s- he’s right, Kyle.  I was just giving him, ya know, a hand.” Narrowing his eyes, not believing either of them, Kyle groaned in frustration, “Fine.  Whatever.  Just, I had a question for you.  Ya know, when you’re free?” Nodding, “Sure.  Yea, of course.  Just um-” she gestured towards Eddie, “-Give me a minute, ok?” “Yea.  Ok.”  Snorting, Kyle moved back towards the register, leaving Eddie and Amanda alone once more. Blinking those amazing eyes his way, Amanda locked her hands together to keep from touching the broad boy in front of her anymore, “So, thank you.  I’m not entirely sure what was going on, but I’m glad I don’t have to explain it to my boss.” “Right.  Well, I’m sorry for tripping you up.  Covering for you seemed like the least I could do.” Amanda heard the store’s music shift, something by Annie Lennox filling the space, and she took a tentative step away from Eddie causing him to lean forward, “Wait-” “Yea?”  Her hair swung over her shoulder, that’s how fast she spun around to face him, her stare open and curious. Nervously, Eddie bit his bottom lip as he rocked on the worn down heels of his sneakers.  For the first time in as long as he could remember he was almost unsure of what to say, “Uh, can I see you again?” Amanda didn’t laugh in his face and she didn’t shy away, both reactions he fully expected if he was honest about it.  Instead, and to his utter amazement, she reached behind her, yanking down the flier she’d only just hung up, “Absolutely.”  And she pushed the paper into his hand before scurrying toward Kyle. Shit.  He was in trouble already. Waiting just another couple of minutes, Eddie made his way to the cashier, patiently standing behind a flustered mom and her teenage son.  That the kid kept trying to get her to look at the cherry red electric guitar and amp set, already staged for Christmas, wasn’t lost on Eddie.  It’s exactly the type of gear he’d lusted after when he was young and eager, before he’d gotten his Sweetheart, and never looked back. Mind wandering, he didn’t hear her at first, “I can help you over here, sir.” Tilting his head towards her voice, Eddie took a shuffling step toward her register, “Ah, thank you, miss.” “No problem.”  But it most definitely was a problem, because Amanda couldn’t lift her gaze his way.  Not when her body rolled over hot at the memory of his chest under her fingers, his brown eyes peering down at her with sweet desire in their burnt caramel depths. Amanda punched in the code numbers, reading the price sticker and busying herself with recording the sale correctly.  “Amanda?  What’s the price for the Fender capo?” “Twelve fifty!”  It’s automatic and Eddie was astonished at how she kept focused on his sale while answering her colleague from memory. Finally, she raised her face to find Eddie’s smiling one already looking in her direction, and struggling to keep the flush of her embarrassment in control managed to ask, “Is uh, is there anything else today?” “Naw, Amanda.  I think this’ll do it.”  Giggling, a bit more timid now that she was safe behind the counter, Amanda bagged up the book and relayed the total.  Eddie pulled the bills out of his wallet, his chains clinking together musically, as Amanda made change for him quickly and precisely.  When he grabbed for the package, his fingers rested over her own for just a heartbeat, “I’ll see you soon then.  And uh, thanks for the dance, Amanda.” Stunned, all she could do was stand there, confused at the Dio patched metal head who pushed through the doorway and onto the street.  Under her breath, Amanda swore, “Fuck.  He knows my name.” —

Eddie didn’t know what he was supposed to wear to an outdoor concert in Hawkins Memorial Park at the beginning of October.  Was it a jacket and tie sort of situation?  Were jeans enough?  Was he going to stick out like a sore thumb if he was wearing a Metallica t-shirt? All of these questions and more burned through the bong ripped brain of Eddie Munson.  Pacing in front of his mirror, he fluffed his hair with his fingers, fidgety and fussing.  “Dude.  You’re fine.  What’s the big deal anyway?” Fixing Dustin with a stare that would wither lesser beings, Eddie folded down the collar of his red checkered flannel shirt, “The big deal?  I’ll tell you, Henderson.  The big deal is-” grabbing for his well used bottle of Aqua Velva and splashing a few shakes into his hands, “-I don’t wanna look like a jerk.  I want to blend in.  Just uh, enjoy some new music, and a nice night.” “Psst.  Bullshit.  Who’s the chick?” His eyes widened.  How could the little butthead know?  Eddie hadn’t said a word about the music store beauty and still, somehow, the pipsqueak was calling him out. “What chick?  Who said chick?  There’s no chick.” “Me thinks thou doth protest too much.” Pausing while he fiddled with the buttons on the sleeves of his shirt, confusion filling his face, Eddie blinked, “Wha?” “It’s Shakespeare.  You protest too much ‘cause, ya know, you’re covering up.”  Frustrated, Dustin shook his head, closing his eyes as he exhaled heavily, “Nevermind.  You’re clearly lying.  Tell me about her.  Who is she?” Looking over at his youthful friend, Eddie thought about it for a long second.  Tell Dustin about Amanda?  What was there to tell?  Shrugging safely into his shirt, Eddie bought himself some time fiddling with the buttons.  “Uh, well.  I don’t really know her all that well.  We, literally, bumped into each other at the music shop when I was picking up my new bible.”  He was now entirely focused on his hair which had decided to go fluffy.  Disgusted at what he saw, looking more pampered poodle than suave rocker, Eddie continued to run his hands through the curls as he chatted with his sidekick, “She’s uh-” “Pretty?” Dropping his gaze to the top of his dresser, Eddie’s cheeks colored at the word, “Yea.  So cute.  And, she seems smart.  Funny, ya know?” Nodding, Dustin came up behind his friend, plucking a stray hair from his shoulder, “Sounds pretty damn perfect, man.” “I’m sure there’s a catch.  There always is when it comes to women.”  Eddie couldn’t help trying to keep his excitement in check.  It was better to set his expectations low.  Less likely to hurt so bad when someone disappointed him and people always seemed to be disappointing Eddie Munson. Catching his older friend’s eye in the mirror, Dustin offered up a toothless smile, “I don’t know, man.  Maybe she’ll surprise you?” —

People were scattered around the park.  Some hovered near benches, others sat on blankets and a lucky few used their lawn chairs, dragged from home, all to get a good view of the small stage where the quartet would be performing tonight.  It was exciting. Amanda had unpacked her mic and cord, scatting a bit so that the guys could get a level on her voice and ensure a balanced sound through their mixing board.  She didn’t really understand all the technicalities, but in the end it helped make sure that they all sounded as good as possible, so Amanda played along.  “Testing one, two, three- testing one, two, three.  Can y’all hear us out there?” A smattering of claps and one enthusiastic “Woo hoo!” met her question.  Carly’s electric piano came next, banging out a couple of chords, before Jim slid his bow across the strings of his bass.  Not to be excluded, Mark took a couple of rim shots, making them all laugh. Now all that was left was waiting for the start of the show.  Seven o’clock and one of the town’s cultural council staff members used her microphone to blab about why they were hosting this event and to welcome Amanda and the band.  The lawn had filled in a bit, more people milling around which was always a good sign, so Amanda took a deep breath before greeting everyone, “Good evening everyone!  We’re the Indiana Four and we’re going to play for you tonight.  If you like what you hear, there’s a tambourine-” jingling the instrument to get everyone's attention, Amanda added, “-and I’ll leave it right here, in case you wanna put a little something in it!”

It was still too early for a full on sun set, but the sky didn’t know it.  Painted in bold streaks of orange that melted into petal pink due to the rays of the sinking sun, it created a warm glow which outlined everything around them with a gilded golden edge.  The moon was already a ghostly crescent barely visible in the rainbow tinted ether when Amanda let her voice rise into the oncoming night.  Mark counted them in with a broad smile in her direction and Carly’s piano joined the swell of music.  The deeper bass notes of Jim’s cello grounded the opening strains of their first song.  Amanda gently shut her eyes, letting her body feel every word of the song she was singing, just like she would do at home in her shower or behind the wheel of her tiny car.  Unaware of herself and completely at ease, letting her instrument, her voice, blend into the melody the four of them created together. Eddie was never going to get over the sound of her voice.  Sweet and soaring, she seemed to change the quality of its tone depending on the song, always leaving him guessing.  Which version of this lady was going to sing next?  A sultry vixen, heart broken and mournful?  The shy ingenue, new to love?  A plaintive bard, looking for answers?  Or some new character created to enchant him with only the power of her voice? In between songs, Amanda smiled brightly, joking with the people gathered and teasing her band mates playfully.  It made the entire concert feel comfortable- easy.  Like the folks who came down to see them were in on the funniest joke.  All one big, happy family who simply wanted to share music on a random October evening in the middle of Indiana. “Ok everyone, you’ve heard us sing a little of this and a little of that-” wrapping her hands around the microphone, Amanda pulled the silver stick closer, “-but now we’re going to do a favorite of mine, if that’s alright.” At the opening strains from the piano, a couple, older with matching graying hair, stood in front of their chairs and started swaying together, wrapped in each other’s arms.  Amanda’s lips spread in a wide smile pointed in their direction as she started, “There’s a saying old, says that love is blind. Still we’re often told, seek and ye will find. So, I’m gonna seek a certain lad I’ve had in mind.” Moving from the lamp post he had been leaning against, no longer content to watch from the shadows, Eddie stepped directly into Amanda’s line of sight.  She saw him.  How could she miss the leather wrapped, long haired guy who was peering straight into her soul?  And she wanted to look away, give someone, anyone else in the assembled listeners, her attention, but Amanda found that she couldn’t.

Had she expected him to be there?  Shaking her head for the crowd to see answered her own thoughts.  No, Amanda had no idea that the metal loving smooth talker would actually come to seek her out.  But, she had thought about it in the small moments between guitar lessons or while driving to her classes in the morning.

So, no.  Seeing Eddie stand there, bold as brass with his wide eyed stare and his hands in his pockets was not what Amanda had been expecting.  Hoped for, maybe.  Wished for, absolutely.  Reality though was better than anything her mind might have considered. “Looking everywhere, haven’t found him yet He’s the big affair I cannot forget, Only man I ever think of with regret.” Eddie swallowed hard.  The words she was singing wrapped around him on the night’s breeze and held on tight.  It was as if they were having a conversation that no one else could decipher, a conversation for only two. “I’d like to add his initials to my monogram, Tell me, where’s the shepherd for this lost lamb?” And she sounded lost.  Abandoned.  Alone.  Exactly like the type of person that Eddie was collecting for Hellfire or the band.  A person who needed someone like him to shield them from the big bads in life.  A guy who could protect her from the sort of wolves that a shepherd like him knew about all too well. “There’s a somebody I’m longing to see, I hope that he turns out to be Someone to watch over me.”

She was singing just to him.  Only Eddie.  There was no one else to look at, no one else who could understand or appreciate what the lyrics demanded.  “I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood, I know I could always be good To one who'll watch over me”

Eddie felt his smile slide into place.  It wasn’t the wide, dimpled, open grin that showed off his teeth and let you know he was happiest.  No, this smile was small, secret.  It drew his pretty pink tongue over the plush swell of his lips, something Amanda could see from a distance.  Then, just to be coy, his pearly top teeth bit into the pillow cushion of his bottom lip, teasing her from her position on the small stage. Even from this far away, Amanda could see that he had made an effort.  A shirt with a collar was buttoned across his chest, all red and black squares that looked soft and broken in.  Sure, it was still under his leather jacket, but the denim vest must have been left somewhere safe, because he wasn’t sporting the pins and patches that she remembered from their first encounter.  Jeans, dark blue or was it black?  She couldn’t really tell, but it didn’t entirely matter.  Either way, they fit snugly around his thighs and only sported a single torn knee.  The threads stretched across his joint, frayed and begging to be played with. His hair was wild.  It fell in waves of dark tendrils, looking to all the world like no care had been taken in its shaping and styling.  Amanda stretched the fingers of her right hand, the one not holding her mic, imagining how Eddie’s curls would feel wrapped around her fingers. He saw it all.  The way her hand fisted at her side before trailing up the chord of her microphone, tangling the slack in her fingers.  How Amanda let every note have its own moment before the next one rose to join it. “Although he may not be the man some girls think of as handsome, To my heart, he carries the key”

Eyes fluttering shut, Amanda took a breathy inhalation as the melody shifted, daring to break the spell by denying herself the sight of Eddie in the crowd.  Her heart thumped in time with Mark’s gentle drumming, thick hips swaying without her conscious approval, the crowd around her all but forgotten.  Sliding back to the original cadence, the song swelled up and out of Amanda, nearing the end. “Won't you tell him please, to put on some speed, Follow my lead, oh, how I need, Someone to watch over me”

Eddie was transfixed.  There was only him and Amanda and her voice and the falling sun burnishing everything rose golden in the fading light.  He caught the way her skirt curled happily at her ankles with every shift of her feet.  The way her mouth formed around the lyrics.  How her chest rose and fell with each expressive stanza. The words repeated: “Won't you tell him please, to put on some speed Follow my lead, oh, how I need Someone to watch over me”

Amanda let her eyes flutter open.  Closer now, unavoidable and un-ignorable, Eddie was standing directly in front of her.  The final note, held until her lungs burned from want of air, faded into the ether and she winked at him.  She couldn’t help it, really. Not when she had somehow managed to carry on as if the most handsome guy Amanda had ever bumped into wasn’t staring straight into her soul as she sang.  Not when every note was rich and ripe and reverberated across the people packed plaza even if, presently, she sang solely for an audience of one. Applause.  Clapping and whistling came from every corner of the park, jostling Eddie’s attention.  From the stage, Amanda giggled at his reaction, but smoothly covered her response, “We are just so grateful that you all came to see us tonight.  So-” tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, a shy smile pointed in Eddie’s direction, she continued, “-we’re going to do one more song before we say goodnight.” She didn’t look at Eddie at all this time.  Amanda wasn’t even sure she could, not after the intensity of singing, to him, for him.  But she could tell he was there all the same, with his elbows bending outward like leather wrapped wings, nervous energy causing him to bounce on his toes in time with the music.

The new melody started and Amanda let it take her away too.  This number is lively, the rhythm more rock than jazz, and she gave herself permission to have a little fun, show off a little bit.  Still, she actively ignored the one set of eyes that didn’t seem to stray from her own through their final song. Soon enough, it was all over and the Indiana Four began breaking down.  A few friendly folks from the audience came up and said kind words.  Luckily there were a few dollars in the tambourine and Amanda happily handed the take to Carly, “Not so bad.” “Not bad at all-” But her friend stopped mid sentence, a voice familiar and still foreign cutting through the conversation, “Um, excuse me?  Amanda?” Turning around, Amanda was surprised to find Eddie so close that the toes of her boots brushed against his Reeboks.  She looked up at him through the curtain of her mascara, “How can I help you?” Now her voice was breathy.  Husky.  And it made Eddie’s skin prickle hotly.  “Uh, I just wanted to tell you- all, tell you all just how much I enjoyed your set.” Only, Eddie never looked past Amanda’s face.  Couldn’t really.  Not when her wide eyes were staring into his own, their long lashes accentuating her curious gaze, her head tilted in a way that showed sincerity.

His calloused palm rubbed against the back of his neck, nerves getting the better of him the longer that Eddie stood there.  It felt like hours.  Long, silence filled hours where no one spoke and he dangled from a weak branch of his own social awkwardness. In reality it was only seconds before Amanda giggled like a crushing school girl, dropping her gaze to break the spell she had unwittingly cast, “Well, that’s awfully kind of you…?” Clearly she was prompting him.  It was unfair that she was at the disadvantage of not knowing his name when he had learned hers through the forced politeness of the customer service industry.  Behind her, Carly snorted as they watched Eddie extend a heavy ringed hand, taking Amanda’s in his own.  Raising it high enough to press a chaste kiss to the back, adding a saucy wink for good measure as he answered, “Eddie.  I’m Eddie.” “Eddie.”  Amanda wasn’t aware that she’d whispered it out loud until her friend was reaching past her, extending her own hand Eddie’s way for a greeting, using her flirty voice to try and charm the very handsome, very out of place guy, “Carly.  That’s me.  And-” dropping her hand when Eddie failed to take it, Carly laughed ruefully, “-you don’t care.” Carly was absolutely right.  Neither one of them paid her any attention because the world as Amanda knew it no longer existed.  Not anymore. There was a new sun, a new sky.  One with raven curls and plump, pink lips.  A center of the galaxy that smelled like Aqua Velva and cinnamon gum and something mossy green.  The world had shifted off its axis, tipping her right into the arms of Eddie Munson. For Eddie, well, he had been gone from the second Amanda had tangled herself around him so tightly that she’d almost fallen.  But it was amazing to recognize that these feelings he was having were mutual.  He got shy then, toeing at the patch of grass in front of her, hands in his pockets while he played at casual, “Wanna get outta here?” Nodding wordlessly, Amanda agreed, only to realize her unspoken intention.  “Yea!  Uh, yes.  Yes.  That would be nice.” When Eddie cocked his chin up, the smile on his face was dazzling, “Excellent.”

— She was sure that she told the band where she was going and who she was leaving with, but Amanda couldn’t be certain.  It felt like so long ago.  An age had passed since she had been standing on the simple stage, singing for all of Hawkins to hear.  Since then, the long ago days of the early evening, so much had happened. Eddie had held her hand as he walked her to his van, holding open the door and ensuring that Amanda was tucked safely inside.  Boys didn’t do that- not for Amanda Patterson.  Not for the chubby girl who still had her baby weight to lose. When he caught her nibbling worriedly at her bottom lip, Eddie asked pointedly, “Everything alright?” “Uh, yea, I just-” “Afraid I’m trying to kidnap you, huh?  I get it.  Vans do have a-” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively while pressing the tip of his tongue to the center of his top lip, “-certain reputation.  But I promise you, Amanda.  No funny business.”  With one hand over his heart, Eddie extended the other, holding his pinky finger out. She recognized the gesture.  Every school aged kid would.  “Is that- are you making a pinky promise?”

His cheeks split into a solar powered smile as he nodded, “Oh, yes.  Absolutely.  And it’s ironclad, since, ya know, we link our little fingers.” Chuckling with her whole body, her shoulders lifted as Amanda agreed by reaching out her own pinky, “Ok, ok.  No funny business.”

They wrapped their littlest fingers around the other, huffing out laughs like naughty children.  And it did comfort any nagging fears that might have flooded Amanda’s mind because it was so silly.  So unexpected.  It was also entirely sincere. Roaring to life like a beast roused from slumber, the van started and Eddie shifted into gear, “Are you, by any chance, hungry?”

He was hoping against hope that she was because Eddie wasn’t ready to say goodnight.  Not now when he finally had this beautiful songbird buckled into the passenger’s seat, looking at him with those electric eyes.  Eyes that kept pulling him in anytime he dared glance Amanda’s way, now fully focused on him and beaming. Normally a question like that would be fully loaded for a young woman very aware of her size and stature, but for the first time and without any hesitation, Amanda answered without reservation, “Starved.”

Exhaling through a grin, Eddie shook his hair off his shoulders, “Then let’s go!” The drive to the diner was filled with chatter.  He offered kind words about the band, the concert and her vocals.  “You, you’re just incredible.  Never heard someone sing like that before.” “Thanks, but truthfully, Carly and Mark and Jim, they make me sound better.”  Amanda did that thing where she deflected the words, the attention, to anyone else in order to minimize herself.  What she didn’t count on?  Eddie’s ability to see right through her. Blowing his bangs off his face, Eddie swiveled to face Amanda, his tone finally serious, “Uh uh.  Nope.  No way.  You’re gonna have to accept that you’re the star of the show, sweetheart.”  Then, he leaned over the center console, right into Amanda’s personal space to bump her shoulder with his own, “Please, take the compliment.” Her jaw snapped shut, hands in her lap where Amanda fooled around her with fingernails, fidgeting.  She swallowed thickly and bobbed her head, her voice gaining strength.  “You’re right.  I, uh, I appreciate you saying that.” “No problem at all, hun.  I’m only telling the truth.”  That’s when she noticed his little finger wiggling her way, “Pinky promise.” — Normally Amanda would frown at the idea of a booth.  They tended to be a tight squeeze, embarrassingly so when she’d have to slide across the bench, her supple thighs sticking to the tacky pleather. She desperately did not want to be embarrassed in front of the forthright dude in front of her. But Amanda didn’t need to worry.  Eddie, lacing her hand in his, tugged her to the back table, “My usual spot- out of the way and the most comfortable one in the place.” Deep and roomy, the color of jellied cranberry sauce from a can, the cushion was accommodating because of its indeterminate age.  She plopped onto the seat with room to spare, more than a little relieved, “Oh yea?” “Yea.  I’ve been breaking it in for years.” Cocking her head in a way that made Eddie’s breath hitch, a clever half teasing smile curling one corner of her mouth higher than the other, Amanda joked, “So you bring all your women here, then?” The deep barking laugh that came straight from Eddie’s chest made an elderly gentleman sitting at the countertop turn around with a scowl.  “All my women?  You make me sound like a lothario.” “Mr. Goodbar?  Is that you?”  She squinted her eyes, leaning into the bit. “Oh, Mandy, honey.  I am nowhere near that good with the ladies.” “I don’t know.  You’re doing pretty good with me, so far.”  And it was out of her mouth like a runaway rocket.  There was no way to pull it back, no way to reign it in.  It was there- out in the ether, like a comet bound to crash through the atmosphere. Amanda froze because now she’d done it.  She had pointed out her interest, revealed herself as wanting, knowing that any other time she had dared to give voice to her attraction it had always been met with let down and heart ache.  The embarrassment boiled through her. God, she had wanted so badly to play it cool.  To ensure that Eddie was really into her before making any kind of declaration that couldn’t be passed off as a joke.  Stewing, Amanda waited for the inevitable rejection from the man far prettier and sexier than she should ever hope to have for her own. But instead of a dismissive shrug or, worse, a comment about liking her as a ‘just friend’, Amanda got to watch as Eddie’s eyes lit up joyfully.  He couldn’t hide it either, apparently, since his smile widened enough to show off a pair of precious dimples, “Yea?  Ya think so?  That’s- uh, that’s good to hear.” Something about his own reckless enthusiasm caused the flood of worry to ebb away, leaving Amanda filled with a warm, gooey sensation that was not as familiar.  Could it be?  Was this what mutual attraction felt like?  Was this what love songs had been selling for generations and greeting card companies were always trying to find new ways to describe?  Was this… love? “Hey lovebirds, what can I get ya?”  It is a universal law that wait staff appear at the table when it is least convenient and this interruption by Cheryl ensured that all was right with the cosmos, her tiny pencil poised and ready to write. They had spent no time reading the menu, but Eddie had it memorized cover to cover.  Looking at Amanda, he nodded, “So, uh, do you trust me?” Again, her head tilted, appraising this nearly perfect stranger with the gorgeous grin and shaggy hair.  “Uh huh, yea.  I trust you.  Why do you ask?” Licking over his lips, he turned all of his unfiltered attention to their waitress, dialing the charm up to eleven, “Hiya Cheryl!” “Hi yourself, Eddie.  What’s it gonna be?”  There was a familiarity there that spoke of too many late night coffee cups and slices of pie.  It wasn’t friendly, really, but it was warm enough and Eddie’s puppy dog eyes moved the conversation into safer waters. “Hmm… patty melts.  Two please, with the curly fries, ok?” A curt nod answered his request, “Yea, and to drink?” He looked at Amanda, that impish twinkle shining bright in his cinnamon dark eyes, “Milkshakes?” “Oh!  Yes!  Vanilla for me, please.”  She beamed at Eddie, excitement at the consideration evident in Amanda’s face. “And I suppose you want chocolate, right Eddie?” Cheryl lifted her gaze from the scribble filled notepad to stare down at Amanda’s dinner companion. Placing his ring covered hand over his chest, Eddie batted his eyes, “You know the way to my heart, Cheryl.” Snorting approvingly at his antics, she jotted down Eddie’s preferred flavor, “All right kids, be right up.” And she wasn’t kidding because before either of them could let the silence grow, two tall and frosty milkshake glasses were being slid across the glittering formica, each topped with a mound of whipped cream and a luscious, over sweet cherry as a crown.  A pair of straws were tossed down without much thought and Amanda greedily grabbed one, eager to taste the delectable treat in front of her. “So, tell me about you.  What do you- like, what do you do for fun?”  Eddie was toying with his straw’s paper wrapper, making small talk and working hard at looking effortless.  He hadn’t been out like this, with a girl he was so into, in ages.  Maybe ever, really, and he was rusty, more than a little out of practice. Amanda swirled her own straw through the thick vanilla shake in front of her, biting into her bottom lip before replying, “Well, I work.  A lot.”  “At the Music Shop?” She shrugged, “Yup.  But it’s not all restocking sheet music and replacing guitar strings.  I teach-” “Like guitar?”  Something about the prospect was so exciting.  A fellow musician to noodle around with and she just happened to have the voice of an angel?  Was this paradise found, or what? Amanda nodded at his eager response, “Yea.  Also some keyboard, like, really beginner piano, ya know?” Eddie slurped at his chocolate shake, brain going a mile a minute.  Shaking his long hair off his shoulders, nearly gawking, he clicked his tongue before sighing deeply, “It’s not really fair.” Worry filled Amanda’s features.  Had she done something wrong?  It had all been going so well, maybe too well?  “What’s not fair?” Rapping his ringed knuckles against the tabletop before pointing her way, “You.  You’re like, too good to be true.” Shy now, Amanda turned away from his kindness, his honeyed praises, and fiddled nervously with the pendant of her necklace.  It wasn’t something she had a ton of experience with; flirting and compliments and genuine appreciation.  If she was on a stage, under a white hot spotlight, Amanda would know exactly what to say, what to do, but here on the worn out bench seat of a small town diner, Amanda found herself unmoored by all the attention Eddie was sending her way. “Oh, that’s like- I mean, I’m not-” she let her voice trail off, suddenly transfixed by something outside of the plate window. “Hey-” Eddie laid his hand, palm up, on the worn down table, his voice dropping to a whisper.  He’d said something to upset Amanda because she had taken those brilliant peepers away and that felt wrong on a primal level. “-Amanda?  Did I- uh, shit.  Did I do something, ya know, wrong?  Shit.” There was something in the defeated sound of Eddie’s expletive that brought her around.  She saw his open hand, still laying on the table and cautiously linked her fingers with his.  But she still could not meet his questioning look.  Twirling one of those big, heavy rings around his large and frankly, distracting fingers, Amanda finally huffed out a lungful of air. “I guess I should like, be honest here and tell you that I��ve never really done this.”  She motioned between the pair of them with her unoccupied hand as if that alone would explain her behavior. Eddie squeezed her fingers for a second, a trace of teasing in his tone when he asked, “Had dinner in a shitty diner?” Rolling her eyes skyward, she snorted out a small laugh, “No.  Well, kinda?  I mean, I haven’t really had a-” she let her eyes lock onto Eddie’s maple brown ones, holding him still, “-a date.  I, uh, never really had anyone, ya know, wanna take me out.  So, this is new.  For me, anyway.” Eddie could see what the admission cost her.  The once pleased smile now turned just a little pouty as her bottom lip puckered from the effort of opening herself up.  Her chest rose and fell rapidly as if she couldn’t keep the air inside her for too long, but perhaps the most telling was the way that Amanda’s hand clung tightly to Eddie’s. For a long second neither one of them said anything.  The kitchen crew could be heard, banging around pots and plates.  Another couple in a nearby booth was laughing loudly.  The radio was tuned to the oldies station so everyone could listen to Sam Cooke singing about Cupid. And when Amanda realized that Eddie wasn’t going to respond, she sat up, stiffer than before, readying to take her hand with her.  But Eddie closed his fist around her fingers, keeping his hold on her and tugging her gently forward, a pained pinch obvious in his voice, “Me either.” “What?” He closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, “I don’t date.  Uh, that often.”  Popping one eye open, just to see if Amanda was still with him, Eddie continued, “Um, I’ve got a bit of a, well, a reputation.  And for some reason, the ladies around here aren’t into that.” Shooting for levity, Eddie hoped to lighten the mood.  Moments like this, where he was on display emotionally, where he was open and vulnerable, made him nervous.  Anxious.  Twitchy.  It was fucking scary to be sitting here with this pretty bird and tell her how much of a disaster he really was with no bravado to use as armor.  And if Amanda wasn’t already heading for the hills, there was no way he would be able to stop her now. “It’s the van, isn’t it?  All the people you’ve attempted to kidnap, right?”  At her gentle jest, both of Eddie’s eyes popped open.  She was still there, sitting sweetly behind her melting shake, a tentative twist of her lips making it impossible for Eddie to stop imagining what kissing her would be like and he felt himself nodding with a hoarse giggle, relieved, “Yea.  That’s, uh, that’s it.  I’m just a creepy metal head with a super creepy van.” “You probably have candy too and uh, puppies?  For the luring of innocents?” “Of course.  What’s a kidnapper without his bait?”  “A weird guy with an empty van?”  And that absolutely shitty punchline was enough to send them both into a giggle fit, shattering any lingering tension created by being a touch too honest in the moment.  There would be a better time to talk about deep dark secrets and the reasons why two lonely people could find comfort in each other, but this wasn’t it. When Amanda pulled her hand back this time, Eddie let it go.  She used her napkin to dab under her eyes, clearing away the tears that laughing together had created.  Then she was dipping down to slurp at her creamy concoction, grinning, “This is so good!” “Right?  But, I gotta say, vanilla is-” “What?  What’s wrong with vanilla?”  Shaking his head with a laugh, Eddie raised his eyebrows, “Vanilla is kinda boring.” “It is not!”  Scalded by his choice of words, Amanda leaned over their shared table at the diner, motioning him closer.  When she was near enough for her now vanilla scented breath to skate across Eddie’s mouth, Amanda husked, “Vanilla is smoky.  Sweet.  It’s hard to grow, super hard to harvest and while there are many imitators out there.  Real vanilla.  The good stuff?  Well, that shit would rock your world.” Amanda, feeling bolder, pushed in tighter despite the formica between them, continuing in a hushed tone.  “And Eddie-” her voice dropped even lower, forcing him to concentrate on every word leaving her tenderly parted lips, lips that smelled like bourbon and sugar and cream.  Lips that Eddie wanted to taste so badly that he was sure he was going to go mad, right here in the goddamned diner, before their burgers ever made it to the table.  Lips that begged to be kissed stupid, carried on, unaware of his rising desire, “-never forget this: chocolate needs vanilla to taste so damn good!”  Sitting back, pleased as punch now that her point was made, Amanda slurped down another sip of her vanilla shake.  Eddie needed a minute.  Or seven.  He was still almost lying chest down on the booth’s table, having to cock his head up to look at the vanilla loving vixen gloating over him.  Spreading his broad hands over the tabletop, Eddie dramatically pushed himself back into his seat, eyeing Amanda warily, acting contrary for the fun of it.  “It’s a good story, kid.  But I’m still not convinced about vanilla’s superiority.  Maybe-”  He was pushing his luck, he knew it.  God, but he knew it only too well.  She’d admitted to being new to all this, inexperienced, but still, fortune favors the bold, isn’t that what some famous person had said once?  Amanda, unknowingly, waited for his follow-up, her mouth wrapped around the striped straw, her cheeks round and smiling, “Maybe?” Leaning onto one leather wrapped elbow, Eddie reclaimed the space at the center of their table, “Maybe I need to taste it again?” She’s confused.  Yea, definitely, confused.  So Amanda moved, ready to slide her icy half filled glass his way.  But Eddie shook his head slowly and waved her forward until their foreheads were almost pressed together.  That’s when he cupped her cheek, gently, softly and Amanda, powerless to stop her body, nuzzled into the warmth there. It felt natural.  Right.  Easy.  And there was no way that Amanda was going to deny herself this little bit of pleasure being offered so openly. If what Eddie had admitted was true, and the way his eyes had scrunched gave her a pretty good idea that it was, then he was in uncharted waters himself.  Something about that idea, that they were both in this raging waterfall of connection together made it safer somehow.  It made it easier to shut her own eyes and enjoy the calloused caresses of Eddie. Eddie slid his thumb over her plush bottom lip which parted without question, “Wanna taste you.  That alright, Mandy?” God, did she like being called Mandy.  She bobbed her head ‘yes’, her eyes shut from the want, already anticipating Eddie’s movements.  But he surprised her again, asking- no, telling, “Open your eyes, baby.  Please?” And only when Eddie could spy the blown open pupils of his dinner companion did he allow his mouth to surge forward.  His slightly chapped lips separated enough for his tongue to sweep across Amanda’s own and he was rewarded with a sultry sigh.  It made Eddie braver.  Bolder.  

Now he was intrepid in his search for the flavor of vanilla, teasing and taking a taste of every muggy corner of her mouth.  His tongue brushed against her own, the fresh flavor of vanilla sweetness everywhere.  Heady and exotic and exciting.  Amanda tipped her chin downward, ready to deepen this first kiss that arched over forgotten milkshakes and the paper napkins wrapping up their silverware, tentatively running the tip of her tongue over Eddie’s teeth.  Traces of chocolate and the syrupy sweet cherry from the top of his treat lingered on Eddie’s lips making Amanda hum harmonically.  Her fingers fisted into the collar of his flannel shirt, ensuring that Eddie couldn’t escape, at least, not without effort. But she wasn’t worried.  When his second hand molded to the curve of her other cheek, Amanda couldn’t avoid smiling, knowing that Eddie was as into this as she was.  As far as first kisses went, this one was ranking pretty high on the list of all time greats and both were reluctant to pull away first. “Ahem!  AHEM!  I have your order.” Two heads turned toward the intruding voice of the bored and bordering on disgusted server Doris but Eddie and Amanda didn’t jump apart like a couple of randy teens might have.  Oh no, Amanda leaned further into the cup of Eddie’s palm, offering their put upon server a small smile, dazed and almost drunkenly, “Hmm, thank you so much.” Eddie would have rather died than forfeit the pleasure of her trusting touch.  With his free left hand he reached for one of the two plates, “Here, lemme have that.” “Whatever.”  Without any further ceremony, Doris, because that’s what her name tag read, plopped both heavy ceramic dishes to the table, “Need anything else lovebirds?” Amanda lifted her head slowly, licking over her bee stung lips and nodded towards the pink cheeked shaggy headed boy still draped across their booth, “Uh, yea.  Could we have another vanilla shake, please?  It’s his favorite flavor.” Chuckling, Eddie let his broad thumb with the bitten down nail graze over the apple of her cheek, speaking to Doris but only looking at Amanda, “Two cherries, huh, Doris?” Rolling her elderly eyes, the waitress shook her head, “Right away.” Steam rolled off the two cheeseburger melts and stacks of seasoned french fries but they remained huddled as close at the table between them would allow.  Cocking his eyebrow, Eddie couldn’t help the teasing, “My favorite, huh?” “Oh yea.  You’re a convert now.” Settling back reluctantly, Eddie smirked your way, “Ever think that you’re my favorite flavor?” He was rewarded with a small kiss pressed to the inside of his wrist and what he realized was a trademark tilt of her head, “I told you that everything tastes better with vanilla, Eddie.” “Yea, you sure did.”  Biting into his burger, Eddie grinned through the grease on his face, sure he had never been happier in his short life.  And if the triumphant smirk Amanda flashed his way proved anything, she felt the exact same way.

— The second their empty plates had been cleared away, Eddie’s hand naturally kind of reached for Amanda’s, needy and greedy for the reassurance of touch.  Just as natural, Amanda slotted her fingers between his, “I gotta say, Eddie, that was a pretty amazing burger.” Pleased at the recognition, Eddie squeezed her digits for a second, “Thanks for trusting me.”  And then he seemed to realize the full implication of his statement.  Thanks for trusting him on the drive over.  Thanks for trusting his judgment about the restaurant and not just his menu choices.  Thanks for trusting his intentions. Her eyes rounded at the sentiment, giving Eddie a flash of sympathy before leaning into a flirty smile, “I had to.  You did pinky promise me that there would be no funny business and that’s ironclad.  At least, that’s what I’ve been led to believe.” “God, you remember everything, huh?”  But he sounded impressed.  Happy that she hadn’t lingered on his more revealing comment. Nodding, Amanda agreed, “Yea, I mean, I kinda have an ear and it’s always been easy for me to memorize stuff.  Lyrics, melodies, lines from movies-” Leaning forward again, engaged and interested, Eddie licked over his bottom lip, “No shit?” “No shit!” Eddie couldn’t help it.  He let his eyes roam over the pretty face in front of him, etching all of the details into his own memory, vowing never to forget the greasy sweet shine of her lips around the red striped straw or how she folded her disposable napkin up primly before laying it across her dinner plate.  The way Amanda’s hand felt so right in his and how her mouth tasted like vanilla ice cream with a trace amount of menthol throat drop lingering along her teeth. Eddie needed to remember it all for later.  For tonight when he went back to his trailer, like a gentleman.  For tomorrow or the day after or the day after that.  For all the days that would spread between this time together and the next time Eddie would be able to see her.  He was going to live off the sound of Amanda’s begrudging laugh when he made a joke that was funnier than it had any real right to be.  He planned to survive on the nourishment of her sugared sighs when those perfect, plump and pouty lips had welcomed Eddie’s own.  It was food for his soul.  Essential for life like oxygen or water. “Uh, Eddie?”  Amanda’s quiet question yanked him out of his own head and back into the present moment. He tugged the forward chunk of his hair between his long fingers, embarrassed at being caught, “Hmm?”  “You’re, uh, staring.” “Yea.  Sorry about that.  It’s just-” “Do I have something on my face?”  Panicked, Amanda patted at her cheeks to find the non-existent stain. And how could he help himself?  “Oh, yup.  A little higher.  No, lower- uh, nope, other side.  It’s right there-” he directed her wildly, pointing at the corner of his mouth to watch Amanda lick the same spot of her own, “-almost.  How do you keep missing it?” “You little shit!”  It was suddenly crystal clear that Eddie was full on fucking with her.  There never had been anything on her face. “What?  You got it.  Just now.”  Eddie’s impish grin made it impossible for Amanda to be truly mad so she settled for shooting him a playfully spiteful glare, “Uh huh.  Yea, sure.” His thumb rubbed along the side of her pointer finger, the gentle drag a grounding reminder of Eddie’s unwavering presence.  Amanda rested her chin against the flat of her right palm before sighing deeply, “What am I gonna do with you, Eddie?” Reflexively, re-actively, he answered, “Whatever you want, baby.” It was Amanda’s turn to stare.  There was an open honesty in the hot coffee color of Eddie’s eyes that hooked her right through the heart and tugged like a caught fish on a rusty lure.  He was being serious, there was no denying it. Around them the air shifted.  It was no longer funny.  It was no longer polite. The world narrowed once more, big enough for only the two of them and the dingy diner booth where they sat as everything else fell away. Her throat tightened and a lick of heated flame unfurled through her belly.  Words flooded her thoughts but Amanda couldn’t seem to settle on the ones that would say what she wanted desperately to express.  Eddie’s seemingly simple declaration had untethered her. Because it was too soon to speak with such clarity of purpose.  Too early for the implication of more to be made.  And yet, for the first time, Amanda saw the ghostly shape of possibility in the earnest expression Eddie wore. There was a promise there, stronger than one created when two little fingers linked, and something about that was spooky.  Scary.  Only, Amanda didn’t feel frightened like she thought she should, shrugging smoothly, “I- I wanna stay with you.” That was her truth, in the singular sparkling now.  Leaving Eddie, even for the comfort of home, was a thought so daunting, so disruptive, that she was actively moving against it.  Everything in Amanda Patterson said ‘stay’.  Eddie’s head bobbed in understanding.  He had no intention of letting the night end so early and without any plan in place for a follow-up rendezvous.  At Amanda’s declaration, he’d changed the grip of her hand, turning it so that their palms touched, textured heat melding together.  

He’d be lying if he denied the libidinous way his blood shot south at the whispered want in Amanda’s voice.  He was a young and virile guy, after all.  But Eddie wasn’t thinking with his dick when he said, “I don’t wanna let you go, Mandy.”

“Am I-” pausing to catch her breath, Amanda started again, “-are we crazy?” “I uh, I don’t think so.”  Conspiratorially, Amanda huffed, “Then what do we do now, Eddie?” His free hand brushed through his curls roughly before landing on the back of his neck, “Let me take you home?” It was a question born of chivalry and Amanda agreed with a thin, “Yes, please.” Eddie stood up first, somehow managing to keep her hand in his as he slipped out of the booth smoothly.  Once he was on his feet, he tugged lightly, bringing Amanda to the edge of the bench before offering his arm.  She watched as Eddie threw some loose bills on the table and then he was leading her outside of the bacon scented diner and onto the sidewalk. She floated at his side, the swaying of her skirt brushing against the stiff denim of Eddie’s jeans.  What had been an appropriate outfit for the early evening was now a bit too thin and he saw her shiver under the bright and clear Indiana sky.  Popping open the van’s door, he saw her settled inside and as she buckled her seatbelt, Eddie shrugged off his leather jacket, “Here.  Snuggle up under this, yea?” Gripping the body warm coat with greedy fingers, Amanda clutched it to her chest, humming her thanks.  He watched as she spread it over herself, nudging the collar with her nose, “Oh man, it smells like you!” “Cigarettes and bad decisions?” “Nope.”  Inhaling deeply, she thought for a minute, “Cologne?  Aqua Velva, like my granddad wears and uh, Green Apple shampoo?”  She couldn’t hide the surprised way her eyes widened or the knowing little smirk her mouth made at this discovery. “What?  I think it smells good.”  Lingering in the space between inside the van with Amanda and outside on the sidewalk, Eddie’s arms leaned into the rusted metal frame, effectively caging her in the seat. Not that she minded when every time he stretched his flannel shirt rode up just enough for an alabaster white slice of belly to peek over the waistband of his jeans.  She had already noticed splashes of black ink over each hip but couldn’t be sure of its shape.  His forearms were on display, the strong veins of his wrists visible under the artfully stained skin, and Amanda let her mind wander at the idea of what Eddie looked like under all that cotton and cloth. Amanda swallowed thickly.  She was very aware of the protective bubble Eddie had built around her, here in the cab of his vehicle.  The scent of him.  The sight.  It was a feast for the senses. And now all she wanted was to taste the plush and pillowy softness of his lips.  Lips that were moving, saying something but her mind had gone over into staticy silver.  She couldn’t help it.  Not when he was standing with his trim waist nearly at eye level, the belt of his jeans drawing them low on his hips.  “Huh?” That grin.  Broad and toothy, spread smugly over his face, “Uh, did I lose you for a second?” “Hmm, yea.  Kinda.  Sorry, what were you saying?” “I was saying, I don’t want to say goodnight, at least-” he raised a hand to her cheek, brushing the calloused pad of his thumb across her smooth skin, “-not so soon.” Having already melted into his touch, hoarse and throaty, she agreed, “Yea, no, me either.” “Yea?  So, if you’re up for a little adventure, I may have an idea.” Amanda lifted an eyebrow, questioning the boy before her with a sarcastic thread to her words,  “An adventure?” “Don’t worry, babe.  I'll make sure to get you there and back again.”  His pinkie finger was wiggling, just waiting for Amanda to link them together in a silent show of trust. —

Thanks for reading!  Part 2 is coming soon!

Want to read more?  Check out my Masterlist here!

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[inkabelledesigns]

February 4th of 2023 marks the thirteen year anniversary of when I started my first sketchbook. So to celebrate, I decided to redraw the first OC that ever went in that original book: Hearts. I’m about to get really sappy under the cut.

I’m really bad at remembering dates, but this one sticks out in my mind. I remember being on my bed doodling this out, excited to finally throw something down on the page. At the time, one of my best friends had drawn Hearts out, but it wasn’t quite as I had envisioned her. I had been frustrated that I couldn’t articulate my vision, so naturally, stubborn 13 year old me decided the only way to get there was to learn to draw for myself. I uh, didn’t quite hit the mark for a long time, but this first sketch was important. Little did I know it was gonna take me on a journey that would last for so long (and is still ongoing)!

Hearts was a Sonic fan character originally. A baby blue hedgehog with pyrokinesis, defender of a world known as Planet Paradise and the leader of a resistance against a tyrannical king. She never met up with Sonic, they didn’t really exist in the same world, the visual style was just the same in my mind, and the stories were reminiscent of things I liked in the Sonic stories. The secret royalty backstory from Sonic Underground, the Werehog phase of Sonic Unleashed, the interstellar wonders of Sonic Colors (whose soundtrack I listened to all throughout drawing this tonight), it was all there. She was my whole world as a middle schooler.

Nowadays, I’ve re-imagined her to fit in what became of my other former Sonic project, Tales of Sunburst City, a world full of elemental heroes rising up against Tumult, leader of the Anti-Sync, to protect their home and the elements of nature. I think Hearts would work well as a fire elemental with hedgehog attributes. She’s sassy, she’s punk, but she’s always there to lend a hand. I can see her getting along with main protagonist Vibrance Echo very well.

I haven’t worked on her story in years. I had someone in middle school who kept stealing my book and inserting their stuff into mine without consent to make their characters the heroes of my stories, and another person who would also steal it and graffiti all over my art. It made me feel the need to keep it under wraps for a long time. I took forever to open up about my stories, and to improve as an artist. I got bullied within my fandom for not being very good at my craft (especially when I asked for help, I was laughed at), and because as someone who was pretty obviously bad at reading social situations/on spectrum, I was an easy target. That would go on from middle school all the way to college online. But I was determined through it all to become the best artist I could be and love my work. I had dreams of working on something for SEGA someday.

Look at where I am now. I’m standing here after 13 years, and finally, I’ve gotten somewhere. For one thing, I finally drew her hair the way I wanted it! X’‘‘D It took forever to figure out, but we did it, I’m so proud of that! But for another, look at where I’ve ended up as a person. I finally feel comfortable sharing my stories with my friends, and not only do they listen, but they’re interested in what I have to say. They encourage me to keep going. They’re there to help me when I get stuck, and I’ve learned so much from them that’s improved my art and writing game, especially in this last year. From nutcrackers to Bendy, I have a place where I’m happy and fulfilled. Thank you to my friends, you light up my life in so many ways, words can’t do it justice. <3 And it doesn’t matter if a hundred people or just a few see my stuff, I’m learning to love it and make it just for me. I’m closer now to creating the things I want than I ever have been before, overcoming the fear to just be myself. I have hope that maybe I can in fact write my books and tell my stories.

And it’s not just one art form where my skills have improved. It’s been noticeable across all my mediums. I have a bunch of new horizons that are being explored. I’ve gotten some cool voice roles that I never would’ve fathomed years ago. I tried cosplaying for the first time (in private, not ready to be public with that). I have improved on my dolls so much. And my digital illustration has been so much better! I’m getting better at using references, and my lip and nose game? Top notch! I even got to use some of my graphic design and illustration skills to help with the very first Bendy Fambassadors project! That still feels like a dream, the fact that I got to work with the voice actors for one of my favorite game series is AMAZING, and the fact that I can call some of them my friends and say I’m getting to know them as people? That’s the coolest thing ever! I’m so much more confident than I used to be, I finally proved to myself that I could do it. I am an artist, I belong here amongst the people whose work I look up to. I am amazing, I am beautiful, I am kind, I am compelling, I am FREE!

To all the artists out there that are insecure and finding their way, I can say with full confidence, it DOES get better. Yeah, I still have days where I crumble and fall apart, where nothing looks right and I’m in agony over my creations. But they aren’t the same as they used to be. You are the master of your own ship. Chart your course and weather the storm, take that high seas adventure! Find yourself somewhere along the way. There is so much treasure waiting for you, and you will find it. I’m a first believer that anyone can be artist. We can be so much more. Don’t be afraid to go out there and reach for the stars. You’ve got this!

[oneiric-somnolence]

Good Omens self insert-ish OCs!

Really they just look like me.

LAILAH: Angel. You know how Crowley says he didn’t make the original concepts for the universe, he just put it all up together? Yeah, Lailah did the sketches. He designed a good portion of the universe. The “Real” mythological Lailah is thought of as angel of the Night and sometimes of Conception and Fertility. I like to think that while it wasn’t his domain, he passed a suggestion to the angel working on humans to make conception fun so that people would want to do it, just as a little silly nod to my Lailah falling and becoming Asmodeus.

Lailah fell in the war when the lot of them did. While he can’t exist in order for Asmo to exist, I like to think the modern version of him would have become the angel equivalent of a customer service drone and is Definitely Not Upset About That In Any Way, hence the Smugness With Nothing Really Behind It demeanor. He’s coping with the fact that he fell from artist to desk jockey. I think this change started happening a bit before the rebellion, and he joined Lucifer to fight it.

ASMODEUS: Demon. Lailah fell and became Asmodeus, demon of Lust and King of Demons. I figure the Good Omens version of that is Demon Babysitter Who Deals With HR Shit So Beelzebub Doesn’t Have To Worry About It. I imagine he earned the title from some great battle achievement during the war. Asmo has his silly little chicken leg as… divine punishment? Likely for the same thing that gave him the Demon King title? Who cares.

By the time the Earth came around, Asmo found it a good place to spend time. I imagine he had something to do with the whole Sodom thing. The more time he spent on the planet, the more bored he got with his Hellish duties. Fell from prominence. He negotiated his way to the same Earthly Relations/Tempations job that Crowley and Aziraphale were doing, just on the other side of the planet (America ☹️). He only mostly stayed on the side of the planet he was meant to and fucked around often. King of Demons is pretty good at getting his few bosses off his ass about things.

Asmo has an odd fixation with angels that he isn’t sure if is “nostalgia or some kind of fetish…” because Demons that are Good at Being Demons aren’t really fun to write about, are they? I haven’t made an Angelic inverse to him because that feels a bit like writing myself a partner no matter their relationship or how far removed the character is from me. Maybe someone would like to take that upon themselves…?

Eventually, his apathy for his job and his fraternizing with said Angelic Inverse got him, essentially, grounded for a few years. This was when Armageddon was supposed to happen and he was reasonably pissed that no one had told him when he found out. He returned to Earth—this time, no one cared to stop him or keep track of him because Heaven and Hell had better things to worry about after the failure of Armageddon. This time, he made no attempt to even pretend to do his job and is pretty much just vibing.

I’M SORRY I couldn’t think of any little bitty scenarios to draw him with Aziraphale. Also, I drew angel Crowley without reference, I know his hair is weird.

SO!! What do you guys think of this guy?!?!?!?

Little note— I know we all love gender-fucking GOmens angels and demons! I do too! That said, I would prefer He or They pronouns for Asmo. He is relatively removed from me but I have a connection in that way to him, and I like him having that difference from Lailah. Lailah I am okay with any pronouns! Lailah is usually thought of as a female-presenting angel anyways, and Lailah being connected to femininity while Asmo is connected to masculinity is indeed very transgender of them, which I appreciate. I was even thinking about giving Lailah a skirt in the first place. Still I personally use He or They!

[bellmo15-blog]

The Genie Of The Lamp And Funny Puns

So, my sona’s stumbled upon a magic lamp. And you know what that means? Three wishes from a genie! Or at least, that’s what SHOULD of happened. What actually happened is that the smoke that came out of the lamp just enveloped them and once it dissipated instead of being met with a genie, it’s turned them into a genie. Ehh, at least they are enjoying it! And hey, infinite comic power right? At least until one of his friends wishes him back to normal.

As I’m sure some of you know based of one of my recent status posts, I’ve had Genification/Genie TF/Dijinfication/Whatever you want to call it on my mind a lot lately. And I mean A LOT! As in, it’s pretty much been the main transformation scenario I’ve been thinking about the most recently. Weather that’s because of who my main comfort waifu is being Half Genie herself, the fact that I’ve actually considered playing Sonic and the Secret Rings recently after playing Black Knight earlier this year and liking it a lot (yes, you heard me Sonic Storybook Game detractors) or how I’ve been rewatching a lot of old movies from my childhood this year one of them being Aladdin or because of this one Genie TF comic someone once shared on a Discord server a few years ago that I’ve been thinking about a lot more I’ve just had genies on my mind a lot. And I have a transformation kink.

So of course, it was inevitable I was going to get a commission of my sona transformed into a genie. Because why settle for finding a genie and only being able to make three wishes while also running the risk of that genie adding some twist to it when you can instead BECOME a Genie and get all the power in the world for yourself.

Thayla: Because actually being a genie means that you can’t leave your lamp, will be permanently bound to it forever and even if you do get found by someone there’s a good chance your master could be the worst person in the world! Honestly, stuff like that is why I’m actually glad you made me only half genie!

You do realize that as my OC I could re-write your backstory so that you are a full genie right? Would you like that smartass?

Thayla: … I’m… I’m just gonna go back to playing Mario Kart now…

So yeah, got this pic because Genie TF Brainrot! And if your wondering why I had my self-insert dressed in the Gerudo Vai outfit from Breath of the Wild (but not Tears of the Kingdom) for this one, well I’ve pretty much made that outfit there cannon dancer outfit and most genies especially the feminine ones wear some kind of bedlah anyway so yeah.

Artist is Daisy-Pink71.

[bastart13]

Who are some of the other artists in The Arcana fandom that you would recommend?

Gahh this is a great question because I get to babble about all the artists I admire in this fandom but it’s also hell because I’m sure I’ll look at this later like “HOW DID I FORGET [insert name]???!”

But, as I remember for now:

@sketchy-saram has such a cute and beautiful art style and the way they create and explore their OCs and show character through the different scenes they draw or write is honestly such an inspiration. Also they have too many fanchild pairings with @lazyvoyager I’m hoplessly invested in.

Speaking of, @lazyvoyager was one of the first artists that inspired me to draw for the Arcana. They have a great sense for stylistic exaggeration, Illain is a top-tier fan apprentice, their art is impossibly expressive and dynamic and, again, I’m hoplessly invested in their fanchildren OCs.

@timmys-and-scribbles has such a good apprentice! Julianne is paired with Julian and their dynamic is so?? good?? Timmy is fantastic at drawing comics and sequential art and her use of posing and expression is something to admire, not to mention how gorgeous her illustrations are (she can somehow draw bird people/feather details???)

@slushrottweiler-blog again has incredible OCs. The detail she puts into her character design is astonishing and I really like how she does lineart. It’s a beautiful style which gives a lot of personality to her drawings and the scenes she draws with both OCs and canon character are always lovely!

@agent-darkbootie is so creative with the way they explore different AUs and mixing OCs with canon. Again, agent is an artist who really knows how to put character into their art and it’s beautiful to look at. Also, it’s a small thing but I’m obsessed with how they draw curly hair. It’s to die for!

I absolutely can’t get over how much detail @jyiori puts into their art. I’m in constant awe at how natural and soft their posing can be and then you add beautiful clean colouring and a fantastic understanding of the Arcana style while also being recognisable as their own style and their art leaves me in awe

@jilljoycearts‘s colouring is honestly to die for. Every time I see her art, I’m blown away with how clean and detailed it is, while also being able to do backgrounds, lovely and natural poses, and gorgeous expressions. It’s a small thing but she can draw the arcana style so well at different angles. It sounds silly but that always sticks out to me.

If you want good Muriels, @mountain-man-cumeth is the place to go. Her apprentice Karayan is absolutely gorgeous and his relationship with Muriel is really well developed. She has an incredible sense of posing and anatomy that really inspires me to improve in my own art.

[I’m still screaming about these ngl]

@jyuukichannart is also a great artist to go to if you want good Muriels. Her art style is incredibly soft and it’s all so pretty. Her costume design and attention to detail is beautiful and the way she draws expressions really hits what the character is feeling at the time. She’s another artist where I’m in constant awe of her natural posing.

@greyhands is probably the best artist I’ve seen when it comes to replicating the Arcana style. Her sense for physical space and lord the detail in her art is on another level. Every time I see it, I’m gobsmacked with how beautiful it is. She puts so much effort and hits the perfect amount of detail in everything she draws.

@savenkey mainly posts her art on instagram (momky_savenky or luc.eris) but gosh it’s beautiful. She’s already been an incredible influence on my own art with her amazing edits and resources which she provides for the fandom, but her art... just wow! Eris is an iconic apprentice and her lineart and colouring is a true inspiration.

@myarcanamess is gorgeous with character designs and his lighting is beautiful. He really knows how to set a scene with how he draws expressions and the environments the characters are in. He’s especially good with drawing Muriel and Asra and I can’t get enough of it.

@aaliyah-draws is another Arcana artist who inspired me to draw for the Arcana in the first place. Valarie is one of the prettiest apprentices around and her dynamic with Julian is amazing. The way she uses colour is unblelievably gorgeous, her art is so expressive and soft, and her costume design is just.....I can’t put into words how much I love it.

.......I’ve been writing this post for over half and hour and I’m sure I have more to talk about T_T

There are too many good artists in this fandom, guys

[oftenderweapons]

Introducing the girlfriends: the looks.

Hello puppets! In this post I’d like to show how I imagine the OC Girlfriends in terms of face and looks, mostly in terms of fashion.

I won’t state how many times my self esteem abandoned the conversation as I made this post, so let me do a disclaimer before I make y’all suffer with me (sorry). These pictures come from my Pinterest board called “Simply incredible people”, which contains mostly photos of people that have very unique facial traits and that I use for reference. Now, ALL OF THESE ARE MODELS. They were photographed BECAUSE after hours of makeup and hair and clothes chosen perfectly for them, a set made up specifically to enhance their good looks, a fair bit of photoshop and unfairly good genetics they were put in the position of being beautified. Don’t think that these gorgeous folks are The Thing: I picked them because of specific reasons explained under each picture, and in my opinion all the guys are pretty far from dating perfect young women with perfectly symmetrical features and flawless complexion and... all of that. However, yes, in my mind they date regular, “unbeautified” versions of these women. If your self esteem can’t handle disgustingly beautiful models, then please, don’t open the “read more”. Also, you’re absolutely free to keep imagining your ideal girls and not check out this post, no hard feelings ✌️😘

However, if — like me — you are incredibly attracted to girls with pretty unique facial features, then do open. If you’ like girls, I’m sorry, you might have one (or more) new crush(es) after this post.

Now, all of the girls have Asian traits — because according to my plots and headcanons, (which you can find in my masterlist) the guys have always met their s/o while in Seoul/Korea and also because I’ve always imagined the girls Asian. However, I’m not saying that they like these specific types or looks, or that they’ll end up with a person with traditionally Asian traits: I am simply assuming in statistic terms. Also, since I write memberxFem!reader, they’re obviously all girls.

I only know two of the people inserted here (that is Vixen and Kitten). I might have accidentally inserted someone famous, however that was not my intention. Also, the girls have been chosen exclusively for facial features: there is no shipping going on between real people here.

After this lengthy introduction, let me move on to the real deal.

In case you need my masterlist, here it is! (Remember to vote for next prompt!!! Link in bio 🥰)

Enjoy✨💜

Vixen - (Namjoon)

— The face —

Baby face: yes

Doll lips: yes

Very intense, borderline scary, November-baby glance: yes.

This is Vixen, with her baby cheeks, her sharp, refined looks and a doll-like face that mixes innocence and seduction. Top that with deep red lipstick and artsy jewellery. Her eyes show ten thousand different feelings and her face is suitable for acting, being extremely expressive: every little sensation and emotion can be found in a quirk of the mouth or an arching of the eyebrow, a little curl of the nose or a pursing of her lips.

— The Look —

Total black winter look, basic and classy, thigh-high boots for her long legs, simple, plain bags and purses, and finally a long coat to keep her warm over her dresses usually characterised by a high neck and a generous slice of leg. But don’t let that fool you: her favourite looks are oversized sweaters stolen from Namjoon’s wardrobe — that obviously fit like dresses on her —, fluffy woolen tights or stockings and comfy shoes when they go on breakfast dates, but also thick jumpers, large jeans and comfy sneakers when they go for walks and bike trips.

Angel (Seokjin)

— The Face —

Traditional Korean Beauty: yes

Big eyes: yes

Soft pink lips: yes

Angel is the definition of Korean Beauty, looking young and innocent. She could easily have the face of an idol, with the purest of charms. And her cute bangs... yes.

— The Look —

Even though her job requires a total black look, which often means pretty flats, black trousers and a turtleneck, in her free time she likes wearing preppy looks, with lots of plaid prints and cute dresses that match Korean standards, with not-too-revealing necklines and a skirt that hits just above the knee. Match it all with cute, warm coats and small bags.

Kitten (Yoongi)

— The Face —

Intimidating look: yes

Angular jaw: yes

Plush lips: yes

Kitten has angular, almost aggressive facial features, characterised mostly by the rectangular shape of her face and her jaw, and quite jutting cheekbones. She has a rough, tough beauty which can be difficult to understand but absolutely charming to observe.

— The Look —

Another one with total black, but unlike Vixen, who likes coloured clothes once winter ends, Kitten keeps the black look all year round, inserting tiny splashes of colours with accessories and jackets. Expect a lot of turtlenecks and blazers for her work attire, but also fancy shirts for more elegant occasions, mostly silk blouses that offer a generous view of her bosom.

Giggles (Hoseok)

— The Face —

Strawberry blonde: yes

Freckles: yes

Too cute: yes

I’ve always imagined Giggles with a mop of messy reddish-blonde hair, may it be natural or dyed. I know the combo is pretty rare; still, she’s a fictional character so... a girl can dream.

— The Look —

A vintage mess of prints. She messes around with flowers and stripes and plaids and colours. You could most definitely spot her in a crowd. Even when she’s working (remember she’s a vet), she has very colourful scrubs and bright coloured clogs/nurse shoes. Overall too cute and tiny for her good, her being so small makes it easy for her to shop in the children department and find even more coloured, fancy prints.

Princess (Jimin)

— The Face —

Overall cute: yes

Gaze to command a photo shoot: yes

Borderline scary both in terms of beauty and power: yes

This small girl has the power to supervise everything, you can read it on her face (remember she works for a fashion magazine and organises photoshoots). Sheer calculating, organising force. And with a gaze like that, ready to make you wither and die were you to deny her, you see specifically why I chose her.

— The Look —

Smart attire, comfortable flats or slippers to dash from a place to another. Comfy, fashionable, practical. She’s always on a rush from an appointment to the other and she uses bags big enough to hold a skirt and a pair of heels in case she needs more elegant attire for a last-minute evening appointment in fashionable clubs and restaurants. She’s more than happy to play Barbie for Jimin, letting him choose how to dress her.

Lace (Taehyung)

— The Face —

Louder big dick energy than your ex: yes

A neck to die for: yes

Eclectic charm: yes

Honestly, I think Lace is too particular — strange even — to find someone who could possibly embody her. What made me pick this specific woman was her very incisive choice in clothing and accessories, but I’ll update her sooner or later, I think. As me and my friend said: you don’t find Lace, is Lace that finds you. (Also, if anyone has a Lace to suggest, please send links 💖)

— The Look —

Black tight dresses, all the time. Tight pencil skirts and anything that screams Fifties housewife; lots of robes, unusual cuts and premium fabrics — she is a designer and lingerie maker, after all. She doesn’t follow trends, she makes them. She is literally one of those people who looks good even with the most hideous, unfashionable things on. However, the moment she wears a silk slip dress, her power intensifies by a few thousand times — do not expect Taehyung not to get weak in the knees. In the house she’s absolutely comfortable wearing a robe with nothing underneath — and sometimes she doesn’t even tie it close. Taehyung is perfectly okay with that.

Candy (Jungkook)

— The Face —

Biggest smile: yes

Cutest lil nose: yes

Very squishable: yes

The small happy bean is a very gentle bean too. She is a graphic designer and a cartoon artist and it shows in her whole being, even in her facial features. I imagine her hair not too long, soft and wavy — though the most valuable asset to Jk is their scent. And look at those sweater(shirt) paws!!! Adorable.

— The Look —

First rule of Candy and Jk’s relationship is “my flannel shall be thy flannel”. Their wedding rings will probably be flannel shirts. Candy likes to pull them off with oversized sweats or coloured jeans. She also wears oversized sweaters — probably stolen from Jk’s wardrobe — together with leggins and mid-calf socks, especially since her workplace is not too strict with dresscode. She likes oversized and layered fits, using light cotton shirts and tank tops in the summer and fleece/flannel shirt and warm woolen turtlenecks in winter. Comfort always comes first. Expect her to use biker shorts and giant T-shirts and bulky shoes in the summer on her spare time.

An extra — since I’m sooooo gay for these two

Sora Choi and Yoon Young Bae are the two models that I immediately spotted respectively for Kitten and Vixen and the fact that they posed together made me super soft (I literally fell in love with both of them). Oh also!!! Yoon has posted on her insta the sweetest picture of her with a snow bear and it was like... a sign, but also so endearing and I’M SMITTEN, HEAD TO TOE IN LOVE WITH THIS SMALL CUTE LIL POTATO. She’s a cutie and Sora has the prettiest smile I swear to God I’d give the world for these two. *bisexuality upgrades*

Did you imagine them differently? Are there any of the girls that match or challenge your ideas? Leave your impressions in the comments!!! 😚☺️

[ct-69-420]

Jack Rats

Part One of my Clone Wars/Bad Batch-era OCs! Characters covered in this one: Vesa, Madds, Kez, and Zuli.

This post might get a little long so

Vesaseh “Vesa” Rumrraahk

She’s one of my favorites! Vesa is the one who can pick up Crosshair and swing him around no problem. She’s not as strong as Wrecker, but she’s pretty buff!

holds her liquor really well

somewhere between 6′2 and 7 feet tall (maybe 9 feet but I haven’t decided yet). she’s actually pretty short by her species standards 

gets along with wrecker really well

comes from a pretty well-off family. she was very sheltered as a kid which means she’s now gullible and holds a lot of her parents’ more conservative views, but she’s opening up and slowly becoming a socialist based solely on her interactions with the war

causes problems/mischief on purpose. she is chaos incarnate

once convinced a group of clones that she couldn’t read but was still a certified medic

you know those tiktoks with the MCR song “Teenagers” sound? She is very much that sound. The whole team is.

you can’t see in this picrew but she has fangs

Maddulis “Madds” Thellil

This character is actually largely based on a real life friend of mine, especially in appearance. Some facts about Madds:

im gonna brag about her name because i put a lot of thought into it. No idea what world/language it comes from, but it comes from an ancient masc name “Addu” meaning gentle, and “lis” roughly meaning the one/that one/that person. So her name means “gentle one”

she once beat Crosshair in a sniping competition. It was purely on luck and a technicality, but she’ll never let him live it down

was planning on joining the army prior to the war (but got turned away)

married her best friend for tax benefits and financial aid reasons

can get along with anyone. she’s super nice and she’s a social butterfly

somehow earned enough of Hunter’s trust to braid his hair. She’s gotten a lot of practice with curly hair through Hunter!

learned to shoot from her dad and ex-boyfriends

she’s a good dancer too

Kezrayth Thellil

cough cough self insert cough

No but seriously, Kez is very much my indulgent self-insert character. He allows me to explore my trauma/fears/thoughts/emotions and also date Tech.

taught himself Mando’a, sign language, and a couple other languages when he was stuck in the hospital with nothing to do

undecided major before the war started. Then he joined the GAR

Autistic/ADHD! Hunter once called him a “half-baked Tech” but Kez argued that would also make him a half-baked Hunter, seeing as he’s also light/sound/smell sensitive

designated driver. Kez doesn’t drink (sober at least a year now!) but doesn’t mind being in a bar or around alcohol

somehow manages his way in the criminal underworld. but he’s still a total softie; he usually apologizes to droids when he has to shoot them

cannot shoot. Madds is a sharpshooter, but Kez has terrible eyesight and needs to be pretty close in order to get a good hit. He still prefers blasters over knives, though

he’s the one that proposed to Madds that they get married for financial aid. he also made their rings

Zuli Zarcana

Originally I wasn’t basing Zuli off of anyone, but now... yeah. she’s based slightly on another friend of mine, mostly in how laid-back and artsy she is:

possibly Pantoran? I haven’t decided I’m not sure what she is just yet but for now we’ll say she’s human she is officially human I think!

short and petite, but chubby!

she’s an actual doctor. The only real medic on the team - and she’s usually stuck somewhere else tending to injured clones

she isn’t actually part of their unit, but she’s friends with them so she’s an honorary member

Full Time Mom Friend

she’s an artist! she’s really good, too, but her parents were very strict and didn’t consider art to be “real work” so she went into the medical field instead

close friends with Fives

she also studied a bit of psychology. she’s neurotypical but she understands Kez and Madds well. also part-time Therapist Friend

voice of reason

Other fun facts:

the term “Jack Rat” is one they coined themselves, similar to how the Bad Batch chose theirs. They got called rats as an insult, and mixed it with Jack of All Trades, since their work is so mixed and varied. Jack Rats!

their ship is a light cargo freighter. It’s livable, too. It’s called the Brick Szarlotka, or just Szarlotka, after a dessert from Madds and Kez’s home. (szarlotka is actually a kind of Polish apple pie, but we don’t have Poland in space)

neither Madds or Kez are actually fully trained to be medics. In fact, prior to the war, they probably wouldn’t be allowed to serve because of their mental illnesses, but desperate times call for desperate measures

they each know enough sign language to manage a non-verbal Kez. Kez knows the whole language, and Madds is the second best since she’s known him so long

they usually have at least one small stuffed animal/tooka doll with them. No one knows where they keep getting all their toys, but they’re always giving them to refugee children and will even use them to comfort clones. Wrecker’s favorite is a stuffed animal named Frinnigan who roars when you squeeze him

they’re all down for committing crimes. a lot of theft. (Vesa and Zuli are the most reluctant/nervous)

civvies are a love language. Everyone in the Batch has at least 2 outfits

it’s all chaos

(Picrews used: Vesa, Madds, Kez, and Zuli)

[rpbetter]

Sorry if this isn't the place to ask but I'm in need of advice. I have a canon character I truly adore, but I haven't gotten muse or any opportunity to write them at all. My blog is collecting dust and the fandom is kinda dead at this point. Not to mention, it's hard to find compatible writing partners, especially with how picky I can be. I'm honestly considering deactivating the blog (for the nth time), but I don't want to lose the writing I have. I know I could archive, but I hate having blogs just sitting around.

In short, I really want to write the muse/keep the blog but I'm not getting any incentive to do that.

Hello, Anon, it’s totally the place to ask!

I will say, though, that since finding and keeping muse can be flavored rather personally, I can’t promise that what works for me is going to work for you. I’ll even confess that in over two decades, I’ve never personally lost muse. I don’t know if it is due to underlying, neurodiverse style, fixating, or if it is due to keeping myself continually invested in both my muse and writing regardless of what else is going on. (Probably a combination of both, though, and the things I do to keep myself highly in touch with my muse I’ll be recommending.) I’m definitely happy to try to help, however.

That really is a very frustrating spot to be in, wanting to write the muse and keep your blog active, but logging in every day to be reminded of what little reason you have to do so. Since we’re drawn to the characters we are for reasons of personal appeal and writing in itself is a pretty personal form of art, it can also feel depressing on top of the frustration.

However, that’s also the good news, in my opinion, because your incentive here is, or can be, yourself.

You were drawn to this character because you connected with them. They mean something to you, you can relate to them, maybe they have qualities (good or bad) that you wish you could experience. Whatever it is, there’s a reason why you had this draw. Writing is like that as well, there’s a reason why this is a hobby that drew you, that you get enjoyment out of. Again, though all art (it doesn’t matter if it is a hobby) has personal bits of the artist in it, writing is uniquely personal. When you write, you’re exploring thoughts and feelings, giving them life in a character that matters to you. I know, all of that sounds really convoluted and hokey, but it’s true.

And it’s good! That means you always have a reason to write and that you have the tools necessary to find and keep muse without any outside push necessary.

I’d say, firstly, work on getting muse back.

Get back in touch with your muse the next time you feel a particularly strong urge to write. Instead of spending time trying to find people in a silent fandom or forcing yourself to write something you don’t want to, just do some exercises that will help you get back into your muse.

I don’t know what media type your character comes from, but especially if it is something like movie or show that you can have on in the background of what you’re doing, do that. If it’s a comic or a book, think about your favorite scene and read it over first. If you’ve ever made some playlists for writing/your muse, you can always do that instead or as well. The point is to do something passively inspiring while you actively create. Now, that creating...

You want to do something that requires you to think about your muse so you can get in touch with them, not something that is going to make you feel overwhelmed and shut down. So, maybe don’t pick writing prompts for this - you can work up to that. Try out headcanon and character development memes and other question lists instead for right now. Things you can scroll down a list of, find questions that jump out as interesting (or even simply answerable to you at this point, you’re jump-starting a dead battery, it’s alright) and answer them. You can also do something as simple as write down what you like best about the character or their story, or put down the basics of filling in missing information that has always bugged you.

The beauty of this is that it is all on your own terms, your only objective here is to answer what you want, as much as you want. You can stop any time, but you can also answer a single question for three hours, making it eight pages long if the inspiration strikes you. It’s only about recharging your inspiration and establishing a connection with your character again. (This is also going to help you with getting back into writing, or approaching it for the first time, with a more internalized focus of interest.)

When you feel like you’ve done that, you can branch out on these exercises more. Answer the memes more in-depth, answer more of them/the ones you don’t have immediate answers for. You can also try writing out scenes from the character’s canon from their perspective, if it wasn’t already so, adding in their thoughts and feelings, or changing the scene in some ways that would be interesting to write out. This is the point where it’s a good idea to try a writing prompt or two, as well! Take the prompt as a sort of starter sentence from a mutual, you’ve got the situation, fill in with your muse.

Write when you feel like writing. The RPC is great at saying this when it comes to muns not wanting to write, but kind of ignores the other side of the equation. The side where you want to write, have the inspiration and muse to do so, but it might not be the best time. As in, you’re not home/wherever you usually write, with whatever device you tend to write on accessible. No, you’re not going to be able to get as much done, but you can write without the usual situation and device regardless. You can write a scene or ideas down using your phone or tablet, or go old school and use a notebook. If you’re at work and your job isn’t applicable to being able to get down a single sentence, that still doesn’t mean you have to wait 8+ hours to get home; while you’re taking your break, write a little bit. It is a break, and writing is your hobby, it isn’t work. It’s good to do things you enjoy on breaks, and far more fulfilling to have also accomplished something you happen to enjoy.

Not writing when you have the drive to do, putting it off and holding it in until “the perfect moment,” is a great way to lose your inspiration and never actually have that moment. If you feel like doing it, that means it is the perfect moment. Life is restricting, don’t impose even more restrictions on yourself by having to be at home, in a specific spot, with a specific device, at a specific time, on a specific day. Was that annoying repetition? You’re right, it was. And that’s how your creative mind processes all the crap piled onto it that doesn’t allow for creativity.

Now, the other problem, the fandom situation.

There isn’t anything you can do about that, to be absolutely honest. I’m not going to blow smoke and tell you to be positive, wait it out, maybe the fandom will spring to life again. You know, maybe it will...but you could be waiting literal decades for that to happen. Not cool. Please, take my word for that, it’s personal experience that it blows even more than you imagine it will.

What you can do is take the matter into your own hands in other ways; putting yourself out there with more availability in multiple ways.

Are you a single-fandom blog, or are you crossover friendly? If you’re not crossover friendly, try to think of a single, relatively popular fandom that you enjoy. Don’t look at it like a hassle, but rather, just another creative exercise. A serious pitfall of creating alternate universe versions of muses is to take the simplest route, merely picking something you want from that other universe and applying it to your muse with no relevant changes that would naturally occur from it. It isn’t just reductive as hell, it’s not remotely creative, it’s like sticking a sticker on your muse’s forehead and saying that’s a whole different muse. It’s neither attractive to potential partners nor going to sustain your own interest for long. You want this to be a passionate investment on your own end, for yourself.

What not to do:

Let’s say the fandom you picked to do crossovers with is based around magic, the main characters are witches, and they are divided into factions based on how their magical talents display and develop. Not only do you decide to make your muse a witch, you pick the most badass faction. It’s the one full of assassins and action and (metaphorically or literally) sex appeal. Well, that’s also going to be the most popular faction in the fandom. That means there will not only be plenty of big name canons there but also that there’s going to be a plethora of OCs designed just for this universe...and other crossovers from other currently active fandoms.

While that might sound like it’s great for maximizing interaction chances, it’s really not when you’re just starting somewhere new with a character from another fandom that might not be known or liked. It can also take a minute in another fandom’s RPC to identify where the good partners are. Every now and then, it is the most popular and over-populous era/faction/etc., but most of the time, it isn’t. People who write with considerable dedication and talent fairly rarely are in the popular kids club even in their fandom choices. By inserting yourself into that area, you might be bypassing (and being bypassed) by better partners on the assumption that their characters are simply going to bore you to death since they’re not within the scope of your focal point.

It’s not a situation of not being allowed to be picky, you not only have that right regardless of your situation, you also should be. This is not a “beggars can’t be choosers” situation, you’re not beholden to anyone on the basis of being new and bored. However, some of my best, and longest lasting, writing partners over all 23 years I’ve been RPing didn’t/don’t fit with all the exact surface details that automatically draw my interest. It is as true within my own fandom as it is in dealing with crossovers. Opposites (with enough similarities) really do attract and work out well together!

Don’t judge and write people off for anything that isn’t an issue of compatibility with your muse, your writing, or yourself. Decline someone because they do one line only and you are novella, they write topics that are upsetting to you, you can see no way your muse and theirs can interact without instant murder, or because you cannot stand writing with someone who is pulling 90% aesthetics and purple prose. Not because their muse is a witch who uses life-based magic, loves nature, is a healer, and into their health...while your muse in this AU is all about the death, only appreciates an urban environment and is grossed out by animals, kills as an occupation, lives on cheeseburgers and caffeine. You see what I’m saying? Don’t limit yourself unnecessarily!

What to do:

Did you consider if, in that hypothetical idea of a fandom, your muse based on their purely canon self would even fit into that faction? Or is it just something you wanted to see? If you didn’t consider this, or it was the latter, fix that. That’s bad.

If you’re not absolutely dead set on that and only that, think about what really does fit the muse better. Maybe, they would be better as a healer, someone who messes with the very fabric of reality, or someone who manipulates natural elements at will. Then again, they might not even be a witch. They could be more mundane in terms of power, but more accurate and interesting as a normal, human (or whatever). They could even be greatly opposed to the use of magic and witches. Use your muse’s original canon as a base to decide these things.

If you are absolutely dead set on it, though, you have a lot of work to do making the character into what amounts to a markedly different one while still retaining some recognizable aspects of themselves. Consider what events, in this new universe of fandom, might have happened to alter the character thus. Keep in mind that even small changes can have great consequences in a character’s development, and you might need to think about the myriad ways in which that can display, how it changes still more things for this character.

While that job becomes so much more intense when you haven’t planned out a path that matches your muse’s canon characterization at all, it is still an important part of constructing an AU, of any kind, in general. Ask yourself what experiences led to the character you know as you already know them (including your own headcanons, yes). Then, find similar possible experiences within your new fandom verse that can have the same effect. Again, though, it’s important to understand that you are never going to have an identical set of experiences, so you need to explore relevant changes still.

When you do this, you’re allowing your muse to more seamlessly fit into this other universe in a fleshed out, interesting way. Interesting both new partners and yourself.

Okay, next obnoxious question from me! Do you have multiple verses, or are you single-verse?

Whether you are already exploring new fandoms or not, by creating a variety of verses for others to interact with, you’re increasing your chances for interest and activity. When you have a verse from a different fandom you can then, additionally, advertise your presence in both that fandom’s tags when you do a promo or applicable open starter and on active RPer lists for that fandom.

Every popular fandom has such lists. You can get on them by messaging/sending an ask to the blog or by reblogging their post to be added, following the directions. I haven’t seen one yet that doesn’t allow for crossovers. You simply have to tag it as stated in the post, such as “your canon’s name here - original fandom name - crossover.” By tagging your open starter or promo as “-insert fandom here- rp” and “-fandom here- open starter” you allow people in that fandom to find you to interact. Either way is excellent for getting started in totally new places with a character others might be unfamiliar with.

Please remember that if you tag a promo as “promo,” it’ll not show up in searches off of your blog. You know, where it actually needs to be searched. Thanks, tumblr, for being janky! Being more specific as to the fandom and character will help others actually find you. Don’t shoot yourself in the foot by tagging it as “promo.”

Make your verses accessible on your blog itself, in the nature of those verses, and how you set up your page or post that lists them.

Don’t put any page behind an impossible or complicated aesthetic. You really shouldn’t anyway, but when you’re needing interactions, it’s actively hurting your chances. Many people don’t want to have to play a game with your theme, it’s a turn off. Try a pinned post that lists all of your links to important pages like rules, verses, and bio instead. It means that, even from the dash, that information can quickly be found while other muns are first interested, and also that anyone who might be using the app can access it more expediently. (I’m genuinely not a fan or big supporter of doing google docs for rules, verses, bios, etc., as it forces people off site, so I can’t personally say, in good conscious and honesty, that I’d recommend it, but you do you!) You want to keep things quickly accessible is the idea here; when people are interested, you want to catch them right then and there before they have a chance to forget and lose your blog.

As to the nature of the verses themselves, give people real options. Don’t have 20 verses that all read same way. Same themes, plot possibilities, and backstories, or incredibly similar names. Have a diverse list of verses that can act as foundations for a variety of different muns. As many fandoms as you can reasonably have a good portrayal of, and different types of fandoms; not all the same genre (all fantasy, all horror, all scifi). Verses where your muse has substantially different goals, occupations, and other life situations that will involve another muse; don’t make your muse A Warrior™ in every verse, you can keep plenty of those aspects without being that literal. People love “modern” verses set in our own universe and, usually, in our own era. That doesn’t mean you have to go stereotypical or otherwise bore yourself by doing the standard “high school/college verse,” for instance. You don’t even have to designate that sort of thing, let alone make it the focus; simply create the verse by considering what your character really would be like if they existed within your reality.

As a final note on verses as pertains to this point, when you’re doing crossover verses, it’s alright to do some verses where your muse from their own canon existence somehow ends up teleported or whatever to another fandom’s reality, or even our own. Just don’t make every verse like this, it puts the onus of a great deal of creativity and effort onto the other mun by default; your muse has cluelessly dropped into the universe, and while it is high drama time for you, the other mun has to babysit, educate, deal with fallout, etc.

On making the list of your verses accessible, you want to focus on ease of browsing and not being overwhelming. People tend to look through a verse page and not read every verse listed, rather, they look at the titles and breakdowns to see if it is of interest, then read it. Don’t try to make everyone read them all, it isn’t going to happen, and shouldn’t change your effort any as the right people are going to find the verses that interest them...if you make it clear and easy enough.

Have a basic format you stick to, firstly. I do it this way: small verse banner, title of verse (linked to its overall tag so that muns can look through the tag at headcanons, aesthetics, pictures of the FC, and threads), muse age/age range, small blurb, possible triggers found uniquely or just heavily within this verse. In that order, one following the other in a simple, but pleasing way. Below that, is a more in depth breakdown of the “verse canon.” Sometimes, that is giving a brief rehashing of canon itself and anywhere my muse differs, be it in this verse only or overall, ending with where my muse is in this verse. Not literally where. I mean their present occupation, emotional and general state in life. At the very end, I provide any other relevant links and/or an expansion on the triggers mentioned at the top of the verse description if they’re that serious/recurrent so that muns can decide this isn’t the verse for them. I happen to have a potentially triggering muse, triggering verses, and writing triggering topics, though. That’s not something everyone needs to do.

Secondly, group your verses in a sensible way. I do my short list of default verses first. (And, I do mean short, you don’t want this be any more than four or five, it is overwhelming right out of the gate.) For me, that is two default verses of canon at different points on the timeline, one default AU that is a bit of a reversal of canon, and one default “modern” verse. Then, I list the verses that are in line with the altered canon one, just different possibilities, changes, points in history. After that, the different “modern” verse options. Then, verses for other fandoms, the crossover verses. And so on. This way, a potential partner can find the type of verse that might appeal to them and have an easier time picking from those possibilities and getting ideas.

Lastly, don’t be so succinct that you give too little information and underwhelm, but also don’t be so excessive that it takes all of the mystery of interaction away and overwhelms someone. It can be a difficult balance to strike, and some verses require more information than others, just experiment a bit. Additionally, it’s fine to link to pertinent information for the other mun to view aside from this, but don’t just link people to a fandom wiki as your “description/bio.” That isn’t giving information on how you write this muse, approach this fandom, or what another mun can otherwise expect. Keeping your descriptions interesting is important, you’re not giving a boring lecture, you’re trying to inform someone while making them hyped for their choices. It’s more interesting, and informative, to read if you do them with an ear to the “tone” of your muse in that verse. Is it a sad one? Sound that way. These can, indeed, function as snippets of your writing, so be sure you are writing them with the same care you should be giving your replies; spellcheck, good word flow and use, mind the grammar, and read over what you’ve written for common, easy mistakes.

Again, by giving a genuine variety of verses to choose from, you’re allowing for a greater reach in potential partners. Everyone from those still in your original fandom to those in new ones, all the way to fandomless muses will be able to interact with you this way.

Finally, in regards to what you can change or do when you’re in a dead fandom and seeking interactions; make sure you are increasing your reach by using proper tags, being honest about what and how you write, and don’t wait for others to stumble across you.

When you use tags properly, you’re increasing your chances of being seen at all. Every time you post something at all applicable on your blog, tag it with relevant things. Tag as described above with whatever fandom it is and “RP,” your character’s name, “open RP,” character name and RP, indie RP, open starter, and so on. Be sure you are optimizing your tags by placing the most relevant to finding you in the first four, those are what show up in site-wide searches only. Anything after that isn’t going to appear in a search across all tumblr.

By tagging your character’s name, as a canon, you should know that you are likely to get personal blog interaction. I’m pretty against being nasty to personal blogs for no reason, as I don’t appreciate personal and fandom blogs being shitty to me for the sole reason that I am an RPer. Please, use clear, short, attention getting directions for them. If you want no interactions with them, put right in the description of your blog “RP blog, does not interact with personal blogs.” When you say things like, “personals dni,” or “personals blocked,” you’re not doing anyone any favors. Personal blogs often don’t even know what the hell a personal blog even is! They do not denote themselves this way, to a personal blog, they’re just a blog. By designating first that you are an RP blog, you’re making it clearer that they’re the personal; they’re obviously not an RP blog, so that must make them a personal. Follow this up in a pinned post, right on top. Give a note to personal blogs that describes them as “any blog that isn’t an RP blog” first, then either tell them in brief what they can and can’t do or that you don’t interact and will block.

I don’t recommend taking your blog off of being findable, however. That’s alright once you have the RP activity you are looking for, but until then, it’s working against you. Other RP blogs cannot easily find you either, they will only find you if you’re on a list or appear in their recommended blogs, if you interact with a mutual, or are recommended by a mutual. You’re not just lessening your chances of personal blogs finding you, so if you have that turned off, turn it back on.

Don’t entirely rely on others finding you regardless, though. You can’t be 100% passive when you have no interactions, and by relying solely on serendipity you’re far less likely to get them. I know that everyone here is terminally shy, but seriously, you have to do more than put your silent will into the universe that someone perfect find you. You have to make this happen. Once you get a few people, you can afford to be more passive. Not only do you have some people to write with, you will be more visible to their mutuals, and more established as a presence. I’m not saying this is easy, or that it will become easy, not awkward or stressful, if you have a legitimate issue behind the shyness. Just that it is the only way to really proceed, and I believe you can do it!

So, go looking for interesting blogs. Be crossover and OC friendly (again, this doesn’t mean “accept everyone,” there are valid reasons for not accepting people you won’t work out with that have nothing to do with their fandom or being an OC), and search those fandom’s RPCs, following any blogs you think you might work out with upon reading their rules and other pages. Search for fandomless OCs and do the same thing. Fandomless OCs aren’t just floating around in the ether, they just weren’t created expressly for a particular fandom and within its confines. What is excellent about that is their ability to have a wide variety of verses and many possibilities to fit into any fandom or verse. So, don’t count them out solely on the basis of being an OC and fandomless. It doesn’t mean what people seem to think it does!

Do not stop at having followed 50 blogs. I mean, other than that you probably should stop following people for a bit. That you should do, as you need to be building writing relationships here, not following so many people that you cannot get to them. Don’t just stop at the follow, though. Since you’ve read their rules and information like a good RP partner, you should have some idea of what their interests are and where they align with yours, as well as how they prefer to be approached, if they accept memes right away to start, need plotting, have a rules password. When they’ve followed you back, proceed with interaction!

Ask if they’d like to plot when they have time, you’re really looking forward to writing with them. But...have some idea of a plot, please. It is a serious turn off to have someone message you wanting to plot, only to reply and get “lol I don’t have any ideas, anything works for me/whatever you want to do.” That isn’t plotting, it’s one party coming up with ideas and constructing a plot while they’re being told “I’m fine with anything.” That may be true, but it’s disheartening and a red flag for many people. If you genuinely can’t come up with anything, pick verses that match up well and suggest doing something within them.

“When you have the time, would you be interested in discussing writing? I was looking at your verses, and I think your verse -name- and mine, -verse name-, would mesh well.” Is a good way to start. Once you have a discussion flowing about the verses meshing and the muses, it’s typically easy to organically develop some plot ideas to go off of.

If both you and the other mun are alright with plot-free interaction and memes, you can send a meme any time. If you can’t find any memes on their blog, look for a wishlist or navigation page that shows you the tags for memes/wishlist. Still can’t find it? Ask them if they’ve got a wishlist or meme tag you can look through.

Additionally, if open starters are a thing you both do and are alright with, find some of theirs and respond. Post your own, tag it appropriately to be found in general and on your blog, and reblog it once or twice. Don’t excessively reblog it, and don’t get upset on the dash if no one interacts with it or any memes you reblog. Both are demanding to outright guilting, and not a good way to get partners. Just provide them with the ability to easily interact by making the posts available in the first place and by making them findable on your blog search and navigation.

Provide something for potential partners to see. Since you said you already do have writing, that’s great! That’s content on your blog that your partners can view. However, since you’re also having the issues you’ve stated, it’s likely that you haven’t many new posts. Show that you are active, interested in being here, and how you write your muse (and in general) by posting some newer content. For original content, do a headcanon or some meta, or post about new verses you are adding, the changes on your blog, a promo. For reblogs, things pertaining to your muse like canon imagery, fanart, quotes from canon or that generally express your muse, and aesthetics relevant to your muse are all excellent things to queue.

Use that queue. Not only do very few people appreciate having dash spam of similar content for the comparatively short time you might be around, but also, running these things on a queue means you spread that out for maximum view. While there are hours of heavier activity, you’ll have mutuals who are on at unusual hours due to their life and preferences or their timezone. This way, you’re not appearing inactive, if not outright invisible, to those mutuals. It’s not a bad idea to use a queue tag so that people know if they interact with a post that’s been queued, you might be here to quickly respond.

Ultimately, to fix your fandom and lacking partners problem, you just need to up your availability and reach beyond that fandom alone. Be proactive in following and approaching, decline blogs based on not working out only, utilize tags and fandom RPer lists, have everything on your blog easy to follow and not overwhelming, and have your verses meet as wide of a range of people as possible while also not being overwhelming.

Try updating your promo, as well, by the way. They’re not dead, they just really tanked when people kept making them based solely on aesthetic principle instead of being at all informative about the muse. They do seem to be coming back, so it’s a thing to consider.

Yes, make it visually appealing, it will draw people to reading it. No, do not just use a song lyric or quote with words highlighted linking your rules, verses, bio. Tell people basic info like the age of your muse and yourself, if you are multiverse and multiship, your muse’s canon verse and a couple of big interest verses of other major fandoms or themes that tend to be of interest to people, and what kind of RP you write - one line/para/multipara/novella. Absolutely give links to rules, verses, bio, and either memes, wishlist, or open starters, but give them just like that; make it very clear what this link is to. Put a very short statement of interest on there denoting that you’re expanding to new fandoms and looking for writing partners.

Do not sound desperate, demanding, or devaluing of yourself. Don’t say shit like “because my fandom is dead,” “trying this before I give up and delete my blog,” or “I suck at interaction/writing/ooc interaction/being a person but welp giving it a try, so follow and hit that heart.” (Conversely, calling yourself derogatory things and implying that your partners are too, such as the “we’re all just losers here” shit.) All of the above are not attractive, and they’re not even surprising enough to stand out anymore. It’s another reason to scroll right by that promo because nothing at all was different or of interest.

And as a wrap-up/rehash of the first topic, getting muse back: try starting over at the beginning by approaching the media involving your muse that has really stuck with you emotionally over the years, and exploring and developing your muse again.

Don’t tell yourself you can only write, for example, at home, on the laptop, after 7pm, and with a pop toy staring at you. The best thing about writing, as opposed to so many other hobbies, is that you can do it anywhere! So, do that. Do it any time you both feel the inspiration to do so and aren’t going to get fired or expelled for it. This isn’t work, it’s something enjoyable that does take effort (like literally all creative activities and skills do), but approaching it as though you need to follow novel writing advice from someone who has never published anything of note and isn’t you on the internet, with strict rules for success makes it feel that way. So does being frustrated with a dead fandom, no interaction. It’s disheartening, feels as annoying and fruitless as work often does. You probably need to break out of that mindset, and you can only do it by beginning to allow yourself to be creative on your own terms, entirely for yourself.

Do write simple things at first that you are inspired to do (you can’t get a scene out of your head, or a bit of dialogue), and/or headcanon/character development memes and question lists. Build from there as you get back in touch with your muse, writing things primarily or entirely for yourself still. Expanding on headcanons, doing some meta, or maybe writing out a missing piece of canon or what you’d be interested in seeing happen in canon if some event was altered.

Doing this sort of thing, you are getting in touch with your muse again and back into the real spirit of writing creatively, simultaneously.

Whatever you find most inspiring, do it. If it’s watching the movie or show again, do that, have it on while you write or simply think on the character’s actions, thoughts, and emotions during those scenes. If it’s reading the material again, do that, and read snippets of personal importance before you write. Maybe it’s some past playlists you can have on while writing, or even while you’re cleaning, walking the dog, driving or riding somewhere. It could even be your own previous writing! Go ahead and re-read that, it sounds like you still appreciate it, and that’s truly promising. If you find that you’re horrified by some of the things you’ve written in the more distant past, hey...that’s not just valid as hell, it’s natural. You know what else it is? An inspiration. You can clearly see that you could do better, that means you now know how to do better and are ready to do so. Validate yourself, prove it to yourself by rewriting or fixing something.

Don’t delete the blog or archive it. It is unpleasant to have a dead blog around, but don’t keep it dead. Use the same blog and simply transition it into wider things that will net you more partners and the interactions you deserve.

Look, even if you weren’t the most popular blog in your fandom before it went quiet, you really appreciated the blog, muse, and writing you were doing. You’ve defined that it wasn’t something you did to cause this situation, you just had the shit luck we all run into eventually of being in a fandom that ran out of material or interest. People are really fickle, so by taking a wider approach and fixing on the writing and muse instead of fandom now, you’re stopping this from repeating. Seriously, on a long enough timeline, every fandom dies or goes into hibernation. If you make a whole new blog with a different muse, it is going to happen again eventually.

So, don’t feel like you’re ridiculously clinging to the past and need to move on, you’re just sticking to something and can continue to stick to it through the next five fandom deaths. Just because it is the most popular thing to do to drop muses, constantly add new ones, and have this attitude that you can “blog refresh” your way out of recurrent, and inherent, problem doesn’t mean it is actually the right thing to do. It’s not even the most sensible, and certainly not the best thing to do with anything you’ve spent time and effort on.

That’s your incentive; yourself, the time and care you’ve put in, and your continued interest in writing and the muse. You’ll find good people, and bluntly, everyone else can fuck right off when you’re incentivized by yourself. It becomes a self-fulfilling activity at that point, I swear, and it feels really nice.

Just get back in touch with your muse and writing itself so that you can begin to expand and start interacting again!

[brightlotusmoon]

Im so sorry if the question looks like bait I was just genuinely curious about what was your opinion on it.

Thank you for telling me this.

The reason I was suspicious is because Turtle On Turtle has become extremely touchy and controversial since the fandom got invaded by the anti-shipper cult, who actively went around making death threats against writers and artists because they tried to equate "mutant turtles" with "real humans" and were unable to reconcile the "teenage" part with the "they're turtles and they age in canon and they don't age like humans and have we mentioned they're turtles" part.

Okay. See. There's been a scary, dangerous mindset of: "we're anti and since we believe fiction directly influences reality, these fantasy creatures mutated via unknown alien mutagens are just like real people, and we can assign moral taboo values to them that make little to no logical sense, and we say that anyone who writes about them having sex with each other is evil, perverted, wishes to see incest in real life, and must die in various horrible ways, including having their kneecaps devoured, stepping on spiked Legos, getting an axe to the chest, being beheaded, being poisoned, etc, because the emotional attachment we personally have to these fantasy creatures extends to hoping our self insert OCs will be with them which can't happen if they're with each other"...

...to which the older members of the fandom respond, "okay but have you heard of polyamory, pansexuality, and imagination? it's all the rage. also, it's fiction, they're turtles, and they're mutants borne of alien goop. And not real."

Plus, canonically, they're on the asexual spectrum. (and at the end of the last unfinished volume of Mirage, pansexual Michelangelo had sex with an alien reptilian princess who laid eggs that may or may not be Mikey's.)

The "brotherhood" part was always about clanhood, because it wasn't said if the four turtles came from the same clutch. In the wild, turtles will fuck each other anyway, and in some TMNT fanfiction, the guys have mating seasons. There are no rules. It's a great mix of urban fantasy and "well, uh, biology probably doesn't work like that but that's why there's unstable alien mutagens involved. Time to get weird."

However, none of that matters to the cultists, who respond with alarmism, accusations, and fear. Even now with asexuality headcanons everywhere, there is this bizarre kind of gatekeeping over of all things mutant turtles fucking each other. That was a weird sentence to type.

So, mentioning tcest on Tumblr in the last few years is a toss up between "do I feel like dealing with shrieking angry people between the ages of 14 and 29 who are creepily invested in all the wrong ways in complaining about the fictional sex lives of alien mutant turtles" and "this is such a weird wild thing to write about, but holy shit what a beautiful psychoanalysis of endangered monsters and aliens and the story itself is epic and heartwrenching awwww it's adorable"

And despite what antis like to say, no "tcester" has ever pressured anyone to read their stuff, because they're respectful enough to know it's a weird niche, and you know what if I find out that someone did, I'll fire them out of a cannon into the sun, because the second rule of fanfiction is "tag your fics" IE "for the love of squick, warn for kinks and slash" - there are authors out there who don't, and it's really disturbing. Hatred of tcest is fine and good to know! Hardcore threats against fans of it is ugly, nonsensical, immature, sophomoric, and bratty. What I've discovered is that anti-tcesters are disingenuous and predatory and will go to lengths to harm artists while proclaiming moral superiority, and that's probably why I saw your question as bait.

This has been a fandom history lesson from my memory banks, upon which I will now lie and stare at the fogginess creeping in from thirty years ago.

[uwuch9n]

hey !!! today i’m gonna be trying to write some fluff to calm myself down and also try out something new in the process ! hope whoever reads this enjoys it :)

characters: kenma, nb y/n (self insert or oc) and a bit of kuroo :D

warnings or possible triggers: ear biting, neck kissing, wrists/arms being touched, stressed/overworked/anxious reader, and a thunderstorm/heavy rain ! please do not continue reading if any of these things could trigger any unwanted reactions ! maybe the next time i write some fluff or sfw fanfics you’ll be able to read ‘em !

a nice welcome home.

after a long day at your new job, a manga artist, you decided to end your shift for the night and head back home. you wiped the sweat off your forehead but the stress wasn’t easy to get rid of. the office wanted the manga to be done as soon as possible and you couldn’t get the last few pages right. it was very obviously a hard week for you. luckily it was a friday so you’d get saturday off, but sunday you had to go back.

after getting yourself together you stuffed your things into your bag and walked out to get in your car.

“hey there y/n! lookin great huh, i see you’re ready to go home to lil kenken right?? how you doing?” said kuroo as he ran into you right outside the establishment. he worked near that area and decided to stop by, luckily he walked into you at the right time.

“im doing well,, i guess.. i just was overthinking a bit but i’m sure tomorrow, or even tonight, i’ll be able to refresh myself and relax..” you said almost trying to avoid contact for the time being. kuroo noticed you didn’t seem to excited about things and so he decided to give you some words of encouragement.

“i’m sure whenever you get to relax you’ll be ready for work again! and besides you got a lil pal waiting for you at home, don’t you look forward to that?? he’s pretty good at comforting,, and i should know”- he chuckled. you gave him a smile and nodded in agreement. you let out a sigh and walked off to your car right before kuroo grasped your left shoulder and pulled you in for a hug. he patted your head with his hand and reassured you. you got a little flustered,, but kept it in.

“you’re doing amazing, really. i know you work really hard, so make sure to cool off, ‘kay? you got this in the bag!” he said, you clearly being able to sense his smile through his decently raspy voice. he let you go and gave you a little push to get you back together after the short hug, and you both waved goodbye.

well that was quite an experience. you knew that kuroo wasn’t a homewrecker, especially when it came to kenma’s s/o, but he was getting much more comfortable and supportive with you. that made you happy, but after thinking about what had just happened, you refocused and started your car.

you drove through the freeway and noticed all the billboards promoting businesses that you knew you’d rather be working at. you meet a stop sign and let out a sigh while other cars drive by. when it’s time to go, you go, as one would normally do, but you noticed that some water droplets were gently hitting the windshield of your car. it started getting a bit rougher and even more water droplets starting hitting your windshield, only this time they got louder.

you could hear all the other cars driving by thanks to the water that was slightly flooding the streets. you make a swift turn into your apartment complex and slowed down as you arrived at your apartment. you park at your designated spot and turn off your car. you adjust your bag straps that had fallen off your shoulder without you realizing, and reached into the back side of your car to get your umbrella. unfortunately it wasn’t there so you’d have to get wet, and it was raining pretty heavily. you sighed and reached into your cup holder for your apartment keys and got the right key ready in your hand for when you got to the door.

you slam your car door and lock it.

“goddamit” you let out as you start feeling your clothes getting humid. your shoes were hitting the floor inundated by the rain. you started running towards your door which fortunately was on the first floor. you inserted the key into the keyhole and turned your wrist gently as you peeked into the window. you could see the flashing lights of the tv. kenma was probably playing games again.

you closed the door and brushed yourself off as you glanced at kenma who had turned to see what that noise was. he knew it was you but he still wanted to see your pretty tired face. you gently took of your shoes and put your jacket and bag on the racks on the wall next to the door. you pushed your shoes with your foot and went to put on your favorite slippers.

“hey love, how did today go..?” asked kenma in a soft gentle voice, as to not startle you while you still were trying to shake off the water that had been absorbed by your clothes. you look up at kenma with an exhausted expression. “today was very stressful,, my manager told me to hurry up,, the artwork is due literally wednesday of next week and i can’t even get the stuff i’m working on now finished and-” kenma stopped your rambling by gesturing a hug and making gentle movements to come here with his small hands. you looked at him with a surprised expression, and then quickly changed it to a pleasant smile.

by then you realized that he had paused his game and the music of the game was still playing in the background, only a little quieter then when it’s actually on. you head to his little pile of blankets and pillows, and saw your favorite stuffed animal and a few snacks already set up for you for when you came home. that made you feel a lot better than before. “hey kenken, what’s all this stuff?” you asked acting clueless, but also trying to hear what he had to say about the setup. “it’s just a few things for you to pick out from,, i even brought you your little frog plushie; i know you like it..” he said while grabbing it and handing it to you. he blushed a little as you took it from his hands, gently caressing his as you did.

you took a look at a frog plushie but before you could get a full 360° look of it you saw kenma’s slender hands covering the two small black eyes of the plush. he set the plush down on your lap and grabbed your wrists. he knew your wrists were probably tired and sore after all that nonstop sketching at work, so he started gently rubbing them with his thumbs. he looked at your hands as he did, and then looked up at you. you had a cute shocked expression which he loved to paint on your face. he giggled and then went in for a kiss on the cheek.

after his soft tender lips were lifted from your cheek, you felt a bit of rustling and then a little blow on your ear which made you squirm. he bit it gently and kissed the side of your neck, while you sat there a bit flustered. kenma was usually the type to just give you a kiss on the cheek and continue playing his game, but recently you were getting much more attention from him. you didn’t mind it though, you kinda enjoyed it rather.

“you don’t have to give me neck kisses y’know..” you said hoping that he wouldn’t listen and just continue for a good minute. he of course didn’t stop and completely brushed off what you had just said. he moved to your shoulder and started kissing it, and then he pulled away. he look at you and gave you a smile, leaning in for a kiss afterwards. you kissed back and then grabbed him by the shoulders. both of you were blushing intensely, his blush just a little more calmed down, but it was there nonetheless.

“let’s eat some snacks, shall we?” you say after pulling away from the kiss and sitting there being a hot mess. you could hear the rain only getting rougher and rougher, and at one point you heard thunder. it was gonna be a loooong night. “let’s do that then” he said smiling as he reached over to the bowl full of strawberry pocky and small chocolate chip cookies. he fed you a stick of the strawberry coated biscuit and you nommed down on it happily, while he pulled away the excess pocky stick and brushed crumbs off of your lips with his thumb. his hand grasped the side of your face and he went to kiss your cheek once again before feeding you the rest of the pocky.

kenma turned to face the tv and then slowly got up to grab another controller for you to play with, since he was already playing a game and he wanted you to play along as well. you watched his flimsy self get up and come back to the floor in front of the couch. he sat down criss cross apple sauce style and handed you the controller, all while the thunder was still alive and the rain was still pouring.

“do you want to keep playing this game or... another game i have in our room...?” asked kenma in hopes that you’d say you wanted to continue playing the game he was already playing. he didn’t want to get up when he was right next to you. “this game seems fun, i’d love to play it with you” you said happily as you took the controller he had handed you and held it correctly so that he could get the multiplayer setting on and you’d be ready when he did.

you heard silly sound effects from when he switched the setting to multiplayer, and it filled you up with motivation for some reason. the thunderstorm and heavy raining didn’t bother you anymore because you knew you’d be safe with kenma. the music of the game got louder and kenma slowly lowered it a bit as to not disturb the apartment building. “you have to jump over the brown mushrooms and then jump into the green tubes and-” “..super mario bros..? don’t worry baby i know how to play this one” you winked at him and he let out a giggle.

he layed his head on your left shoulder which made you blush, and you followed it with a wide-eyed expression. he didn’t look too into it though, he was just focused in the game, and for him it was only nature. you rested your head on top of his and continued to play. time passed and it was around 2 AM. you and kenma had played for hours, and kenma was seemingly getting pretty tired, just as you were. “hey bub do you want to maybe go to bed now?” you suddenly paused the game and asked. “bed..?” he looked confused. he directed his eyes to the couch behind you two and you followed, quickly looking back at him.

“do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?” you put the puzzle pieces together. he nodded his head. “you don’t have work tomorrow so i figured you wouldn’t mind sleeping with me on the couch....” he said quietly in hopes that you would. you grabbed his face with your warm hands and kissed his forehead. “yeah of course i do!” you said trying to be enthusiastic, although your tired face barely allowed it. you both got up and he laid on the couch. you tried getting the bowl of snacks from off the floor and bring them to the kitchen but kenma quickly pulled you into his arms.

“tomorrow.. tomorrow we can clean up...” he said exhausted as you now were covering his body with yours. you adjusted yourself as did kenma and you both got into ‘cuddle mode.’

his arms wrapped around your body and you slowly started to kiss him all over. he laid his head back onto the arm of the couch. you relaxed your stiffened body, and closed your eyes as the music from the video game slowly faded away into nothing. kenma’s arms rubbed your back and moved to your head and shoulders. he gave you a final kiss on your head before drifting off to sleep.

that’s all ! i hope you enjoyed this self insert x kenma fluff fanfic ! if this does any good i’ll consider writing more fluff in the future :))

[princeescaluswords]

The line Noshiko said when telling Stiles that "you have everything you wanted" and she says "the pack is rich, strong and secure" has really stuck with me. The way you wrote the pack was so good. It makes me think of how stans sneered at Scott for not killing yet wanted his blood for him *considering* keeping that money (with Stiles insistence, which they conveniently forget). But now, in this timeline, the pack has the wealth from Peter, and they have clear open communication and no secrets among each other, the town is safer. But it all came at a cost, of Scott having to take lives and burdened by guilt with Allison, Melissa and Sheriff. The pack kinda deals with paranoia because any newcomer could be a threat, their home is like a fortress. I'm having trouble articulating but I loved the portrayal of Scott and the pack and how its different from most other fics

This ask talks about my story, Cicada. 

There’s a tendency in Teen Wolf fanfictions (and I suspect in many other fictions as well, but I focus on the things I know the most about), especially those which deal with Alpha Derek or Alpha Peter, to brush off the cost of violence as a foundation of safety and security.  These stories imagine that there are no consequences for Derek or Peter or Stiles murdering their enemies like the Argents, or the Alpha Pack, or Theo and the Dread Doctors.  The characters kill the bad guys; they go back to their mansion in the woods; they live happily ever after; and never think twice about the people who they gutted and killed because they were “bad.”

In doing this, the authors completely miss one of the major themes of Teen Wolf in its entirety.  The production had a lot of things wrong with it, and I’ll be the first to talk about them, but one of the things it got right was the spiral of revenge and its cost.

Fandom seems to want to believe that as long as you’re rich and safe, it doesn’t matter how you got there.  Nothing exemplifies this more than the Cult of Peter.  Not only do these members of the fandom think that Stiles or Lydia or self-insert OC would want to get all up on that blood-soaked con artist who murdered his niece for power and sent his daughter after a nagual werewolf hunter with the power to transform people into bone-clad killers, but they also think that somehow, miraculously, Peter would suddenly stop being a person willing to sacrifice his loved ones to get what he wants.  

On the other hand, parts of the fandom don’t understand that Scott’s pack in the show was held up as an example not because Scott was the strongest alpha or the most lethal alpha or the smartest alpha.  It’s because the foundation of his pack was the value of all individual lives  They recognize it to a certain degree, which is why anti-Scott people become so desperate to create situations where that isn’t true.  

Let’s take Hayden, Scott and his pack attempted to protect her after she was revealed as a chimera.  Now, there was a conflict because the second part (my emphasis) of the plan was to try to capture the Dread Doctors when they came for her.  While Scott and Liam fought over it, Scott’s point “do you have any better ideas?” is something that his detractors can’t counter.  Where else were they going to take her?  The police station, where the Doctors had just walked in and freed Donovan?  Eichen House?  Would that have been safer?   Yes, Scott didn’t tell Hayden and Liam about the chance to capture a Dread Doctor, but the primary focus of the plan was to protect Hayden.  Hayden recognized this, and later on, after she overheard the pack in the middle of a lacrosse game working desperately on trying to figure out who the last chimera was, she decided that she wanted to be a part of a pack who believed in it.  She saw that Scott and Liam and Stiles  and the others weren’t chimeras, but they still fought to protect others, even though it put them in danger. 

Compare that to Peter and life in his pack? No character was even remotely fooled into thinking that Peter did anything except for his own advantage.  He might promise security, power and wealth but as Stiles put it “Who would ever come for you?”  Any pack founded by Peter would be a pack run by fear and self-interest and the iron hand of a violent alpha -- i.e. not much of a pack at all. 

In my story, when Noshiko condemns Stiles to spend the rest of his life ‘with the monster he’s created,’ she’s pointing out that no matter how secure they are now, Scott and the rest are going to have to spend the rest of their lives watching Stiles to make sure he doesn’t go to the cops.   They’re going to be wary of any newcomer or complication, constantly worried about consequences delayed. I had Boyd point out that Scott, especially, is miserable, because he “did what was necessary.”    All the money and mansions and fancy cars aren’t going to eliminate that the pack has them because they murdered people, and that Stiles caused this by promoting security through violence.

It’s one of the lessons of the show and it’s a good lesson.  Even in the real world, there’s discussion about our own country and whether we can truly live out its supposed promise if we don’t recognize that a lot of what we have was violently taken from others.   A foundation of bloodshed doesn’t build a good home.

[aria-i-adagio]

Did either of them try to resist their feelings? Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear? What are their primary love languages? Who’s the better cook? (for Handers!) - the-iron-orchid

Thank you, @the-iron-orchid!

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

Oh, Anders is definitely the one whispering the inappropriate things in Hawke’s ear. He is the id of this relationship after all.

Not that Hawke is complaining.

What are their primary love languages?

I always have to stop and look up the whole love languages thing. Kinda like enneagram numbers. Cultivating a deliberate agnosis for my own nefarious reasons.

Anders and Adrian are both touch starved cuddlebugs, and Adrian rates very high on giving acts of service.

[Realizing that all my OCs/canon characters I project too much onto are touch starved cuddlebugs... hmm... anyone want to come snuggle and let me make you delicious food and baked goods? I am a very good cook.]

Who’s the better cook?

I - in my infinite wisdom and mercy as a writer - determined that fugitive Anders needed a hobby, and I gave him a cookbook to play around with while in hiding. As of the present moment in my personal little world state, our recovering ascetic is well on his way to becoming a decent, if somewhat rustic, chef. He has also perfected moonshine and if Hawke ever gets his chickens, Anders is definitely going to start aging the stuff

Adrian can scramble eggs and make coffee. But he has to make coffee before trying to toast bread, or he burns it.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Did either of them try to resist their feelings? No, of course not, not for three years of Isabela having to watch them pining. Oh no. Definitely not.

This is begging me to just post the first chapter of Risk. The truly naughty bits are in chapter two and you’ll have to go to the AO3 for those. And then tell me if I should finish futzing with the half-drafted and half daft chapter three.

---

Hawke doesn't know where Varric found this particular tabletop game. Not that it matters, he's thoroughly enjoying the premise of guiding pewter toy soldiers through taking over one region of Thedas at a time. Isabela seems less enchanted, complaining that the rules are attached against her because if she just had a navy, and isn't it cheating that Hawke and Anders have formed a truce with each other to wipe her off the map.

Varric laughs and shrugs off her complaint. "Strategy is strategy."

"What truce?" Adrian smiles innocently enough; although under the table, Anders' left hand has been gradually moving up his thigh. "We haven't discussed anything with each other."

"Nope, nothing." Anders drinks from his third - or fourth pint of beer - Justice must be giving him the night off from the no drunkenness rule. That happens sometimes, when Hawke is lucky "Just roll the dice, 'Bela."

"Sure, boys, no special code you're tapping out with your feet ?" She's down to two units in a region Hawke is attacking with ten. Anders has the region on the other side of hers and wore her down on his prior turn, stopping without taking the region or overly weakening his own position.

Varric crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. "I'm planning to enjoy what happens when they have to turn on each other."

"Oh yes." Isabela picks up her dice and shakes them in her hand. "Who will come out on top? A scintillating question. Drat!" Her roll turns up snake eyes to Hawke's mediocre four, three, and two. "Anders, if I find out you've cursed these dice -"

"We're not even playing for money, 'Bela."

"Yeah, yeah -" She clears her soldiers from the region. "Just honor. It's all yours, sweetling."

"You've still got half of Orlais and the Frostback Basin. You're hardly out."

She smirks and gestures to one of the barmaids for another pitcher. "Aye, and the longer I keep those the longer it's going to take for you two to solve that question of who's going to be on top."

Merrill is barely hanging on to Seheron and a random province in Tevinter. "Oh, I think Anders has the stronger position, he's basically got Hawke's armies surrounded."

Anders hides a blush behind another drink. Varric snorts and Isabela sighs. "Kitten, that's not quite what we're talking about. And you -" She points a finger at Anders like she's reprimanding a sailor. "Are hardly a blushing virgin."

Hawke just shifts his weight a bit, nudging Anders' thigh with his knee. Keep going. He can't actually move his own hand quick enough under the table to slide Anders' fingers further around and up without Isabela noticing. But she's going to give them grief no matter what.

"Well, what are you talking about then?"

"The eventual conclusion to a most drawn out case of two idiots pining after each other."

"What does that have to do with who wins the game?"

"It's a metaphor, Daisy. Not a very good one."

"Does it have something to do with sex? I'm always missing the ones that have to do with sex."

Anders chokes on his beer. Hawke pats his back, then leaves his hand there just above his belt. The Hanged Man is warm tonight, the feathery jacket is hanging on the wall, and Hawke can feel Anders' spine through the written out fabric of his shirt.

"I should make a hand where I can see 'em rule," Isabela grouses. "No idea what little card tricks you boys are up to over there."

"What?" Hawke walks his fingers up Anders' back and wonders how much longer he can stand Anders' fingers tracing spirals over the inside of his thigh before he just throws the game, grabs Anders' by the collar and kisses and/or shakes him until he's forgotten whatever protests he prepared about this not being a good idea, Anders is a dangerous person to be with, Hawke doesn't really know him, et cetera, et cetera. "I would never try to cheat. At least, not with you."

Merrill actually wins the game after patiently building up a massive number of armies in Seheron and sweeping through all of Thedas in a single turn. Never forget to keep an eye on the quiet ones. She smiles prettily as Varric and Hawke start picking up the pieces of the game, and then asks Isabela again if she'll explain the metaphor.

Isabela lays her head down on the table with a groan. "I need more alcohol for this."

Varric, being Varric, chuckles and then enables, ordering another two pitchers for the table.

Hawke gives up any pretense of coyness during Isabela's tutoring session and sits sideways on the bench with his back against the wall and his legs over Anders' lap, giggling as Isabela makes increasingly vulgar gestures with her hands and then steals Varric's notebook and ink to improvise illustrations. She's not a very good artist.

Merrill's wide eyes get wider. "Oh, oh. But -" She blinks rapidly. "What if it's two women?"

"Well, it's kind of a loose metaphor anyway, to be entirely honest." Isabela changes around how she's holding her hands again. "You see not everything comes down to insertions."

"Andraste's knicker weasels, 'Bela!"

"Knickers can be involved or not. Weasels, well, at least the animal type are less common. Now, the Chantry only talks about Andraste's husbands, but I heard this one -"

"You're going to confuse her even more." Anders moves Hawke's legs out of his lap and leans over the table. "It's simple Merrill. In sex, some people really prefer to get, some people really prefer to give, and most people are somewhere in the middle and like doing a bit both. And then you have Isabela, who likes to tease."

"Guilty as charged. In bed and out."

"What does that have to do with a board game though?"

Hawke laughs. Anders covers his face with both hands. "Oh, Maker. I'm done here. And this is as much of an answer as you're getting, 'Bela." He turns toward Hawke, who isn't expecting and had only cautiously been hoping to be grabbed by the shoulders and kissed on the mouth and thus, very nearly loses his balance when he is. He's quick enough to topple toward Anders instead of over the table, steading himself with hands at Anders' skinny waist, and kissing him back before the moment can be lost.

"Finally!" Isabela applauds. "I thought I was going to have to spend the night with Hawke, which would be terribly awkward as he doesn't like women."

Hawke raises a middle finger in her general direction and earns a delighted cackle.

"But Hawke spends a lot of time with you, and me, and even Aveline. We're women?"

Varric pours more beer for himself and Merrill. "That's, um, not at all what she means, Daisy."

Anders rolls his eyes. He stands up and pulls Hawke with him. "Your place or mine is a stupid question, isn't it?"

"A very stupid question." Hawke grabs their jackets off the wall. Honestly, right now, either would do, but it's about the same distance and Hawke has a significantly nice bed. If they make it that far.

"I expect a full report in the morning, Hawke," Isabela shouts as they're walking out. "Might have bets riding on it."

"Fuck you, 'Bela." Hawke says with a glance back over his shoulder and a broad smile. He's closer to amused than annoyed. She had quite effectively forced Anders' hand in the little game he and Hawke had been playing for weeks. Maybe overdone it, but she'd done it. Isabela winks and flashes him two thumbs up before making a 'get going now' gesture.

"No, you won't. Don't forget the electricity thing."

"The electricity thing? Is that another metaphor?"

"Goodnight, Merrill."

[my-makeshift-masquerade]

Trying to Combat my Negative Self Talk but it’s just getting Worse :)

(If you’ve ever wanted to see into my brain.)

Me: Oh god, the negative self talk is back. Well, I don’t feel too good right now... Maybe I can try and work on a reference sheet for my OC since she’s past that self insert stage and more concrete now—

My brain: Oh come on, really? You know it won’t even look good because you take forever to finish this stuff! Other artists here draw finished work every day! Who would wanna wait so long for art like yours?

Me: Many people have spammed my inbox with positivity lately, so I assume they would be interested. They’ve also said they understand I am having a hard time right now—

My brain: Everything you’ve ever created is a mess and you know it. People don’t care about your mental health or feelings. They want art. You can’t even give them that without being emotional.

Me: Well, I think it’s important to be open about these things. Nobody ever is honest about their feelings these days and I want my followers to know that I am just like them—

My brain: No, you have so many problems that people get annoyed with your whining and abandon you. This blog is your diary where you beg for attention and you know that’s toxic.

Me: Off topic. Look, brain, I am doing the reference sheet whether you like it or—

My brain: Nope! You’ll mess up or it’ll go unnoticed like always! I’m gonna be here the whole time reminding you how pleasing others is what you should be focusing on. You are gonna end up left for dead if you keep focusing on what you want!

Me: Okay, cool... Good talk.