#been doing a lot of prompt stuff recently but I’ve been enjoying it

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being ex-HYDRA and Bucky being your mentor

Bucky Barnes x teen!reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: @marvelflame2010: “Hello, can you write headcanons for Bucky Barnes being a mentor to a teenager (around 15-16) that was ex-HYDRA and is trying to be a hero? read your request rules, so I hope that this is proper. Thank you!”

sometimes it felt like no one knew what you had went through, being abducted and forced to be a weapon for a secret organization whose purpose was to gain more control

but when you met these avengers, it felt like everyone and their momma knew what it was like

bucky barnes, for example

the winter soldier, a WWII soldier deemed missing in action, presumed dead, and happened to be a prisoner of war and beyond

the experimentation and mind control he endured was much like your own, which gave you some comfort

“does it ever feel weird hearing one of your trigger words as a civilian? you know, now that we got ‘reset?’” -you

“not…no, not really? who’s speaking russian around you, y/n?” -bucky

“uh…i mean, no one. i’ve just been watching a lot of russian tv recently” -you

“why would you naturally assume i am also doing that?” -bucky

“why did you assume i didn’t?” -you

ok, thats not the greatest example of bucky mentoring you, but it’s a great example of sarcastic bickering!

honestly, the hardest part was learning how to be gentle again

if you could even say you were ever gentle to begin with being taken so young

it was hard to be so ruthless and unfeeling and have to start feeling

the nights of panic and anxiety were the worst, they made you wish you had that switch in your mind still. you’d whispered the trigger words to yourself sometimes to see if they were still there and if they could “help” you turn off those feelings

but bucky knew. he knew and he learned and he stuck with you

“y/n, those feelings are good” -buck

“no! no, they’re not. why are you saying it’s good to feel bad? i can’t breathe! i can’t think!” -you

“because you have feelings now. it’s the same as when you’re happy. you get to feel happy, it comes with all that other stuff. you have options, opportunities, this is one of them. you just have to take deep breaths” -bucky

combat training was the strangest feeling

“nope. too hard” “pulling your punches now” “your aim there was lethal” “you can’t put that much force into a chokehold” “cutting someone’s finger off isnt cool, y/n. kind of a dick move” “you automatically try to inflict severe injuries, arteries should not be the go-to. disarm your enemy first, if anything”

nothing ever felt right

if you were fighting effectively, you’d risk killing someone, which isn’t what you do anymore

if you held back too much, you’d be injured or killed, and all this would be for nothing

there had to be a sweet spot, but it was never what you were trained for. you were trained to eliminate your targets by any means

but you understood bucky all the same

bucky was there to help you acclimate to the norm too

like, whatever that was

says the guy with the metal arm and fought in world war ii despite the fact it was now like. 2020-something

like a normal ass dinner

“you know, i rarely ever got to go out to eat as a kid” -bucky

“can you ever say something that doesn’t make you sound ancient?” -you

“hey, you wanna pay for your meal tonight or do you want me to?” -bucky

“sorry…” -you

you liked to watch dumb tv shows (the american kind) with him

he’d indulge for a few minutes and then walk off unless he was REALLY interested

actually, he really enjoyed the office

“which avenger would each character be?” -you

“don’t…don’t make me do that” -bucky

“come on! you know, i kind of think phyllis and bruce are alike. like, theyre soft until they get mad and then all bets are off” -you

“that is…dumb” -bucky

sam really loved that bucky was there for you

but he saw that bucky was kind of doing it to distract himself too

“you know, me and steve found bucky just minding his business a while back. all he wanted then was to be alone, mind his business. this? this was what he needed” -sam

“what? a teenage hydra defector?” -you

“i mean, if youre gonna put it that way” -sam

“no, i get what youre saying” -you

steve actually didn’t come up too much, you know?

you thought bucky was trying to keep himself in the present as much as he could

which was what you were trying to learn from him in the end. how to move forward

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 // @deanzboyfriend //

[lesbianoms]

Hihi love your writing and was wondering (if you took prompts) to do more werewolf endo stuff?

Anon I am SO SORRY this took 80 YEARS TO WRITE 😭

It Started with a Sandwich

(Includes soft vore, f/f vore, kink, safe vore/endosoma, gentle/caring pred, werewolf pred, same-size) minors dni!!!

I didn’t know her that well, but she knew me. At least, knew of me.

My college had recently implemented a new kind of "supernatural studies abroad" program; currently, they only offered it as a J-term with limited spots. It served to both teach us about the history of other countries, and to satisfy anyone who was super into fantasy and folklore.

On the night of the deadline, just 5 minutes before midnight, I typed up a rushed essay on a whim... now, here I was, studying old European legends in Romania. It couldn't be helped. I'd always loved the strange.

The woman I watched from across the cobblestone street was our guide. She was not a professor at my school, or a fellow student, or anything like that. Born and raised in Romania, she had shown our small group around, pointing out the tall churches and the intricate, weaving designs of stone atop old castles. Crumbling structure. Old structure. Yet the way she spoke of the past somehow endeared me to it.

I won't deny it. As I looked at her— sitting in the empty outdoor seating of a deli, eating her sandwich— I felt really attracted to her. She was older than me, much older, I'd say about 35 or something like that. Early 40s maybe. Just from her deposition she seemed the type to have kids. A husband, a family.

Not that there was anything wrong with that, because my heart was all too familiar with the stupid, stupid tugging pulse of heartache. It came with the territory of being in love with women who were an entire lifetime away from me. But still, I wondered... would she see me?

My thoughts drifted to the sandwich in her hands. Another perk of being a college student is forgetting that you need to eat to keep your energy up. I thought about the places I’d seen along the route to the hotel: there was a ramen place, a burger joint… hm, “Romanian Ramen” had a nice ring to it. Maybe-

I froze as she looked up at me, and with an embarrassed turn of my head I realized that I’d been spacing out and staring at her the entire time. Ugh, I’m such a dork.

But when I glanced in her direction again, I was confused (and admittedly, a bit intimidated) when I saw her waving me over with a smile. I slowly slid off of the wall I was sitting on and walked over, compulsively brushing at my hair with my fingers.

I hope I looked good.

“Hello!” she said. Her voice was sing-songy, with a soft yet prominent Romanian accent. It radiated warmth. “Would you like to have lunch with me?”

~~~

I don’t remember how long we both sat there in that Deli, talking and laughing. As the time went by and the world around us changed from bright to dark, we seemed to be lost in ourselves.

She was easy to talk to. At first I’d felt like a bit of a geek sitting down and rambling on about whatever was currently on my mind, but she just sat still and listened. She would nod and look at me with interest, as she continued to devour her sandwich. I’ve never been the best at making eye contact with people, so while I talked, I found my eyes wandering down to her mouth as she chewed…

watching her throat bob as she swallowed…

It’s at this point in the story I need to confess something. I have a bit of a… strange “interest.” This is kind of embarrassing, but a necessary detail to the story-

-Oh who the hell am I kidding? Vore. It’s vore. I’m into vore.

So now, as you can imagine, watching her eat made me feel a bit flustered. I was ready to just ignore the feeling and continue on, but ohhh boy… I had no idea what was coming next.

Somehow, we got back on the topic of the program.

“So? Are you enjoying your stay in Romania?” she asked, licking her fingers. The sandwich was completely gone.

“Yeah! It’s a really cool place, with a lot of history. I thought the stuff you were talking about yesterday was really interesting.”

She giggled. “Real spooky, hm?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“The legends, they are my favorite part of living here. I’ve had an interest in the supernatural ever since I was young. When I was 18, my mother took me to Transylvania— it was a difficult trip to make, but I begged her to go— and, ultimately, I’m glad I did. Some of my best and worst memories come from that trip.”

I leaned back in my chair, a slight chuckle in my voice. “Did you want to go to Transylvania because of the vampires?”

There was a sudden shift in her demeanor after I said that. Her eyes looked sad as she smiled and continued her story.

“Well, yes and no. There was something needing to be done there. I had studied vampires before, and…”

She looked left and right, as if making sure nobody was listening to us from the shadows. I blinked in confusion, then watched her lean in and heard her voice drop to a silky whisper.

“Do you know why Transylvania is the vampire country?”

I shook my head. She licked her lips and continued.

“It is because they need a place to roost. They like old things. Old castles. They need a place to hide, yes. But they can't have Romania, because someone is already here.”

“Who?” I asked, my brow furrowed in confusion.

She grinned, and in the rising moonlight, her teeth shimmered like fangs. “The werewolves.”

~~~

It had been hours since I’d let her give me a ride back to her place; the full moon, in that time, had been tucked away behind the clouds. Still. She kept all the curtains closed.

She could tell I was nervous. Even though we’d both been very clear about boundaries and terms, my anxieties were not quite put to rest. I felt stupid for asking, but I also felt like I had to.

"So you're not going to kill me?"

She gave me a warm smile as she stood across from me. "I understand your concern. But I can safely say that no, I'm not in the business of taking any lives. I'm no loup-garou, darling."

“…But you are a werewolf.”

Something dimmed in her eyes, and I felt a little bad for being so pressing with all my questions. But if this was true, and it was all real… I needed to be sure that I wasn’t in any danger.

“In Romania, werewolves are protectors,” she said putting a hand to her chest, “I swear on my life that I will not harm you.”

My fingers drummed along the bed that I sat on, and I took a deep breath before responding with, “Okay. I trust you.”

An excited look lit up her face, as she began to take off her clothes.

I watched, enchanted. Enthralled, by the swiftness of her movements as she pulled her shirt off, revealing her bare belly to me. Even mostly empty, it still sported a bit of a round shape. She had a little paunch that just hung over the waistband of her underwear, straining against the elastic. I stared.

When I heard her giggle, I hurriedly averted my gaze from her stomach and tried, unsuccessfully, to make eye contact with her.

"You like what you see?" she teased.

I stuttered, "Wow... um, I dunno if this is a weird thing to say but your belly looks so... soft..."

"Years of good hunting will do that to you, love."

I didn't really want to think about what she meant, so I slowly shifted my position on the bed, fiddling with the trim of my shirt. Quietly, I asked, "Have you ever done this before?"

She smiled and shook her head. "No, never. But you're so small, I should be able to get you down easily. You're like a baby deer."

A hot flush spread across my cheeks as I hummed in satisfactory embarrassment.

"Do you look for baby deer when you go out hunting?"

"No, no! Of course not. That is... not for me. I prefer not to go after fawns. They are in the prime of their life, no? And it feels, for me at least, that it would be cruel to snuff them out at such a tender age."

“So, I guess I'm your first, then..." I chuckled.

A wide, warm grin spread across her face as she approached and sat by me. I felt her strong hands on my thighs. Her voice was sweet, and I shuddered at her hot breath on the side of my face as she leaned in to whisper her melody to me.

"My sweet, sweet fawn," she purred, "these lips and jaws will be so honored to have your small form pass between them, squeezed so snugly into my depths…”

She sniffed at me, licking her lips.

“You smell delectable. Oh, dear, if you could only know how hungry my belly is for you… mmm, yes~ I am quite looking forward to wolfing you down, and keeping you warm during this cold, blustering night.”

"Oh god," I squeaked. I was smitten.

The heat of her round stomach touched my skin like the sun. Tentatively, I reached up a hand. My fingers curled into hers as she took it, grasping it gently. She led my hand over to the soft swell of her belly and I felt goosebumps break through on my skin as I made first contact.

Much like her, the resonance of her stomach made me feel safe. It talked to me with a low and constant grumbling, the groan of a hunger aching to be satisfied. I felt her belly growl against my hand. Oh god, I could only imagine how it must feel to be in there. It actually made me lightheaded.

"Wow…” I whispered, pressing the palm of my hand into her skin. "Your body sounds beautiful."

She flashed a coy grin at me. “The moon is up now.”

~~~

I watched in a mix of fear and admiration as she transformed. Bones shifting and cracking into place, ears and jaw muscles elongating… despite the awful noises, it didn’t look painful. I’m sure she was used to this.

The top of her wolf head and the tips of her ears just barely scraped the ceiling, and she stared down at me with a lustful glow in her eyes. A sharp-toothed smile curled across her muzzle, but instead of being scary, the expression actually made me feel kind of warm inside.

She licked her chops and beckoned me over with a clawed finger. My eyes widened as I watched this movement; her beastly demeanor, infused with all the graceful nuances of a human woman. Even now, it makes for a pretty picture in my mind.

Looking into her eyes, I knew that I was safe with her. I stared up, now pressed against her furry, somewhat swollen belly. The noises coming from inside were downright monstrous. I felt my core heat up, the sensation delving lower all throughout my body, as I slowly began rubbing my legs together. In sure she must have seen how excited I was, because at that moment, she opened her jaws wide and lowered them down onto my head.

Her tongue curled against my face as I entered the slimy cave, whimpering at the feel of so much warm and gooey saliva assaulting my senses. It seemed that first taste was all she needed for instinct to take over.

The gulps were loud and thick, occurring in rapid succession, and I didn’t have any time to think as I was swallowed up by the undulating movements of her gullet and sent down into her powerful stomach. She slurped on my body and growled as the last of me disappeared into her. I’m sure that, despite my size, I made a prominent bulge in her throat…

I could hear only my own breathing for a few seconds as I curled up in the fetal position— welcomed into my new snug home for the night— and then a meaty squelching from underneath me caught my attention, bubbling up into a series of digestive groans. I felt them echo all around my body, and I moaned, all inhibition drowned in that pool of warm acids.

I felt my sleeping bag shift, heard a big slosh of fluids as she flopped over on her side. She was panting and whimpering… I assumed with pleasure. A shrill bark left her jaws and she rubbed at me, pushing against my form, being sure not to hurt me even as she kneaded her prized catch. Me… a prize… I’d never felt so honored to be won as the shifting walls of her belly began to claim me. And as her stomach squeezed me, I came.

I have no idea how long we stayed like that, me and her. Her wolf gut made for a comfy pillow as I yawned and drifted off to the sounds of indigestion I was giving her. She moved towards her bed and tenderly squished me against the mattress, which made me wriggle and squirm. No harm came to either of us as we snuggled together in the most intimate way I know.

I think that overnight, my clothes melted. Or at least, most of them. I remember receiving a text from her days later that my panties were stuck in her intestines. I still don’t know how that happened, but admittedly, it was kind of hot. I got a little wet while I was responding to her.

I’ll never forget my trip to Romania, for several reasons… though if I had to pick one, I’d say that it was because of that stunning tour guide, and her beastly appetite that I had the honor of sating. And to think, that it all started with me watching her eat a sandwich… 💖

[angeart]

I only recently found ur tumblr account but i’ve been reading ur fics (I enjoy them a lot!) and honestly it’s making me itch to write. Which i’ve done before but i’ve never committed to a proper fic, so like, any tips maybe? I’ve got Ideas but hell if I know how to execute them

hi hello! happy to hear you're enjoying the fics and aww!! oh gosh. that's so sweet that my writing is making u want to write 🥺

when i started writing hmtb, i had zero expectations, wasn't sure where the story was going to go, had just a vague simple concept i thought would be fun to play with... i haven't written anything in years. i also just got the Itch™️ after reading a good fanfic.

...and then suddely i just found myself writing. (and here we are)

it's a great feeling, and i think you should follow it if u can!! :3

i'm not quite sure what advice you're seeking out here exactly. is there something specific you're struggling with? i'm going to try to list and address some things under the cut, but if whatever you were looking for is missing, feel free to ask about it!

if it's commitment you struggle with, you can always start smaller. you can try to dabble in drabbles, see how the characters and the story setting feel like and get more comfortable with them (and in a way, more curious and inspired about them!).

you can do shorter bits or oneshots—like how i have an au around sleep demon grian, but only have one oneshot fic set in it. it gets you test things out without getting overwhelmed about having to have a Big Story, and then if you decide you want to do more, you can arrange them into a series and link them thematically that way into one cohesive story anyway! (the way i do with boatem circus.)

or you can use prompts to center your works around. which, speaking of, the boatem circus' oneshot was all spawned from a thought "what if panic attacks". bayum.

honestly, i'm not best at organisation and just wing things a lot. but i do recommend you to note down ideas at each opportunity. whether it's just a concept, a dialogue, a snippet, an atmosphere, a scene you might like to play around with at some point, or a whole ass Big Rambly Thought. save it somewhere! save it all!

you can even write down what you need to figure out next. what are the points of the story you need to Think About Some More so that you can move forward? jot down the questions, too, so that you know what to focus on next time you want to brainstorm stuff.

if you're writing a longer thing, i also recommend to note down details you need to keep track of that might otherwise get swallowed up and forgotten as the focus moves elsewhere. (for example, i have a note saying scar was given a feather, and the clothes they're wearing as they're swapped/unusual. i have a note that says that hmtb scar still has flowers from grian's collapse in the field in his inventory—)

but. that all being said. the most important thing is to have fun with what you're doing and to be interested in your own story and the characters in it. i think that's really the key to it. you need to tell the story you want to see. it's gonna be for you, first and foremost, and that's important to be aware of.

which means... be self indulgent!! it's your story! go wild! do what you want!! <333

as for motivation, staying on track, and staying engaged with your story... if you can get someone to ramble at and bounce ideas off of and show writing progress to, that can be a great help! it's even great for fleshing out stories/developing things further/getting new ideas. (a lot of hmtb plotpoints were born in private DMs just because we were throwing "what if" and "imagine this" around!)

at the end of it all... it really just boils down to: start writing.

don't overthink it. open a page, and set the characters free on it.

here's a great thing: it doesn't have to be perfect.

write it anyway.

you can consider it a draft, and then you can read over it and see if you want to edit it in any way. you can have wips around. that's fine! the important part is to start <3

-----------

as a bonus here's some example chaos of my various notes. i have all kinds of things saved, this is kind of just an example of how it can look:

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Uh hi! So I know you usually do ship stuff, but I am desperate for some Isaac Henderson angst content. I’ve found a few here and there but most of them aren’t actually super angsty and a lot somehow feel more about the other characters even if they’re meant to be about Isaac. They’re good but nothings really scratched that itch so far. Could you write something using #12 from the angsty dialogue prompts? Or honestly if you’d rather not do that one, any one of the prompts would be great. I’ll leave it up to you what exactly it’s about and who the line is directed at, I just wanna see my fave go through it.

hello!! i'm sorry this took so long! i would like to clarify that i started it ages ago, but it was at less than 1000 words yesterday evening, and then it was finished at 2am last night. (i got so into it i'm currently in the mindset of "that's it, i'm going to try and post at least a fic a week now 😤", but we will see if that actually happens.) so, i hope if nothing else it's sufficiently angsty and not too ooc. you did give me quite a bit of freedom, and it remains unclear if that was a good choice or not 😅 anyway, enjoy!!

12. "Help me."

Post-prom, Isaac felt out of sorts. 

His situation with James and his odd encounter at Elle’s exhibition had been eye-opening, to say the least. Angela Chen’s Ace still resided on his nightstand, though he’d finished reading it two days after lifting it from the library. He couldn’t bring himself to return it just yet; he found himself going back to it at night, rereading sections over again as if they would tell him something new, feeling he was still missing something. And anyway, they were still on summer holidays. The school wouldn’t miss it for now. 

No one seemed to be missing him much, either.

It was becoming more noticeable, this summer break, how he was the odd one out. He’d been aware his friends were essentially coupled off for months now, and Paris had cemented it, but Paris had also kept them stuck together as a group. 

(Plus, most of the Paris trip had been before things had become royally awkward with James, but he was mostly avoiding thinking about all that.)

The situation with Darcy had understandably taken a bit of a priority in the past couple of weeks, but it didn’t explain the shift that had seemed to happen within all his friends since prom. Isaac had figured for a while that Elle would be leaving, and he assumed it was why she and Tao had been attached at the hip. He didn’t begrudge them it, really. He had watched them pine over each other long enough that leaving them this time together felt warranted. Besides, it wasn’t like they were asking Charlie to movie nights recently, either. 

But it also wasn’t likely Charlie was waiting to be asked, these days. He and Nick had seemingly re-entered their honeymoon phase, which was fair given that they finally could be as coupley as they wanted wherever and whenever they wanted. Isaac just found it odd that it seemed to be more since prom than Nick’s coming out, but he was not going to ask about that. It made sense he didn’t want to think about. The intense, somewhat dark cloud that seemed to still hang over Nick around Charlie was more worth questioning, but it was also part of what kept Isaac from encroaching on them recently. 

Everyone seemed to have something going on. His going-ons felt a little unworthy, in comparison. He wasn’t sure if he was feeling shit about himself because he didn’t want to put an extra burden on his friends and it was a bit sad he considered his feelings a burden, or if that was an excuse for not having to talk about it because he didn’t really know how and it was making him feel shit. 

So, yes. Out of sorts. 

Out of sorts and alone, most of the time. 

He was not in the habit of pitying himself, however, and he was not about to start now. So what if he was having some life-defining realisations about himself and he had no one to share them with? He’d coped with life mostly on his own so far and he’d continue to do so. 

And he was coping. Perfectly. 

Kind of. 

Sitting in one of his best friend’s houses, surrounded by their other friends and staring into a book was how he always coped, so this was perfectly normal. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t absorbing the words and everyone seemed louder than usual. He hadn’t been sleeping well. He was tired. That’s all he was feeling. 

Tara tugged at his foot from where she and Darcy were perched on the floor by his armchair. “Isaac, we're gonna play a boardgame. Put the book down and come join us!”

Isaac looked, but Tao and Elle were still wrapped up in each other in the corner and Nick and Charlie were nowhere in sight. He raised an eyebrow at Tara. “We are?”

“Yes! Nick and Charlie are away to get them right now, so come get comfy.”

Darcy snorted. “Good idea, because we could be waiting for a bit.”

Tara slugged her shoulder and Darcy only giggled again. 

“Shouldn't they have passed the honeymoon phase by now?” Isaac asked, lowering his book slightly but not yet closing it. 

“Nick and Charlie?” Tara grinned. “I'm not sure those two will ever come out of it.”

“Well, I can't say I don't understand,” Darcy quipped, leaning in to Tara with a grin. Tara turned towards her, and their smiles melded as they kissed.

Isaac snapped his book closed. “Actually, I think I'll go to the loo while we're waiting.”

No one gave any sign of hearing him, so Isaac slipped quietly out of the room and up to the bathroom. He rolled his eyes at the giggles coming from Charlie's room and didn't pause. Closing the bathroom door behind him, he finally released a sharp breath. He perched himself on the edge of the bath and pulled out his phone.

Instagram was a distraction he did not often indulge in. His follow count was small—only his friends and favourite authors alongside a small cluster of bookstagrammers he'd found to have good taste. He saved a couple of recommendation posts, then began clicking through stories, pausing when he reached James's. 

The story was almost timed out, all of it from last night, seemingly at a party. Isaac had stopped on a video where James appeared to be singing along to the song playing with another boy. In the middle of it, the boy had swooped forward to kiss James on the cheek. 

Isaac stared at James’s delighted expression and something complicated clenched in his chest. He quickly locked the phone and set it beside him, directing his focus to the wall. 

It was good, he rationalised. James was wonderful; he deserved to be going out and having fun, and he deserved, without question, to have a handsome boy having fun with him. Whether they were friends or something more didn't matter, but the something more definitely seemed possible, if not likely. And James deserved someone who could give him that. 

Isaac had not been able to give him that—did not want to give anyone that, could not derive any joy from it, even from the chance of it giving joy to someone else. 

He was not incapable of love. He knew that. When he looked at his family, when he looked at Charlie and Tao and Elle, he was always so full of love he felt he might explode from it. It wasn't romantic, and it wasn't physical, but it was love, in its purest form it seemed, to him, given he did not want anything in return for it but their happiness and their continued place in his life. 

It was love, uncomplicated, unconditional love, and why wouldn't that be enough? 

He never seemed to be enough. 

He always did what he could to be a good son and a good friend, and he had never doubted it until recently. James had been one of those good friends. He still was, as far as Isaac was concerned, but their relationship had undeniably changed. Maybe it was simply in an awkward phase that would pass, but Isaac, at the moment, could not believe it would ever be the same. For a time, James had been something of his best friend—not because Isaac liked him more than Charlie or Tao or Elle, or because he really spent more time with him, but because James was Isaac’s friend in a way they were not. They spent time together, the two of them, and shared interests the two of them, and when they had been together they had not felt the need for any company outside of the two of them. 

But that had not meant the same to James as it had to Isaac, and Isaac could not give him anything more. He understood that his rejection would not be taken without consequence, but he hadn't been prepared to be, in a way, rejected in return. 

Was this all he would ever achieve? Having friends who would always be somewhat distant—who would always have someone closer, someone better—or having someone close who would eventually want that closeness in a way he did not. Before, he'd worried he was not worthy of that want to begin with. Never had he thought it would be his inability to return it that would be the issue. Could he be upset, that it was his not wanting to be too close that lost him all closeness as a result? 

He was alone on an island of his own making. He couldn't blame anyone for leaving him there if he wasn't going to invite them in, could he? 

Was this, then—alone in the bathroom of his best friend's house with his phone locked beside him and tears in his throat—all he was destined for? 

Isaac Island, party of one. 

A knock on the door startled him, and he swore quietly as he knocked his phone onto the tiles. As he picked it up, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and blanched. There were no tears, but his eyes were red and his face was blotchy and the tears were waiting in his throat, they surely would be there if he went back downstairs to—

Another knock.

“One—one minute,” he tried, clearing his throat when his voice cracked. He quickly turned on the tap and ran his hands and wrists under the cool water, but it did nothing to steady his breathing. The thought of his aloneness had choked him, but the thought of returning into company strangled him. It was not his friends’ fault—he refused to make it his friends’ fault—but at the moment, he couldn't bear them all the same. 

He cupped more cold water in his hands and scrubbed it over his face, but it did not shock him out of the spiral of his thoughts. The third knock barely registered over the growing ringing in his ears. 

“Isaac?” Not Charlie, like Isaac had thought. Not Nick either, or Tara, or any of them. “Are you okay? I'd really like to use the loo.”

His island, he thought deliriously, was sinking; he was drowning, and still, he could do nothing but soak his hands under the tap and soak his face in turn and suck in breaths that did not hold enough oxygen. He was drowning, he was sinking, he could not see it but his body felt it and his lungs were going to seize, he was dying—

He cut the knocking off by throwing open the door and gasping, “Help me.”

Isaac had one second to appreciate Tori’s bewildered expression before it turned serious and she took to action. “Isaac? Hey. Look at me.” She set her hands on his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around his middle, still heaving. “I'm assuming you didn't just get diagnosed with asthma,” Tori said, still impossibly calm—perhaps he was actually the sea, he thought, undefinable and raving, and she the island, unravagable. Isaac shook his head. “Alright. I think, then, this is likely a panic attack. Would it help if I get Charlie?”

Isaac shook his head more vigorously. 

To her credit, Tori only considered him for a few seconds, and didn't argue. She guided him back into the bathroom and gently kicked the door closed. “Sit,” she told him. He did, and she crouched in front of him. Immediately, with his knees pulled to his chest and the bath supporting his back, it was better. He was not so adrift. “You're alright. It will pass. I know it's stupid, but you really do just have to focus on breathing.”

She started counting. It was only when she'd repeated the numbers four times that he understood she was telling him how long to breathe in and out for. Then he tried to follow it, and slowly, air felt like it was moving through him regularly again. 

Isaac wiped at his cheek. To his embarrassment, his fingers came away damp. He didn't look at Tori, but he said, “Thank you.” Then, “Sorry.”

She didn't brush off his apology, or tell him to get out now so she could actually use the loo—both of which would have been fair and not unexpected responses. Instead, she turned and sat next to him. She leaned against the bath to his left, a few inches between their shoulders, and stared at the wall quietly with him. 

When his skin stopped vibrating, he tucked his arms around his middle again and breathed out. “How did you know what to do?” he asked. 

She glanced at him and shrugged. “I didn't, really.”

It was all she offered, but it seemed honest. Isaac decided not to push. He was too grateful to care much. 

“Do you want to tell me what it was about?” she asked, softly. 

Isaac looked over at her. She was looking back, unsmiling but not unhappy. She reminded him a lot of Charlie, Isaac had always thought. They seemed similar in ways they likely weren't even aware of. It was both comforting and unnerving. “Do you really want me to?”

Tori shrugged again. “I'd prefer it if you told Charlie or your other friends, because I think that would be more helpful. But I don't think you want to. So you can tell me, if you need to tell someone.”

That was—exactly what Isaac needed, really. He didn't exactly think it should be Tori. They'd known each other a while, and they liked each other well enough, but they weren't friends. Plus, Isaac knew she and Charlie were actually close; it felt weird and unfair to tell her something and then ask her to keep it from him. 

But in this moment, he could not think of a better option, and the mere thought of getting the weight off his chest was a relief. 

“I think I'm going to end up alone,” he said, blunt and ridiculous. Tori, completely fairly, raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Not because I think I'm unlovable or something like that.” Although that was part of it. “But because—” Could he say the actual words? “—I think I'm asexual, and aromantic, so I don't think I'll ever love love anyone, and I think that means I'll always be a bit alone.”

He could. 

It still seemed sad and pathetic when he said it out loud, maybe even more so, but the act of it—the unretractable reality of it—settled something in him. 

Tori's expression, a little confused but free of judgement, only added to that feeling. “So, you don't feel romantic or sexual attraction,” she said slowly. “At all. Is that what you mean?”

Isaac was vaguely impressed. He nodded. 

“When did you figure this out?”

Isaac took a long, heavy breath. “I think, properly, I started to figure it out in Paris, when I realised this guy liked me and I was trying to figure out if I liked him back? But I think I'd been starting to realise it long before then. I just…hadn't known what to call it, or what it meant.”

Tori, he noticed gratefully, took time to process this before nodding. “And now?”

Isaac blinked. “Now?”

“What do you think it means now?”

Oh. Isaac hadn't expected the question, and he found himself unsure of how to answer. “I think it means I'm always going to be lonely.”

Tori tilted her head. “But you didn't think that before.”

“What?”

“You said you don't think you're unlovable. And I agree. I think Charlie loves you a lot. I think most people would, because you are a very nice person. You didn't think of that as less important because it wasn't romantic before. What changed?”

Changed? Nothing. Everything. They were growing up, and love had more meanings when you grew up, and some of those meanings became less important. He looked at the wall again. “They have other people they love more,” he said softly. 

“And you won't ever have that,” Tori returned, equally soft. Not a barb, not a rebuke, nothing negative at all. Just realising; working through it alongside him. “So you think you won't ever be the most important person to someone.”

Isaac swallowed, unable to answer. Not because he didn't know the answer—because it was yes, it was true, she was right, of course she was—but because it was impossible to admit. 

“I think that's the case for most people,” Tori said, at once blunt and thoughtful. Isaac looked back at her, awaiting an explanation. “Think about it. Even the most in love people usually have children, and then their children are the most important people, or at least equally important. And if they have more than one child, no one of them is the most important, and neither of the parents are the most important to the other. I think, instead of having one supremely important person, most people have a group of important people in their life.”

She looked over at him and continued. “There probably are different levels and different kinds of importance, but I don't think that necessarily means one is worth less than the other.”

Isaac sat, for a moment, and absorbed that. Could it be true? He thought of his family. He was lucky, in that scenario. His parents were kind, were wonderful, and he knew without question that they loved him, and he loved them. Neither one of them, he realised, was more important to him than the other. He had different relationships with them both, but each of their losses would leave an equally sized hole in his heart. 

He knew that probably wasn't the same for most people, but if he could find that one example in his own life so easily, he couldn't deny it was possible in others. 

“I suppose,” Isaac said. “I think I know what you mean. I don't think it's the same, but—I know what you mean.”

Tori did smile, now. A barely there thing, but warm and kind, all the same. “It probably isn't the same. I know me saying I love my brothers equally and neither of them are less important doesn't mean anything for your friends treating you the same as their partners, or even other friends. But I think—every relationship is as important as you make it. And sometimes, people might not know they aren't making it important, if they don't know what's important about it to you.”

“Has important stopped sounding like a real word to you, too?” Isaac asked. 

“About six ‘important’s ago,” Tori agreed. 

Isaac laughed, and his relief grew. Tori's smile also grew, just a tick. 

“You're saying I should just talk to my friends,” Isaac noted, eventually, and Tori's smile grew wry. 

“I did say that at the very beginning, yes.” Isaac laughed again, and she shook her head. “But I am saying you should explain to them. I can't promise you're wrong, or tell you everything will be fine,” she said truthfully. “But I don't think you can assume people can't give you what you need, if you don't tell them what that is and let them try.”

Isaac’s chest tightened again, but it was different to the breathless feeling from before. Instead of hopelessness, it was an anticipatory sort of buzz. There was a sureness that hadn't been there before. 

There was a clatter from outside, and this time it was Charlie's voice that called out. “Isaac! Are you still up here? We have the game set up.”

Isaac looked from the door back to Tori. She gave him another smile and nodded. “Go on. I have really needed to pee for about ten minutes now.”

Isaac laughed, again, and got to his feet. Tori passed his phone up to him, and he thanked her once more. He knew she could tell he meant for everything, and she wouldn't appreciate him making more of it, so he took his leave without another word, leaving her to pee in peace. 

Charlie was hovering at the top of the stairs. His face broke into a smile at Isaac’s appearance. “There you are. You've been up here ages.” His smile drooped slightly as Isaac came closer. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Isaac nodded. “Sorry, I got caught talking to Tori.”

“In the bathroom?” Charlie huffed, bewildered but amused. For a moment Isaac pictured Tori's expression when he'd opened the door to her, and he smiled. 

He only hesitated for a second before saying, “I wanted to talk to all of you about something, actually.”

Immediately, Charlie's expression softened. “Yeah?” When Isaac nodded, Charlie smiled and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tugging him towards the staircase. “Come on, then. The game can wait.”

[barlowstreet]

For the prompt: Kisses 1 (goodnight kisses)

Anon, you get almost 2000 words because uh. I dunno I guess I'm working through some stuff XD

(Reminder, I'm not currently taking more prompts at the moment, but here is the list if you would like to do some yourself.)

“Hey, Joel. What do you call the ghost of a chicken? ” Ellie asks.

Joel sighs.

“A poultry-geist!”

“Alright,” he says and turns off the room lights, leaving just the small light over her head. “I think that’s enough puns for the night.”

“No such thing,” Ellie says, but she hands him the pun book to put away.

He’s careful with it as he tucks it into her backpack. It’s worn already, the cover bent, but it’s one of the very few things she owned before he met her and he knows it’s precious to her. He’s only recently been trusted to touch it.

“Time to settle down for the night,” he says. “C’mon.”

Ellie shifts carefully on the mattress. “Will you braid my hair?”

“Of course.”

He braided it the first time after Silver Lake, after he had to wash blood and bone and brain matter out of it, when she was still practically catatonic. He was half on auto-pilot, just desperate for anything to make her feel even slightly better, and he knew the hair being on her neck would be driving her crazy, but her head hurt too much for a ponytail.

She doesn’t ask for it very often, and he’s not sure how often to offer, but he’s trying to offer more, now that she’s spending more time in bed and the ponytail gets uncomfortable.

It takes a bit to get her situated comfortably so he can braid her hair, but they manage. She showered right before dinner, so her hair is still a little damp. He’s always surprised by how long it takes to dry, probably because of how thick it is. She doesn’t really like sleeping on wet hair, so he’s not surprised she asked.

When it’s done, he helps her get settled again. “Sweater on or off?”

“On,” Ellie says.

He gives her a look. He always asks, but she rarely sleeps in one of the big sweatshirts she wears over her pajamas during the day. She doesn’t like sleeping in a lot of layers unless it’s in a sleeping bag.

She picks up her cup and looks in it. “I’m out of water.”

Joel has given her his own water when she ran out before him. He’s made her birch bark tea and pine needle tea and found an old Thermos so she could have warm drinks while they walked. He has held cups of water to her mouth when her hands shook too much to hold them herself.

Why the child acts like he’s liable to let her dehydrate all night, he’ll never know.

He gets her a fresh cup with plenty of ice — a novelty for her that she’s quickly come to enjoy — and sets it on the table next to her bed where she can reach it.

“If you could eat anything in the world right now, what would it be?” Ellie asks.

“Why don’t you ask me that tomorrow.”

“I would have tacos,” she says, ignoring him. “I’ve never had them but I’ve seen pictures and I think I’d like them.”

He bets she would, too. But he also recognizes a stalling tactic for what it is. “Ellie. It’s late. You need to sleep.”

She looks away. “I don’t… I don’t think I can.”

“What’s goin’ on?”

“My hip hurts too much.”

He holds back a sigh. She’s so damned stubborn. It’s been three days since a bone marrow extract and he knew she was still hurting, but she wouldn’t admit it.

“I’ll go grab a nurse and get you some painkillers.”

Ellie grabs his arm. “No, don’t.”

“Ellie…”

“They make me feel weird.”

“I know.” He runs a palm over her head and leaves it to rest on her back for a moment. She leans into the touch, seemingly without noticing. “How about we make a deal, you and me?”

She perks up slightly. “What?”

“You tell me every single thing that is bothering you besides the hip and I’ll see what I can do about it. And if after all that, you’re still too uncomfortable to sleep, then we do some pain meds.”

She thinks about it for a moment, and he gives her time. She has so little control in all this shit. He tries to give her as many choices as he can, while making sure the Fireflies are very aware she’s an almost-fifteen-year-old and they should remember to treat her as one.

“Okay,” she agrees.

Apparently there’s a lot she’s been sitting on. First, something he didn’t expect, is that she’s hungry. Her appetite has been horrible from the meds and the stress. Every meal for weeks has been frustrating for them both. He immediately makes a mental note to see about offering her a snack at this time every day.

Her sheets are bothering her, so he helps her move over to the recliner and gets her half a sandwich to eat while he changes them. That also means she gets to make fun of his sad attempt at military corners, something she knows how to do with an ease that he pretends doesn’t disturb him.

Then it’s back to the bathroom to brush her teeth because she says she absolutely won’t be able to sleep with tuna breath. Fair enough, he supposes. Personally, if he never ate another can of FEDRA processed tuna at all, he’d be happy, but fish is easier for her than other meats.

And apparently she doesn’t actually like the pajama top she’s wearing — there’s a seam on the side that bothers her, she says. The ones she likes best are dirty, so he lets her steal one of his long-sleeved t-shirts to change into instead. There’s a couple she really likes, ones he’s had for months that have been worn into softness. They’re more hers than his these days.

Eventually, she’s back in bed in clean sheets. He gets the extra pillows out of the closet and tucks them around her to keep her from rolling onto her sore hip in her sleep.

“What else now?” he asks as he pulls the covers over her.

She hugs an extra pillow to her chest. “Mm. It’s loud and quiet.”

That shouldn’t make sense, but it does. Ellie doesn’t talk much about FEDRA school, but he knows she’s grown up in dorms, with roommates. He could tell it was an adjustment being out of Boston away from the constant noise. Now, she’s gotten more used to the quiet of the woods, especially over the last couple months of winter. The hospital is supposed to be quiet after a certain time, seeing as Ellie’s their only damn patient, but there’s still activity. Shift changes, people walking around and talking, preparations for the next day.

“I know,” he says. He folds an extra blanket over her feet. “Remember when you had that MRI?”

Ellie nods. “Fucking boring.”

He can’t hold back a smile at that. He worried she would be claustrophobic, but she wasn’t bothered, not even by the noise. It took over an hour, though, so he left her with the only nurse he trusts and went to explore some of the other rooms looking for things Ellie might want. He found some old magazines, a few books, and a puzzle they’ve been working on when she has enough energy to sit at the table by the window.

He also found something else, something he thinks she’ll like, that he’s been keeping for a surprise.

“Check this out,” he says, setting the case on the bed next to her.

Ellie opens it, frowning slightly. “Is it… a computer?”

“Better for us.” He shows her how to open it. “It’s a DVD player. Movies.”

“Holy shit. Are there movies?”

He hands her the binder of discs.

“Holy fuck!” She unzips it and flips slowly through the sleeves as he gets the DVD player set up on her bedside table. “There’s so many.”

“There are. You can pick out any of them you want.”

Her flipping slows. “You’re really gonna do this all night, aren’t you?”

“Do what?”

“Trying to… make me feel better.” Ellie sighs. “Okay. Go get the painkillers.”

“Alright,” he says and tries not to make a thing out of it. He spends a few minutes talking to the nurse, talking through Ellie’s options for painkillers. She’s allergic to a lot of them, something that was absolutely terrifying to discover, and sensitive to others. They’ve had a few times where the compromise was Ellie feeling crappy in some other way to take away the pain.

The nurse brings good news when she comes into Ellie’s room — the Fireflies have gotten their hands on more of two of the painkillers Ellie actually tolerates well.

“So, you’ve got three choices,” she says to Ellie. It’s the nurse Joel somewhat trusts, the one Ellie likes because she talks to Ellie like she’s actually a person. “Lowest level, ibuprofen, acetaminophen, ice pack. Medium level, the one we had a couple weeks ago that made you a little queasy and anti-nausea medicine. Highest level, that one that knocks you the fuck out. What are we thinking tonight?”

“Medium. And also the ice pack.” When he nudges her, Ellie adds, “Please.”

By the time the nurse comes back with the meds and ice pack, Ellie’s picked out a movie and they’re a couple minutes into it.

“Oh,” she says, sounding surprised.

Ellie pauses the movie. “What’s wrong?”

The nurse shakes herself. “Nothing. No, nothing. Just… that was my daughter’s favourite movie. I haven’t seen it in years.” She clears her throat. “Now, Miss Ellie, when you take these, I want you to drink a good long drink of water, too.”

When she leaves, Joel turns off the light, leaving just the bathroom light on and the door mostly closed. She doesn’t like sleeping in the dark here. He settles onto the recliner and Ellie gets the movie going.

“Have you seen this one?” she asks.

“I think I saw the first ten minutes before falling asleep,” he admits.

“Well, don’t fall asleep this time,” Ellie instructs.

“You don’t fall asleep.”

The little yellow things are fucking annoying, and he can see why he fell asleep ten minutes in back then — sheer self-defense — but they take Ellie’s mind off the pain until the painkillers kick in. As for him… well, he’s trying not to think too much about the story. An undeniably bad man taking in three little girls for his own personal gain and then growing to love them as his own… well, that might hit a little too close to home for him right now.

It’s too damn late for an existential crisis.

The meds make her sleepy, and as the pain eases, he can see her fighting more and more to stay awake as the movie stretches past the halfway mark.

“Do people really do that?” she asks towards the end. Half her face is buried in the pillow, so all he sees is one big green eye looking at him.

“Do what?”

“Goodnight kisses.” She frowns at him. “That’s just a movie thing, right?”

And, well… that’s no way for a kid to live, thinking that.

As a reformed supervillain gives forehead kisses to a dozen little yellow packing peanuts, Joel leans over and presses a kiss to the top of Ellie’s head.

“Goodnight, baby girl,” he murmurs.

[weirdestbooks]

Alba agus A Mac (Wattpad | Ao3)

Scotland and Orcadians, requested by NewJerseySHlol

Alba enjoyed spending time with Arcach, his eldest son, who had been a constant for much of Alba’s life. Arcach had been with him for a long time, and while their father-son bond remained strong, sometimes it felt as if they weren’t just that but also dear friends.

Even if he was also Nirribhidh’s son, but Nirribhidh hadn’t been involved in Arcach’s life in a long time.

It was also nice to have someone to speak Scots with. Much of the time, people would mock Alba for it, calling it a crude form of English, and that only made him cling harder to the language. Arcach preferred it to English, even though he still spoke Norn frequently at home, as it was his first language, and he always had an easier time expressing himself with it.

“I don’t know how you deal with all this modern stuff. I hate it,” Arcach said as they watched the cars go by. Alba laughed.

“At this rate, you’ll be an older man than I if you keep complaining the way you do,” Alba joked. Arcach rolled his eyes. 

“You know what I mean, Athair,” Arcach began, “This is the era of globalization, and that’s really good for you, but us little guys, the ones who are people and not governments, this weakens us. I like some of it, I really do, but…it’s hard not to feel nostalgic when the simple fact of the matter is that this could all be helping lead to my death. Scottish Highland Travellers and I have talked about that a lot.”

Alba couldn’t help but wince. If Arach and Ceàrdannan were talking, that couldn’t mean anything good.

“I’m not going to try to destroy your culture,” Alba said, “I don’t want you to die.”

“I’ve already lost Norn, and sometimes it feels as if I am losing Scots. I know you aren’t trying to kill me, but I fear I might die all the same,” Arcach said before shaking his head and standing up. “But I am over a thousand years old, in the end. I think I have lived a good life.”

Alba frowned, standing up and following his son down the side of the road.

“I’m sorry if I have done anything to make you think—”

“You haven’t. I have just had a lot of time to think recently. And…” Arcach trailed off, shrugging. Alba pulled an arm over his son’s shoulder, tail curling around his leg.

“Tha gaol agam ort,” he muttered. Arcach leaned into his side before sighing.

“I know. And I know I’m not going anywhere. I just can’t help but worry,” he said. “I think that’s why some of my people want me to have my own government or something.”

“I can’t make that happen. I…I only recently stopped being governmentless. And…you know how Britain is,” Alba began, prompting a laugh from Arcach.

“Yeah, the man who sends me daily letters asking me to move into his home so we look more like a unified family, like I’m related to him. No offense, Father,” Arcach said with an apologetic smile.

“None taken. I disowned him the minute he started beating his kids,” Alba deadpanned as the two came to a stop.

“Then why are you so insistent on trying to change him?” Arcach asked. Alba sighed.

“I want to show him…I want to give him a chance to be better and grow. He’s not leaving anytime soon, so he deserves to grow as a person, like we both have over the years,” he answered. 

“You have too much faith in people.”

“And you’re too distrusting. It’s why we balance each other out so well,” Alba said, releasing his son, who laughed.

“Maybe you’re right about that,” he said, “But I still think it is a bit futile to try and save Britain.”

“Well, we’ll have to see. In the meantime, I’ll stop him from sending letters to you.” Alba offered. Arcach nodded.

“That sounds great.”

[hide-your-bugs-away]

Thank you for the tag @angrytranspossum !!!! Much appreciated, and rambling will be INEVITABLE. 🙏

Favorite Movie: Dont Look Back (1967) 100%. Some day very soon, I'm going to make an entire video about how genius the cinematic structure of Dont Look Back is along with the roles of the "characters" and how imperative each and every one of them is to the narrative arc that follows Bob... But beyond its cinematic magnificence, I just really love seeing the dynamic of that tired, cynical, introverted yet good-natured rock&roll poet has with everyone in his circle, and the film letting the viewer in on this dynamic. It's such a cozy film, and a really easy one to get into if you're a classic rock fan, especially a fan of 60s music - even if you don't have all of Bob's music and history committed to memory. I knew barely anything about him watching it for the first time... and now it's my favorite movie ever. It also features this silly and fruity British guy who wanders in drunk from time to time and plays really good piano... Alan Price, I think is his name? 🤔

Favorite TV Show: I personally don't watch serialized, fictional shows, since I don't have the mental capactiy to keep up with those sorts of things, but I legitimately loved The Owl House as it came out! Which is funny, because fantasy and horror are two genres I don't engage with much, if at all... but just make everyone LGBT and then it clicks with me. I am basically The Collector with regards to Animals memorabilia 🙏

Favorite Musical Artists: ALAN PRICE ALAN PRICE ALAN PRICE *BASHES MY HEAD AGAINST A WALL* Such an incredible pianist and songwriter.. Besides him, I of course can't shut up about The Animals either 🏳️‍🌈😔 I also really like Donovan, Herman's Hermits, Georgie Fame, Lulu, The Beatles, Dusty Springfield, and a whole lot of Motown music (SUPREMES!! SMOKEY ROBINSON!!) British Invasion/60s music in general! In terms of "modern" music, I like Glass Animals a lot (been listening to their stuff since "How To Be A Human Being" came out).

Favorite Color: Lavender

Favorite Season: Autumn (no allergies 🤞)

Favorite Book: I'll admit, it's been ages since I've read any fiction or books with a traditional narrative since I usually just read biographies now... One of my "recent" favorites is Andy Blackford's "Wild Animals", which features soooo many GOOD color photographs of the Animals, along with a succinct, detailed biography!! WITHOUT TOO MUCH ANTI-ALAN BIAS YAY. "Ready, Steady, Go!: The Weekend Starts Here" is also one I’ve enjoyed so far and am excited to dive deeper into.

Do you have any Funko Pops? : Two, for the sake of my Price-Burdon collection - my friend @/tealightwhimsy got me Leafeon and Glaceon figures because I associate those Pokémon with Eric and Alan respectively. 🙏

Do you play any instruments? : I used to, in high school, when I was in marching band - specifically, the xylophone, marimba, and auxiliary percussion. I stopped because I've become shyer over the years and don't really like performing anymore... I like having my art speak for me instead. ALAN PLAYED THE VIBES AT ONE POINT, THOUGH!! So we played similar instruments at one point, which is cool!! 🥹

Do you have any pets? : I live with three dogs and four rabbits! And I'm allergic to rabbits... 😆

Do you read or write Fanfiction?: Reading fanfics, not so much anymore, mostly because my special interest in The Animals means there's not really anything out there besides the self-indulgent shit I write, haha (especially because I have my own historical fanon and interpretations of the band's dynamic,, I read my own stuff a lot, I'm afraid 🥶). I do read Pokémon fanfics from time to time because there are a lot of gays throughout the series, especially the new games, that are fun to speculate about. I also read anything and everything @/unchained-daisychain writes because she's got that galaxy brain in terms of prompts and scenarios and skills!!! Writing, though, I still do when I have the time between art projects - most recently focused on my Price-Burdon essay-turned-passion-project, but I do want to dabble in writing some more fictitious Animals scenarios and studies in the future... yes, self-indulgent Price-Burdon stuff will of course come free-of-charge, but their fractured dynamic as a band is fun to explore, especially the forces above them that were driving them apart.

What song(s) have you had on repeat repeatedly? : "Hampstead Incident" by Donovan, and "Left Over People"/"Is There Anybody Out There?" by,, cONNIE ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT ALAN PRICE AGAIN,,

wheeEee tagging:

@majito18 @hilton-my-luvx @bobbyhasstardust @unchaineddaisychain @gasstationwomen

[archandshri]

8th March ‘24 - [arch] colour!!!! community!!!

Hey Shri! <3 

Wow!!!! I’ve seen the finished Brothers Lionheart cover already, but those thumbnails are just incredible. I know you plan to move away from the dark/horror vibes of those images but they’re so impactful!! For sure save those compositions for something else. You’ve put so so much thought into those compositions, it’s inspiring me to put that level of thought into my images too. It's nuts!!!

So y’know how the plan for this blog was to take it easy and do a little at a time? Maybe just pop in and update each other on what we’ve been working on, or even what’s been inspiring us? Well, we haven’t exactly been taking it easy have we :// At the beginning of writing this I thought it was gonna be a chill one but,,, it turned out not to be.

I was lucky enough to be back in Cardiff for a bit the other week, so I hit up the Riso studio. It was super lovely seeing everyone - really made me realise the value of having an artistic community. (for context, I have been travelling recently and it’s been weird, after uni, to not be surrounded by other illustrators)

About once a month, my shared print studio has an event called Open Haus, where we’re open to the public but also loads of members will come in, have a cuppa and a biscuit and talk about art stuff. I happened to be doing some riso printing and Gavin, who’s a right babe and an excellent riso artist, was once again giving me a hand. I love working with other people in the studio, bouncing ideas off them. It sometimes helps me get out of my head (though with practice, I’m also learning to do that by myself!)

Here’s a bit of development work for the print I did a few days before printing. It was actually a bit of development for my comfort characters’ home - but as you know i love building my skills through fun things like that! Trick yourself in to improving xD

This is the print I made!! It’s titled ‘Space Fyn’, named after a place I associate with home <3 

I ran into a bit of an issue with the blue, which I originally planned to use. Once I printed it, I hated it (blehhhhhh), so! We tried a mint out instead. I still didn’t like it. But thankfully, Gavin did this thing where he made me step back and view it from afar and then I liked it again (this has happened twice now I think I need to learn to step back without his help ://) Also, there were about 10 people in the studio, and they all voted on the mint, so I printed a run of 15! (ps. you can order them by dming me on Instagram)

Later, I was showing a friend the progress and she made some great points. The dark blue gives more of an evening vibe, while the mint gives more of a sunrise vibe, a bit brighter. But also, it totally changes the tone! This has led me to think more about how different colours can be used for particular vibes :0 and how can we bend that and make it more interesting than ‘red danger’ and ‘blue sad’. 

Some notes I took from our conversation

Looking at colours in particular genres (they are used differently in specific ways in different contexts) 

for example in Westerns, good guys wearing a white hat and bad guys wearing black hats - misc characters wearing brown.

Light sabres in Star Wars very clearly symbolising ideology

Characters attached to colour - she uses blue and red to symbolise characters that oppose each other in some way, for example.

Character designs, using colours that match well for more grounded characters, and colours that clash for more unstable characters

Power rangers!!

What colour is your ‘normal’ for the world? And how will specific characters break that or blend in?

All of these are just prompts and thinking points of course, it’ll take a lot of exploring to know how i want to apply these to my work.

I was lucky enough to attend Plymouth Comic and Zine fair!!!!! (this is me :0 !!)

It was very lovely, I really enjoyed seeing people from uni, the general Plymouth illustration scene, and those few illustrators you know but only really see at fairs. I also got the opportunity to have some awesome chats about illustration (shoutout to that one hermitcraft fan who let me ramble about Minecraft builds and setting design for a bit <3). I had a chat with the wonderful Ben Wright and Jess Holloway about colours, especially in narrative, and here are some ideas I took away from that!

They didn’t have any specific suggestions for books about colour and narrivite,  but again, film came up! Colours in film are discussed a lot, and vary a lot in genre, so i’ll have to do some looking into that.

In particular wes anderson might be good to look at 

Hero by Jet Li - haven’t looked at this yet

How to take colour that we may associate with a particular feeling and instead make it do something else. (eg. how to make blue happy)

Colour in context with shape and composition

I was very excited after PCZF and got hyperfixated on a little drawing. You and I were chatting about folds in clothes at the fair, so this image was to play with that a bit.

Yes this is an image of my favorite block lady. I love her. [Illustration of GeminiTay, along with her season 10 skin]

I decided to use the colour pick tool from my reference for accurate colours, which I don’t normally do. I do have a habit of going too light with my values, and a bit swampy and desaturated with my colours. When I started with her trousers, I thought it was wayyyy too dark, but I decided to stick with it till the end anyway. Even though it clearly worked in the reference image, I was still surprised it worked on mine. This has proved to me that it’s okay to push and use some darker colours - which is a bit scary but I’m going to give it a go.

'messing around with colors with imp and skizz' by @applestruda

I also saw this incredible image by @applestruda using wonderful colours! This led me to play around with some high-saturation images. I wanted to draw one of GeminiTay’s builds with the spooky vibes she’s been trying to capture. I downloaded applestruda’s image, colour shifted the hue to one that fits the energy I wanted to capture, and used it to create a high saturation colour pallet. This is a great starting point since I’ve never worked with this kind of colour palette before - it gives me a starting point rather than drowning in indecision and cluelessness XD

Here’s a timelapse of the study!

Once I’d finished, I hue-shifted them for some alt colours. I find this a helpful process for figuring out colour stuff that I would never consider normally. I think I like these more, actually. The one with the reddish wood and green accents feels like it has the vibes of the original image, but is exaggerated a bit. I think it pops. And the pink is cool. I think I could have pushed the values further again, but I'm pretty happy with the final images.

So those are my colour thoughts over for now - I’m hoping to keep playing but use of colour is for sure a lifelong skill. 

The past few weeks have been so awesome. I’ve just been so so moulded by conversations with my artistic community and it’s been so lovely!!! I’m really enjoying running around the country and visiting all my pals. It was so nice to see you at PCZF and I’m looking forward to more of it!!! :D

Ps. Here are some sketches I did at the fair

Can’t wait to see more lionheart lil guys :0

Archie <3 :)))))))))

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

you mentioned maybe doing some destiel for the prompt thingy... 23 and 60 were giving me such dean vibes i would love to see you do more destiel stuff <3

hello, friend!! thank you so so much for requesting these!! i've literally never actually written any destiel stuff, so i really hope you enjoy! 🫶🫶

23 - “It’s hard to get used to…” “what is?” “Being someone that someone cares for…” 60 - “I’ve never felt this way before and I’m terrified to be honest.”

pairing: destiel | word count: 1,508 | rated: T

request a prompt from here!

Damn fuckass witches…they should all go straight to hell.

What lesson is he supposed to be learning anyway, it’s not like she gave him any sort of hint. 

…Okay, maybe she did, but it’s not Dean’s fault he wasn’t listening, it’s her fault for chanting her freakin’ curse after throwing him around like she did.

Make his ears ring then tell him the thing that could help break the spell? Not cool.

What the fuck ever, they’re back at the bunker now, the whole case being a dud anyway. That damn witch was behind the ‘ghost’ reports they had gotten, having just conjured one to keep people off her lawn. A classic Scooby-doo type.

Now the only things on Dean’s mind were to get the fuck back home (check), take a long-ass shower (heading there now), and avoid Cas like his life depended on it (…remains to be seen).

Cas being back at the bunker for a long stretch of time like this was a good thing, a great thing, really. He was finally back in one spot where Dean could keep an eye on him, make sure he’s okay for real. No phone calls, no prayers that go unanswered more than half the time, just Cas. Down the hall. Safe and sound. 

And that’s where the (current) problem lies.

Dean’s Cas Problem™ had been slowly building and burning and broiling under his skin for years now. Since that first goddamn meeting in that barn covered in ineffective banishing sigils.

It had to come to a head sometime, and Dean'd much rather that time be when he's not just recently been cursed to only tell the truth.

He successfully avoided the angel for about seven hours.

The next morning, when Sam was either already nose deep in research on Dean’s newest affliction or out -gag- jogging, Dean makes his way to the kitchen for some sustenance.

He’s hoping to be sneaky enough not to alert Cas to where he is, lest the angel try to cook for him again. 

Cas has been doing that a lot. Cooking. Said he found it to be ‘quite fulfilling’ even though all foods only ever ‘taste like molecules’ to him

The act never failed to throw Dean farther down the You’re totally in love with your best friend who’s an angel and also a dude hole he’s dug himself into over the years.

Food is Dean’s ultimate love language. Being given his favorite beer after a long hunt, a plate of homemade treats from the mom whose boy they’d saved, even just a simple slice of pie for lunch while on the road for a while? Astounding, amazing, perfection, 10/10.

It goes the other way too; he loves to cook for someone. It’s how he shows his love for the people around him. He likes just knowing exactly how much of each dumb rabbit food to add to the frankly enormous omelet he makes for Sammy every Saturday, or exactly how much lemon zest he should add to the blueberry pie for the elderly Ms. Aggie up at the grocery store.

Loves it.

So that’s why whenever the particularly gorgeous celestial being that’s taken over Dean’s heart cooks for him, he folds. Wants so badly to love the angel, be loved by him in return. But it’s the most frightening thing he’s ever come face to face with.

Sometimes Dean thinks the affections are returned, but even after all these years he still can’t quite read the full meaning behind anything Cas does.

For the Dean of Now, it’s a compounding problem that will go completely off the rails if Cas finds him in the kitchen.

He’ll find Dean there, insist that Dean ‘rest. You are only human.’, and take up making breakfast himself.

With this curse on him, Dean doesn’t want to even think of the possible things he’d admit to without wanting to.

So he prays (hah) that Cas is gone off somewhere else for just the moment, somewhere far far far away from the bunk—

“Good morning, Dean.”

Fuck.

‘Just keep your mouth shut, Winchester. Don’t make a sound.’

“How are you feeling?”

Dean grits out a simple “Fine.” He’s not lying, physically he feels perfectly fine if a little sore. “Maybe a little sore.”

Cas nods, “Were you about to make breakfast?” he asks, stepping past dean to the stove and turning on one of the burners.

‘Mouth shut mouth shut mouth shut–’

Luckily, Cas is facing away from him and doesn’t see his head nodding in betrayal.

“Dean?”

Dean’s response is slow, each word said very carefully. “I was, but now I am going to just have coffee.” Hey, it’s not a lie if he’s changed his mind.

Cas turns to face him. “Dean, humans cannot subsist on coffee alone. Shall I make you breakfast?”

“No, it’s alright Cas, really. I want coffee.”

A loud grumble emanates from his stomach the moment he stops speaking.

There’s a smirk on the angel’s face now. “Sounds like I should make you something.”

He turns back to the stove, reaching for and setting down a pan from the hook on the wall, and gets to work freakin’ caring and shit.

Dean can’t do much else but to sit back down at the table and wait for food to be made for him.

He can’t protest in the slightest because he really does want more than coffee. As soon as Cas said it the second time, Dean’s brain flipped from ‘Just Coffee’ to ‘Breakfast’ and wouldn’t flip back no matter what Dean thought. 

He couldn’t say anything to the contrary, couldn’t even shake his head ‘no’. All he could do was stare down the tabletop.

So, he stares and stares and stares at the wood in front of him, until the sight in front of him is changed from particularly swirly knot to honest-to-goodness breakfast smiley face. Eyes made of eggs and a salty bacon smile.

The look on his face must be positively tragic because Cas asks “Is something the matter? Did you want your eggs scrambled instead?”

Dean tries to keep the words at bay, his head shaking no for him.

“Then what is it—”

Dean doesn’t keep his mouth shut hard enough. “It’s hard to get used to…”

Cas is guiet for a moment and a half. “What is?”

“Being someone that someone cares for…”

Cas sets down the other plate he was holding, the green shit all over it giving away that it’s for Sam when he gets back, and sits down kitty-corner to Dean (who’s still staring down the same spot).

“Dean—”

Fuck. He’s let something slip and now all of it’s threatening to spill out after it.

“I’m so used to taking care of others, you know? It’s all I’ve ever known. Take care of Sammy, take care of victims, hell, even taking care of those few terrified spirits that don’t know they’re even doing anything wrong!

“I like to take care of people, I like making sure they have what they need, yeah? But whenever you’re around, you’re the one taking care of me.”

Cas nods, “I do, because I care fo—”

“And I don’t ever tell you how much I really appreciate it, hell, it’s what made me fall in lo—”

Dean snaps his mouth shut. Nope nope nope, not doing that. Never. Cas doesn’t need that shit.

“Dean?”

He finally looks up at the angel beside him. 

Cas’ brows are furrowed, his head tilted slightly in confusion, as if he’s trying his damndest to read Dean’s mind.

Dean’s eyes lock with Castiel’s and…

“I love you Cas.”

He can barely process the holy shit, I said it–god fucking mother— before his mouth is barreling onward. “I’m so in love with you, man, haven’t been the same since that night in the barn.

“I love you when you’re full angel, when you’re human; I loved you when you didn’t even know who we were, when you disappeared after the whole leviathan thing, when you went a little insane and became obsessed with bees…I’ve been slowly falling for you since we met, Cas.” He pauses for only a moment, and is off again in the next breath. “I’ve never felt this way before and I’m terrified, to be honest–” he chuckles sardonically at that, “as if I could be anything else right now.”

Cas’ eyes grow wide. “Dean—” his voice placating in tone.

‘Fuck, of course he’s not going to return the feeling; damn emotions, damn angels, damn motherfucking witches!’ 

“Hey, morning guys! That omelet for me?” Sam interrupts before Dean can be let down fully, loping into the kitchen all flushed and sweaty--ah, so a jog, then.

Dean huffs out a breath, scrubbing his face clear of the couple wayward tears that had snuck down his face. “Yeah, Cas made it for you.”

“Sweet, thanks Cas, I–whoa, Dean, what’s wrong?”

Dean clamps his lips shut once again, stands slowly, and walks out of the kitchen with a short pat to Sam’s shoulder.

[letstalkwhump]

Let’s Talk Whump No.4

Welcome to Let’s Talk Whump, a series of interviews that spotlight the amazing people in our whump community. I’m Malice and I’ll be your host. 

Today we have  @whump-in-the-closet to tell us all about his experience with whump!

So good to have you here! Do you want to start with a fun fact or two?

The name’s Troy, I will be an adult and attending uni in just a few months. I love the colour green, and I really love making fictional people suffer beyond measure! Besides that, I like to read and procrastinate on my homework. I’m a huge Voltron nerd by the way. Will talk for hours about Lance! 

Ok! Let’s start with the obvious, what does whump mean to you?

People in any sort of pain. Psychological, emotional, physical, doesn’t matter as long as they’re in some sort of misery!

How did you find the whump community? What made you want to join? 

Scrolling through the whump tag on tumblr, I would use various prompts in my personal writing. Then I found a whump story that got me entirely hooked and I made an account so I could get updated when it posted.

That’s really neat! Has anything changed about the way you view whump since that first story?

Hmm…well whenever I first started scrolling through the whump side of tumblr, I saw a lot of posts saying something along the lines of “no lady whump and no minor whump” so I kind of made my account with the mindset I wasn’t supposed to write about that kind of stuff. Good news is that I came across some blogs which showed me that not liking lady and minor whump is personal taste only. And so I’ve found that I personally enjoy reading and writing lady/ minor whump in the same way any other character would be whumped. 

Yeah, it can feel like we all write the same things but there really are no rules! Do you have some specific favourite whump tropes? 

Nonhuman whumpee! Dehumanization! Voice cracking from disuse! Stoic whumpee finally breaking down! Magic used as a torture method! Violence!! Breaking bones are also *chefs kiss*!

And a favourite piece you've written? 

For Raising Chaos, I really like this piece I wrote it recently and not only is it a crucial plot point, but there’s a lot of despair and emotional knife-work. Fun! 

Outside of that series, I really like this because I really like white room torture! And again there’s a lot of dependence on the characters slipping grasp of reality to get the point across and I’m kind of proud of how it turned out.

These are so awesome! Who doesn’t love some emotional knife work? Do you have a regular or specific writing routine?

I like having a cup of tea or coffee with me when I write, but I don’t really have a writing schedule. Whenever I get hit with an idea (an image, an emotion, a scrap of dialogue) I’m running to the laptop to type it out before I forget. Usually it’s only a paragraph or so, but if I have the aforementioned tea, I can sometimes get out a page or two before my brain dies.

Do you find your writing strengths vary?

Writing what a character is feeling rather than what they’re physically going through is something that I enjoy writing. The words flow better for me, especially if the character is in pain— writing how the thoughts break off, the internal panic, etc. I get to use italics and it’s great. 

On the other side of the aisle, I hate writing descriptions in the physical sense. Descriptions of people? Can’t do it. Descriptions of terrains and settings? Really can’t do it. 

So in summary, I Iike writing emotions and internal dialogue, and I find writing setting and other physical aspects boring.

Nice! Is there anything specific you’re currently working on?

I have a fantasy WIP I’m supposedly working on, but right now I am more interested in finding all of my main characters’ breaking points. I’ve written like three or four scenes in the past few days that probably won’t be posted on my blog or anything, but they have been amazingly whumpy!

From what you’ve told us, it sounds like you really know your stuff! Is there any advice you’d like to share?

Don’t compare your writing to other people! Mates, one of the biggest things I’ve learned in my short years is that writing isn’t a competition. You don’t need to be better than the next guy. And sure, maybe in a few years or even a few weeks, you’ll look back and wonder what possessed you to write what you did, but look at how much you’ve accomplished! You wrote that 50k story no one’s going to read except your closest friends, and you had a blast doing it! Your friends enjoyed it! Someone’s life was momentarily cheered up because of your writing. And yeah, that someone can be you.

Finally, spread a bit of love! Let’s shout out some whump blogs!

There are so many awesome people on here! I’m sure I'm missing a couple names but here goes… 

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast (villain whump, cannibalism, gore, absolutely awesome ocs!) 

@another-whump-sideblog (pet whump, dehumanization, masterful 2nd person pov) 

@verkja (fantasy whump, has a series I binge read in like two days, in awe of his writing skills) 

@whump-queen (number one whump demon, his writing prompts give me so much inspiration, so much emotional whump)

Any parting words?

Don’t be afraid to have fun mates!

Thanks for stopping by, @whump-in-the-closet!

And to all you folks at home, have a whump-derful day!

[artisanoftheredscience]

Incident Reports From An Unidentified Revolutionary

@fallenlondonficswap @the-avaricious-meddler

Hi Void! I'm the person who got you for the Secret Swap! I had a lot of fun with this prompt, so I hope you enjoy the fic! :) I've also posted it to A03, which you can find here. The fic will be under the cut. Enjoy!

Prompts Used: The Masters, Revolutionaries, Light Fingers related content, Games

Incident Report for March 18XX 

Writing this from an undisclosed location. Please destroy your copy of this once you’ve read it. Can’t afford to blow my cover. 

I’ve ingratiated myself into a Ministry’s internal affairs department. I won’t say which, for security reasons, but let’s say that it has provided me with much closer access to the Bazaar. I hope to study their movements and provide clearer information about the suspected activities of MF.  MF’s sudden interest in certain industries must mean something, though as of yet I cannot determine what. I am under the impression this may be an attempt to encroach on MSP’s territory- infighting, perhaps?  Given that MF and MSP have not been outwardly hostile before, I can only imagine there is more going on there. 

Infighting could be good for the cause, but I worry too much will destabilise London before we are ready to deal with the consequences. Total liberation cannot be achieved if half the city is obliterated by a tyrant’s temper tantrum. Again. Back to the usual reporting- today under the guise of delivering permits, I snuck into the back of one of MF’s processing plants and witnessed an unusual altercation. MP had apparently been visiting; abnormal behaviour, as MF and MP are not allies as far as we are aware. We may need to look into that- I will see if some recent censorship has MF’s grubby fingerprints on it. The Ministry of Public Decency has been used for governmental overreach by other Masters before. Perhaps MF needed something covered up. Then again, no such conversation was had. It was mostly pointless, unnecessary bickering. Perhaps the two have some dispute. I will have to ask those who keep a closer eye on MP if it has been acting strangely lately. Perhaps something to do with the printing presses? They are technically machines- MF may have some claim, whether real or imagined. That could be an interesting angle to work if we wanted to pit them against one another. 

Regardless, the conversation was mostly whispered, so I did not get a clear picture of what exactly they were arguing about. I have a feeling it may come in handy to get a better idea later.  I will have to ask around and see what I can find. 

I will report with more information later. For now, au revoir. May the month serve you well. 

Collected Notes on The Frigid-Hearted Professor

I have been hearing reports through a mutual associate that there has been reported engagement between MW and The Frigid-Hearted Professor (henceforth abbreviated Professor FH). Professor FH is not usually the type to become involved in any of MW’s ventures, which is why this stood out to me. 

His history is much easier to find than I would have expected. Respectable background, sudden and intense fall from grace alongside the fall from the Surface, a rocky history, a brief period of something resembling a normal life, and then he completely fell off the map. It’s a tale as old as time, down here. The Neath takes as much as it gives. In this case, it has definitely given more than it has taken. I will admit I feel a bit sorry for the poor fellow. I cannot imagine the isolation is doing him any favours. Well, I would feel sorry for him. He has been, according to various sources, buying up a great deal of Black Wing Absinthe. Which is likely not a good sign. I am not as familiar with the stuff, but I have a contact who has dealt with past Vake Hunters. They are… not the easiest people to get along with. Something about that one specific bounty drives people to lengths most would consider untenable. The reward money is a great deal of money, enough for most people to live comfortably for the rest of their lives, and for future generations to do so as well.  Still, I don’t think I believe that is what is drawing Professor FH to this particular hunt. From what little I’ve learned about him, I don’t think money is a particularly strong motivator. I mean, he lives in the Marshes. I can think of few places worse to live in than those awful, awful marshes. 

I digress. When I discovered the issue of the Black Wing Absinthe, I presumed that MW had been keeping an eye on his purchases and was perhaps monitoring the situation itself. Which would be unusual, but alcohol of all kinds does fall under its domain. Perhaps MW suspects some sort of illegal smuggling? Given Professor FH’s history of (admittedly petty) crime, that is not entirely unlikely, though I doubt it would have been enough to warrant such personal attention. MW is not the kind of Master to do its own work. It has servants for that. 

Perhaps some other plot of its has Professor FH as a key element? Who knows. It may very well simply have hired him for some sort of work. It would not be the first time for such things. Either way, I suggest we keep an eye on their interactions until we can know for certain. Whatever Professor FH and MW are getting up to, it could be troublesome. I would not like to have to work around the two of them if they were in league with one another. 

Either way, however, there’s nothing much I can do for now. I will send a follow-up if I learn more. May the month serve you well. 

Incident Report for May 18XX

I’m sending this letter more as a warning than a formal report. Please follow standard protocol with this missive once you’ve read it. 

MW and MSP are fighting again. It appears to be more viscous than their usual fare, which leads me to believe it will begin to bleed out across several areas of London. Commerce, at the very least, will likely be tense for some time. I’d also suggest informing any operatives working closely under/around either to take caution. Now seems like a very good time to get one’s head severed from their body for minor offences. MW and MSP were spotted in a small stretch of processing facilities in Spite; I believe there was disputed Ministry territory nearby, and they had come to sort something out, only to end up in a conflict. They left the area rather disturbed- I believe that factory will remain abandoned for some time. 

I managed to get close enough to record their conversation. Below is a transcription of their conversation. Read at your own risk. 

MW: We think you are being purposefully obstinate to get a rise out of Us, and We will not be falling for the bait. We have better things to do than feed into your delusions. MSP: I’m the delusional one? Me? You must have hit the bottle too hard today. I am being perfectly rational in my demands. 

MW: We will concede nothing! You have not won. You are the one insisting that We give up something that is rightfully Ours. 

MSP: You are such a sore loser. One would think with how often one has lost in all things, that you would have gotten used to it by now. MW: We are- no. We have already said our piece. You are pressing your luck. You always do this! You always insist on being covetous- first with your encroachment on our territory, and now with this petty dispute of yours. It is a bad look on you. MSP: You are just too frightened of facing the consequences of your own failings. I suppose I cannot have expected better from you of all people. Your own failings got you stuck down here, and you’d rather play at being allies than actually-

MW; We are done with this conversation! We have nothing else to say to the likes of you. If you wish to whine some more, we suggest finding someone who will care to listen, because it will not be us. 

MSP: You are running away with your tail between your legs! Again! Upset because I am right-

MW: Good day!

After this exchange, MW stormed off and MSP began to look a little twitchy, so I made the decision to get out of the building before it started on a rampage of its own. As you can see, something has definitely happened between the two of them. I am unsure as to what, but it spells terrible things for London’s immediate safety. I will report back with more information once I’ve determined what has caused such intense conflict.

May the month serve you well. 

Compiled Notes on The Avaricious Meddler 

Recently I’ve received reports of rumours involving supposed fighting between The Avaricious Meddler (henceforth abbreviated AM) and MF. This intrigued me, so I have decided to do some digging into the matter.

The first thing I ought to note is that it is extraordinarily hard to pin down a consistent history for AM. Frankly, I could not even tell you how old they are. It does not help that AM has a decent enough cover-identity that discovering what they are up to at any given moment is near impossible. Though, I do find that particular skill of theirs highly intriguing. Would that half the people I know were so good at blending in. We’d lose far less operatives, surely. 

Regardless, what I can tell you is that they appear to be causing MF a world of trouble. I have never seen MF so obviously irritated. Well, more so than usual. MF is always irritated. I cannot speak to what AM is doing to cause this- I have noticed one of MF’s usual henchmen, whose name I dread even abbreviating in case it summons him like an evil spirit, has been suspiciously active. Not in his usual ways- activity at the Docks has slowed down considerably. No, something else is going on there. I would bet both my arms that it has to do with AM’s sudden uptick in activity. Perhaps AM has stolen something? Foiled some plan? Skipped out on coal taxes one time too many? I will have to ask around some.

Perhaps I will ask around the University. There has been some kind of hubbub in those circles as of late. I cannot say for sure any of these facts are connected, but one never knows? In this line of work, I’d not rule anything out. 

And until I get confirmation on just what AM is planning, I will have to discreetly keep an eye out for them. I wonder if I can get into some of their usual haunts. I’m not one for the rooftops myself, but they have been spotted around Urchins a number of times. Maybe one of them will speak to me. That is all I have to share for now. May the month serve you well. 

Incident Report for June, 18XX

I witnessed today an encounter between MH and MV that may be another sign of the increased infighting between the various parties in London. 

MH and MV are not a pair I usually see in my observations. MH is not the most sociable of them, from what I have gathered, or at the very least keeps odd hours, and MV is volatile enough that most of the others avoid it. And yet there they were, outside a set of factories in Spite, conversing. If I did not see it with my own two eyes I would not have believed it. 

I immediately set myself up to continue observing. In Spite, pretending to be engrossed in the fabric market is an excellent way to keep oneself faded into the background. I did end up having to buy several yards of cheap linen, but it was worth it to get a sense of what they were talking about.

It seemed to be a rather heated argument of some kind. I couldn’t get enough of it to compile a transcript- MV speaks rather low at times- but the gist of it seemed to be about a debt to be repaid. Perhaps those rumours of MV’s struggling factories were not too far off. I ought to look into it. Another project for the list. Whatever the case may be, the reminder seemed to upset MV, worse than usual. MH was as jovial as ever, perhaps moreso. It must be owed a great deal. Or it delights in causing its companion grief. 

It said something further to its companion, and this seemed to be some sort of tipping point. MV got in extraordinarily close, and then it appeared to bite MH.  Admittedly I nearly blew my cover out of shock. I know that MV has never been the most sociable of the Bazaar, but I never in my life would have expected to see it bite another of its fold in public. It must be under a special sort of duress. 

Whatever this debt of its is, it must be causing a great deal of trouble. Perhaps we can use this. I will endeavour to find out what is going on so that we might use it to further our own goals. Until then, may the Month serve you well.

Incident Report for July, 18XX

I am going to quit this life and flee back to the Surface to raise goats in some far-flung mountain. 

I have been investigating the aforementioned incidents that have been plaguing London as of late. It’s tedious, stressful work, wading through records about trade and any odd rumours about their activities. It’s been a lot of work, but I hadn’t made much progress. Until today. I met up with someone who works rather closely with one of the Masters. They’re by no means a confidante, but they hear much more than the average Londoner. I chanced asking them about my research, and they looked rather tired for a moment. They then proceeded to explain that for the past several months, the Masters have all been at one another’s throats over a disagreement. I asked what kind, and after a long period of silence they explained that the Masters had, in a moment of unexpected levity, deigned to play a game of cards together. This had, apparently, gone horribly. As in, broken furniture, bones, and alliances horribly. Some of them are still not even speaking to each other. Every Ministry has felt the effects of their terrible moods. 

Hearing this admittedly made me want to slam my head through the table. Which means all of this infighting, all of these strange shadowy movements, all of the anxiety I have experienced in the past few months, all of it was because of a game of cards!? And not even one of the important ones!?

What a waste of time. Well, at least now we know what has been happening. Perhaps they will get over this petty squabble soon. Perhaps something new will have them all taking sides again, and the cycle will keep continuing until the next city falls on our heads. It doesn’t matter. All we can be sure of is that they will continue to be a problem until our plans succeed. 

I don't even know who will read this. My lines have been dead for weeks. I may be the only one left in this circle. No matter. I will keep doing my job. I will keep my eyes on the shadowed movements of our oppressive tyrants and my fingers in every plot to thwart them. For all of London’s sake, the show must go on. May the month serve you well. 

[artificialqueens]

🏳️‍🌈 F*ck You 2020 (Biadore) - Angle

Short Biadore fic based on this exchange:

https://twitter.com/AdoreDelano/status/1288167210548998145?s=20

@Adoredelano: I’m BACK on social media because the world is over. Fuck insecurities, fuck depression, fuck beauty standards, fuck eating disorders. FUCK YOU 2020   @TheBianceDelRio: OK 

A/N: I submitted a prompt a few months ago for a fic based on this tweet exchange and I was thinking about it again recently. I’ve never written a RPDR fic myself, but I figured I may as well give it a try. It’s mostly introspection because I like writing it and I’m a bit self-conscious about it, but hopefully you enjoy! :)

***********

Adore slammed the top of her laptop down the second she submitted her tweet.

@Adoredelano: I’m BACK on social media because the world is over. Fuck insecurities, fuck depression, fuck beauty standards, fuck eating disorders. FUCK YOU 2020

Her palms were sweating a bit as she debated back and forth between rushing to delete the tweet or to let it be, but she knew it would have already been screenshotted and nothing draws more attention than a deleted tweet.

The past few months had been horrible, to say the least. She got herself up and out of bed about 98% of those days, but on many days that was all she had done. Adore had battled with her mental health on and off throughout her life, but it had never been quite this bad.

And then there was the eating. After seeing herself at a weight she had never seen or expected on her, and the internet repeatedly pointing it out, Adore realized she needed to make a change. At first, she bought herself an exercise bike and found herself on it for hours at a time. As the weight started to drop, she became addicted to it. And with the isolation of COVID, long runs became the escape.

The biggest mistake she probably made was buying a scale. Seeing the numbers go down was exhilarating and she wanted to see it go faster. So she did.

Surprisingly, it was the friend as far from her as possible who first called her out. Adore and Courtney used to facetime regularly, but somehow they had fallen out of that. Courtney was never one to shy away from the truth, and when they facetimed two months ago, Courtney immediately called it out.

“Adorm!” Courtney exclaimed as soon as Adore accepted the call. 

“Ms. Courtney Act,” Adore responded in her best Australian accent, a smile immediately found its way to her face hearing her friend’s voice. “How the hell are you?”

Adore immediately felt uncomfortable as Courtney eyed her suspiciously.

“Well I’m fine, but how are you doing?” She asked knowingly.

“Yeah I’m good. Just trying to write some music and stuff,” Adore responded, trying to sound as genuine as possible.

“You’ve lost a lot of weight, Adore,” Courtney said bluntly, never one to beat around the bush.

“Yeah, maybe,” Adore offered lamely. 

“Not maybe,” Courtney challenged. “You’ve lost a lot since we last talked.”

“Just trying to be healthier,” Adore countered unconvincingly. 

“Tell me the truth or I’ll stick Bianca on you,” Courtney threatened, using the ultimate trump card. “I’ll send her to your apartment and you know how annoying she’ll be.”

And then the tears came and it all came tumbling out.

She still struggled, more days than not. But Courtney was right, and Adore was absolutely exhausted. It didn’t feel like much of a blessing when it was so hard, but she could acknowledge that she owed a lot to Courtney for intervening before she had completely lost control.

Adore sighed as she eyed her computer, debating whether she wanted to see the aftermath of an incredibly vulnerable tweet. This year had been horrible for everyone, and she knew people were struggling. Adore also knew how many young fans looked up to her, and she felt like she had gotten to a place where she could be that role model for them again.

Curiosity won over as she opened her laptop and returned to twitter. Her mentions were absolutely flooded, the tweet apparently taking off faster than she thought. She scrolled through the replies and of course one stood out:

@TheBianceDelRio: OK

Adore laughed harder than she had ever laughed at a tweet as she picked up her phone and pulled up the only number she called as much as her mom.

“Pussyface,” Bianca said deadpan as she picked up the phone.

“Okay?” Adore exclaimed without any other greeting.

“I’m proud of you, but don’t tell anyone,” Bianca responded teasingly.

Adore smiled hugely and laughed, not so secretly loving any affection she got from the older queen.

“Bitch I would never,” Adore responded. “But thanks.”

Pride Challenge Points: 1487

[nehswritesstuffs]

Intro Post, GO!

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph--I last did one of these in 2018... fucking...

Info under the cut, if you’re into that sort of thing.

Hi! My name is Nehs and I write stuffs. I’m a trained screenwriter and hope to one day break into that, but I also know that since it’s a lot of work and luck I might as well enjoy myself along the way. I’ve been writing fan fiction since about 1998 and sharing online since 2004, so when I say I’ve been writing fic for most of my life, I mean it. More recently I’ve been very active in the Doctor Who/Whouffaldi fandom and back in One Piece. These things are more alike than one would think. My life force feeds off of weird, rare, and otherwise less-popular ships as well as alternate universe settings.

Aside from being here I’m also on fanfiction.net and Archive of Our Own. In the past nine years I’ve put out about 1.78mil words on AO3. My totals on FFN (which begin in high school (beware weird/lower quality work earlier on) and are skewed due to author’s notes and review replies bc i’ve been on the site for so long) are at ~2.38mil. Not everything from here is on my FFN or AO3 and not everything on FFN is on AO3 and vice versa. I do tend to crosspost a lot of my work, however, so when one site is down, there’s usually a good place to find my stuff otherwise if you were in the middle of something!

(No, seriously, my FFN hits took off during the latest mass-AO3 outage and it was mainly for stuff that was crossposted, so don’t be afraid to come on over!)

Uhh... big things I’m known for...

The Time That We Love Best: slice of life Whouffaldi AU set from WWII-1960; a hundred chapters of a relationship and lots of period-related plot; there are prompt fills to add to the story

The Thick of UNIT: crossover involving Doctor Who and The Thick of It, prominently showcasing the crackship of Kate Stewart/Malcolm Tucker; contains many OCs, canon cameos from both shows, weird shit, and current events; lots of offshoots and even has spawned fic of the fic

The March of Kasterborous and Gallifrey: pseudo-fantasy/nobility Whouffaldi AU that starts with an arranged marriage and morphs into a loving relationship and the building of a dynasty; consists of In Want of An Heir, Stars in A Sky of Blood and Blue, a prompt fill fic, and an AU of the AU that’s a remix of the first fic

Getting the Hang of Things: my attempt at a close-as-possible-to-canon Whouffaldi AU where they raise kids

a bunch of different fantasy-related Whouffaldi AUs, incorporating things such as selkies, werewolves, vampires, a How to Train Your Dragon setting, and more

Father Like Son, Mother Like Daughter, Parent Like Child: a One Piece Bellazón AU where Cora-san and Bell-mère raise their six kids in the East Blue, they’re all better adjusted, and proceed to make it everyone’s problem

little seagull, little seagull, where shall you go?: a One Piece AU where the Heart Pirates find a kid during the timeskip and Law completes the circle and becomes her Cora-san; is pretty much becoming a pick-your-own adventure story as I write varying branches to the plot

Love, Loss, and Finding One’s Self on the High Seas; I wanted to write Sanji/Pudding that gave her agency and made things less creepy; there’s lots of other ships too and it’s just weird af trust me

Other than that I am generally friendly and willing to interact with people. Drop me a line anytime, about fic or fandom or anything else, even if you think it’s negative. My personal blog is escapaldi. I enjoy hearing from readers (I’m one of those people that stalk reblogs for fun tags) and anything is better than nothing. There’s always room for improvement in a writer’s craft, so if you catch something then please let me know. Anon is on and if you prefer to confer in private just say so. Another thing to note is that I tend to reblog fanart for things I’ve written,things I find neat/important, and any other projects I may be in at the moment. If you got a problem with that, then I’m not really sure what to tell you. *shrugs* Oh, and yeah, don’t feed my fics to an AI for any reason whatsoever or I’ll astral-project myself to your computer and no one will enjoy themselves. :D

[singularattitudeofasafetypin]

Oh oh tell me about Dance Magic Dance because I think about that fic a lot

Really??? Oh yay, I’m so glad! The coolest thing ever as a writer, as I’m sure you know, is to hear that someone’s been thinking about your work after they’ve read it!

I hope you’re ready for an essay! You don’t know what you’ve unleashed!

Wow so where to start? I freaking LOVE this movie! My mum showed it to me when I was really young, just randomly remembered it as a film she used to like and bought it to show me and my sister. I was enchanted!

Sarah the main character is really like me. Loves dressing up and theatre and dramatic, emotional storytelling, and I also found my little sister really annoying at the time. Perfect, right?

I also loved watching all the behind the scenes stuff on the special features! The practical effects were so so cool and I love the way the set designer was like just cover EVERYTHING in glitter!

So when Eddie Munson burst into my life in all his fantasy-loving, dungeon master glory and I realised the movie came out in 1986, what else could I do?

I was listening to the song ‘Dance Magic, Dance’ on the bus to work which then prompted me to watch the movie again after ages. Midway through I just had this vision of Eddie bursting through the door with a look of horror on his face uttering the words, ‘Are you watching our movie without me?’ The fic kinda spiralled from there.

Listening to the same song a few days later and I thought, Eddie is 100% the type of parent to try and throw his child in the air like David Bowie.

The flashback with Eddie asking Reader on a date is honestly one of my favourite bits to write! It was short and sweet and practically wrote itself. I pictured Eddie, still fragile, only just healed but having harboured a crush for so long. His recent brush with mortality having hit home that there’s no time to lose but in the moment getting flustered and reader having to finish the sentence for him.

I wanted to keep the playful nature I’d already established with their relationship largely to convey how young they both are and how not much time has really passed yet they’re still moving on and finding new life and happiness with each other.

Happy endings are just it for me and while I do enjoy a good tragedy every now and then, I always prefer it all to turn out right.

Now the masked ball scene! Oh this scene! Phantom of the Opera has quite literally from birth been my favourite musical of all time (but that’s another story for another time!) so you throw anything remotely resembling a masked ball into a piece of media and I will go wild! Add in ‘As The World Falls Down’ sung by the one and only David Bowie himself while dressed in a jacket literally encrusted with sapphires and I’m sold!

Also, as a cosplayer/fashion history/theatrical costume enthusiast, THE DRESS!!!! Aaaagghh!!! That dress is the dress of my dreams! I’ve always wanted a wedding inspired by this scene from Labyrinth so thus, reader got one!

The most romantic thing in the world in my humble opinion is dancing together! Even more so if it’s in a domestic situation!

I really feel like Eddie Munson is the one to make everything feel magical. I know I crave adventure and romance like in stories and I really think he does too! I really wanted to show him as a person who brings that fairytale feeling even after coming home from a hard day’s work with nothing more than a song and a memory. Ultimately, it’s my absolute dream to find someone like that in real life, but until I do, I’ll settle for writing him!

Oh my gosh that was long! Sorry if it was too much. Again, I’m so pleased you liked this one. I’m always afraid when I write something so specific to me that it’ll be too niche or personal that no one else will enjoy it but I’m learning that often the more personal a work is, the more people resonate with it because it has heart.

Like how Taylor Swift’s music works! It’s so personal and true to her yet it connects with so many people on such a deep level. I can only dream of being as good a storyteller as her one day.

But anyway, that’s it I think. Sorry it was long, my high school English teacher had to force me to stop rambling in my essays but here we are!

Thanks for asking about this one and thanks for reading if you got this far!

Fanfic Directors Cut

[fourteenfifteen]

🌻 :)

aw hi jun what’s going on dude 💕

i’ve been having a lot of fun writing original fiction recently! finished a decently long short story like two weeks ago and have been picking at a couple other things since (including that writing prompt i did on here the other day). i love writing in general like it’s very calming and satisfying and makes me happy but it’s been fun to try out something new! it’s especially cool like the freedom that it gives me like ok obviously but also yeah it’s nice that i can do literally whatever i want and all that really matters is enjoying myself and trying to make the coolest shit that i can. mixed feelings bc i haven’t actually felt super up on the quality of my work the last little while lol and original fiction does a little bit feel pointless and/or like screaming into the void compared to fanfic but also seriously it is so fun. like actually sitting and working on it and making a little story that can be whatever i want it to be. it’s good stuff. definitely bringing out my creative ambition too like i feel very playful and experimental without like the knowledge that the thing i’m working on is gonna go on ao3 lol

[fountainpenguin]

FOP Fic News

Overview

I’ve always had table of contents docs for projects like Origin and Knots, and since I’m returning from hiatus, I recently moved them to a spreadsheet and mapped out what dates I should plan to upload chapters on and how long it will take me to finish these stories. I went through lots of docs with a critical eye and combined or cut chapters to get a better idea of how things are looking.

Posting at my current schedule of one chapter every other week, it looks like  Origin and Knots will come to an end in 2025 (if I stay on top of my buffer) and although that feels so far away, there’s a certain relief in it since my combining and cutting helped me bring that down from 2026.

That schedule doesn’t leave wiggle room for other projects like Come What May, the 130 Prompts, and work for my other fandoms that I’ve been drafting over the years. I don’t really like the idea that if I wrap up Origin and Knots in 2.5 years, I’ll still have another several years of Prompts left to go. I always knew these were big projects and working on them made the long years of school more fun, but it’s always been my intention to finish them, and I’d rather do that sooner than later. After all, I’m still sitting on pieces I wrote in 2016 about Cavatina, and 2026 isn’t as far away as it seems... The idea that the 10-year anniversary of his arc might hit before I actually post it leaves me shook, my dude.

I’ve given it some thought and realized that if I post 130 Prompts on the weeks between Origin and Knots chapters, I can wrap the series up in 2026, maybe 2027. I can live with that a lot more than I can live with the idea of working on this project past 2030, ha ha.

In other words, I’m setting a goal of a ‘fic update every Friday, starting soon (I’ve got the next Prompt done, but I’m sitting on it for a sec to build the buffer out farther). There might be some Fridays where there’s nothing, but keep your eyes out for things that interest you. I hope you enjoy :)

--

130 Prompt Details

So, many of you are probably familiar with my FOP one-shot series, 130 Reasons Why I’m Fairy Trash. I've had all the 130 Prompts planned out for years, but I lost interest in some of those plans as time went on (Not the big plot stuff, that's still the same, but some minor standalones).

I recently went through my docs to refresh my memory on what’s to come. I had some vague ideas that I never fleshed out and realized that I never will, so I’ve scrapped those. I also had stuff I scrapped years ago, but fell in love with the drafts all over again and am eager to see them finished off.

In 2022, I took an FOP and Tumblr hiatus to focus on other things like my IRL job and personal projects, and I couldn’t maintain the spark of inspiration for FOP at the same time. Mostly, the reason for that was just that I was busy and was putting my time and creative energy into other projects, and I simply didn’t have time for both. I didn’t realize until now, but I think I also felt pressure to create something big and meaningful with what I submitted, and I became paralyzed with thoughts of putting out something “boring” or “weird” and facing critique that my work was confusing or unenjoyable.

Anyway, while recently looking through my WIPs, I remembered the 130 Prompts were always meant to be a series of short side stories and that there’s nothing wrong with dorky little one-offs. I don’t need to put pressure on myself to turn everything into a polished 10k+ story when just a few thousand words will do, or overthink the humor and flow to the point I talk myself out of doing something.

I spent some time a bit ago looking over my stuff and making a new plan for the order I want to post things in, and it feels much more achievable to me now. I’m excited to get back to it. Hoping to post some dumb and silly things more often because “I had an idea and it made me laugh” is valid.

--

Stuff Getting Scrapped / Kept

I’ve realized that I’m not going to write Identity Theft and Acacia Arcadia as standalone ‘fics. I scrapped some scenes and the rest will be recycled into 130 Prompts to replace the ones I cut. I’ve set my plan up so that the next Prompts in line are ones that have solid drafts and I’m excited to work on, so I’m hoping to get on a regular posting schedule with those soon, alternating weeks with Origin and Knots.

Hawthorn Haven and Devil’s Backbone will prrrobably still exist as their own ‘fics someday when the time is right, as when I first made their outlines, I was already prepared to work on them “when I’m older.” I don’t feel the same pressure to finish them. I’m still looking forward to them, but they’re in “Can’t talk about these things until we’re in that point of the timeline” jail. I’ve always intended for Devil’s Backbone to be the end of my FOP writing days, so it’s on the backburner for obvious reasons, but when the time does come to close out all the stories and wonderful worldbuilding, I hope it’ll be a blast.

I do still have a draft for a ‘fic called Along the Cherry Lane which focuses on Timmy and his friends growing up, marrying, having kids, etc. but that’s on the backburner for now too. I’m not sure if I want to keep it, but also not ready to let it go. If I do let it go, I’ll find a place for the scenes I liked within the Prompts or I’ll post one or two one-shots instead of the whole ‘fic. I do intend to get back to Come What May once I get the spark back for it and I might even return to Snips and Snails... who knows.

--

Tl;dr

I still have several years of FOP content that I plan to release, as I’ve never wanted to abandon these stories I love. I knew I was starting big projects and I knew they would take me years to finish, but as my 10-year anniversary of writing FOP ‘fics creeps nearer and nearer... Yeah, there’s a certain part of me that's ready to jump back into a schedule and see if I can wrap up all three of these big projects by the time I hit that mark. Crazy how it’s been so long.

Currently I have an Origin / Knots ‘fic buffer through the end of June. We’re entering the phase of the story where the drafts are pretty solid, which means they hopefully won’t take long to polish. Exciting!

--

The Schedule

Throughout 2023, you can expect Origin and Knots to alternate weeks. These two ‘fics are main priority in my ‘fic-writing life, so they get buffer priority and I intend to keep up with this goal as best I can. If all goes according to plan, we should be wrapping up towards the end of 2025. I hope to see y’all there :)

I’ll be sprinkling in updates to other projects throughout the “off” weeks. Sometimes there might be no update at all, and I’m okay with that because the “off” weeks are simply meant to be “If there is something, it can be shared” weeks. I’m not holding myself to posting at those times in the same way I’m holding myself to keeping Origin and Knots on schedule, but I look forward to getting to share some fun things like 130 Prompts, more Come What May chapters, miscellaneous one-shots, and content for other fandoms.

Even if I stay consistent, I definitely don’t expect to wrap up the 130 Prompts until 2026 or 2027, and that’s okay. These next few years will be busy, but I’m looking forward to forming a healthy work-life balance- there’s a certain value that a scheduled writing system has in helping you look forward to the next creation you get to share... It makes the work week a little bit nicer.

--

Closing

As a reader, your interest in silly fairy fanfics might come and go, but thank you so much to those who’ve loved my work over the years, reblogged posts, left reviews, sent Asks, chatted with me, and so much more.

Also, thank you to those who’ve left me kudos on AO3. I still get emails every time there are kudos, and while I don’t track how many kudos my little stories receive in this old, quiet fandom, it is really cool to see how much love has been given to some of the short pieces I wrote 6 or 7 years ago.

As the years have gone by, it’s been a good reminder that people have really liked some of those pieces that I don’t think about as often as my longer stuff. I don’t need to psych myself out worrying that my quick one-shots aren’t good enough... I’m looking forward to posting some short things again soon.

Thank you for the love and support! I hope you enjoy what’s next <3