#but both rare enough that i might as well tag lol

[wawamouse]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Oz (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Miguel Alvarez/Carmen "Chico" Guerra, Sean Murphy/Lisa Logan Characters: Tim McManus, Miguel Alvarez (Oz), Lisa Logan, Sean Murphy (Oz), Claire Howell, Peter Marie Reimondo, Ray Mukada, Martin Querns, Chucky Pancamo, Ryan O'Reily (Oz), Seamus O'Reily, Tobias Beecher, Arnold "Poet" Jackson, Reggie Rawls, Fiona Zonioni, Kiki Faye Downing, Zahir Arif, Carmen "Chico" Guerra, Joseph Mineo, Oz (TV) Ensemble, Original Characters Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, POV Outsider, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Humor, Reality TV, Social Media, Transcripts, Newspapers Summary:

In 2006, a reality cooking show intended to showcase the inmates at Oswald Correctional Facility airs a single episode on local TV. Years later, interested netizens begin to search for more.

[axkirak]

Special : Phantom Thread│(Qimir x Reader)

Remark : This one-shot is a special chapter from The Curse of Cassandra series. I recommend reading the main series first before reading this one.

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings:  Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader)  [The Acolyte]

Content Rating : Mature 18+  Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

A/N : My mind’s still stuck on The Curse of Cassandra—I can’t move on, so I decided to write a special chapter LOL.

This one-shot is inspired by Movie Phantom Thread (2017) and the German folktale Tristan and Iseult, perfectly capturing Qimir and Reader’s toxic relationship—literally toxic, with actual toxin involved 😂

I originally planned a sweeter scene with Qimir caring for the reader during her pregnancy, but it felt too OOC for the dark tone of the series, so I made it a “love so intense it almost kills you” vibe (don’t worry, no one dies—just some playful activity, as couples do. 😏).Think of it as sweet revenge for what happened on Eiram.

Also, I realized my fic doesn’t delve into Qimir’s perspective much, so this chapter is all about his POV.

[Special I ] Phantom Thread

The beginnings of love are often effortless and swift, burning with passion. 

Yet sustaining a lasting, stable relationship is far more challenging—especially when both partners know each other's true nature so well, seeing both the qualities that attract and those that repel.

Sometimes, Qimir finds himself wondering where exactly he and you truly stand.

A tense silence fills the dining room as his gaze rests on you, seated across the wooden table. You offer a soft smile that feels strangely out of place, almost unsettling, considering how rarely you've looked him in the eye before. Most of the time, your demeanor is distant, as though lost in visions only you can see, speaking to him only when truly necessary, like when delivering a warning or sharing insights from what you've foreseen.

Even after Alia, their daughter, was born, the dynamic between you and Qimir remains unchanged. It hasn’t worsened, but it hasn’t grown any closer either.

Qimir understands that he can’t alter what is. He can’t make you open your heart or engage with him sincerely. Yet, coercion isn’t the answer—he’s already exerted enough control. Throughout your time together, he’s been the one in charge, while you simply complied and offered guidance. That was the arrangement set back on Eiram, and it continues even now.

But as time goes on, Qimir increasingly realizes that he’s never truly had control over you. You might appear to submit, but never willingly. Sometimes, you even show a quiet defiance in subtle ways, which he interprets as a form of retribution, rebellion—or perhaps even a kind of love, interwoven with resentment, a strange ritual in the flawed relationship between you both.

Strangely, he finds himself willing to accept it—for those rare moments you offer—a fleeting smile, a soft “I love you,” a kiss, an embrace. Even if it’s only temporary, even if it’s no more than a phantom.

Tonight, the dining table is filled with a variety of dishes you’ve prepared—herb soup, chicken sautéed with an unfamiliar ingredient, and other dishes unfamiliar to him. You explain they’re Fremen dishes, infused with spice.

Qimir does not favor spices, a fact you are well aware of.

He’s certain you’ve done it on purpose, with some intention in mind.

As if sensing his thoughts, you slide a single dish toward him—the only one without spice.

It’s Bocha.

You look at him expectantly, your once impassive gaze now bright with life, seemingly filled with affection—if it’s not just his imagination.

"I made this just for you," you say softly. “I thought you might need a break—a week of rest would do you good.”

It isn’t a suggestion, nor is it a command, but something he has no choice but to follow.

As he stares at the golden, crisp Bocha on his plate, an unpleasant memory resurfaces. You have made Bocha for him before, and his decision to eat it was his greatest mistake in years. Qimir did not expect that you had laced it with a sedative, in an attempt to escape him. He’d trusted you, and trusted himself too much, and the result was a painful betrayal.

But could he blame you for deceiving him when he himself had deceived you just as much?

“Do you trust me, my love?” you ask, as though you know exactly what’s on his mind.

Qimir meets your gaze, wanting to say 'no', but the words get stuck in his throat.

You know his weaknesses, his deepest desires, and you wield them against him. You call him “my love” in that soft, beguiling tone, gazing at him with warm, affectionate eyes. How could he possibly refuse?

He picks up the Bocha, his fingers pausing mid-motion. He doesn’t take a bite, his eyes fixed on your face. “Will you still be here when I wake up?” he asks, trying to mask the worry in his voice.

You shake your head in mild amusement before reaching out to take his hand. Your thumb begins tracing gentle circles in his palm—a gesture of comfort, perhaps even reassurance. "There's no sedative, Qimir," you assure him firmly. "And I could never leave you. You know that."

You’re telling the truth—about the fact that you cannot leave him and the absence of sedative in the boche.

Because he can smell and see it clearly: the boche is stuffed with Yellow Stainer[1]—a poisonous mushroom known to disrupt the digestive system, causing stomach pain, headaches, and nausea. It’s a torment that won’t kill him but is severe enough to leave him temporarily weak and vulnerable.

You prepared this just for him.

Qimir smiles, quiet admiration flickering in his heart.

Finally He’s met his true match—someone willing to bring him to his knees, not with weapons but with something far more powerful: love.

As Qimir takes a bite of the Bocha, savoring its intense flavor tinged with the sharp, inky bitterness of poisonous mushrooms, his thoughts drift to an ancient tale—Tristan and Iseult[2]. He once read it in the Jedi Temple’s library. For a fleeting moment, he envisions you as Iseult, standing before him with a chilling smile, offering Tristan—him—a goblet laced with poison as a reminder of their covenant of death.

Qimir closes his eyes and swallows the Bocha, unflinching, like Tristan drinking the poisoned goblet. Only later did Tristan discover it was not poison, but a love potion.

You watch Qimir intently, not blinking until he finishes every bite. Then, rising smoothly, you kneel beside him. Your lips brush softly against his rough cheek as you whisper words only he could ever understand:

"I want you flat on your back. Helpless, tender, open with only me to help. And then I want you strong again. You're not going to die. You might wish you're going to die, but you're not going to. You need to settle down a little"

Qimir chuckles softly, cupping your face with both hands. His voice is hoarse with fatigue as he pleads, “Kiss me, my girl, before I’m sick.”

Your smile grows, warm and faintly mischievous. Leaning closer, you kiss him passionately, deeply, just as he asked. Qimir pulls you closer, holding you tightly even as his body begins to weaken and sway. He knows it won’t be long before he collapses to the floor, writhing in agony, suffering that could last for days.

But for now, he wants to savor this brief sliver of happiness for as long as he can.

When the kiss finally ends, he rests his forehead against yours, savoring the quiet warmth that freezes time. He decides to speak the words he’s held in his heart for so long. “I love you.”

In this close proximity, your eyes reveal the depth of your feelings for him—feelings you’ve harbored for years. A blend of love and hate intertwined within you, reflected in a gaze he has never fully understood.

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice steady and calm, making it impossible to discern what truly lies behind it.

Qimir isn’t sure whether the bond between them is driven more by love or hate.

But he doesn’t mind, as long as you remain by his side and keep telling him you love him—whether it’s true or just a lie. It doesn’t matter.

Even if it means he must wretch and soon vomit from the Bocha, he accepts it willingly.

Footnotes:

[1] Yellow Stainer is a type of poisonous mushroom. It has a strong odor, similar to ink or iodine, and its effects are severe on the digestive system, causing nausea and vomiting when consumed.

[2] Tristan and Iseult is a famous medieval romance based on Celtic mythology. Tristan, a knight, is tasked with escorting Princess Iseult to marry his uncle, the king. The princess holds a personal grudge against Tristan, believing he killed her fiancé, so she gives him a poisoned drink. Unbeknownst to her, the poison is actually a love potion her mother had given her to use on the king. As a result, Tristan and Princess Iseult fall in love because of it, but their love ends tragically.

[thatlightbluefox]

Can we see more of Boomer and Buttercup’s friendship and how Brick, Blossom, Bubbles, and Butch react to them being in a band? Are they also members of it or are people like Mitch a part of it because he’s friends with Buttercup or is it just Buttercup and Boomer?

(it was after Boomer discovered he had free will away from being yelled at by Brick that this began)

The band is mostly made up of Buttercup’s friend group + Boomer (if I actually choose to expand on this AU I might draw the whole bad together for sillies) but it was just them two when they were originally figuring out what they were gonna do

There’s not a lot on their friendship, but I like to imagine them getting along over music! One of the comics has the RRB crashing a concert the girls were attending, with Boomer playing a guitar, and an episode of the PPG had buttercup and her sisters playing as a band with Buttercup being one of the guitarists (if I’m allowed to mention the reboot a few times- yes, I watched the reboot and I will go down using some things for HC’s and forget everything else-) Buttercup also had a strong interest in bands and wanting to be like a popular guitarist she looked up to. It just made sense for her to want a band!

In all honesty they only started a band after finding out an artist they liked was a terrible person and decided that if someone couldn’t make music without being shitty they would just do it themselves (mostly Buttercup’s mindset, Boomer had the idea to just steal music styles of random artists)

their relationship was rocky at first with them being at each other’s throats about little things, but eventually they worked it out when the band thing came along. (The power of wanting a band saved them, but they still annoy each other)

Bloss was likely hesitant at first about letting her sister start a band with a well known villain that’s tried killing them multiple times (I mean, how are they sure he wouldn’t pull a fast one on them?) meanwhile Bubbles was just excited to hear about this band thing and seeing Boomer become friendly with them.

Unlike the Puffs being at least a bit open to the idea, Brick and Butch were absolutely heated when they found out (Boomer tried hiding it so many times) but after failing at convincing Boomer to make it a plot for a surprise ambush against the girls they ignored it. Boomer tried to at least get them to check out his skills every once in a while but just kept getting disinterested responses by both Brick and Butch every time. Eventually Brick came around when he was slowly relaxing about the whole mortal enemies thing (before his own frienemy-ship with the girls), but the best he got from Brick was him standing near his room to listen before walking away (there’s a few times Brick would genuinely give Boomer advice on things about having a band. It was very rare but Boomer appreciated it)

Soon enough though Blossom, Bubbles, and Brick started coming to hear them play during their band practice. Butch… not so much.

((Bonus: the Girls were more open about Boomer since they still saw him as the harmless one, Boomer and Buttercup have a combination Pop-rock as their music genre))

Edit: I forgot tags lol

[farmerbebop]

The sun was shining too bright for me to be worrying about my deadline so I guess I'll use this rare occasion to make a pinned post.

When I started blorbo posting it was simply because "If even I, who knows next to nothing about British and American TV series, can see that Patrick McGoohan was criminally underrated, then maybe this blog has a reason to exist."

The only thing I ever learned about blorbo posting is from the Columbo fandom. They have fun, and they love their blorbo. As the kids say: Love and peace on planet earth.

But McGoohan is a challenge and will never stop being one. His public image, both in front and behind of the camera, isn't that of someone who would be pleased with blorbo posting. I don't know how other blorbo bloggers feel, but I just wish I can hold a conversation with my blorbo that doesn't bore him to death or anger him to the point of throwing me out of the room.

Judging someone who talked about his nervous breakdown like it was just a cold isn't something I like to do, especially online. So if I have to talk about McGoohan, I always get quite nervous. I can only say that I regret we didn't get to know him as much as we would like to and I really wish he was still here with us.

I know many of the decisions he made, he made it for future generations. It's my privilege to say that my blorbo's gift to the three-year-old running this blog has been her greatest pride as a blorbo blogger. And her hardest and most honourable task is not to mess it up.

I actually didn't create this blog to please McGoohan (the ladies can testify to that, lol). And I think I make fun of him more than I should. But I hope he knows that life as a blorbo blogger isn't easy when your blorbo is Patrick McGoohan and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't be too hard on me.

And just in case anyone is wondering what the hell I'm doing on here, here's a short guide to my blog.

my stupid vid My McGoohan fancams are what I personally consider the funniest part of my blog. But they can be somewhat serious too, I think.

my lousy photoshopping This can mean just about anything. McGoohan as The Little Prince. McGoohan in Ingmar Bergman's films. Anything that I made with photoshop. So I have some more tags to categorize it.

mcgoohan at the museum What I love to do the most in photoshop is putting McGoohan into paintings. I don't know why. Maybe because it easily hides my lousy photoshopping skills. Or maybe because my blorbo is as beautiful as a painting.

mcgoohan album covers What can I say? “But you don't really care for music, do you?”

mcgoohan fashion Let's be honest, don't you love a beautiful blorbo?

mcgoohan posters I sometimes try not to misinterpret McGoohan's works, I don't know if I succeed though.

no context mcgoohan Mostly just McGoohan sitting or standing somewhere. But I love it nonetheless.

mcgoohan for kids and mcgoohan anime Well, it's exactly what you would expect it to be.

mcgoohan arthouse One day I'll retire from blorbo posting and go back to watching arthouse films.

mcgoohan stickers They are not as cute as cat or bunny stickers, but they stick all right.

the prisoner redux or anything redux means my lousy photoshopping for that particular series/movie. But when there are so many McGoohans in one post I get tired of tagging and I just give up.

I think that's enough of my lousy photoshopping.

wild mcgoohan in his natural habitat McGoohan as God intended him. Trying to not give away too much information in interviews.

mcgoohan lore McGoohan in someone else's words, including his daughter's. Needless to say, my words should not be trusted. You'll know them when you see them.

my gif McGoohan gifs, mostly for losing tumblr polls. Also for making this blog popular with the ladies on here.

village poetry If there's one thing that McGoohan might like about this blog, this is probably it.

village soundcloud Blorbos and song lyrics go hand in hand - Tumblr proverb.

mcgoogoo and me Just me rambling about my McGoohan dreams and my hard life as a blorbo blogger.

my lousy shitposting It has something to do with McGoohan I'm afraid. But it's fun.

I know this blog has become quite predictable and it's filled with half of my life's story. But if McGoohan was really who I think he was, that would be the least of his problems with my blog.

And finally, my hiatus is a running joke that I'm getting worse at, I hope.

[charmandabear]

60, 66, and 11 for the writer ask! :3

Writer Asks

60. Have you had a writer you admire comment on your fic? What was that like?

Several times! And it's an incredible feeling. Like a clutch your phone and giggle and kick your feet kind of feeling. @astarionfreak heavily inspired a scene in the first chapter of Office Hours and whenever she comments on my work it's like senpai noticed me lol. And @pursuitseternal is funny bc the first time she commented on one of my things it became the spiderman meme of "omg I love your work!" "No, omg, I love YOUR work!!" And then on top of that, I've found many writers I admire who commented on my work first, including @wolfywolfy and @marlowethebard. This community continues to do nothing but give and I'm extremely grateful for it.

66. How do you deal with pressure (ie. Pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines)

LMAO badly. Pressure to update is entirely self-imposed, my readers are nothing but kind and understanding about my life being a bit of a mess right now. But the problem is that I want to keep writing and I want to update. So it's really a matter of writing when I can and have the motivation, and doing my best not to beat myself up when I can't.

I'm lucky enough that I rarely get negative comments, but when they do, they stick with me. If it's clearly from a troll I just block and move on, that's usually fine. But if it's from someone who I think might otherwise mean well but it still hit me wrong? Or who had a genuinely negative reaction to my work? They live in my head rent free. Fuck, sometimes it doesn't even have to me my work, sometimes I still get mad about a comment that @moochiepoo got on a fic and get angry lmao. To deal with these fuckers who take up space in my head, I try to talk to my spouse about it, or sometimes I'll write out a response to them that I'll never send. But it's tough. I have really bad RSD and have a tendency to hold grudges when I feel wronged by someone. (Don't ask me about my former roommates who owe me $100 lmao)

11. Link three five of your favorite fics right now

It's funny bc I'm currently behind on literally all my favorite fics so maybe posting them will be an excuse for me to force myself to catch up.

pour one out by @aevallare

Your Ruination by @wolfywolfy

Love Me or Hate Me (for both work in my favor) by @pursuitseternal

Ruins by @marlowethebard

The Arrangement by @fangswbenefits (who Tumblr is not letting me tag for some reason

[bijouxcarys]

Honey Bee / Part One (1)

Pairing: Robert Plant x fem!reader x Jimmy Page x original female character

Summary: You've been on the road with Led Zeppelin for over two months now, acting as Robert's convenient little companion. It's now the final night of the tour, and tension has been rising. With the addition of Jimmy's new pretty young thing, you find yourself in a situation that just might take the cake for best night of your life...

Warnings: Heavy drug and alcohol use, a bit of heavy petting, slight objectification, degradation kink if you squint really hard, voyeurism

Word count: 2,756

***I've decided to split this into multiple parts since it would be really long if not, and I wanted to post something. Also, keep in mind that I have quite literally NEVER written Robert or Jimmy before. This is my first time, so go easy on me. I'm used to writing Brian May, who is very different lol***

Tags: @firethatgrewsolow @brownskinsugarplum76 @keepcalmandcarryfire @the-may-queer @callmethehunter @jimmypage7 @whothefuckisanja @laysidel-dekie @jimmys-zeppelin @m-faithfull @lemongrablothbrok @willem-dafuq @ri0thouse

He just looked so good.

But so did he.

And so did she.

Maybe it was the coke, well and truly infiltrating my system by this point. Or maybe it was a result of my third whiskey. I didn’t care. All she knew was that I’d never been this high, in multiple senses of the word, as I was that performance at Madison Square Garden back in 1973.

Apparently, they rarely, if ever, brought along a girl from a different country to another. And I held onto that feeling. Knowing that Robert Plant saw something in me that was worth bringing along over an ocean was enough to convince me that I had made the right decision to drop everything at home and take off with Led Zeppelin at the height of their success.

Honestly, I was well accustomed to the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle by this point. I’d had one or two encounters with smaller bands that toured within the UK by the time I was 17. But Zeppelin was a whole other ball game. An entirely different planet. 

I didn’t care that this would one day end and that I’d go back to my dead job at a record shop. It couldn’t be too bad, right? I mean, if I hadn’t accepted that job in the first place, I would have never had the honour of being on this tour with the world’s greatest band at all.

Never underestimate a rockstar’s tendency to visit downtown music shops.

Robert and I had connected somewhat over our mutual interest in the blues. I slacked off my shift to take him to our storage space, just to let him rifle through the records we’d recently received. One thing led to another and I ended up accepting an open invitation to join him on tour.

19 and on the road with Led bloody Zeppelin.

It was their third and final night in New York, which also marked the last show of the tour. There was a subtle sense of anticipation that built throughout the whole tour, and it materialised progressively through the partying; the drinking, the drugs… the sex.

Everything seemed to get more and more intense every night. And, God, did that night take the win by a fleeting mile.

The fact that they had camera crews filming each move that night seemed to trigger something… feral… in the lads’ performance. I never got tired of watching Robert gyrate during Whole Lotta Love. The energy was potent. Like an intoxicating pheromone.

Usually by this point of the show, Robert would have already taken me somewhere backstage to get his fix–of both me and whatever he could get his hands on–during Moby Dick. But this time, I’d been given nothing but a small kiss and a cheeky smirk before he disappeared with Jimmy.

This left Lila and I dumbfounded.

Lila was a young girl who’d recently turned 18, and we met her the first night we were in New York. As per usual, she’d finessed her way backstage and caught Jimmy’s wandering gaze.

The air crackled with energy as Robert and Jimmy returned, wearing matching mischievous grins towards the end of Bonzo's solo. It was a sight suspicious even for those two.

I couldn't resist teasing Robert, smirking as I asked, "What are you up to?"

His dimple deepened, adding to his already endearing charm, even with a missing tooth. His hand caressed my head, sending a shiver down my spine.

"I have no clue what you're talking about, darlin'," he purred, leaning in closer. "Just a bit of light conversation."

"Light conversation?" I chuckled, playfully tugging him closer by his belt. "Why would you need that?"

"Don't you worry, sweet girl," he replied, shrouding his words in mystery. This deviation from Robert's usual character intrigued me, but before I could dwell on it, his lips were on mine, trapping me between his body and the wall.

As he pulled back, his lips brushing my nose, I noticed Jimmy and Lila in a similar position down the corridor.

Robert mumbled, "Don't look at them, darlin'," using his finger to redirect my gaze back to his face. His touch grazed my lower lip, gently tugging it down. "You'll have plenty of time to look at them later."

Before I could question his cryptic words, he winked and withdrew, exchanging a knowing smile with Jimmy before they headed back onstage.

The incident lingered at the edge of my consciousness for the rest of the show, and I sensed that Lila was in the same perplexed state. We exchanged subtle, intense looks, an unspoken desire to ask each other what was happening, yet neither of us dared to voice it.

But in the end, I just wanted the show to finish so Robert could drag me wherever he wanted and do whatever he wanted to me. Watching him, those jeans clinging to him, the stage lights casting a shimmer over his exposed upper half, and his hair flawlessly bouncing with each thrust and jive, had me squeezing my thighs together from the side of the stage.

Being with the boys since the beginning of the tour gave me time to warm up to Jimmy as well as get to know Robert a little more. Jimmy was never on my radar of attraction, but something about the way he carried himself became more and more alluring. Ominous, almost.

Day by day, I became more and more interested in him.

That’s why, by the end of the last show, I didn’t know who to look at. Robert, Jimmy, and even Lila. It was like I’d just taken a hot oestrogen bath with Eros and Aphrodite. 

If there was one thing I knew as clear as day, it was that I wanted them. All of them.

And that’s exactly what I ended up getting.

Within an hour, the customary Zeppelin afterparty was in full swing, taking over the entire ground floor of The Drake and spilling onto multiple floors, transforming the hotel into their own personal playground. The trademark mayhem ensued, marked by bleary-eyed revellers and a steady flow of alcohol that left nostrils white and throats raw from the endless libations.

The air was heavy with the scent of cigarette smoke and spilled liquor, punctuated by the echoing laughter and slurred conversational cheering of everyone in attendance. The room seemed to sway slightly, the dim hotel lighting dancing off the walls in a hazy, dreamlike aura. Amidst the chaos, I found myself settled on Robert’s lap on a worn, plush sofa, my limbs weightless.

Robert’s features softened under the influence, and he wore a lopsided grin as he leaned back against the cushions, hands sliding up my legs, one on each side of his hips. His eyes, glazed and partially unfocused, held a distant, dreamy look as he gazed out at the revelry around us. I traced my fingertips along the collar of his blouse, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath the silky fabric.

Beside us, Jimmy and Lila were enveloped in their own intimate world. She exuded an irresistible allure as her dark, cascading hair spilled over the arm of the sofa. Her head, delicately poised on the cushiony surface, seemed to radiate nothing but pure admiration for the guitarist looming over her.

Draped over Jimmy’s lap, her supple body was a study in effortless grace, her bronzed skin glowing in the soft, amber light. Her slender, bare legs extended languorously along the expanse of the sofa. The subtle arch of her foot, adorned with a pair of sleek, platform heels, found a resting place on my thigh, the faint pressure a tangible reminder of her presence. One glance, and you could see right up her flowy mini skirt.

“What are you so smiley about?” I asked Robert with a hum, eyelids hooding as I made the cautious decision to shift my hips against his. The steady grip he had on the backs of my knees rose to the bare space between my knee-high socks and corduroy skirt, fingers gripping onto the flesh of my thighs.

“Hmm… you keep lookin’,” he remarked, his gaze momentarily flickering to Lila’s legs before returning to meet my eyes.

I couldn’t help but laugh softly, feeling my cheeks flush with warmth. “No, I don’t,” I protested weakly, attempting to convince him that I wasn’t doing anything of the sort.

His hands gently framed my face, drawing me down closer to him. “No, no, darlin’, you do,” he insisted, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. “And that’s okay!” he added, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “In fact, it’s rather preferable.”

He kept his eyes trained on me as one hand guided my head to turn in the direction of Jimmy and Lila. “She is gorgeous, isn’t she, love?” Robert hummed into my ear. Before I could answer, his free hand slid under my skirt, his long fingers teasing my underwear. My breath hitched in my throat, managing to feast my eyes on Lila’s legs freely.

With a bite of my lips, I found myself grinding into Robert’s hand. We both watched with intent as Jimmy’s hand lowered to find comfort under Lila’s skirt. Her girlish giggle cut through the air, making Jimmy chuckle and shift his gaze down to where his hand was.

He caught our eyes, sending us a smirk, his eyes glazed over and face somewhat flushed. Lila was none the wiser as we observed the guitarist’s petting.

That was when Peter decided it would be a good idea to document the completion of yet another successful tour. Successful if you forget the money that had been nicked the day before, but this was a nice respite from that unfortunate incident.

A rather large video camera nestled on his shoulder, Peter sidled over to us, letting out a rambunctious cheer.

“Ayy! Percy and Pagey enjoying the victorious ending to a triumphant tour!” His speech was erratic, loud, and jumbled. But then again, so was everyone’s.

Lila craned her head back to peer up at Peter and his camera, giggling yet again.

“Nothin’ better than a couple of beautiful birds after a show, eh?” He came closer, switching the focus from me and Robert, to Jimmy and Lila, and then back again. “Look at these two cunts stealing away all the totty.”

“It’s the charisma,” Robert chimed, sending a swift middle finger to the camera. 

“Is that so?” Jimmy jested from the side, earning a smack on the arm from Robert.

“Don’t be shy, doll, give us a smile!” Peter put the camera right by my face, where I confidently and playfully stuck out my tongue. “Ooh, she likes to put on a bit of a show, Perce.” 

I barely registered that Robert's fingers had found their way inside my underwear, massaging diligently at my soaked arousal, but a gentle prod of his middle finger against my clit caused me to jump a little and a small squeak to fall from my lips. Robert let out a boastful laugh, his free hand pushing some of his hair out of his face.

“Ey, I’m not the one kicking my legs about so everyone can see my pants,” I retaliated in the haze of cocaine, pointing in Lila’s direction.

“Not like you haven’t been enjoying the view, Y/N,” Lila purred, lifting a leg up enthusiastically. 

“Ayyyy!” Peter cheered, angling the camera just enough to catch Lila’s actions for the brief moment that she did it. “I’m gonna do my rounds, make sure I get everyone, and I’ll be back here in a few.”

I grinned down at Robert as Peter left, looking down at his hand between us. 

“I’m not an expert, but something tells me that you quite like the prying eyes of others, darlin’,” Robert said, keeping up with the movements of his fingers.

“Hmm, and what if I do?” I prodded, tilting my head to the side.

I didn’t get a response, only a hand in my hair and a swift pull downwards, my lips crashing against Robert’s wantonly. I basked in the feeling, my hips grinding down yet again as his tongue rolled expertly into my mouth. 

Letting out a moan against his lips, I felt a light stroke on my leg that wasn’t from Robert. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Jimmy’s extended arm, his hand resting around Lila’s ankle and his fingers resting just above my socks. Smirking against Robert’s lips, I held onto his shoulders, deepening our kiss.

“D’ya want some more, darlin’?” Robert murmured, reaching down to retrieve the clear plastic bag from his pocket, the same one he had revealed earlier that night.

My response was a whispered, “Yes, accompanied by a mischievous smile.

He gently guided me off his lap, positioning me on the floor between him and the coffee table. With my back to him, I watched as he leaned over to empty the remaining contents of the bag onto the hand mirror that laid on the table, drawing the attention of those around us.

“Lila?” Robert called, turning his attention to the almond-eyed beauty. Her gaze met his, and her eyes lit up in response to his gesture, followed by a nod of acknowledgement. It didn’t take long for Lila to settle in beside me, with Jimmy sitting upright behind her.

“There you go, my sweet little honey bee,” Robert hummed into my ear, his lips pressing a tender kiss to the side of my neck. 

Lila’s delicate fingers trailed over the powdered surface, deftly rearranging the lines into perfect, symmetrical rows. She glanced up at me with a secretive smile, her dark eyes glinting with a shared understanding. The faint scent of her perfume, a delicate blend of jasmine and musk, mingled with the heady aroma of the night.

With the two rockstars sitting protectively behind us, Lila and I leaned forward, each of us inhaling two lines with practised ease. A subtle thrill coursed through me as my back arched instinctively, responding to the tantalising touch of Robert’s hand settling on my hip, his thumb daring to explore closer to where desire truly lingered.

“We’ve certainly struck gold, haven’t we, Perce?” Jimmy’s voice drifted over, undoubtedly revelling in the captivating sight before him.

As Lila and I continued with our indulgence, the sounds of cheering and hollering filled the air around us, the realisation dawning upon us that we indeed had an audience.

And I relished every moment of it.

Still bent over, I looked over my shoulder, catching Jimmy’s lingering gaze. Our eyes met for a moment, and we sent each other a suggestive smirk before I pulled myself up to lean back against Robert.

“Did you enjoy that, darlin’?” he asked with a knowing grin as I raised my arms behind me to rest them on his shoulders. His fingers trailed up my sides, his touch igniting a fire under the thin material of my skin-tight, long-sleeved top. “You think you could do me the honour and let me have some, too?” he asked again with a playful flare.

“Mhm,” I nodded with a hazy smile. But just as I was about to move out of his way, he stopped me.

“No. Stay,” he gently commanded. Smiling smugly down at my confused face, he grabbed a spoon from the table and scooped up some of the white powder, bringing it closer to me. “Head all the way back, sweetheart.” With a deep breath, I leaned backwards, finding myself half-laying across one of Robert’s thighs. “That’s a good girl…”

I gnawed my lip as I felt the cold edge of the spoon under my neck and across my exposed skin. It was difficult to stay in this pose, especially with Lila's hand on my leg. I was beginning to feel the effects of the fervent stares of the crowd, followed by Peter Grant's roaring laughter.

My eyes fluttered shut as Robert lowered his head and inhaled the cocaine straight off of my skin. He dragged his tongue along the residual powder, accompanying his actions with heated, open-mouthed kisses which he swiftly punctuated with a kiss to my lips.

Boisterous cheering and clapping erupted as Jimmy repeated the action on Lila, the intimacy of the moment intoxicating the four of us. With Robert’s hand on my neck, he continued to kiss me in front of the whole room.

“You ready to put on a proper show for the camera, sweetheart?”

[o-uncle-newt]

I guess the only person who can really be trusted to describe the greatness of Agatha Christie is Dorothy L Sayers...?

A while back, the always-sharp @thesarahshay sent me an ask that caught me up on something that I'd carelessly written in some tags- I said that Agatha Christie was good at writing romance into her detective fiction, without really elaborating. I then spent multiple paragraphs attempting to elaborate, I'm not sure with how much success. Essentially, and you can click above to see for yourself, my thesis was that while Sayers was a much better literary stylist (and certainly better at writing romance) than Christie, when writing a detective novel, her seams show; Christie had a natural talent for knowing exactly what belongs in a detective story and creating and fitting all the right pieces together that create a seamless detective story, including motivations drawn by romance (though I think the actual romances are among the weaker elements- still MUCH better than those written by most of her peers, for the record).

I'd had trouble putting into words what I wanted to say (there was a convoluted metaphor about Barbies and Lego in there), and I'm not sure I was too convincing; but turns out that the person who said what I wanted to say the best was, in fact the great DLS herself.

There's a fabulous book that I 100% recommend called Taking Detective Stories Seriously, which is a compilation of about two years' worth of detective story reviews that Sayers wrote. I hadn't heard of most of the authors, and even when I had heard of the authors I'd rarely read the books, but it didn't matter, frankly. She's just such a great writer, so thoughtful and incisive and passionate about both the genre and good craftsmanship (not to mention good English), that everything she has to say including on novels that haven't been in print since the 30s is worth reading. She has generally great taste, though she has a much higher opinion of Margery Allingham than I do and doesn't like Ellery Queen's The Siamese Twin Mystery as much as I'd thought she might (though the fact that a character in it insulted Unnatural Death may not have helped lol); but she also likes, to pick two very different writers who I too enjoy, HC Bailey and Mignon G Eberhart, and so she clearly has a good eye. (It's also entertaining to see her slowly force herself to admit that she likes Perry Mason...)

BUT ANYWAY.

She has three reviews of Agatha Christie books in the volume: Murder on the Orient Express, Why Didn't They Ask Evans, and Three Act Tragedy. She reviews all of them very positively, but it's her review of Three Act Tragedy (in my opinion, funnily enough, the weakest of the three) that she really gets to the core of Christie's genius. And it's actually fitting that it's for a book of hers that's on the more meh end of the scale- because it just shows how even meh Christie has an element of genius that other authors have to work hard for even in their best works.

She says:

Some time ago this column contained the statement that Hercule Poirot was "one of the few real detectives." It was a well-sounding phrase, and I have no quarrel with it, except that I am not quite clear what it meant. What I meant to write and what I thought I had written and what I now propose to write clearly with no mistake about it was and is this: Hercule Poirot is one of the few detectives with real charm. Plenty of authors assure us that their detectives are charming, but that is quite another thing. I don't know that Mrs Christie has ever said a word about the matter. She merely puts Poirot there, with all his little oddities and weaknesses, and there he is- a really charming person. And it is true, too, that he is "real," in the sense that we never stop to enquire whether his words and actions are suited to his character; they are his character, and we accept them as we accept the words and actions of any living person because they are a part of himself. Le style c'est l'homme. Indeed, when Mrs Christie is writing at the top of her form, as she is in Three Act Tragedy, all her characters have this reality. She does not postulate a character- retired actor, West End mannequin, family retainer- and put into its mouth sentiments appropriate to its station in life. She shows us character and behavior all of a piece. However surprising or enigmatic the behavior, we believe that everything took place just as she says it did, because we believe in the reality of the people. Poirot is charming, not because anybody says so, but because is is, and all her other people exist for us in the same objective manner. This is the great gift that distinguishes the novelist from the manufacturer of plots. Mrs Christie has given us an excellent plot, a clever mystery, and an exciting story, but her chief strength lies in this power to compel belief in these characters. [emphasis mine]

Sayers then proceeds to compare another author (or rather authors, the husband and wife pair GDH and M Cole) to Christie in this regard, moving on to another review. But in these three paragraphs she has, I think, said it better than anyone- that Christie's skill is in her naturalness, and how that naturalness compels us to believe in and immerse ourselves in her world. She is effortless and seamless.

To be clear, Sayers praises a lot of people in this book, and a lot of people's writing; but mostly she is praising their skill and ability to create what they have created. Here, she isn't quite praising that- she's praising the fact that the final product is so good that you can't even see the craftsmanship behind it, and that's, I think, what separates Christie from her peers. It's a power, and not one that can be broken down by a critic. She just has it.

I've said before that I don't think Sayers had this as a mystery writer, and I think she'd probably be the first to agree with that assessment; she certainly had a seemingly effortless skill as a prose writer (as these reviews show), but as a novelist she took construction seriously and wanted us to know this. That said, another person who I don't think has this, who I mention because he's someone who a lot of people compare Christie to (often negatively), is John Dickson Carr.

I've seen plenty of people say that Carr is a more sophisticated version of Christie, not just in mystery construction but in writing style, and equally prolific, creative, and versatile. I don't agree with this on most counts, but I think, honestly, that Carr is fine- but you can see the seams easily. He might have been prolific but his formulae are visible and his writing required intentionality on his part. By which I mean- Carr when he's trying to be funny is generally hilarious. Carr when he's trying to be scary is generally spine-tingling. But Carr when he's just trying to get to the next good bit is dull and mechanical. He needs to be paying attention and making an effort in order to be good, and we notice him doing this. Christie never has this problem; even when the actual stuff she's writing isn't high quality, she's never dull. Everything feels purposeful and organic, somehow.

Obviously, all of this is fundamentally subjective, and if there's one redeeming element it's that an incredibly smart lady agrees with me (by my interpretation, at least) and says it extremely well. But I'll be holding on to this one, if nothing else.

[astarioffsimpmain]

Writer Interview Game

Thanks for the tag, @brabblesblog!!

When did you start writing?

I started writing in fifth grade when one of my favorite teachers I've ever had set a short story assignment, but I didn't truly fall in love with it until sixth grade, when - for a poetry memorization assignment - I discovered a book full of Edgar Allan Poe poems and short stories. I memorized the whole of The Raven for the assignment and pretty much became obsessed with his works. Poe's writing was the spark to my writing flame, and he is my favorite author to this day.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I loooove reading adventure fantasy. I'd love to write adventure fantasy too, but I'm not confident enough in my world building just yet. Eragon, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Inkheart, The Hunger Games, Gothikana, Cirque Du Freak, etc. I love it!

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

As previously stated, I would love to emulate Poe. He's my inspiration and pretty much the reason I started writing for more than school assignments. I haven't ever been compared to another writer before, except in the spirit of spite, so I've got nothing there. haha

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

Anywhere I feel I can tuck away. I have a spot on my couch with a blanket, my laptop, and a spot for my coffee. I have my multiple soft blankets on my bed and a pillow to prop my Kindle on for ambience and music, and my side table - for my coffee, of course. But I've also written curled up in my seat on a bus driving through the Scottish Highlands, as well as in a corner seat in a hotel lobby in York, England, and in a little bookstore nook in London. I write where I feel inspired, however or whenever that may be.

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Mustering it up myself is not often an option for me. My ADHD brain seeks dopamine where it can, but anyone with a dopamine deficiency will tell you that it's not an easy feat. lol But I always feel my most inspired before and during thunderstorms, or when I go to a location that excites me. I love abandoned places, cozy coffee shops, old libraries or bookstores, and castles/cathedrals. They give me a rush of energy which helps propel me to write. Hopefully once I get my physical health sorted, I'll be able to travel more, and therefore write more as well!

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I want my readers to know just by reading my writing that I come from my heart. Everything I write is a part of and an extension of me, and I put care and consideration into every word that ends up on the page once I publish. I want them to be able to feel that my work is a labor of love in every word.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I think scene setting and narration is probably my strength. I'm someone who is very detail-oriented in everything I do, and I tend to do more narration than anything else. Over the years I've been forcing myself to write more dialogue-based pieces just so I could practice getting better at it. So uh... hopefully I eventually do. lol

How do you feel about your own writing?

I'm of two minds about it most of the time. When I don't settle into my "writing trance", which is where words are essentially flowing out of me without anything to hinder them, I'm not too fond of it. When I am forced to kind of slug through the words until I have a flow, I usually don't like what comes out or how it sounds, and it takes me much longer. The writing trance happens very rarely, but when it does happen, it's amazing. I usually really enjoy what comes out of those moments.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

It's definitely a mix of both, because often times I garner inspiration from what others get excited by. I know that when others get excited about what I'm doing, I'm far more likely to be excited about it too, and my excitement is essential to me even hoping to finish something. But on the flip side, I will also write things that I feel like will only mean something to me, but they end up meaning a lot to others as well. I feel as though that's somewhat of the human experience: sharing the things we accomplish through the insistence of our hearts. When we share and are received positively, we are inspired to continue sharing.

~

Tagging, Darlings: @senualothbrok @thechaoticdruid @dark-and-kawaii

[mysticstarlightduck]

"How Cuddleable Are Your OCs" Tag

Jumping on the open tag by @willtheweaver (here)!

Rules: Answer the above question using a scale from 1-10 and with context

I'll go with the cast of Song of Thorns and The Forgotten Ones (the WIP, which I finally named, that I talked about in this post)!

SONG OF THORNS

Roselyn - It depends on her mood! If she is happy and generally in a good mood she gives the best hugs! But if she's upset or tired she prefers to be alone. 7/10

Renn - If you are someone he loves and trusts, 8/10 best cuddle buddy in the world, but is physically cold like ice (vampyrs, and thus half-vampyrs/dhampyrs are cold-blooded, literally, they are poikilotherms). BUT if he doesn't know you then 1/10 will stab.

Kane - Surprisingly, Kane loves cuddles. But he is far too introverted and often too harsh to let anyone close enough. If he somehow miraculously trusts you enough, the cuddles will be the best! He also wears soft clothes, and fur cloaks and smells really good (like a mix of flowers and firewood) 9/10

Orianna - Too restless and energetic to stay in one place for too long lmao, wouldn't have the patience to stay cuddling for more than 5 minutes. 3/10

Jasen - Is the kind of ambivert who needs to be around people he loves to recharge. Loves cuddles, especially close to the fireplace and with two cups of herbal tea and chocolate. 10/10

Alaric - Eh. Doesn't really mind, but doesn't really want cuddles either. Is more of a "just staying together in the same room chilling is enough" kind of person. 5/10

Tarrant - NOPE. NOPETY NOPE. Tarrant doesn't like prolonged physical contact and has a lot of reasons why he doesn't really like to cuddle for too long. Likes hugs, but that's as far as he'll go when it comes to physical contact. 1/10

Aiden - Likes hugs and cuddles, but is super chill about it and understands that Tarrant has reasons not to like that kind of affection. Will only hug you if they really, really trust you. 6/10

Cyriel - Looks like she could kill you, secretly wants all the cuddles in the world. Unless she's in a bad mood, cause then she just might get a little stabby. 7/10

Dimya - Loves cuddles but falls asleep halfway through and moves a lot while sleeping (a.k.a whoever is cuddling him has a 50% chance of accidentally getting hit by a rogue elbow every 5 minutes throughout the whole night) 5/10

THE FORGOTTEN ONES

Arzhel - Too mistrustful and too paranoid to let anyone he doesn't know extremely well too close, and is generally not that big of a fan of physical affection as a whole, though he may cuddle with his brother or a very close friend if they seem to be in need of a hug. 5/10

Elodie - Loves cuddles and hugs but loves it a bit too much and is a bit too lonely. May not let go until it is almost concerning but means no harm. Constantly cuddles her adoptive siblings 7/10

Aisling - Claims she's too busy raising a revolution against an Inquisition to have time for hugs. Secretly too cuddle deprived and needs one badly at this point. 6/10

Daragh - After what he went through under Magister Emmerick? Do You Have A Death Wish? If not, don't try to hug him. It would be best to keep to polite conversations and handshakes only when necessary, for both of your sakes 0/10

Finnian - Loves cuddles, has plenty of fluffy blankets, and smells faintly like vanilla cologne because hygiene is very important to him. Overall best cuddle buddy 10/10

Vivaldah - Hasn't had a cuddle in way too long and probably would feel awkward to ask for one. Too worried about etiquette and revenge to consider the need for a cuddle. 4/10

SUPERNOVA INITIATIVE

Jack - Gives the best hugs! He loves to cuddle while watching a movie, with blankets and hot chocolate (he always has bottles of hot chocolate ready because it's his favorite beverage lol) 12/10

Cassiopeia - Mostly cuddles with Jack, because he's her older brother and she feels safe with him, but as she learns to trust their friends a bit more she sometimes, on rare occasions, can be found cuddling with Artemis or Vesper (though the latter would never admit it) 8/10 - Likes to receive cuddles better than to give them.

Deimos - In the past? 9/10 best cuddle buddy in the whole galaxy. Right now? After all the hell he has gone through and all the wrongs he's done and the pain he's caused? 5/10 probably feels too guilty to let anyone near him and thinks he deserves to be left alone after all he's done.

Vesper - 3/10 More machine than human - because she is a cyborg, she has updated most of her "human self" into robot parts. This means she is mostly made of metal and servos, sentient, tactile metal but still metal (though she does have some artificial robot skin over it, the metal can still be felt). So kinda tough to cuddle with. Either way, she is probably way too murderous to let most people get even close to her. Cassie is an exception because Vesper finds her endearing (she reminds Vesper of someone from her past she wants to protect).

Aleks - 8/10 Likes cuddles, loves hugs, but is probably too anxious and jittery to be in one place for too long, and will worry the entire time if the other person is "comfortable enough."

Pax - 10/10 Will try to cuddle you if you let him. If you don't he will respect it but be a bit sad. Mostly he just wants a friend to spend quality time with. And to get lots of cuddles.

Ethean - 6/10 Eh. It depends. As a fighter pilot he doesn't really have the free time for most things and usually prefers to spend what time he has doing things he considers "productive". Probably feels he is wasting precious time any time he stops to relax and the Impostor Syndrome anxiety kicks in. Can be persuaded to receive cuddles by the right people though.

Artemis - 7/10 - Wants to pretend he is tough and that he can handle anything alone and thus that he "doesn't like to hug" to uphold the Edgy Reputation. In reality, melts at the first sign of kind physical affection and will spend hours cuddling, if its the right person (Cassie, who is his girlfriend).

Noctus - "What are 'cuddles'? What is the meaning of this? I am confused, unhand me this instant human -! Oh, wait, I kinda like this. This is nice... Stay, I like this." Is how I imagine the interaction would be like 8/10

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart

@leave-her-a-tome, @writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams and OPEN TAG

[skylarmoon71]

Harry Wells Earth 2 (Flash) - Extra 1

Note: Apologies if I posted this already, I couldn't remember lol. Enjoy!

Learning that you have meta abilities, especially ones that are similar to Central City's greatest hero is a lot to swallow.

Barry was very grateful to you for restoring his speed back to its neutral state. You had to admit it felt nice to help the Flash.

Although you couldn't exactly tell anyone about your little superhero team up, knowing that you made such a difference was enough.

"I know it might be too much to just expect you to become a part of the team and start fighting bad guys, but if you want, I can show you how to control your speed. It really helps when you're running late."

Barry's invitation was sweet. You liked that he respected your decision to remain somewhat normal. Being a hero might have been his calling but it wasn't yours and you were fine with that.

So you started your little practices. Barry and his team allotted time between their hero adventures to help you master all the perks that came with being a speedster.

Harry carried out a lot of the calculations and kept recordings of your progress. When you weren't at your day job, you were in Star Labs running in the speed lab or completing other tasks to improve your abilities. The first time you'd launched a bolt of lightning you were a little hesitant, but Harry wasn't worried. The sizzling dummy before you had you gaping. Harry just jotted down a note with a small grin.

"You're improving fast. I guess it's expected. It's a lot easier when we already know the fundamentals of speedster capabilities."

You were still a bit awe struck. The entire situation was a bit hard to believe.

Harry noticed your still form, lowering his tablet.

"Is everything okay?"

You nod.

"Yeah I'm fine, it's just crazy. You guys deal with this everyday. I live in this town so I've seen a lot of the weird and unexplained, but to actually become a part of it is kind of strange."

You've come to appreciate all that Team Flash does. Everyday they lay their lives on the line for strangers. Using their gifts to stop the truly bad people.

"You all are so amazing. I know you must get this a lot, but thank you for all you do for the city. I'm sure everyone in this town feels the same way. Thank you for showing me how to make a difference, even when I didn't think I could."

Even when you doubted yourself, Harry believed.

"It was nothing. All I saw was your potential. " He adjusted his glasses, directing his gaze back to his tablet.

"I need to get these readings to Cisco so we can keep track of your speed pattern." You smile, moving to his side. He raises a brow.

"Mind if I tag along, I never really stick around for all the science stuff. I'd like to see how it all works."

Harry didn't object, so you grab your water bottle as you both head to the cortex. When you walk in Cisco is seated at the desk, munching on twizzlers. Not that you're surprised.

He catches sight of the both of you, straightening.

"Hey speedy, how was training?"

"Good I think."

Harry hands Cisco the tablet and Cisco basically shoots out of his seat.

"Are you kidding me! You managed to do the bolt of destruction!"

"We're not calling it that." Harry says blankly. You just giggle.

"Just one. It was a bit difficult."

Cisco places a hand on your shoulder.

"The fact that you can even do it with just two months of training is awesome. With this kind of progress you'll be mastering Flashtime in your sleep." Cisco is already rushing to log the notes into the computer. Cisco and Harry begin to bicker over the entries. If you're being honest you barely understand what some of the notes truly mean. The stats look a bit foreign to you.

Your eyes glance over in Harry's direction.

You've been trying to think of a way to thank him for all the assistance. You've known him for roughly two and a half months and you can tell his personality is a bit standoffish. He's blunt, short tempered and smiles are very rare. Yet, here he is on another earth protecting your city.

Maybe your need to please him isn't strictly due to your need to repay his kindness.

He is very good to look at.

"Next week we'll work on your phasing."

Harry's words pull you back and you nod in hopes that it appears as though you've been listening.

"I guess I'll see you all tomorrow then."

You squeeze your bottle, waving at them.

"Bye!"

You're gone in under five seconds and they both blink at the whiplash of wind.

The concept of phasing sounded so easy. It was actually something you were looking forward to. That's until you really understood what it fully meant.

Alas, you should have known better.

"H-Harry!"

He grabs your hand, and you're full on panicking because the lower half of your body is still phasing into the ground.

"I-I'm scared! H-How do I get it to stop!"

"Just breathe, you need to relax. I won't let you get hurt, just look at me."

You're still breathing heavily, and you direct your shaky gaze at him.

"Picture your body moving through the floor. I'm going to tug, and you'll need to do the rest."

"I-I don't think I can..."

He squeezes your hand.

"You can, I believe in you. Just trust yourself. You can do this."

You swallow and train all your focus on Harry. Taking a deep breath, you try to follow his instruction. Harry gives a tug, and your body begins to move from beneath the floor. You're slowly rising and he smiles. You stumble out and when your body is freed from the floor, you crash into his chest. He steadies you, looking you over. Your body is no longer phasing.

"You did it."

You nod, still gripping onto him. You're a bit scared that if you let go you'll sink into the floor again. It's a bit discouraging how hard this is to grasp. You have no doubt that Barry didn't struggle this much with his abilities. He seems so confident.

Fearless.

"I'm sorry that I'm so bad at this." You mutter.

"I don't expect you to master every skill all at once. You're learning. It's alright if you don't get it on the first try."

Given Harry's personality, you appreciate how patient he's been with you.

"Thanks for always putting up with me."

You finally get yourself to really let him go. Harry looks down and you can't find it in yourself to move back.

"You don't have to keep thanking me."

You really wish he hadn't said that statement so seductively, or maybe it's just your brain amplifying everything.

"I need to stop watching those hallmark movies."

It's definitely warping your reality. But then, where's the harm in asking.

"Then how exactly should I repay you.."

What possessed you to say that.

Harry himself looks surprised at the statement. You both are still very close. His hands are resting protectively on your shoulders. Given the previous situation, it makes sense. The gesture was for comfort, but now it's electing a completely different reaction.

"What if I asked for something outrageous, would you still be willing?"

You swallow, because you can't hallucinate this. It sounds like he's flirting with you.

You can't help but let your eyes stray to his lips, and he catches the action.

"Maybe I-"

"Hey (Y/N) I heard you were practicing your phasin-" Barry stumbles when he sees the lack of distance. You move back from Harry and Barry starts stammering.

"S-Sorry I didn't mean to interrupt."

Barry makes a quick escape and suddenly the air is a bit tense.

You push down the nerves that rise to the surface, turning to Harry in what you hope is confidence.

"Harry, would you like to go out sometime?"

You can tell he hadn't expected the bold move. But he doesn't seem opposed.

"Is this just payment for my help?"

You can tell that the inquiry means a lot to him.

"It isn't."

There's a bit of a twinkle in his eyes at the response and you wear a bashful smile.

"I'd love to." 

[allwaswell16]

Hi lovely and thank for your sharing and caring in this fandom!

A bit finicky question, I'm here with. Don't know if I managed to mention different perspectives enough and contextualize it the way I wanted to, but anyway, do feel free to ignore or maybe just leave some tags:

What are your thoughts, your two pennies and just today (tomorrow is another day and maybe a new perspective), about the conversation going on about the commenting culture (nowadays in AO3):

the lack and/or decline of it

the urgent need for community, engagement, participation and positive feedback loop for authors

but also the growing and changing audience for fanfic

the growing idea that a fic is not a gift (it most certainly is) but some "factory produced and guaranteed content that keeps on coming and you are entitled to it"

the lack of reading comprehension skills

and the lack of skills to figure out the appropriate time and place for giving critique

but also the small but growing portion of authors who demand only certain kind of praise, worded in a certain kind of way and if not delivered accordingly attack brutally on everything and everyone

the cultural differencies as a player in participating, giving positive feedback and even using foreign language words

and of course the ever growing and spreading comment anxiety on "both sides"

and so on...

So how do you see it? What's your perspective? You are both an author and a reader. But then again, you are a reader who writes, so you actually know, what a writer likes to see in their comment field...

Hi, anon! Whew, well this is a lot, but I'm going to answer as much as I can haha. As you said, this is just my own perspective on things. I'd say I also have a little added perspective of being a writer who reads and writes in more than one popular fanfic fandom. So I can't help but compare my experiences in both.

I don't think the One Direction fandom has ever been overly generous with the kudos and comments to be perfectly honest. I think if you talk to writers who are active in other fic fandoms of similar sizes/popularity, they'd likely agree with that.

I want to be clear to start with here that I feel like readers have been very kind to me over the years. I've been here a long time now though, so I get the benefit of the doubt with some long time readers and those who subscribe to my ao3. But I also think that in part I have encouraged comments in a way that not every writer can or wants to do.

I answer every single comment. I answer them in a way that mirrors back the comment that was made. If you leave a long comment, I answer back in detail. If you send me something shorter, (which is fine and I love any and all comments!) I will answer back in a similar way. I also answer back pretty quickly. There are times I get behind, but I rarely get behind more than a month or so. And the day my fic posts, I try to answer every comment that gets posted on that first day.

Am I saying everyone needs to do what I do? Absolutely not! It takes a lot of time and energy to do that! But I do think there's a correlation to be made there. Readers see all the comments, see they're being answered quickly, and feel comfortable or like it's okay to leave one, too. OH, and also I want to say that me answering back (maybe obsessively) quickly is something that probably isn't possible for people who have a fic explode in popularity. I might have some popular fics but none of them were like overnight explosions in popularity. They've all been slow burners lol.

As for concrit with fic...I think it depends on the fandom. It is not something that is looked upon kindly in ours. There are definitely writers out there who ask for it which is fine, but the etiquette in our fandom is not to offer it unless asked for it. In my opinion, this makes a lot of sense for our fandom. Since writers are not getting the numbers of kudos and comments that are given more freely in other fandoms, it's a bit of a hard pill to swallow that we'd then expect them to also take unsolicited writing critiques.

Just using my own fics as an example, by the time I publish a fic multiple other writers have already read it. It's been proofread and betad by a writer with an MFA in creative writing. I'm not going to be taking concrit seriously from someone whose background in writing I don't know. When I publish the fic, it's done, I'm happy with the result, and I'm not going back to it to make changes. So there's not much point in telling me what I should have done differently with it.

Your point about some writers being perhaps overly sensitive about some comments...I wanted to say a few things about. There are a few common comments that immediately came to mind that writers have differing views on, and I think it's worthwhile for readers to think about.

One is something like I wish this was longer or please write more of this. If you comment this on any of my fics, I'll smile and consider it a compliment that you enjoyed it enough to want more. If you go through my comments, you'll see this is indeed what I've replied back to comments like that. There are other writers that are going to be exasperated by that comment or even offended by it. And even though I'm not one of them, I would say try to see it from their perspective.

What if that writer has spent months on that fic the reader considers "short"? I think readers sometimes forget just how much TIME goes into these fics. Just because a fic is 10k, 5k, whatever doesn't mean it didn't take a long time to write. And someone who spent months of time on something who likely didn't receive a whole lot of comments in the first place, and then one of the few comments they get could be interpreted as this wasn't enough. That's disheartening, you know? I think if you have the urge to leave that comment, maybe think first about the writer you're leaving that comment for. Or even think of a different way to say it like, "I could have lived in this fic forever" which is what I like to think is what most readers are trying to convey with comments like that.

Another one is who tops? Just don't, I'd say for that comment. I simply don't answer ones like that. But I'd say check the tags. If it's not tagged, either choose to move on if you have to know to read it or ctrl+F the fic yourself for the word "cock" or whatever. If the writer doesn't tag it, it means they didn't care about that. Or they got annoyed with their fics being reduced to that too often. PWP eh fine, but my 80k amnesia au I had a nervous breakdown writing that has one sex scene...eff off that's not what the fic is about. I once wrote a fic about grief. GRIEF! (well, and Antarctic scientists) that people argued over whether it was bottom Louis. And I resolved to never tag it again after that.

As for the fic as a gift vs not a gift I agree with you...I don't know what else you'd call something that is given for free. That's the definition of "gift." If someone reads the fic, a kudos is like a verbal thank you and a comment would be like a thank you card.

The comment anxiety thing I don't have an issue with myself, but I know writers who do and can't bring themselves to answer their comments. One of my friends feels so badly for not answering but when she tries she says her replies don't feel like enough. It's too bad that she can't answer due to actually loving her comments TOO much! Anxiety is a bitch for sure. For anyone who wants to leave a comment but is worried about it, I promise that super short ones or even keysmashes or emojis are very welcome! I have a mutual on tumblr who leaves the same comment on every one of my fics that simply says she loved the fic and I promise it makes me happy every single time because now I know she read it and enjoyed it whereas I might have missed whether or not she left a kudos. And when I see her on my dash, I think that's the one who loves my fics! :)

I swear I'm gonna stop rambling, but I want to end with one more thing. I think it would be interesting for readers and writers to experience a different fandom sometime if they're only in this one. It's not always a better/worse thing, but it might make people more open to trying new things like commenting/replying more or in different ways.

[lexinympho]

Void

Kunigami Rensuke x gn!reader

Summary: Kunigami learns the hard way that a relationship with you could only last so long when neither of you have the time to maintain it.

WC: 5.1k

Tags/Warnings: Angst to hopeful ending, breakups, self-destructive behavior, Chigiri being a real one, Bachira being a sleepy one.

A/N: What started off as a drabble turned into a full on fic, so here ya go. Expect inaccuracies because I am not an expert on anything and I added more things as I wrote. This was going to be straight up heavy angst at first btw, but I changed my mind, so imagine how that would've went lol.

Kunigami always heard people say the breakup is the worst part.

They don't too often say the recovery from the breakup is worse by comparison, easily combining the two when, in reality, they're totally different experiences.

At least they are to him.

Before the breakup, life with you was all he could ask for and more; learning to love all that is you was an experience he wouldn't trade for anything in the universe. He memorized aspects of you that many would see as flaws, your morning routine mingled with his to make for both lively and quaint memories worth looking back on, and cherished the little instances of adoration that outweigh the occasional disagreement. He'd avert his gaze and lower his head whenever his friends would light heartedly jest about his devotion to you, something so evident in the way he'd cut a conversation short when his phone twitches in his pocket.

Meanwhile, you were the opposite. Where he'd look away from embarrassment, you'd look it in the eye and greet it with a bashful yet thankful smile, glad to feel this way over someone you hold near and dear to your heart. You'd be much more open with your affection than Kunigami, something one could think would put him off when showing affection wasn't an easy feat for him in public, but it wasn't a problem to him. There wasn't any serious problem with you or him for the three years you've been together.

Until your lives outside of "us" came knocking at the door.

You were happily doing better at work and spent more time there in the process, while Kunigami spent substantially more time with soccer. Maybe the stresses of certain teams being too good at picking out weaknesses got to him, or maybe it was a certain maneuver that made the physician force him to chill out a little with the rough play. He already didn't see you enough due to the time constraints and demand of matches, and with you becoming busier, the most he could do was immerse himself in the regular season.

Perhaps a little too well though. He'd rarely come home to you before you were asleep, and similarly, would be up and out before you knew he was home. Calls became shorter for time to focus, texts became scarcer, and effort was being put towards many different things aside from you.

You both felt bad for neglecting and feeling neglected by each other, but you especially felt forgotten by your boyfriend, and rightfully so. Kunigami, who's been nothing but a big sweetheart to you in all the time you've known him for, had begun choosing soccer over you. But in his mind, this will blow over after some time; he's just going through another rough patch with you because you're both tied up with your own things. Deep down, he knows there's something amiss, that there's a chance it won't simply blow over and will lead to a huge confrontation. How can he end that foreseen confrontation the same way he ends the occasional disagreements?

A true case of knowing when something might be wrong, but not quite knowing how to approach that something.

You apparently figured out your own solution when you greeted him at the front door one night in a stern manner, "Rensuke."

It's been a while since he came home to see you awake, and he's not sure if that's a good or bad thing right now. You aren't dressed for bed either, even though it's nearly midnight, so that should've been a red flag right there, but his mind only saw yellow. "Hey, I'm surprised you're awake," he greets you with a smile, cautious, weary, and genuine.

"Couldn't sleep," you say a bit distractedly, mentally preparing yourself as you follow Kunigami to the bedroom.

"Oh yeah? What time did you get off?" He casually makes conversation and drops his bag off.

"About an hour ago. Look," you inhale, which gets his attention, "we need to talk."

He finally looks at you, sees more than your attire, looks beyond the gleam of the promise ring he gave you so long ago, and sees the hesitation in your stance, in the way your arms are crossed and your shoulders are slightly drawn in. Your frown contains various emotions just waiting to be deciphered, and "we need to talk" became the red flag he recognized.

That was the sound of someone planning to breakup with him.

The denial kicked in right away though, and he asked nervously, "What's wrong?" An idiotic question, because what on Earth could've been right recently?

"It's about my job."

What happened with your job? Were you fired? Did someone say something to you?

"I got a better position."

His brain processes that information and he smiles, "That's good!" Why don't you look happy about it though?

"I'll have to move for it though."

The smile slips to the floor with a harsh thud, "...What?"

You cruelly repeated yourself to say your job wanted you to move for a bit to the other side of the world, and that you were considering taking them up on that offer.

Considering.

"So...you haven't made your mind yet?" He asks with optimism, unintentionally making it clear what he'd prefer you to do.

"Kind of, I don't know." You tug at the hem of your shirt when you began feeling the guilt creep in, "I was thinking of taking the offer at first."

"Before you talked to me about it?" His jacket feels too hot in the relatively comfortable room.

"I just said I was thinking about it," you remind him with an unintended tone of voice. You knew the conversation wouldn't be peaceful, but you hoped he would've at least understood where you're coming from.

"That's no different from accepting it." He knows he was wrong to say that, but continues with anger as his fuel, "And why do you have to move for this? To America at that!"

"Rensuke, it's for my job!" You make it seem like I'm leaving you, was an unpleasant statement your mind conjured up, and you felt even guiltier for not being as opposed to it as you should be. You're tired from work, but his anguish is clear to see with nothing but two bedside lamps to light the room.

Neither you nor him are tired enough to avoid arguing though, and the back and forth yelling was bad to put it lightly. He says you sprung this onto him out of nowhere, you say he should check his phone. He says you aren't considering how he feels, you say he isn't considering how you feel. He says he only saw you at 4 of his games, you say you can't drop everything for him and that was never a problem before. He says you're being unfair to him, you say you're being fair to the both of you. A dictionary of words were thrown back and forth and your neighbors definitely heard a handful of them.

Breathless and exhausted, you lower your voice and say, "I'm going to my sister's place for now until I'm ready to go."

Desperation finally comes in to play, a weird thing since your sister lives close by, but the implications are what scare Kunigami. "You don't have to-"

"I do. I need to go," your voice becomes wobblier by the second, "because my head hurts and I can't deal with whatever's going on right now. I need a break."

A break. You need a break.

"What kind of break?" He asks, desperately in need of clarification as he watches you throw assorted necessities into a bag.

You pause like you intend to say something, but remain silent, a decision that doesn't give him the satisfaction he craves. All he hears is, 'Maybe we need to break up.'

The bargaining begins.

He breathes as though he ran around the house 5 times, "Don't you think you're overreacting?"

"No." You weakly put the last shirt you picked out into your bag, "I have things I want to do."

"I know that, but-"

"Then let me do those things without wondering when you'll pay attention to me." You refuse to look at him again, or you'll really reconsider what you're doing. Just imagining what he looks like right now is almost enough to do it. You abruptly stand with your bag and keys in hand to say one little, "Bye," and walk out of what you used to call home.

He didn't fight to stop you, couldn't really, even when it feels like a plethora of things were left unsaid. He never heard the utterance of words he feared hearing from you, but everything else was eerily similar and nearly brought him to his knees. The slam of two doors, a front door and a car door, made him flinch where he was left standing in silent shock. His eyes didn't start burning until he by chance looked to his left to see remnants of you strewn across the surface of the dresser, then focuses on the bottom of the mirror lined with stickers that each hold a memory, many of which he thought he'd share with you for a lifetime.

Processing all of that on his own, forcing himself to accept that you were serious when you poured your heart and mind out to him, is what actually made his knees give out on him. The pain from the impact didn't register to his nervous system, too occupied with the numbing sensation that dreadfully spread across his body like a rash, so strong that he didn't know he was trembling until he glanced at his own hands fighting a losing battle for control. His eyes stopped burning, but were no better blurred and flooded with a river of tears, accompanied by pathetically loud wails he never thought he'd be capable of pulling off.

All at once, the bedroom felt like too much; it's not just the mirror and the dresser anymore, it's the closet of jackets and trinkets, the minor scuffs and scratches where the bed grazed the walls, the framed photos, God the photos. He can't look at those anymore. Would you want them? Probably not.

All of your things are here, are you going to take everything with you?

Would you leave him with anything?

You already took his heart with you.

"Damn it..." he whispered, frustrated and lost as to what to do, slumped on the floor and repeatedly wiping endless tears from his cheeks. There was a fleeting thought of calling someone when he began spiraling down a rabbit hole of questions about what's bound to happen, but he never went through with it.

Whoever he called wouldn't be you, a thought only twisted his guts more.

And so began the recovery process.

-----

You once joked that you'd never be able to compete with soccer if he fell too hard for it. It doesn't sound so funny now when recalling one of the last things you said to him, 'You're so selfish!'

Typical of a forward.

They knew what they were signing up for, the indignation spat out.

You should've given them more, the despair whispered.

A sickening jumble of the two sat in his chest ever since then, the brunt of which he could never wholly direct to you. How could he, when he's the one who drove you away in the first place? His heart's been diced by a knife, one that he alone wielded when you attempted to take it from him with caring hands.

Without a real punching bag to attack though, the jumble pounced onto anything in its path.

He swore he wouldn't fall back into the bad habits of his teen years, but it was all too easy to break that promise when there was no one left to keep it with aside from himself. The riptide of convoluted emotions lashing around followed him into his plays, unfairly choosing everything and everyone around him as its target. His usually controlled aggression was no where to be seen, replaced with a truculent version of itself that gave little care to its teammates outside of using them for scoring instead of cooperating. Whatever neutral or friendly chemistry he had with his team was pushed to the gutter without a care; an unappealingly churlish front is what greeted everyone no matter how nice they tried to play.

Even though he's the one acting out, it hurts him, because he's not normally like this and you'd hate to see him this way. It's as though he's watching someone who isn't him live out his days for him in a manner he usually wouldn't, even on days in the past when everything seemed to go wrong.

The parts of his unwarranted behavior that hurt the most right now, however, are Isagi, Bachira and Chigiri, because they know. The team knew of you, but the guys knew you. They all met you, exchanged numbers after getting friendly, and practically had a front row seat to the growth of the relationship. Only now, they witnessed the decay of it on both sides from start to finish. They were there for every call, shortened and missed, for every text left on read or answered with little thought, and the handful of times Kunigami drunkenly (and stupidly) lamented about you being too busy for him. They even all made sure to tell him the one thing he hated to hear: It's not your fault they left.

Saying that it would've eventually happened given how adept you were with your job is an excuse. Why wouldn't it be his fault? He went so far to blame you for things you weren't at fault for, and took his frustrations out on you after pretty much ignoring you for weeks in a borderline passive aggressive fashion.

Isagi and Bachira learned early on to leave him to his own devices after receiving cold shoulders, but Chigiri-

"Kunigami."

The orange haired man depressingly looked up from his cleats and met Chigiri's sentimental gaze. He couldn't tell if it placated him or pissed him off because that's all he's been seeing for the past two weeks.

"What?" He gave a curt response and yanked his towel from around his neck.

Chigiri didn't seem phased by it, not surprising since he's always been the quickest to see through him in moments like these. He kept a pensive expression on and leaned against the lockers behind him, "Have you heard from them since...y'know?"

The weight of the world suddenly jumped onto his back and he could feel his energy leaving him all at once (he supposes he should be thankful he typically has enough energy for soccer to not fall behind despite how he's feeling). Starting a conversation about you is no different from throwing salt into a wound that's taking a millennia to heal. Yes it's been four weeks, no he doesn't feel any better, you're still a sensitive topic, and your absence gives him frostbite in a metaphorical sense (sometimes it seems literal). He feels like the world's biggest coward everytime you're mentioned because he subconsciously clams up to avoid talking about you or what happened.

He did hear from you once though, three whole days after you broke up with him. All you said, in a text of all things, is that you'd be slowly moving your stuff out when you had the time, to which he simply replied, 'okay.' A simple and piteous response conveying none of what's been going through his mind; you don't need him to cry you a river and make you feel bad for a decision you've done enough thinking over.

It's obvious you don't even want to see him in person everytime he comes back to his place and it looks like he'd been burglarized instead of visited by a loved one.

He's not sure he'd want to see you either, though for a different reason.

Kunigami remembers Chigiri standing by waiting for an answer, so he shoves his cleats into his bag and answers abruptly with less bite than he had seconds ago, "No. Why?"

"I haven't heard from them in a couple days, that's all." A moment of silence passes and he begins to speak again, "Did th-"

"You're more likely to hear from them than I am, just give them some time." Ready to stop talking, he promptly stands the moment the slider of the zipper reaches its destination and throws out a faint, "Later," on his way out of the nearly empty locker room.

"Kunigami."

He stops, glancing over his shoulder in acknowledgement.

There's a lot Chigiri wants to say, wanted to say before things got this far, because being hopeful on the sidelines did no favors for anyone. Believing things could work out is entirely different from knowing things could work out, and he knows Kunigami believed before he could know. The man is once again experiencing a moment of powerlessness, of not knowing what to do when all you know doesn't work, when your ambitions end up taking the priority that should've belonged to something else. It's evident in how he's taking his frustrations out in the only ways he knows how, in the perineal bags under his eyes resulting from the broken sleep cycles of either too much sleep or too little, and the numerous times he's lingered in the showers just to be alone.

Despite having seen him the whole time since the breakup, it's hard to think Kunigami's mildly better than he was last month.

"Take care of yourself," Chigiri chooses to say in sincerity, and this time, hopes his teammate reads the multiple underlying meanings behind those four words.

Kunigami does, and if he had it in himself he'd laugh at how blantly concerned Chigiri is being from the norm, but the invisible down coat of exhaustion he wears doesn't slip from his shoulders.

Because you would've said the same thing, you have said the same thing plenty of times. Your words had layers to them much like Chigiri's too, the dissimilarity being the 'I love you' and 'see you tonight' slipped in between the lines.

"Yeah," he speaks in a tone encompassing how depleted he feels. The depletion could also be a result of a skipped meal or two today, something his stomach suddenly reminds him of with pangs of hunger. He walks out before anyone else can catch him, using a swiftness that used to be reserved for rushing home to you and is now for rushing away from you in a sense.

"Did you get to talk?" Bachira asks curiously from around the corner once Kunigami leaves.

He was so quiet I forgot he was there. "Define 'talk'," Chigiri answers and prepares to leave as well.

Bachira easily caught up to him and pouted, "No dice, huh?"

"None whatsoever." The long haired man starts to vent a little as they walk out of the building, "Is it bad that I kind of want to hit him?"

"Yeah, a little," Bachira confirms through a yawn. "But I get it."

"Like, I know he's going through it, but I hate when he got like this back then."

"Mhm."

"And somehow it seems worse this time. I mean, I know why it's worse, but I wish his immediate reaction to something bad wasn't this." Chigiri lets out a groan of frustration once he finishes and wills himself to cool down at the sight of Bachira rubbing his eyes. "It's only 9."

"Can't help it," Bachira slurs while drowsiness works its magic on him.

A fond roll of his eyes is Chigiri's response as they reach his car and find Isagi waiting. "You're lucky I don't live that far from you guys."

A bitter memory naturally reappears in the back of his mind, one of the last time he visited Kunigami's place at your concerned request. He may not strike anyone as a person whose life has gone to shit, but the disarray of certain areas of his house are dead giveaways; the refrigerator was frighteningly scarce of its usual contents, an empty beer can or two sat in the sink (he still wonders why to this day), and clothes sat in a pile in the corner of his bedroom. It's enough to make Chigiri wonder if you're faring any better than him, but judging from your lack of communication with Kunigami since you left, he knows you aren't so perfect either.

-----

It's been a month.

And some days.

...Three months.

He walks around his house aimlessly and doesn't look too hard for what's missing from his home, doesn't want to, or he'll conduct a search for all the things you've taken and hope like an idiot that there's something left of you. The first step is not grasping for nonexistent straws after all, and he's managing as best as he can (he's long since stopped expecting to see you anytime he checks his phone).

The heat seeking missile of irritation that flew nonstop randomly ceased by this point, leaving him in a cold, empty husk of his former self. He wonders if he was better off basked in negativity because feeling nothing doesn't seem any better. The walks to his car from practice were uneventful. Shopping for basic needs was uneventful. The drives home were uneventful. Walking inside a house void of life was uneventful. Going to sleep in a king-sized bed by himself was uneventful.

Seeing his friends is a little breather from the uneventful cycle, but that's all it is, a breather.

His performance still holds up, but whatever exhilaration the sport brings him is often short-lived and eclipsed by the blank spot of someone who once shared that exhilaration in the past.

People who get over heartbreak this soon must not have been in love, he wistfully thinks to himself in bed. It's his day off, and he opted to stay home for once, a decision he's not sure was a good one. But he spent so many days swaddled by vicious self-hatred, constantly blaming himself and never knowing how to stop, that he rarely stayed put. He was always out for a game, at practice, the gym, stores, you name it, just to stay busy.

Ironic how soccer kept him the busiest while also being the thing that put a crack in the relationship.

Though he was stubborn about it towards the end of things, the fact remains that the schedules your lives revolved around conflicted greatly after some time, something that became especially evident once you moved in with him. He was left with little time for you, and vice versa; you had a life outside of his, and he had a life outside of yours.

Maybe we were bound to split up then, he thinks while admiring the sunrise for the first time in a while. There's nothing wrong with being passionate for something, you had things you wanted to do, and he supported you (still does). He never once viewed your independence as a negative, it was something he admired about you.

He sits up with a stretch and tries not to think about the copious amount of space he's free to use.

'I feel like a house sitter,' he recalls you whimpering through your desperation that night. He wanted to ask how long you'd been feeling that way, wanted to say that he'd do better for the 50th time. But he couldn't ask about something he should've had a rough idea of, and he definitely couldn't lie to you nor himself.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, he picks up his phone with the intention of checking for rain, but is dumbfounded to see a text from you 32 minutes ago.

'Can we talk?'

He stares wide eyed at his screen until it goes dark on him. Talk. Like this? Or over the phone? He should be jumping for joy that you're asking to talk, let alone contacting him again, but he's filled to the brim with uncertainty. What did you want to talk about? Why'd you want to talk to him again? Were you worried? Did one of the guys talk to you? Did you leave something?

The last question made him look around the hallway by instinct, contradictory of what he's been trying to do lately, and he finally allows himself to assess the damage.

His auburn eyes locked onto something left sitting on the narrow table, a small ceramic lamp he remembers you picking out at a furniture store. You thought it'd be the perfect size considering where you planned to put it, and you were right, he can't imagine it being anywhere else.

But why is it here?

He walks aimlessly into the living room and sees more things worth questioning. A decent chunk of your books are still left standing on the bookshelf, your succulent plants are still sitting on the windowsill (and not dead by some miracle), and he spied one of your umbrellas left behind in the entryway organizer. Your sunglasses, one of your favorite birthday cards, your Monopoly game, they're all there. It's a little mortifying that he's just now noticing all of this, but he's far too confused to dwell on it.

Maybe you just didn't get around to everything yet, except you'd never be so forgetful to leave this many things behind. The thought immediately gets debunked anyways when something randomly tells him to check the bedroom, making him nearly sprint back to find what else he blindly looked past. Most of your jackets are in their same spots in the closet, your trinkets don't even look like they've been touched, and the photos he last saw with eyes obscured by tears remained where they've always been.

Even the polaroids, your polaroids, that you periodically took within the first year of the relationship were still in the album you purchased just for them. And the album, something you hold so close to you and look at with the fondest of gazes, still sat in the bottom drawer of the dresser.

There are many things missing, that much he can see, but there should definitely be less than this left behind after a month.

The uncertainty has left and been replaced with confusion.

Kunigami then realizes he never replied to you and quickly texts back, 'Sure,' not even bothering to figure out what exactly you meant by talk. But you want to talk, and that's something.

Your response is almost instant, 'Okay, I'm coming over. See you in seven-ish minutes.'

"Seven minutes!?" He exclaimed and remembered that your sister's place isn't so far from his. So he spends the next five minutes fixing himself up to look presentable, as well as straighten up the cocoon of sorrow his (your, our??) bedroom turned into. Here he is running around like a headless chicken for someone he should be used to and perfectly capable of keeping his composure around, but that's nearly impossible under these circumstances, especially when that someone is you.

You who he was skittish around on the fifth "friendly" date because none of your other friends joined you two for the first time, which lead to him working himself up and finally asking you out. You who came over so often that he eventually asked (nearly begged) to move in with him after handing over a second house key. You who-

Ding-dong~

-is here. That was fast, but you did say seven minutes, well, seven-ish, he has to open the door, you don't have his key anymore-

He rushes over to the front door but stalls when he's bewildered by a thought, one that was embarrassingly late to make an appearance. What are you doing at your sister's place? Isagi told him you were in America last month. The longing for answers to his questions pushes him to open the door, and the sight of you is almost enough to make him forget everything.

"Hey," he greets you in awe. You didn't go through some major transformation, and you aren't dressed any particular way. But God, he missed seeing you, missed you. He missed your warm, penetrating eyes, your soundboard of laughter, and your domestic, loving touch. He wants to hug you so badly, but is your touch still one of love? Would you let him hear your laughs? Do you still look at him the same way?

"Hey," you greet him warmly, and your left hand moves just enough to catch his attention. Your ring finger still glints, because of the promise ring, you kept the-

"You still wear it?" He asks in disbelief.

Your eyebrows raise like you never realized it and you lift your hand to touch the ring, "Oh, uh, yeah. I do."

He's flipping out on the inside, but he controls himself on the outside enough to ask, "What are you doing here?" He receives a look of perplexity and rephrases, "I mean, why aren't you in America?"

"Oh, I just..." you trail off uncertainly, but restart with a light shake of your head, "I needed to see you. Before I go back."

You're going back. He tries not to let the disappointment show, but the slight downward tilt of your chin lets him know he failed. "What did you need to see me for?"

You fiddle with the hem of your shirt (his lovesick brain focuses on the cute habit) and say, "I wanted to apologize."

He snaps out of his little trance and swiftly replies, "I should apologize. The way I treated you was unacceptable-"

"I need to apologize too, because I ignored you for a bit and-"

"That was because of work though, I have no excuse-"

"Ren, wait," you interrupt with an airy laugh, "are we going to keep trying to one-up each other at the entrance?"

"Oh, yeah," he steps aside, "wait, you said-"

"I don't have to go back today," you casually admit with an amused smirk as you walk in.

You leave him speechless at the door, but he breaks out into a laugh seconds later and runs his hand through his soft, spiky locks in relief. Neither of you have fully cracked the cans open yet, he's still in the dark about why exactly you came back, and he has two keys to his house. But the fond way in which you say his nickname, coupled with the promise ring you still wear snuggly and proudly, puts him at just enough ease to not turn into a soap opera protagonist.

Life with you before the breakup was all he could as for and more, the breakup itself was a nightmare that played out in real life, and recovering from the breakup was a hellish episode he's not sure he ever grew out of.

But if there's a promise of a life with you after all of that, it'll all seem worth it.

©lexinympho 2023, please do not edit or repost my works anywhere on this platform or another

[nebulacollege]

How do they dress outside of school? Do any prefer designer clothes? What’s their aesthetics?

+

Anonymous asked:

Not my dumb ass reading your reply and wondering, “Why did the anon mention the clothes they were wearing?”

Sorry, I couldn’t not include this ask because it’s too funny! Now the mystery is up. Unfortunately (?), the only clothes we’re going to talk about today is Nebula’s boys preferences...

I asked Ryu to help me with this reply because I don’t know much about clothes, fashion and I’m just biased towards t-shirts and hoodies. Unfortunately (!), my boys don’t seem like the type to wear those often, although it would suit them very nicely. I haven’t thought out their aesthetics outside of the college, so these things might change in the future.

Niall definitely has designer clothes, and he’s lucky enough to have big brands send him custom clothes/shoes that were tailored and/or made specifically for him on his order (or maybe as a PR company or as a sign of gratitude if his family is on good terms with it, so it’s a “favour”). This does not happen very often, however, because it’s usually very expensive and he’s not the most important prince in the world lol Depends on the circumstances.

I think he’d go for lighter tones and things that will make him stand out but won’t clash with his bright hair colour. It’s usually shirts, polo shirts, sweaters, cardigans, rugby shirts. Something that looks bright, but clearly expensive, he goes for a preppy look. He’s your typical rich guy from the media, although in modern terms he’s a little bit old-fashioned?

Ned wears whatever everyone else is wearing. If some brand is favoured in his house and is considered “appropriate” for his status and his family, he wears it too because he doesn’t care about clothes much, as long as it meets TPO. He’s still concerned about its quality and there’s an air of elitism, although he’s the type to connect quality with the price tag a little.

He wears shirts and polo shirts and sweaters as well, plus henley shirts/sweaters, but you can actually see him wear t-shirts as well, and not only during his training sessions. He can also go for a hoodie, occasionally. I think I mentioned his preferred colours somewhere in a previous reply? A loose tracksuit is also something he can wear and not necessarily for training, just at home.

Ryu also suggested that he might not like jeans because they make him feel uncomfortable between his thighs.

Edmund wears whatever is given to him and shows very little enthusiasm in shopping in general, so he ends up being a little capricious about trying things on or getting measured, and not all clothes fit him perfectly. He has small shoulders for a guy and short height, so he needs to be very careful with it due to how men’s clothes are usually made, that’s why his uniform is such a disaster lol He likes oversized comfortable clothes where you cannot see this, so he likes hoodies, jumpers, turtlenecks, stuff like that.

He has brighter and lighter colours in his wardrobe, but he gravitates towards dark, muted or just very neutral colous and shades of grey. He wants to check out t-shirts, but buys them very rarely and chooses a fun print/colour.

Ryu also suggested that Edmund doesn’t like a big amount of buttons, laces, and everything that requires him spending years to get a piece of clothing in order. He just wants to put it on and go, it makes him feel tired. He doesn’t like uniforms and suits.

He has certain clothes that are insanely expensive, but if you don’t know the history of them, you wouldn’t get it. Niall and Liam could notice on him something like trainers of which there’re only ten pairs were made in the entire world.

Liam is a man of contrasts, as you could’ve noticed. Since his parents own a fashion house and he learned a lot about it, it takes him a very short time to come up with a good combination. He’s more modern than our first two guys, and he has tons of designer clothes both bought and gifted to him, including the ones people might find weird. He can wear something typical like a beige overcoat with a brown sweater and some other plain thing like that, and the next wear a jumper with a weird print, bright green pants and oversized shoes and somehow it’s actually insanely trendy. Liam also has a curse that no matter what he’s wearing, it looks so fucking good on him.

[radellama]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @kanonavi , thank you!!

~~

1. How many fics do you have on AO3?

Five on main, one and a half on the side lol

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

Main: 60,314

Side: 5,776

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Basically just chrono trigger atm. Written for legend of Zelda and Castlevania in the past, but they're dormant/hiatus until I have time and insp again (and a one-word fic for NBC Hannibal lol)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Well. I only got five lol. The one with the most is my hylink one soooo. Niche of niche

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

Yes!! I try to respond to all of them, especially if someone's taken the time to write a detailed comment for me. I really appreciate it, and have fond memories of making friends with some of my fave authors because I was a regular commenter!

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

Haven't finished any lol. Unless you count the one shot/drabble stuff but like. I don't lol. I love angst and I'm sure half the lost fics I would've written as a teen that I barely remember were angsty to a comical degree, but if I had finished my hylink fic that might be the angstiest 😏

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Talking planned endings since I haven't finished... My ct uni au, cause it's not meant to have an ending LMAO. It's basically a drabble collection haha. Otherwise... Idk... Maybe my st au ending? It's not sunshine and roses, but it has a nice ending that gives me a similar satisfying wrap up that various star trek finales have given me.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not that I can recall... There's some pushy and rude people I've had in the past but nothing enough that I can remember lolll

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

Yeas 😏 I'll write anything now I've kinda overcome the juvenile feelings I had over it... I'd just get embarrassed and didn't know how to unpack that lolll. I don't think I have any published atm but that's why I have the side, I've def drawn stuff tho 😏👍

10. Do you write crossovers? If so, what's the craziest one you've written?

Not really. The closest I get is stuff like my star trek au, where I've made a universe heavily inspired by star trek and have the ct characters play a certain unique to that world.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Hope not 😑

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope

13. Have you ever co written a fic before?

Yeah!! One of the vague memories of my early teen years writing I had this cool android dystopian fic for some characters I made with a friend, it was super fun but we never finished cause we both progressively got busier through the end of high school... Oh also I had this one fic I'd write with my sister and it was one of the rare times we got along growing up, aaand this one 'fic' that's grown into its own thing that I've had with one of my besties since we were 14, we've talked about adapting it to be it's own original thing so it didn't come to mind at first cause it's now it's own thing and not a fic lol.

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

Magland lmao. Specially crafted to be an all time favourite, what can I say?

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

I'm hoping to get to all the big ones I wanna write eventually... I don't wanna write off anything just yet... I won't finish some of the old shit I never published cause it wasn't finished enough LMAOOO

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like to think that it's characterisation and world building. They're what I enjoy a lot and put huge amounts of effort into behind the scenes so I can confidently obscure it for the reader in ways that are fun to reveal without it feeling like bullshit made up on the fly

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I wanna say dialogue but I've had compliments on it in the past.. it's just hard making sure it all sounds like them and not just me saying shit through them haha. Otherwise, I think I get stuck in scene transitions or when things need to have more added or cut out stuff to have a more natural feeling end. I'll get there eventually if I have the time, but..eh

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

Depends how it's handled, I think! If you're writing a bilingual character, or the scene takes place in a location that isn't the language the book is primarily written in, that can be kinda fun. I think I'd be more interested in knowing if and how the reader will get translations, whether the characters in that scene get translations or just understand that language, ect. To be picky and snooty about it, I don't think I've ever come across good styles of this in fic, cause there's not the same guidelines and such for traditionally published books, but like. Whatever lol. It's interesting to me, especially when you get to the territory of made up languages. Depends on the world, the setting and the scene for me I guess

19. First fandom you ever wrote for?

Probably Loz or CT when I was a kid lol

20. Favourite fic you've written?

So far, my st au. Sorry Harland

I've just put so much effort into it and it's been years in the making, it'll take years to continue, but I'm still working on it slowly so. Can't wait to finish it, got massive plans

~~

Not tagging anyone cause I can't be bothered, but if you wanna do these, just say I did!

[goddevouringserpent]

tagged by @miseryscrowned to take the "Which D&D class suits your personality?" (or, in this case, your OC's personality) quiz. took me ages because I have been so busy & stressed out I am starting to lose track of time, but wat ever we stay silly and take things as best as we can take them~

putting it under a cut because I chose not one, but two OCs for this, and as is often the case with me I started rambling and this got long as hell, lol.

in light of the DLC release date announcement, I'm back in WOTR mode and rotating my beloved wrathful girlie at washing machine speed, so!

picrew credit

Kaija (she/they), my most developed Knight Commander. who, yes, has a canon class, or... sort of canon? IDK, she's a Sword Saint/Vivisectionist, but I've been contemplating a different build for the run I'll do once the DLC comes out—probably will still be martial heavy, but we'll see... anyway, I just wanted to see what class she got assigned based on her personality LOL

and the result was:

Rogue

You’re a practical and unusually resourceful person with big dreams that may or may not involve copious amounts of money or treasure. You’re ambitious, you know what you want, and you’ll do whatever you can to get it. Some people might think you’re selfish, but you know it’s important to take care of yourself first. You thrive under pressure and you might have a bit of a mischievous or chaotic side.

Arcane Trickster subclass

Some rogues enhance their fine-honed skills of stealth and agility with magic, learning tricks of enchantment and illusion. You’re an adaptable person who likes to cultivate a range of skills and interests. Once you decide to pick up a new skill or hobby, you’re more than willing to put in a little time and effort to learn how to do it well. You like to feel competent and powerful. You’re not always the most direct person and you may sometimes hide your true thoughts and feelings behind lies or misdirection. Some people might not know what to expect of you, or you might be a bit misunderstood, but you’re capable of a lot more than some people give you credit for.

and I'll admit the result really surprised me at first because I've never seen them as the roguish type—she is quite literally built like a wrestler, roughly 190cm tall, contains multitudes of rage & does not have a single subtle bone in her—but upon reflection I can definitely see it, especially considering how the test openly states that it assigns a class based on personality, not mechanics. the descriptions given match really well, too; INSANELY resourceful, ambitious, materialistic, selfish, chaotic, adaptable, hates feeling powerless/needs to feel like the strongest and most powerful person in the room at any given time, rarely if ever shows her true feelings, often underestimated or not taken seriously despite being more than competent enough to deserve a different treatment... so yeah, fair, she would make a really good rogue! might keep that in mind for the aforementioned new build plans hehe

also: fun result considering one of the characters I ship Kai with—and who is essentially her "endgame" pairing in terms of being a healthy, loving, long-term relationship—is Woljif... who is an Eldritch Scoundrel 🤭 meant for each other~

--

then, because I am equally as excited about Shadow of the Erdtree releasing soon (June release dates for both DLCs, in fact... I'm gonna eat GOOD this winter break 😌), my Tarnished Yunia! aka the other she/they I have been spinning in the vortex of my thoughts 24/7, and who hilariously enough could not be more different from Kaija if they tried lol

art credit (and also sick as hell modern fit design credit)

Yunia got:

Cleric

You’re dedicated, caring, and probably a sucker for happy endings. You spend so much time helping other people that you might forget to take care of yourself. You’re very idealistic and have a strong sense of faith in your beliefs, which may be actual religious beliefs or just your personal moral code. You like to be prepared for a variety of situations and you may have a bit of a protective side.

Nature domain

Gods of nature are as varied as the natural world itself; from inscrutable gods of the deep to friendly deities associated with particular springs and groves. You feel comforted by nature and you’re drawn to the outdoors. You want to do as much as you can to take care of our world and you wish other people would take environmental concerns more seriously. You might come across as a calm and easygoing person most of the time, but you can have a surprisingly vicious side when someone violates your principles. You’re not afraid to confront harsh truths and you generally have a practical and realistic outlook on life.

Cleric tracks, it's a ridiculously good fit for her thematically—their entire Character Thing is passionate devotion towards the House of Caria (and later, to Ranni & her ideal for the Age of Stars) which overrides even their most basic self-preservation instinct at times and is pretty much, like, the core of their identity. so in a D&D AU, Yunia being a cleric of the Moon goddess Ranni would work out extremely well: following her dogma to a letter, doing everything in Ranni's name and to serve her earthly purposes, drawing from that very faith and dedication to find their own power and way in life, hopelessly in love with Ranni but shh don't tell anyone

Nature domain, on the other hand, I did not see coming, but the description works... ish? like, I'm not sure Yunia is particularly concerned about environmental issues in their source material LOL (even if there is quite a lot of shit to be concerned about, but that's probably on account of the Lands Between being an absolute shithole at the best of times <3), but in a modern AU I could definitely see her going for something like Environmental Sciences, yeah. being a protector-type with very firm beliefs is, again, a core part of their personality, & it's more likely they'd find themself working with flora or fauna because she is just Not good with people at all lol

(the part about having a "surprisingly vicious side" is 100% true though and I hope one day I can write any of the fics involving her I have planned, because that would be SO much fun to delve into :3)

--

tagging @hate-not-wanting-a-name (Zimka and/or Fixer? Zimka and/or Fixer maybe? my beloved little guys perhaps? 👀), @takers-flames, and UUHHH whoever else wants to do this, feel free to say I tagged you / mention me in your post so I can see! I'd tag more but I'm pretty sure that most of my mutuals' OCs already have assigned classes lmao 😭

[ageless-aislynn]

Tagged by the ever lovely and awesome @swiftzeldas Thanks, hon! 🤗💖

How many works do you have on AO3? 148

What’s your total AO3 word count? 290,660 😵‍💫

What fandoms do you write for? Actively writing for Halo now, but still have some for the Flash to finish up. I've previously also written for Doctor Who.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? "Five Times Oliver Held Felicity (And The One Time She Held Him)" (Olicity, Arrow) "15 Minutes" (John-117/Reader, Halo the series) "Balancing Act" (NSFW) (Tenth Doctor/Donna Noble, Doctor Who) "Side Effect" (NSFW) (John-117/Kai-125, Halo the series) "No Time" (John-117/gender neutral Reader, Halo the series)

Do you respond to comments? I always do and if for some reason I didn't, you can be sure I either didn't see it or something interfered with me in replying and now I've thought I did. That, er, happens more than I wish it would these days. *swiss cheese brain is swiss cheese* 😔🫥🙄

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I very rarely write angsty endings, so they're kinda notable when they happen: "Cold" (Eobard Thawne/Killer Frost, The Flash) (Very short but I've been told it packs a punch. 🥰😉) "Dark/Light" (chapter 1) (Harry Wells/Caitlin Snow, The Flash) (An experimental fic where the dialogue is exactly the same in ch1 and 2 but they tell vastly different stories. 😉) Honorable mention to "Gray Sunflowers" (Caitlin Snow/Hunter Zolomon, The Flash) as a rare one where the entire fic is a metaphor for depression and even though the ending isn't super angsty by any means, it also isn't particularly hopeful either. It's still one of my favorites, though, because I felt like it has a distinctive voice.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I'm resisting the urge to put "Side Effect" and the, er, multiple "happy endings" that occur in it here, lol! 🤣🤣🤣 Honestly, basically all of my other fics have a happy ending. I might go with "The Thousand and the First" (NSFW)(Eobard Thawne/Caitlin Snow, The Flash) because I wanted it to carry through a complete redemption arc for Eobard and I think it succeeded. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯😉

Do you get hate on fics? So far, no. On vids... oh yeah. 😑

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Um, yep. Lots. I tend to write smut with a funny tone. I've very rarely done a conventional "romance novel" type scene. "Balancing Act" (Ten/Donna, linked above) was one of the first I'd did with that quasi-realistic/funny tone to it.

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I've only written one so far: "Cold Hands" (Caitlin Snow/Jordan Mahkent, The Flash/Stargirl), which also has a vid, "Gasoline."

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of. Again, a vid? Yes.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Not as far as I know.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? I don't work well with a co-writer, simply because my muse is so resistant to writing to an outline.

What’s your all time favorite ship? To write? Any variation of Eobard Thawne/Caitlin Snow and the Wells dopplegangers/Caitlin or Killer Frost, The Flash, John-117/Kai-125 and John-117/Reader.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? "Try" (both versions of Eobard Thawne/Caitlin Snow, The Flash). I have 3 chapters completed and it's definitely the fic with the most world-building in it and it would also be the first full-fledged poly fic I've done. But my inspiration for the Flash just got smushed by the show so repeatedly I doubt I'll ever get enough oomph to finish it.

What are your writing strengths? Funny smut? Taking fandoms that are very not domestic and writing domestic fics in them? (I'm looking at you, Halo. Apologies to all of the Halo fans out there who absolutely hate people like me. 🫣I know you're out there but I appreciate you only vague-posting about me/people like me and not calling me out by name.)

What are your writing weaknesses? I don't write plotty fic very well, nor do I stick to canon very often. Worst thing is how easily I can sabotage myself and get convinced that everybody hates what I write. I've had SO many wonderful comments telling me otherwise but mannnnnn, my Evil Inner Editor can make me feel like the worst imposter ever. 😔

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I've written for Sherloque Wells a handful of times, most notably "Unrequited" (Sherloque/Caitlin, The Flash) but I had help from a genuine French speaker to make sure it was saying what I thought it was saying, lol! It's not something I would want to do a lot, though, because I don't have a good enough grasp on any other language to feel comfortable with it. I greatly admire those who can, though!

First fandom you wrote for? Lord of the Rings, though it's no longer online anywhere. Doctor Who was my official entrance in the awesome world of fanfic after that!

Favorite fic you’ve written? Well, ask me my favorite child, why don't you? 😮🤣 How about I pick one two that haven't been mentioned so far that I'd love to see get more attention? "Phase Two" (Ninth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Doctor Who) is a sentimental fav and "Offer" (Eobard Thawne/Killer Frost, The Flash) is honestly a world I would've loved to have written more in because I found it so interesting.

Tagging any of my writer friends who see this and would like to do it! *boops your nose politely*

(Boop paw GIF kindly made by @theredtours) 😉