#but chat was there to encourage me...... thank you!!!!!!!!!!!

[nian-7]

Omggg hii!! Welcome back! I hope youre feeling good <33

Idk how to ask for this, but can you write a streamer reader who wants their s/o to appear on camera?? Maybe with Haruka Sakura or Yamato Endo! Ty for reading

Hope you have a nice dayy

CAMERA: ON!

Haruka Sakura x gn!reader

-> fluff -> a/n: i haven't been keeping up with windbreaker so i haven't gotten to endo yet... i think he's cool and all but i just don't think i'd do his character justice yet!!

-> tags: @fyodoro, @hanaeriin

please do not repost any of my work without my permission, thank you for reading.

" Huh?! You- You want me to appear on stream?! "

-Sakura was never one to poke and prod at your streaming life. He knew you did, of course, he just never felt the need to be all that involved in it.

-Secretly, he'd sometimes watch your late night streams. He can't help but miss you sometimes and hearing your voice through your streams ease that yearn for that adorable look on your face and happy voice whenever you see him down the street.

-When you pop the question to him if he was interested in showing up on your stream, he gets all red and flustered... It was one thing for you to introduce him to your friends but showing him to your fans?? That's a whole other thing to him...

-There's a bunch of what ifs in his mind as he thinks about it. What if your fans hate him? What if they don't like how he looks and then he's got the internet laughing at him? Poor Sakura can't handle all of that...

-It takes a lot of encouragement and comfort from you that your fans would like to see him no matter what. He knows you've talked about him on stream, he's heard it himself when he watches but that doesn't stop him from feeling a bit embarrassed when he does show up.

-He does end up being a little awkward when you get him on stream though, sitting there silently watching you until your chat asks him something or you turn to him to talk to him. In the end though, it wasn't as bad as he originally thought!

[thehereticdiaries]

A (Not So) Meet Cute: Chapter Six

Summary: You go on your first date with Seungmin! Afterwards, you get some good news from the detective

Warnings: It gets suggestive toward the end but not much else.

Series Masterlist

You returned to the studio, hoping that your blush faded enough that the XDH boys wouldn’t notice. Jiseok, being the main gossip of the group, immediately saw right through you. 

“Sooooo,” he teased, placing his guitar on his stand so he could invade your personal space. He seemed to have a habit of doing that. You had gotten used to it by the second week working with them. “How did your little chat with Kim Seungmin go?”

“It was delightful.” You narrowed your eyes at the guitarist. 

“Oh, I’m sure it was.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Especially since O.de was saying how Seungmin was heavily eye-fucking y-”

“Jiseok!” O.de shouted from the door of the booth. “I did not say that.”

“Okay, fine, he didn’t say it outright. But it was implied!”

“No it wasn’t! All I said was that Seungmin looked kind of jealous.” Leave it to Jiseok to make such a massive leap. 

“You’re right, though. He scared you away on purpose cus he was jealous of how close we were,” you admitted, brushing past both boys to enter the booth.

“Who’s jealous?” Jooyeon asked, suddenly interested in the conversation. You rolled your eyes when the other members perked up.

“You guys are so nosy.”

“And you aren’t?” Jungsu sarcastically asked with a sly grin.

“Touché. But to answer your question, Seungmin from Stray Kids was jealous. Great news though! He asked me on a date, so thank you O.de,” you snickered at the chorus of shouts from the members.

“Dude, fucking finally,” Jiseok gushed, smacking your shoulder affectionately. “You’re both so oblivious. I was about to put a sign on your back.”

“You’re a little shit, just be happy for me!”

The rest of the week passed by in a blur. Seungmin refused to give you any hints other than ‘wear warm clothes’. It annoyed you to no end, because what if you pick something totally inappropriate for the venue?! Since it was almost December, you settled on fleece-lined jeans, a crewneck sweatshirt, and your favorite parka. You figured it would be outdoors, so you also grabbed a beanie and gloves. 

“Do I have to wear this? I have my own mask,” Seungmin complained while Dohyun drove the two of you to the mystery destination. 

“Yes!” You insisted on having matching masks since he wouldn’t give you any hints about the date. They were simple black fabric masks with a cute cartoon puppy nose and mouth printed on the front. After a few minutes, the car came to a stop by Seoul Plaza. Seungmin opened the door for you before leaning back in to address your favorite driver.

“You’ll be back in two hours?” The elder nodded once. “And you’ll bring what we talked about?”

“Yes, I have everything set up. Go have fun,” Dohyun gently shooed the idol away. Seungmin joined you on the sidewalk, grabbing your hand to tug you into the plaza. 

“Oh, wow,” your mouth dropped behind your mask. The lawn of the plaza was transformed into an enormous ice skating rink. A large Christmas tree made of twinkling fairy lights sat at one end of the rink, even though it was currently turned off in the bright afternoon sun. 

“You’ve never seen the plaza like this?” You shook your head, glancing up at Seungmin. His eyes crinkled, indicating a hidden smile. 

“I don’t know how to ice skate,” you told him while he led you to the skate rentals. 

“I’m not the best, but I can show you the basics.” The employee handed you two pairs of skates, and you moved to the benches and lockers. You stood on wobbly legs, carefully following Seungmin to lock up your shoes and purse. He took your hand again and the two of you made your way to the rink. Seungmin stepped on the ice first, turning to hold your elbows while you tightly gripped his biceps. 

“Easy, I’ve got you,” he encouraged when your breathing grew heavier after slipping slightly. 

“‘Show me the basics’ my ass! You’re skating backwards right now,” you grumbled, refusing to tear your eyes away from your feet. 

“Yeah, cus I’m making sure you don’t fall,” he chuckled at your intense concentration. “Y/N, you have to look up. It’ll be much easier if you have your shoulders and hips lined up.” 

“O-okay,” you took a deep breath before standing up straight. Your knees shook, partially from nerves and partially from supporting your weight on the blades.

“That’s it, just look at me. We’ll go slow, okay?” Seungmin guided you over the ice, gradually increasing your speed so you were keeping up with the other skaters. He kept your mind off your anxious thoughts with constant questions about Xdinary Heroes and your job. 

“No, I’m telling you! Jiseok can find out anything about anyone. I swear he’s secretly an NIS agent,” you grinned, your eyes scrunching up into crescents. Seungmin has never hated a mask more in his life.

“Remind me not to piss him off,” he snickered, glancing quickly at the clock on the edge of the rink. Dohyun would be back in an hour. “Do you want to try skating on your own? I’ll stay right next to you.”

“Yeah. I think I got it.” Your anxiety swelled when the warmth of his hands left your arms. “Wait! Hold my hand, still. Please?”

“Of course.” Seungmin twisted around to skate forward for the first time today, lacing your fingers with his. You continued circling the rink, and with every passing minute your confidence on the ice grew. You glided effortlessly, and by the time you had to leave, you found yourself reluctant to step off the ice. 

“You did great, especially for your first time,” Seungmin praised while you changed back into your street shoes. 

“Thanks, I had a lot of fun.” Dohyun always had impeccable timing and today was no different. He pulled up right as you left the plaza. Seungmin sighed, ripping off his mask as soon as he shut the door. 

“Close your eyes,” he instructed. You raised a brow, but did as he asked. You heard him shift around for a few moments. “Okay, open.”

“Seungmin,” you cooed. Two cups of hot chocolate sat in the cupholders in the center console. 

“I have to put the lids on while we drive, but I wanted you to see the marshmallows and peppermint shavings first.” He popped the lids on and Dohyun began the drive to the dorms. 

“Who knew you were such a romantic?” You teased, making the idol roll his eyes. 

“I have one more surprise.” He handed you a small glass container with a wooden lid. You tilted your head before removing the lid with a gasp.

“No way! Is this a Mississippi mud pie?” 

“Yup. I remember you saying it was the only thing you missed from the states, so I had Felix help me make it.” Your eyes snapped to him.

“You remember that?” You asked quietly, feeling a little overwhelmed by the affection in his eyes.

“I remember everything that makes you happy.” Seungmin rendered you completely speechless. The last time you could remember someone putting in that kind of effort for you was your final foster father. You stayed with him throughout high school and he always made it a priority to let you have a normal teenage experience. With words failing you, you decided to let your actions speak instead. In a bold rush of confidence, you tugged Seungmin toward you, leaning up to meet halfway and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you.” Seungmin stared at you with a wide smile growing on his face. You blushed, rushing to change the topic. “Do you want to share the pie?” He smirked, clearly aware of what you were doing, but played along anyway. The ever-prepared Dohyun tossed two plastic spoons into the backseat, landing on the middle of the backseat bench. You giggled, handing one to Seungmin and digging into the pie.

The dorm was strangely quiet when you returned. Of course there were times when all of the boys had schedules, but normally almost everyone was home on Saturdays.

“Where is everyone?” You asked while changing into slippers and hanging your jacket in the hall closet. 

“Hm, Jisung said that 3Racha was recording today. I’m not sure about everyone else, though.” You both flopped onto the couch, putting on Kitchen Nightmares reruns as background noise for your doomscrolling. You barely got three posts down when a call from Detective Keng came in. 

“Mute the TV! Mute the TV!” You sat up immediately, smacking Seungmin on the shoulder for emphasis. His eyebrows raised in a ‘what the fuck’ kind of expression, but complied nonetheless. “Detective! Hello!”

“Good afternoon, Ms. L/N,” she sounded as serious as ever. “I have an update for you. My team and I have successfully identified all of Mr. Cho’s associates that know about you.”

“Really? That’s amazing!”

“It’s good progress, but now we need to locate them all. Some of these individuals are very skilled at hiding. Rest assured, we will find them.” You nodded, momentarily forgetting that she couldn’t see you. Seungmin tapped your thigh repeatedly. He was nosy and wanted to know what the detective was saying.

“I understand. Thank you for all of your hard work.” You silently shushed Seungmin, who was now shaking your shoulder and asking what was going on in a whisper.

“It’s no trouble at all. Your court date will likely proceed before we locate all of Mr. Cho’s associates. Be careful, they may try to sabotage you. Good luck.” You exchanged a curt goodbye with the detective.

“Was that Keng? What did she say? Did they find that asshole’s friends?”

“Seungmin, please, one question at a time. Yes, that was Detective Keng. Her team knows who his friends are, it’s just a matter of arresting them now. She said to be careful around the courthouse, since they might show up there.” He nodded along with your explanation.

“I’ll ask Chan and our manager if we can get security to escort you when you go in.” You opened your mouth to protest, but- “Don’t argue with me on this, your safety is important.”

“Fine.”

“Good girl.” Your brain short-circuited. “Did she say anything else?”

“Huh?” He smirked, tilting his head to the side so his eyes could rake over your form, lingering on your denim-clad thighs. “S-she didn’t say much more than that. Just that, uh, t-they’re good at hiding.”

“Y/N.” You peeked at Seungmin from the corner of your eye. “You’re blushing, sweetheart.” 

“I-I’m, uh. I d-don’t-” The sudden pet names stole every coherent thought from your mind. 

“You’re cute.” He hooked a finger under your chin to turn you to face him. ��Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” Seungmin grinned at the lack of hesitation. He started gently, almost like he was trying not to scare you away. It was short but the intensity behind it had your mind reeling. He pulled back, nose-to-nose with you to give you a chance to back out. Your hands on his shoulders and a tiny whimper escaping your throat broke down the last of his resolve. 

“Fuck, you’re killin’ me,” he swore under his breath. He pushed you down to lay flat on the couch, planting his hands next to your head. One of his knees settled in between your thighs and you inhaled sharply, staring at his chain dangling over you. He crashed his lips back into yours, moving one hand down to rest on your hip. Your fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt. His tongue darted out to brush against your lower lip and you instantly allowed him to lick into your mouth. His hand slid under the hem of your shirt, trailing higher while he dragged his tongue along yours, until-

“OH HOLY SHIT!” Your head snapped back, gaping at Hyunjin’s shocked face.

“What’s going on- oh!” Jeongin appeared next, followed quickly by Felix and Changbin. The room fell to silence as they processed exactly how you and Seungmin were currently positioned. A snort from the youngest member broke the stupor, causing you to squeak and hide your face in Seungmin’s neck. He still hovered over you, glaring heavily at his members. 

“Come on, leave them alone,” Minho corralled the other further into the dorm, hands full of grocery bags. Whines of protest were cut off by a sharp look from the second eldest. With the living room empty once again, you sighed in relief, dropping back onto the cushion. 

“Sorry,” Seungmin huffed, rolling his eyes and helping you sit up. 

“It’s o-”

“No fucking on the couch!” Minho called as he passed from the kitchen to his room. Seungmin groaned loudly.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I’ll put you in the fucking air fryer!” You cackled, clutching your stomach and leaning into Seungmin’s side. He clicked his tongue, wrapping an arm around your waist and unmuting the TV.

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98 @miniverse-zen @holly-here @corgilover20 @eastjonowhere @bookswillfindyouaway

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[malk1ns]

january 5 @ hurricanes, 4-3 OT loss

i cannot believe the season is halfway done. i can't believe i've actually written a fic for every single game, for forty-one games. that's crazy. thanks so much to everyone reading along, the comments and tags you leave really do encourage me to keep going—it's hard to work on a big project like this with no positive reinforcement! i love and appreciate you all <3

playing carolina might be boring AF but at least we got this picture of of it, hey? geno is so much bigger than sid it's truly ridiculous.

Sid isn’t very good at hiding what he’s feeling.

Zhenya knows about the narrative, how a Sidney Crosby quote is a lot of words but when you go back and actually read what he said it’s a whole bunch of nothing. That’s probably true; Zhenya doesn’t make a habit of looking up his teammates’ media spots. Answering his own questions and sitting for interviews is enough exposure to reporters, thank you very much.

But long before Zhenya and Sid spoke the same language, Zhenya was able to read Sid like a book.

Sid’s not subtle. When he wants something from you, you’ll know.

And when they’re getting ready to go out for overtime at the Lenovo Center, when Sid ducks his head and looks up at Zhenya through his eyelashes, Zhenya knows exactly what he wants.

It’s nice to catch up with Staalsy after they play the Hurricanes; frankly, it’s Zhenya’s favorite part about facing this damn team. Jordy’s waiting for them outside the visitor’s locker room after Sid is finally done with his cooldown, and they duck down a quiet hallway to chat. Partway through the conversation, Zhenya slings an arm over Sid’s shoulders, casual as anything, and smothers a smirk when Sid not-so-subtly tucks himself into Zhenya’s side.

Jordy doesn’t notice anything. He’s always been oblivious. It’s something Zhenya always appreciated about him. Kris gives them a hairy eyeball, but after so many years he knows when to feign ignorance, even if he’s far more observant than Jordy ever was.

Sid behaves himself on the way back to Pittsburgh. He keeps his hands to himself on the plane, sticking his earbuds in and zoning out on whatever podcast series he’s hooked on this month.

Zhenya taps his way through a few rounds of solitaire, nudging Sid with his knee when the plane begins its descent. When they’re deboarding and Sid makes to grab for his stuff, Zhenya bullies him out of the way, pulling both their bags down from the overhead compartment and slinging them over his shoulders.

Sid goes pink.

Their drive back to Sewickley is quiet, Zhenya navigating the dark streets carefully with one hand spread over Sid’s thigh. Sid’s parents are still in town, will be through the upcoming homestand, so Zhenya takes them up the hills back to his place, pulling into the driveway and throwing Sid’s Range Rover in park.

He crowds behind Sid as they walk into the house, dropping their bags as soon as they clear the threshold so he can get his hands on Sid’s hips, steering him to the staircase over Sid’s protests that they need another protein shake before bed.

(He refrains from making the obvious joke.)

Sid drops his feigned reluctance as soon as they get to the bedroom, turning in Zhenya’s arms and wrapping his arms around Zhenya’s neck, tugging him down for a kiss.

The first time Sid kissed Zhenya, it took both of them by surprise. It was Zhenya’s second year in the league, and not even any sort of special occasion—they’d just beaten Boston in TD Garden, a hard-won shootout on the first half of a back-to-back with travel in the slog leading up to their too-short Christmas break. He and Sid both had to do media, courtesy of Geno’s two goals and Sid’s three points, and they were the last ones in the locker room after they finally escaped to do their cooldown and get showered.

Zhenya was fumbling with his tie when Sid crossed the room, got up on his toes, and smeared a kiss across Zhenya’s mouth.

They didn’t talk about it for months. There were games to win, after all, and playoffs to push for. They were both determined to have a better showing than they had last season. It wasn’t until after they had to watch the Red Wings raise the Stanley Cup in their own building, after locker clean-out and the last media of the season, that Sid showed up at Zhenya’s door with a determined look on his face.

Their second kiss hadn’t been any more artful than the first. It didn’t take them long to get good at it, though.

Really good. They’ve taken breaks throughout the years, arguments and ego and fear of the future sending one or both of them stomping away from the relationship, and Zhenya’s seen plenty of girls stumble out of dark corners with Sid looking dazed with swollen mouths. He kisses like the world is ending, all-consuming and intense, and Zhenya’s more than happy to fall into it every time.

Sid doesn’t want to just kiss tonight, though. His hand sneaks down and squeezes at Zhenya’s dick through his dress pants, and Zhenya cants his hips forward, letting Sid grope him.

“Fuuuck,” Sid groans, pulling back and looking down between them. Zhenya follows his gaze.

Sid’s not a small guy. He’s broad, with thick arms and legs and big, capable hands, clever fingers that are adept at taking Zhenya apart. His hand on Zhenya’s dick where it’s straining at the fabric, though, looks almost small.

“Jesus,” Sid mutters, stroking a thumb over the head. Zhenya shivers as his dick twitches.

They’re clumsy as they undress, the late hour and a long, heavy game slowing their reflexes, but eventually their clothes are in a pile at the foot of the bed and Zhenya has Sid stretched out on the mattress, pinning his hands over his head with one hand around both wrists.

Sid takes a deep breath, testing Zhenya’s grip. Zhenya watches his throat bob as he swallows and tightens his thighs where they’re around Sid’s hips.

“You’re stay put,” he says to Sid, half an order and half a question, and he can see his words register, leaching into Sid’s body and dropping all the tension from his muscles.

Sid’s hard between them already, dick curving up toward his belly button and damp at the head, and when Zhenya curls his hand around it Sid gasps, craning his chin down so he can look.

Sid’s hands might be big compared to a regular guy, but Zhenya’s put his to shame, and Sid’s dick looks small in his grasp.

Zhenya knows that turns Sid’s crank, even though he’ll never admit to it. Hockey players are all the same, after all, and none of them are going to own up to getting off on their dick looking small, but Zhenya’s never needed Sid to actually say anything to know what he wants.

Sid likes how much bigger Zhenya is than him. He likes the way Zhenya’s hands span his waist like it’s dainty, the way he fits under Zhenya’s arm like Zhenya’s girlfriends used to.

He especially likes Zhenya’s dick.

Zhenya lifts up a little and shifts so that Sid can spread his legs, settling between them and rubbing his dick over Sid’s balls and shaft. Sid props himself up on his elbows, mouth open as he pants for air, hitching his hips up to meet Zhenya’s movements. 

Zhenya spares a moment for regret that they don’t have time to fuck properly until the homestand is over. Sid’s so tight, even after all these years, and sinking into him is the closest to a religious experience that Zhenya’s ever had.

He props his forearms on either side of Sid’s head, leaning down so he’s completely covering Sid’s body, pressing their chests together as he mouths at Sid’s neck. Sid always leaks so much, like the second he gets even a little worked up he’s ready to bust, which means they don’t need lube when they do this.

When they were younger, they used to get off like this every spare minute they had, sneaking off to spare rooms and rubbing up against each other until they came. It only took one instance of having to misappropriate a fancy hand towel in Billy Guerin’s guest bathroom for Zhenya to start carrying around a handful of tissues in his back pocket for quick clean-ups.

They usually take their time now, luxuriating in the privacy of their own homes and the improved technique that comes with experience, but sometimes Zhenya likes to make it quick and dirty, likes to get Sid panting and begging for dick underneath him.

Zhenya can’t give it to him tonight. The waiting will make it better when they have time, though.

Sid’s getting close. His thighs are trembling where they’re locked around Zhenya’s waist, and he’s tossing his head back and forth, little uh-uh-uhs pushing from his chest as he arches his back.

Zhenya pushes himself up a little and rests his hand on Sid’s neck, curling his fingers and pressing his thumb to the hinge of Sid’s jaw. Not much, not enough to actually do anything, but his hand looks enormous at Sid’s throat, and when he increases pressure the tiniest bit, Sid gasps and comes with a shout.

He’s still shivering through his orgasm when Zhenya drags his dick over Sid’s groin, smearing come into his pubic hair, and groans as he finishes on Sid’s stomach.

“Damn,” he says, rolling off to one side. Sid tucks them together, yanking Zhenya’s arm until his hand is splayed low over Sid’s belly.

It’s sticky and kind of gross. Zhenya rubs their come into Sid’s skin, ignoring Sid’s protest.

His hand really does look huge on Sid’s body. Normally he doesn’t think too much about it; he’s aware of how tall he is, how big his dick is, and those facts on their own don’t do much for him. He’s happy to go along with what Sid wants—seeing Sid get off on something is what gets him hottest.

Sid’s a grower, though, and when he’s soft Zhenya can cover his entire groin with his palm.

Sid grunts as Zhenya fondles him, wincing and over-sensitive, but Zhenya ignores it, rolling Sid’s balls in his fingers and palming his soft member.

Yeah, he sees the appeal.

[ritualofcirice]

Could we get a letter of sup-port for our dear FrauGwinska? She's a wonderful person who needs to hear just how amazing she really is. She's been nothing but a positive example in the HH Fandom, and I know I'm not the only one who can attest to that fact.

Thank you so much for doing these, by the way. It's so lovely to see people lifting others up when hate has been all to prevalent lately.

🐑 ♡ Here's one letter fresh from Sup-port, addressed one delightful author ♡ 🐑

Dear @fraugwinska,

What an honour it is to be able to write a letter to you! From electrifying Vox smut, to the carefully constructed world of Gem, you're stories intrigue and capture the hearts of those that read them.

Not only that, but you've provided a space for other writers to feel seen. You have made a space where people can go to share with others and talk amongst friends.

That's why you've been nominated for a letter! We want to give back all the support you have given us. Inside and outside of the server, we all want you to know that it is just as much a place for you to be seen, appreciated, and loved. This goes for both you and all your heartful stories. Thank you for sharing them with us, and thank you for all that you have done for the fandom!

Wishing all the best, and sending all of our love,

The Sup-port Team xo

Let's see what other letters arrived for you!

From @hazelfoureyes ♡

Mein Frauchen, very often I read things that make me feel inadequate as a writer. Several times it was things you’ve written, you talented bitch (I love you). I know good art doesn’t always get the recognition it deserves, but I hope you truly believe me when I say you’re skilled in many areas and your efforts are always appreciated. The first time I read your work I almost got too intimidated to talk to you anymore haha but I did! Somehow! ♡ I’m unsure how to lift your spirits, but please know no matter how you choose to exist in our fandoms we all share together that we are better for your presence.

From @macabr3-barbi3 ♡

"Frau is one of the most genuine and heartfelt people I have ever met- she was one of the first people in the Hazbin fandom to welcome me, which was honestly wild because I was already a fan of Method to Madness and was just baffled that she was not only such an amazing writer, but an amazing person all around. When we started chatting after a frankly mortifying initial interaction on my part, I was so happy to find that we were so similar and that she was so fun to talk to and conspire with. So many of my ideas have come from the inspiration she brings me, as a fellow writer and as a friend. She is endlessly patient, empathetic to a degree I've never seen, and so so so supportive and encouraging of everyone that she interacts with in the servers we share. She is funny and charismatic and sweet, and I've grown closer to her faster than I've ever bonded with another person before. It hurts to know sometimes that she doesn't see herself the way that myself and so many others in the Hazbin community see her- an integral and important part of the fanfiction community and in all of our lives. It is one of my greatest privileges in life to not only be here to support her writing and her work but to call her one of my absolute best friends, and I can't wait to see how much further she grows."

From @kewpikayo ♡

Kindness. Warmth. Inspiration, A powerhouse of talent and a genuine soul. Those words, among countless more positive things, are but a taste of who Mama Frau is. I may have only known Frau since the latter part of 2024 but I can just tell she is the type of person who would travel oceans for people just to let them know she cares. She is so sweet, a motherly soul, and so very creatively inclined. To say I appreciate her is a complete understatement. She is a treasure, a precious “Gem”, and to know her is such a gift. The way she weaves her stories with intricate detail and just enough suspense to keep her audience’s intrigue is commendable and a remarkable skill. I am thankful beyond compare for you, Mama Frau. And I am so excited to get to know you even more as we walk further into 2025 and many years to come hugs

From @startissuu ♡

"Stop being so darn pretty before Chef is forced to travel to Germany and get down on one knee"

Tagging Backup:

@melodyonthewireless, @tarokitsu, @bapple117, @redvexillum, @redfoxwritesstuff, @minkdelovely, @hyuccubus, @reinthechaosdeer, @jurijyuu, @primsgirl89, @dewdropdinosaur, @xalygatorx, @6esiree, @lumikello24

Want To Write A Personal Letter?

Frau's official Sup-port tag is #fromsup-port2fraugwinska

♡ Is it your first time picking up mail at Sup-port? Find out what we're about here ♡

[doodlingcrayon]

Day 07 - Knightly Armor

Never fear! Lady Aurelia Fine, Knight of Cineyr, is here to protect you! 👁️💗

[crescendof1]

mini-skirt and my gogo boots (i just want you to make a move) - crescendo_writes - Formula 1 RPF [Archive of Our Own]

This atmosphere makes George want to cling to Max, to not let go. He wants to know where they stand. It’d be nice if he could just hold Max without having to worry about the implications of it. He’s scared, Max is scared, they’d both be better off if they could hold each other’s hands. That’s half the appeal of these ‘haunted’ attractions anyway, they offer an excuse for people to touch and comfort one another— and George would really like it if he and Max could be those people.

OR: Alex drags the whole apartment to a haunted corn maze for some good old fashioned roommate bonding. Max and George get separated, get scared, and figure things out along the way

[runefactorynonsense]

Cozytober - Day 23 - Knitted Hat

It's just snow~

[seekingjamaharon]

Kirk/Spock Fic Recs

(These recommendations are not organized by rating, universe (AOS/TOS), or tags, so it is your responsibility to review before reading!)

***

Veritas - theproblematique

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141066/chapters/2308617

This story is an utter DELIGHT to read, from start to finish. There are several AMAZING scenes that LIVE  ABSOLUTELY RENT FREE IN MY MIND. If you’ve read it, you know which ones I’m talking about. If you haven’t read it… my ask box will be open for you to come scream at me about it later!

Through Blind Men’s Eyes - ladyblahblah

https://archiveofourown.org/works/329721/chapters/532085

It’s exactly like the summary says–”Pon farr–with a twist.” But what a twist it is!!! There were points in this story where I had to put my phone down and walk around my room before my brain fried itself. The pacing is perfect. The characterization is perfect. The angst is perfect. The sex is perfect. It hits exactly the right notes with me, personally, in every single line. This fic changed me as a person.

For gladness of you - kariye

https://archiveofourown.org/works/610649

I’ve never read anything quite like this before. It’s like you’re watching someone paint, where first there are the rough outlines of color, and as you watch the artist goes back and adds shadows and highlights and everything starts to take shape. Once it’s finished you can see each detail that makes up the whole. Just a beautiful, wonderful story.

Also, there are rocks.

The Bond - WhatIfImaMermaid

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11593152/chapters/26056887

The premise of this story means that some of the usual tropes are reversed, and it’s just so sweet and earnest. I particularly like this version of AOS Jim and his relationship with the crew.

Spice - eimeo

https://archiveofourown.org/works/285483/chapters/455338

I know it’s more than a little ridiculous for me to recommend a story without having actually finished it, BUT: I started this story without realizing that it was essentially a retelling of The Motion Picture, which I have not seen, so I stopped reading about halfway through to give myself some time to catch up on my watch of the series. However, even with only a portion of this piece under my belt, I feel confident enough to say that it’s DEVASTATINGLY GOOD. The PINING. The LONGING. The YEARNING. Truly unparalleled.

The Marriage of True Minds - spicyshimmy 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020522/chapters/2029865

When I first saw this story in my AO3 results, I looked at the word count and said, “Impossible.” But one day when I was feeling ambitious, I opened a new tab, and the rest is history. I am now essentially a Spicyshimmy stan, and recommend their entire body of work. This particular work takes you on a JOURNEY. Both Spock and Jim learn and grow together, and it’s not perfect, but I adore Spicyshimmy’s Spocks–absolutely ADORE THEM. There’s a certain scene in Chapter 39 that had me laughing out loud. Even now, I’ll re-read it for a little boost of serotonin.

[princehendir]

Event is masks required..... I honestly may cry.

[canarydarity]

Uh. Hi?

Obviously you have no obligation to do anything but uh-

if you did end up writing that pix one-shot

I know at least one person that would gobble it up.

(it's me, I'm that person)

Withering Away

(words: 1619) (link to previous Pix fic)

__________________________________

It was part of Pix’s job to have even an elementary understanding of decomposition, though it was never a topic he’d expected to come to know intimately. Or, well, he had, just not when he was still conscious for the experience. 

This was not how it was supposed to happen. There was not meant to be an awareness of such things. A mercy, it was—it must be—to lose sentience before losing all the rest; physicality, corporeal form, tangibility. A mercy Pixlriffs was not afforded. 

And was not afforded, and was not afforded, and was not afforded.

The first time—the only real time—he’d woken up gasping on the stone floor of the catacombs. Likely no time at all had passed since his, well, passing to when he awoke, but his mind felt decades older, his head weary from the encounter with death. It didn’t matter that he’d died indoors, huddled in one of the dark corners of Katherine's house, curled into a ball on the wooden planks—his body had felt itself be reclaimed, it had touched decay. 

Time had both slowed and sped up around him; the party had moved on, his stuff pillaged or put aside for his return—when they’d at first expected that to happen—then unknowing. The crown chose another host, tea was drunk, and goodbyes were said as the partygoers left and returned to their own empires; and all the while, Pixlriffs remained on the floor, watching this happen at thrice the speed, like a film being fast-forwarded, finger holding the button to remain on the fastest possible setting. He could not speak, he could not move, he could not intervene. He could take only one, shallow, raggedy breath every few minutes, the air rattling around in his quickly emptying chest, the term death rattle never feeling quite so accurate. 

All in all, the rest of the party must have been an hour or so long—but for Pix, it was mere minutes, and time did not stop there. He lay on the floor of a forgotten hallway and watched around him as time passed on; as folks and events came and went until suddenly the empire had fallen—or he assumed as such, because the rooms remained empty and dark and the sconces empty of torches and small weeds had begun to peek up through the floorboards before seemingly gaining their confidence and overtaking all. 

And as the house sunk deeper into the ground, what must happen to all happened to Pixlriffs; the life in the dirt found him, and they reclaimed what was theirs. It seemed that the speed of time had only been saving him for this: this duty of his—of us all—to give back to the ground from whence we came. He had been outrunning it for so long that it did not waste any time when it finally caught up with him. 

Roots of the surrounding plants reached like hands for his arms his legs wherever they could catch hold, and as they curled around him they tugged and tugged until his burial began. The worms and the bugs and the scavengers picked and picked at him until the leathery fleshy parts that let him resemble something human were gone, and the rest of him was left to seep into the ground and fertilize. To give back; life gives to life gives to life—it was just that the life that begins this cycle—the giver—was not supposed to still be alive when this occurs. 

And that was only the first time. 

Pix had awoken, as he’d said, on the floor of the catacombs, emptier than he’d felt in a while. Something vital had been taken from him, something living—something human. This ghostly presence was what was left. His skin was ashen and sunken and—at the wrong angle of the sun—transparent, and his insides were hollow, and his lungs didn’t seem to fill all the way when he went through the motions of breathing, but he was still here. 

So he went back to work, because what else was he to do? He was still capable, he did not see a problem with continuing to run the museum. 

The following times had been, weirder, for lack of a better way to describe it. Since he no longer seemed to be alive to begin with, not in possession of a physical body, he didn’t know how it was that he could decay. But the earth tried and tried and tried again to show him, to prove that it could be done. 

There was nothing for them to take, he thought, there should be nothing left of him to decompose. But he did.

And he did. 

And he did. 

The ground just worked harder from each time then on. It would tug at him and pull at him and bury him but each time it found nothing to eat, to consume, but it would not be deterred. It would grope and paw and beg and it would not give up until it found a piece of him that it could claim, digging deeper and deeper with each further exploration. It latched onto whatever it had found and it ripped it from him; he feared each time that there would be nothing left to be conquered, and he did not want to know what would happen then. 

This time, this most recent occurrence, he came to on the ground in Chromia, his brain catching sight of the color around him and feeling overwhelmed for a moment by the sheer amount of sensory input. Being dead, he thought he was past inherently living experiences such as having to catch one's breath—he was constantly being proven wrong. 

The sky was blue above him, almost clear besides a handful of clouds lounging about their day. It was a nice sight until it was no longer in his view; big eyes and blond hair leaning over him, a hat somehow even more aggressive and loud than the decoration around Chromia, which was saying something. Right, he had been helping Oli with his noteblocks. 

“Oh, my liege!” the bard cried, dramatics high, ever playing up an act; like he’d heard the phrase all the worlds a stage once and decided to take it far too seriously. Even so, he was as undeniably genuine in his emotion as he always was—it was a shame there was never actually an audience to watch his evergreen performance.

Oli’s hands gripped his shirt, pulling him up with more strength than Pix expected him to have, but he forgot his shock when the position change made his head ache harder.

“Not the king anymore, Oli,” he corrected, eyes clenched tight and hand coming up to grab his head. He thought perhaps he’d just sit here with his eyes closed until it was dark and there was less to look at, yeah that sounded like a good plausible idea. 

“You okay, king?” Oli asked, having backed off a step or two, though still crouching before Pix in his show of concern. “Not king as in the king as in ‘oh fair crown of jewels that’s killed you so!’ but as in ‘yes, king, slay!’ that kind of king.” 

Pix wasn’t really sure measures of ‘okay’ applied to him anymore since his status had changed to non-living. Surely the relative measure of well-being was different for those who were dead.

“Yes, Oli,” He said, rather than explaining this. He wasn’t really feeling willing to elaborate at the moment. 

Oli laughed awkwardly. “You sure? You’re looking a little green there. And, by green, I mean completely see-through to the point where I can see the grass beneath you.” 

Pix looked down, and, sure enough, his legs were looking less than tangible. “Right,” he said in response like he had any sort of reasonable explanation to offer for this phenomenon, falling back into his role as an educator out of need for some form of consistency, but there was nothing more that he could say. Oli awkwardly laughed again when there was no follow-through, the fear behind it permeating the air. 

Pix made to stand, and Oli grabbed one of his arms to help him up, the gesture appreciated well enough. 

“So, does that happen often, or? I’m sorry, is that rude to ask? I’ve never met a dead person before.”

“Often enough,” Pix said, picking up his bag and throwing the strap over his shoulder. They were technically not done setting up the noteblocks, but he didn’t think Oli would protest his needing to leave. “And I’m unsure, I’ve never been dead before, myself.”

Oli blinked at him a few times until Pix smiled, giving him permission to smile in return. 

“Don’t worry about me, Oli. I’ll figure it out in no time and be right as rain I’m sure.” He lifted a hand to bid Oli goodbye and turned away. He needed to get back to the capital. 

The bard called behind him, “Of course, king, of course! Good as new—brand new, in fact!” and then he must have turned back around himself because the noteblocks started up again, the sound carrying softly in the breeze, still slightly off-beat from the song attempting to be replicated. 

Right, good as new, Pix thought, despite the fact that in all of the human history he had studied, there didn’t seem to be a cure for having died. But there was certainly something here, something he’d never come across before. Maybe it wasn’t curable, but it was fascinating—and he’d just become his own primary source, no better subject to analyze than himself. He was going to get to the bottom of this. 

It seemed he wasn’t quite as undead as he’d thought.

[veilder]

I'm too shy to say this off anon but just wanted to say how much I appreciate your tags. You leave such lovely commentary everhtime you rb my art and its really encouraging and I've noticed you do it consistently for everyone. You're awesome!!! Keep doing you :) :)

Omg, thank you! That is so sweet of you to say! (Especially since I've been slacking on the reblogging lately, omg. I have so many saved in my drafts. T_T) That is very encouraging to hear and I'm glad I can help spread a little bit of positivity around for everyone who works so hard in their fandoms. Y'all definitely earned it! ^_^

[aimfor-theheart]

cielo!! i come here with a jar of honey 🍯 for no reason other than i find the emoji so cute 🥺 but i also have a little note for you!!! 💌

i am so thankful that you write cielo, truly 🥹 i always think abt that hawks fic of yours hjsdbfjas and how much it's impacted me to this day sjdshj i feel like that's just the effect you have with your works!!! and am so thankful that i get to witness it 🥺 am also so happy we are friends now!! and get to talk abt our Thoughts in the server 🥺 there is an untapped part of my brain that contains guard dog behaviour itafushi and it's all bc of u 😭😭😭😭

since this is gratitude themed, i also want to ask you!! what’s something you’re thankful for right now? 🥹 i hope this weekend is wonderful to you!! 🫶🏻

SEL THIS ALSO SO SWEET 😭😭

and wow you’ve been with me for a long time to be thankful for the hawks fic JFKDJSKAJAJ and for that, i am also very thankful 🥺 truly to have someone whose supported me on here and supported my writing and then become a friend to me!!! is!! so!! special!! and i hope i can be such a lovely ray of sunshine the way you are! i am also so thankful for our friendship—you are a lovely person sel! and you make me smile often! 💕 i am glad our love of writing has brought us together!!

(also JFKDJSKAJA the dog behavior itafushi…….MY IMPACT JFKSJAKAJSKSJA)

but beyond being thankful for you and our friendship, i am thankful for a lot of the creatives in my life who have really supported me and encouraged me to pursue what i love!! including the folks on here!! writing and theater are the two things i want to do the rest of my life and i have been very fortunate to have people in both fields encouraging me and supporting me and inspiring me!! i’ve felt very grateful to witness their talent and share it and learn from it.

i am just filled to the brim honestly and i want it to overflow from me and onto the world. you know?

[lexa-griffins]

a message for us readers of top clarke/bottom lexa content: lets show up and support this content as much as we can and leave nice comments!!! we may not be majority but we can let the authors/content creaters know there's interest in this content so that they don't think they're writing into a void and get discouraged💖

👏👏 YES

Very well said anon!!! Comment on stuff, reblog and add a tag to tell the creator how much you liked it, if you dont feel comfortable reblogging, send an anon ask!! Some people create out of love but when they have none to little feedback it does make people much less motivated, especially if writing something that isnt the majority of the fandom's preference!!!

The more niche you go, the more you gotta show love to the creators if you want them to continue creating!! 💕

[mexashepot]

I'm flying to see the Czech production of Elisabeth in May with a friend!!!

I am so excited!!!

[dragonnarrative-writes]

4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

8. Do you prefer the beginning, middle, or end of a story?

13. what’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow?

20. Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

(If any have already been asked sorry!)

Hello my friend! Happy Friday!

4. A lot of my inspo comes from here on tumblr. You can definitely check out my Writing Prompts and Inspo tag for things that tickle my brain. But it also comes from other writers and authors! A few projects I have are a direct response to the creativity of others. Slasher Handler was inspired by and a love note to @charliemwrites's Gentle Chokeholds series. My next major project is an exploration of an idea by an author over in the Captain America fandom, and when I finally debut it, I'll tag them and their story! Sometimes the inspiration comes from another author's writing and style, but isn't a direct one-to-one story influence.

8. I love the beginning, but I hate starting a story. It's easy for me to get stuck trying to find the right gear and make the story move forward. I love everything about the middle of a story, though. It's where the characters live and learn and get to be messy. Ending a story... I assume it feels good, but I'm not great at that part!

13. First: Write what you want to read. If you don't genuinely love what you're writing, you're going to exhaust yourself. This is supposed to be fun. Don't worry too much if it's already been done or other people don't seem drawn to that kind of content. Write your story and you'll find the people who love it.

Second: Don't edit while you're writing. For me, this means resisting the urge to require every line to be perfect before I move on to the next. Generally, I feel okay about minor edits to a group of paragraphs at a time. But when you're trying to write and line edit at the same time, you're bound to get stuck.

Third: Write in a way that feels good. Seriously. Check in with your body. What about the physical experience of writing feels good? If you like writing by hand, make that a good experience with your favorite kind of pen(cil)! If you like the computer or phone, make yourself comfy! Make sure you have a snack, that you're hydrated, that your back isn't hurting. When we feel good, we do the things we want to do more often.

20. Gosh, there are a few turns of phrase that show up in my writing a lot, but I can't think of them just now. I write Black reader characters, and I tend to focus on readers in their 30s-ish. I like to focus on daily life and practical considerations for my characters, and realistic emotions and responses.

Ask Game

[rs-hawk]

Your Siren Boyfriend eventually tricking you into the water after weeks of just chatting to you on the docks. He never sings or tries to convince you to come in. He sits in the water, his arms propping him up on the low dock so you two can talk. His eyes dark as a trench, and you can’t help but worry about all the light on the surface hurting him. Even at night, it’s still brighter than where he’s from.

The night you bring him sunglasses is when he knows you’re going to be his mate. He feigns confusion and asks how to put them on. You giggle and lean forward, setting them on his face. He takes that moment to grab your wrists, yanking you into the salt water. You barely manage to catch a breath before hitting the water, not that it matters because as soon as he kisses you, you suddenly can breathe.

You want to be angry at him, but he looks so happy. He starts clicking and chirping, something he hasn’t done in a few weeks since he realized you can’t understand him. It must be like when you gets excited and revert to your mother tongue.

His shark teeth gently nip at you neck as he tugs at your clothes, encouraging you to slip out of your swimsuit. You know that you shouldn’t. This isn’t right. But you can’t help yourself. The feeling of your Siren slipping inside of you makes you whimper. He pushes you against the shifting sand of the ocean floor, slamming into you roughly. You can’t help the moans and sounds that escape your mouth. Thank God you can breathe under water now because there’s no way you could have contained yourself.

When he’s done, he eases back, burying his face between your trembling legs. His fat tongue encourages you to finish, and you do rather quickly. Once he’s satisfied, his kisses make their way back up to your lips.

“You’ll stay with me, won’t you?”