#but dialogue sometimes i'll even forget to write it

[msfandomsblog]

Alastor x Ballerina fem!Reader

yes this ones back, I reread part two and was surprised that I was the one that wrote that so she's getting an upload (also might post more cus I'm getting inspo)

Warnings; Use of y/n, swearing, Alastor is his own warning, bullying?.

After about a month you'd gotten quite used to the hotel and it's people. Angel had properly introduced you to all the residences.

Husk had started to dislike you less as you slowly let your overlord performance down. He found he liked you better then any overlord he'd ever met, even when you made a sadistic joke.

Nifty enjoyed how clean and graceful you were, and that you'd always complimented her killing skills which made the small demon beam.

Vaggie and you had a shared dislike for Alastor. You'd made a small bond over said thing.

Speaking of Alastor, he apparently liked testing just how aware of your surroundings you were. At first it was him trying to sneak up on you, then it was him 'accidentally' chucking things at you when you were distracted. You would of course catch said thing with your hand or a hover spell.

He would also poke fun at your newly found overlord status. Things that hinted at you being a weaker overlord.

"Do tell me dear! what is your main medium of power?"

"Well, I don't exactly have a medi-"

"I don't think you have any territory either do you?"

"Actu-"

"Thank goodness you're here now! Who knows what could have happened if you'd been left on the streets!"

During this conversation Husk had to pull you away so you didn't murder him on the spot.

Carmilla was holding an overlord meeting today, and of course you and Alastor had to be attending.

(Yes ik the overlord meeting was supposed to be for 'controlling' or most powerful overlords but lets forget about that)

The walk there had been utterly hilarious, the egg boys constantly bugging Alastor, You could see the irritation on his face as the eggs kept pestering him.

"Hark, Y/n and Alastor. How fare thee this day?" Zestial smiled at his fellow overlords.

(I don't know the full Zestial and Al dialogue so imma just skip it a bit.)

"There hath been rumor of thy involvement with the princess and her recent flight of fancy."

"Didn't think you were one to believe in rumors Zestial." You smirked, eyes narrowed.

"Please Do tell, How does thou fall in such folly?"

You went to speak but was cut off by Alastor.

"That is for us to know, but please do guess! I'd love to know the theories."

You kept rolled your eyes but copied his movements to continue walking.

"It would be a grand folly by far to assume the workings of your mind, Alastor." He paused "Or even Dear Y/n."

Your grin widened, "You flatter me Zestial, though don't know if I love being held in the same account as The Radio Demon." You smirked

Alastor turned his head towards you, his composer being chipped at. "Pardon?"

Zestial chuckled, "Thou is not wrong Alastor, Thou Hath not but an enigma since they manifested in this realm."

Alastor's smile perked up again, "Coming from someone as ancient as you, I'll take it as a compliment."

You three walked into the elevators that lead up to the meeting room.

(I don't wanna write a whole play by play of the episode so imma write my own thing)

Rosie greeted you kindly, but was quickly deterred away by Alastor. "Oh my Satan! Alastor! How've ya been? Oh I've missed you, old friend." She smiled, showing her sharp teeth.

"I've been well Rosie." He smiled back, liking the attention.

Rosie smiled brightly before turning to you. "And of course you've met! Y/n, you always reminded me of Al." She draped an arm over your shoulders and squeezed lovingly.

The smile that you'd been wearing now tightened. "Please Rosie! Don't insult me!" You laughed, patting her arm.

Alastor glared at you, his own smile turning snarl-like. You quite liked having him under your foot, you should come with him to Rosie's sometime. Have some real fun.

As you walked in your smile turned to a neutral or relaxed constant. As Alastor recounted his return to his fellow overlords, which Carmilla skated right over made you wheeze in laughter to yourself.

(Respect less and that whole thing, I don't really wanna write that but if anyone would like me to write Y/n and Alastors internal thoughts during this scene comment it!)

"Argh, Velvette has no self control. None of the Vees do." You fixed your outfit as you walked back towards the elevator.

You had really been talking to Rosie, but Alastor had taken the liberty to answered you.

"I agree, these," he paused thinking, "overly extravagant Overlords wish to gain more control and respect then is due." His smile was strained as he thought of the flat-faced bastard, the childish Doll demon, and that disgusting Moth.

You raised a brow at him. He'd never agreed with you on anything, why now?

You decided not to question it too much as you answered.

"That asshole, Vox, He's the only reason I'm not as powerful as I should be." Your wings fluttered angrily on your back.

Alastors smile closed to a small grin. "Do tell! What exactly did that Bastard do?"

As you began retelling how Vox had offered you a job as Val choreographer, then as a dancer social media star, all of which you'd cast aside,

Rosie was watching as her two very good friends were bonding over their shared hatred for the excitable Vees.

She knew that maybe, just maybe, her oldest friend would finally find someone.

Yes, yess, shame on me for taking forever to update but here part 3. yes this will be a slow burn, no you and Al aren't friends now just- acquaintances. (also sorry its short)

Hope you enjoy!!!!!

Taglist;

@milkissesx @aizawa-emma @deadgirldreaming

[notmorbid]

women and children first.

dialogue prompts from women and children first by alina grabowski.

i hear women can have it all, these days.

i don't believe in pulling other people into your own mess.

life is too short for meaningless experiences.

they're going to eat you alive out there.

do you love me?

you're very predictable, do you know that?

you shouldn't be out alone after dark.

pity is one of the best ways to get what you want.

fuck everyone but us.

would you come to my funeral?

would you rather live forever, or die tomorrow?

you can't protect me from my own decisions.

don't get old. it's no fun.

don't forget: you can always come home.

if it touches a nerve, it's worth writing about.

writing about it won't make me feel better.

there's nothing more reliable than a teenage boy's sense of humor.

everyone wants to be a hero, don't they?

not all stories are ours to share.

what's the point of talking? what does that change?

do you still think about that night?

this is no time for a pity party.

underestimating yourself isn't useful.

relax. live a little.

childhood trauma? i barely knew her.

stop inventing traumas to explain how fucked up you are.

kids are too old, these days.

being sober here is so fucking depressing.

i love to fuck myself over.

i'm getting tired of feeling sorry for you.

why lie in the face of undeniable evidence?

we all assume there are certain things we aren't capable of.

you're making your 'don't panic' face.

don't let ____ get in your head.

i wish i had a cigarette more than anything else in the world.

tell me what happened, and i'll help you figure out what to do.

there isn't as much truth in the world as you think there is.

there's nowhere like this left anymore.

you always have to try so fucking hard.

i forget i have a body if no one is here to remind me.

the story's not over yet. don't you want to know how it ends?

sometimes it's easy to blame yourself for things that happen to you.

there are some things that only we can talk about.

what have i ever done to you?

you can't live every single belief that you have.

your choices have to mean something, even if they mean something terrible.

i don't want you to be scared like me.

for someone without a lot of luck, you sure have a lot of hope.

life isn't worth living without a vice.

you don't have to pretend you're happy. not here.

you're always trying to reinvent yourself.

all i want is for things to be still.

you've seen some shit, haven't you?

bodies ruin everything.

you deserve to just be a kid again.

i wish you had the tiniest shred of faith in me.

faith doesn't require proof. trust does.

you're a tough fucking customer, you know that?

don't be a smartass. it's unbecoming.

when did you grow up?

just when i think you can't possibly surprise me, there you go.

i don't trust pretty people.

wanting to die and wanting to live aren't mutually exclusive.

don't worry, i learned my lesson. it was a shit show.

i think i would like to be someone else.

[lupin-et-rose]

BSD Brainrot (Pt 1.5)

Part 1 Continued

(AKA Brainrot 1 & 1/2)

BSD Boys x F!Reader

Kunikida & Poe (separately—this time with feeling)

Because gods help me these fuckers have me in a chokehold and I cannot be stopped

Minors DNI 18+ only

WARNINGS: Sexual references, cursing. Much stronger dom/sub scenarios, dialogue, dynamics and similar BSDM/NSFW themes than was featured in previous parts.

*** Viewer Discretion is Advised***

Kunikida

(Using a different gifs between posts for the sake of my own sanity…at least what’s left of it).

Listen—if you really want to see him short circuit? Come to him with your planner filled out, tasks checked off, deadlines met. He won't even wait until you get home. You're getting pinned against his desk, hands braced on your hips like he's trying to decide between praising you or ruining you. (Spoiler: it's both.)

He's methodical about your pleasure. He plans it out, writes it down in that damn notebook like it's an experiment.

“Three orgasms before I even fuck you. That's your reward. Do not beg me to come early-I'll stop. and make vou earn it all over again.”

He doesn't fuck you to lose control-he fucks you to teach you control. The kind that leaves your thighs shaking while he's telling you, calmly, lovingly, that he'll keep going until he decides you've learned your lesson.

And if you try to top him? If you think being a little tease, climbing into his lap while he's doing paperwork, will get you in charge? He'll just hum and let you think you're winning for exactly twenty-two seconds-before he flips you over his desk and folds your wrists behind your back.

"You really thought l'd let you take control without earning it?"

You think it's funny to steal his notebook while he's in the shower. You prance around the apartment holding it hostage, flipping it open dramatically like

“Oh wow! Is this a bullet-point list of sex positions?? Kunikida, you dog—!”

You don't get to finish the sentence. You're already over his lap before you even realize he's behind you, his voice low and deadly calm:

"Put. It. Down."

He warns you, so many times:

"If you keep acting like that, I'll make good on my threats."

And when you grin at him and say; "

“Oh no, what are you gonna do, Kunikida? Lecture me~?"

You don't realize what you've signed up for until you're face-down, ass up, wrists bound with his tie, and he's growling about how

"Disrespect has consequences, sweetheart~."

You'll learn fast: he loves giving you rules. Curfews. Outfits.

"You can touch yourself tonight, but no cumming. I'll know if you did."

And of course—you break the rules. Because you want him to lose it.

Which he does. Calmly. Cruelly.

"Since you have no self-control, I'll do it for you. Hands above your head. Legs open. And don't you dare try to cum again until I say."

•He punishes precisely. No shouting. No chaos.

Just sharp, deliberate touches and the slow unraveling of your composure.

And he never lets you forget why you're being punished.

"You were a brat today because you wanted this," he murmurs against your skin, dragging it out. "You wanted me to fuck you like this. Wanted to be punished. So here you are, darling—getting exactly what you asked for."

He's nothing if not principled. And that extends to your punishments.

Every rule broken is noted, sometimes literally. He'll keep a quiet tally in his notebook, and when the number reaches a certain point? You're sat down and told what you've earned —in graphic detail.

"This isn't just punishment, love. This is correction. You will learn your lesson. And I'll make sure you enjoy every second of it. That's the problem with you-the little brat in you likes this too much."

And yet—he listens so closely. Watches your breathing. Your eyes. He notices everything.

The shift in your breath. The way your fingers twitch. The way your voice trembles even before you safeword

And the moment something feels off-your pleasure starting to dip into discomfort, or even just emotional overload—he immediately pulls back.

"Eyes on me. Are you with me?" he asks, voice suddenly so gentle.

The second you start to truly tremble beneath the surface, when you whisper out "yellow" with a crack in your voice—he stops like he's been shot.

No hesitation. No frustration. He just wraps you up and holds you, hand rubbing soothing circles on your spine as he whispers;

"Thank you for telling me. You're safe. I've got you."

And when you nod, blinking back tears, he kisses your forehead like you're made of glass.

“That's enough for tonight, sweetheart. You've done more than enough."

He'll ask again once you're grounded:

"Was it the intensity? Something I said? Did you feel safe?"

Because he needs to know—not just to get it right next time, but because he refuses to be the reason you hurt in the wrong way.

And if you break down mid-scene-not from pain, but from the overwhelming release of emotion? He'll cradle you through it.

"I've got you. Let it out. You're okay. I'm right here."

You're pulled into his lap, his lips brushing your hairline while he rocks you like he can physically soothe the ache out of your bones.

The notebook is closed. The punishments are done. And for the rest of the night, you are cared for like you're sacred.

—It's rare. It's so rare for him to slip up, to show need before you've earned it.

But when he does—when his voice cracks during praise, when his forehead presses against yours as he breathes;

"You have no idea what you do to me"—you get to see the man behind the discipline.

And for a moment, he is the one trembling.

Sometimes it hits him all at once-usually when you give in fully, obedient and trusting and so willing. And he'll lose his rhythm, just for a second.

"You're... fuck. You're perfect. I don't deserve—“

You have to kiss him quiet. Show him, without words, that you want him in this space, in this softness. That you see him.

And if he lets himself cry? Just a tear or two, nothing dramatic-he'll apologize for it later. But in the moment, all he can do is hold you tighter and whisper;

"Thank you. Thank you for trusting me."

Sometimes, when you've proven your obedience-when you've earned it—he relinquishes control with a sort of quiet awe.

Like the idea of handing the reins over to you terrifies him, but he trusts you anyway.

He sits on the edge of the bed, stiff with anticipation, eyes flicking up to yours.

"You have control tonight. Use it well."

And oh, the way he breaks when you start slow-kissing down his chest, undoing his belt like it's the most delicate thing in the world. He grips the sheets like he's dying, all quiet gasps and bitten-off moans.

"Don't stop. Please. /—fuck—I need you to keep going."

There's a reverence in the way he submits-like giving up power is more vulnerable than taking it. He murmurs things he'd never say otherwise.

"You're so good to me."

"I'm yours, tonight."

"Tell me what you want—I'll do anything."

And afterward, even if you had control, he still insists on caring for you. Fetching water, running a warm cloth over your skin, whispering praises like prayers.

Because no matter who's in charge in bed-he loves you like you're the only rule he'll ever break.

In the aftermath, when everything settles - whether you were in charge or he was - Vulnerability lingers. Your muscles ache. Your mind's quiet. And he's still watching you like a soldier standing guard.

It always starts with the silence. Not awkward—safe. Full. The kind of silence that makes you feel held, even before he's touched you again.

He exhales like he's been holding his breath the whole time.

Then he speaks: "You were perfect."

Not good, not compliant—perfect. Like you were never meant to be anything else.

He won't leave your side. Not even for a second.

"Do you want water? Blanket? Touch?" he asks softly. "Say the word and it's yours."

He's meticulous in aftercare. He's got water waiting. A warm towel. Maybe even a lavender-scented balm he picked up weeks ago just for you.

"This might sting a little," he murmurs, carefully cleaning you up, even if you're too dazed to respond. "But I'll be gentle."

And he is. God, he is.

But he's also...stupidly soft after. Like, kisses to your temple, warm baths drawn with precise care, notebook closed for the night. He calls you "sweet girl" in a voice so tender it makes you ache worse than the bruises on your thighs.

He asks, every time, if you're okay. Not just physically-but emotionally.

"Did I push too far?"

"Did I take care of you the way you needed?"

And he listens to your answers like they're sacred texts.

He runs you a bath if you're up for it-joins you if you ask, but otherwise sits close by.

Book in hand, towel over his lap, always glancing up to check on you.

(He absolutely has a whole page in his notebook dedicated to "Aftercare Notes." If he notices a product worked well or something helped soothe you, it gets logged with clinical precision.)

And when you're wrapped up in blankets, limbs sore and mind foggy, he'll hold you in his arms like a lullaby. Fingers brushing over your shoulder, your hip, your hair-grounding you.

"You're safe now," he whispers. "You did everything I asked. You were so good for me."

And if you cry-whether from subdrop, or tenderness, or just sheer emotional weight— he doesn't flinch.

He pulls you into his chest, hand gently stroking your back

"It's okay. I've got you. Let it out, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere."

Yet even then—as wonderful as he is—sometimes Kunikida needs reassurance too.

He won't say it outright, but he'll linger. Touch your hand. Let you see the way his shoulders have dropped.

His forehead presses to yours. His voice is low, hoarse from earlier, but soft enough to be a balm:

“I know I can be... intense. But I swear, / would never give you more than you could handle. And if I ever do—tell me. I'll stop. No hesitation. Your comfort comes first, always."

And when you curl into him and whisper:

"You did so good, Kunikida…”

He melts like wax in your arms.

Eventually, when the world rights itself again, he lies with you in bed, tracing lazy patterns on your skin. Sometimes he reads aloud to you until you drift off. Sometimes he just hums.

And sometimes-rarely—he confesses.

"You're the only person I trust with this part of myself."

You're too sleepy to answer, but he doesn't need you to. He kisses your temple and tucks the blanket higher.

"Sleep, my love. I'll be here when you wake."

***

Poe

He tries to dominate exactly once—murmuring something about being “in control tonight,” voice all low and serious—and you nod sweetly.

Poe tries to be commanding, bless his heart. Will sit on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, voice trembling as he says something like;

“Take your clothes off. Now.”

But his hands are shaking. His voice cracks on “off.” And when you reach for the buttons, he has to look away like he’ll combust if he watches too closely.

Let him talk. Let him settle between your legs like he’s in charge.

And then? You tug gently on his curls and he moans. You lean in close, lips brushing his ear.

“Oh baby~. You really thought that was going to work?”

He whimpers. Folds. Immediately.

His hands shake when he touches you. Not from fear—from how deeply, devastatingly overwhelmed he is by the privilege of it.

The moment you praise him—call him “good boy,” stroke his cheek, moan his name—he’s gone. Eyes fluttering, thighs trembling, hands clutching the sheets like he’s bracing for death by affection.

He’ll be whispering things like “you’re divine” and “please, let me—” while trailing kisses down your stomach, like he’s worshipping at an altar.

He gets so shy about his noises, too—tries to cover his mouth or bury his face in your neck. But you don’t let him. You make him be loud.

“I want to hear everything, Edgar. Don’t you dare hide it from me.”

And the way he melts under the command—he whines like it’s physically painful to obey, but he does it anyway, breathy and broken and so, so pretty.

Oh, and his hands? Clingy. Desperate. Always seeking contact. He’ll grip your hips like a lifeline, run trembling fingers through your hair, paw at your thighs when he’s too wrecked to form words.

He wants to touch you constantly but never assumes he’s allowed to unless you guide him there.

His body betrays him constantly. His nipples go hard the second you breathe on them. His hips rut up against you even when he’s trying to stay still.

And the second you pinch or rub his chest while riding him?

Gone. Feral. Clawing at your back, keening your name like a prayer he’s too sinful to speak aloud.

•And when you edge him—deny him, whisper “not yet” with a wicked smile—he sobs. Sobs. Hands balled into the sheets, back arching as he pleads with you, voice wrecked:

“Please—please let me finish—I can’t—I need—please—”

He wants to be good. Wants to show you he can take more.

But by the third orgasm, he’s incoherent. Whimpering, writhing, tears slicking down flushed cheeks as he babbles nonsense into the sheets.

And you just coo at him. “You can give me one more, Poe. Can’t you? Be a good boy for me.”

He nods like he’s possessed. “Yes—yes, anything—please—”

He lives in his head—lost in stories, fantasy, control through words. But the second you take that control from him? Strip it bare? He’s nothing but yours.

You pin his wrists. Blindfold him. Whisper filth into his ear while dragging your nails down his chest.

“Where’s that sharp little tongue now, darling? Oh? Too full of my fingers to answer?”

You make him wait.

Not just for sex—no, no. You have rituals.

He kneels by the bed, hands resting obediently on his thighs, eyes downcast, trembling slightly in anticipation.

You light a candle, take your time undressing. Speak to him in soft commands:

“Count your breaths. Keep your hands to yourself. You’ll get your reward when you’ve earned it.”

He nods, wide-eyed, aching already.

“Yes, ma’am.”

One time — oh, you’ll never forget this — the first time you gave him just a taste of humiliation. Just to test the waters, see if he was comfortable with it.

You pressed a boot to his chest while he lies beneath you, panting.

“You look so pretty like this. Ruined. Blushing. Desperate.”

He moans like it hurts.

And if you call him pet names with a sharp edge—“Pathetic little thing,” “My sweet mess,”—his entire body shudders.

Not from shame—but because he loves being reduced to your precious plaything.

You tease him mercilessly—licking, sucking, touching, but never letting him have what he wants.

Until he’s begging for permission. And when you finally grant it?

You do it with a whisper in his ear:

“Come for me, Edgar. Let everyone know who you belong to.”

And he does—loudly, body arching, every muscle trembling with surrender.

In the wake of it all…He is so reverent in the way he touches you.

His fingers tremble slightly every time he lays a hand on your skin, as if he’s afraid he’ll break you.

“You’re… you’re divine,” he whispers. “I—I do not deserve to be touched by you.”

(You reassure him. And he nods, a little dazed, like he’s still not sure he believes it.)

He loves being taken care of—but never expects it.

When you guide him into your lap, run your fingers through his hair, murmur that he’s safe and good and yours—he goes pliant like a cat in a sunbeam.

He’ll press kisses to your collarbone, your wrist, anywhere he can reach.

“I am… grateful,” he breathes, half-asleep against your chest. “I never imagined I could feel so… wanted.”

He asks permission for everything. To touch you. To kiss you. To undress. Not because he thinks he has to—but because it brings him peace to hear you say yes.

And every “yes” you give is met with a trembling “Thank you.”

Always. Always thank you.

He adores being guided. If you straddle his lap and tell him;

“Hands behind your back, eyes on me,”

He obeys like it’s gospel.

You can see the way his chest rises, his lips part in awe, the softest moan slipping out just from the intimacy of it.

“You’re everything,” he murmurs, voice cracking.

When you top him gently—slowly grinding, hands holding his—he’s stunned into silence. Not from discomfort, but because he doesn’t know how to express that much love all at once.

You cup his face, whisper “I love you,” and he shatters. Cries, even, if he’s feeling especially soft.

“I love you, too. More than I have words for.”

He holds your hand afterward like it’s the only thing anchoring him to this plane of existence.

And later, when you’re both curled up under the sheets, he’ll rest his forehead against your shoulder and quietly admit:

“I didn’t think someone like you could ever want someone like me.”

You hush him, press a kiss to his temple. He closes his eyes and lets out a breath that sounds like relief.

He is a simp. A servant. He memorizes your coffee order, your preferred bath temperature, the rhythm of your breathing when you’re happy. He wants to be the reason you sigh with contentment.

And he will cry—happy, overwhelmed, aching with love—if you ever look him in the eye and say:

“Edgar, you’re mine. I don’t want anyone else.”

[n3felibata]

This is gonna be a hot take, but it bothers me when people say that Phoenix became an attorney JUST for Edgeworth.

Yes, Edgeworth is a big part of the reason he became a lawyer. Yes, Phoenix went to law school after finding out he's the "demon prosecutor" now. Hell, I'll even outright admit that Phoenix would not be an attorney if it weren't for Edgeworth.

But that's the only reason he stands in court. Goodness, no. It goes deeper than that, and it has a lot to do with Phoenix's depth and the overall message of Ace Attorney.

First of all, in the first few minutes of the very first game, Phoenix outright says that Larry is part of the reason he became a lawyer, too.

(Really, I feel like some of you are forgetting that Larry defended him that day as well...)

And second of all, there's the fact that he continues to be a lawyer in Justice for All despite thinking Edgeworth was dead for most of that game. And I have to admit it's been a while since I've played Justice For All, but I remember him defending his clients just as passionately as he does in any other game.

Edgeworth directly asks Phoenix in this same game why he stands in court, and Phoenix responds by saying this:

At least him saying in PWAA that he stood up for Maya because he "can't just abandon her" and "someone has to look out for people with no one on their side" is only one dialogue option out of three.

But telling Edgeworth he wants to save lives is the only answer the player can give to that question. Because it's the correct one. Phoenix Wright has a huge sense of justice, and it's a big part of his character.

This is why Phoenix hates prosecutors so much, or more specifically the ones that only stand in court to "win" rather than to actually seek the truth. And that's probably also why the writers continously make the antagonists of these games people who fit that exact description.

And yes, his backstory (or at least this specific part of it) may not be as traumatic as the other characters', but it doesn't need to be. This kind of stuff can seriously impact a child, especially when the teacher themselves in joining in on the bullying. His clients are going through worse, yes, but regardless, this experience taught him that people will assume the worst in you with little to no evidence and what it means to have someone believe in you when no one else will. He wants to be there for people going through worse than him, and that's valid. Not every character needs to be an orphan or rape victim or something to be an intriguing character with reasonable motivations and experiences that are meaningful to them.

Again, I'm not denying that Edgeworth is a huge part of why he went to law school (and thank goodness he did because I can't imagine what would've happened to Edgeworth if he never became an attorney...), but saying that Edgeworth is the ONLY factor feels like it's not only disacknowledging Phoenix's depth and reducing his character to just his relationship with Edgeworth, but also feels like it's disacknowledging the themes of justice in the writing of the game itself. Like no offense, but how did y'all manage to take what's clearly meant to be a satirical call out to Japan's flawed justice system and reduce it to just "yaoi"?

I LOVE wrightworth, but sometimes it feels like some people are so fixated on it that they forget that both Wright and Edgeworth are still their own complex individuals with depth outside of their relationship with each other.

[incenseandturpentine]

Fire Escape (Adam Faulkner-Stanheight x Reader)

Sorry for disappearing--it can (and will) probably happen again. Please take a little sweet musing that I've been slowly chipping away at over the past few weeks as a gesture of love and apology. This one is for my reader-insert crowd 'n' Adam lovers because that's all I know, tbh. Sorry if that's not your jam. Maybe I'll do something else one day, maybe I won't. Don't come for me because I write these for me and the ones who get it, get it. No smut in this one, just a study of relationships, dialogue, scenes, Adam's character, etc etc etc. Also--is it Radford? Is it Stanheight? Is it Faulkner-Stanheight? Who knows? Who gives a shit?

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Pairing: Adam Faulkner-Stanheight x Reader Word Count: 3k Rating: Mostly SFW. Makeouts included. No sex. You make that call. Notes: Friends to lovers. No use of Y/N. Gender-neutral reader. Slightly emotional. Let me know if I forget anything important because I don't do this often. Sorry about any fucked up formatting from posting on mobile. Included Track: The Haunted - The Failure

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“Don’t tell me you're one of those vegans, too.”

“Why do you care, Stanheight?” You retorted with a gentle smile.

“Because my ex-girlfriend was a vegan!” Adam exclaimed incredulously, emphasizing the last word with feigned disdain. “A feminist vegan punk…” he murmured, shoving the incoming envelopes from his tiny mailbox under his arm and flipping the metal door shut.

“She sounds like my kind of gal,” you laughed, flashing him that sly grin that melted his heart. “Also, why is it an issue? You asking me out on a date, Peeping Tom?”

Adam instinctively pushed his hands into the pockets of his threadbare jeans, thumbing at the hole in the lining. He had wanted to take you out for months now since he had moved in, but he couldn’t muster the balls to finally ask you. 

———————————————————————

His mind flicked back to those lonely nights sitting beside his open window with a cigarette in hand, hearing the faint lilt of your voice one floor up the fire escape that glistened with spider webs gently wafting in the breeze. Sometimes, you would be singing. Sometimes, speech slurring together with boisterous laughter after a bottle of wine with one of your friends and the quiet cadence of a track he always associated with you.

Even on those dragging, hungry nights waiting for his meal tickets to develop in the makeshift darkroom—faces of wealthy strangers watching over his decrepit abode with thousand yard stares—Adam could find some sort of satiation in your distant presence. As the dry-erase marker reading CALL MOM? on his refrigerator smudged and faded with time— a plea beckoning him and going unanswered—Adam found himself chasing the radiant warmth that you seemed to exude. Little did he know how much your palms sweat the first time you slipped a small flier underneath his door, inviting him to meet with a local grassroots group since you had caught him spray painting a sign in the apartment courtyard. 

He has heart, you thought to yourself. You grinned when he returned the favor, taping the time and date of a benefit show to your door a week later. You had grown to expect chugging guitar riffs muffled by your creaking floorboards when the veil between the late night and dawn was drawn back. It was an unspoken sign that Adam was chipping away at his backlog of deliverables for clients while you hunched over a cold utility knife and editorial layouts for a music magazine spread across a gouged cutting mat.

Sometimes, after a well-packed joint, Adam would sneak out of his window, silently slinking up the wrought iron steps and grabbing the edge of your landing to crouch in the corner, seemingly undetected. There was always a twinge of guilt in his gut for feeling the impulse to watch you, getting to know you in ways even you did not know, but the devil on his shoulder always stifled his better judgment. He was oblivious to the fact that you were silently aware of his presence, a small smile on the corner of your lips as you went along with his voyeuristic game. You always knew when he made his routine stops, the faint smell of tobacco momentarily drifting into your apartment window before fading when your kitchen clock’s hand struck a quarter hour later. 

———————————————————————

“I mean…” Adam trailed off, staring at the scuffed toes of his boots, “would you want to? I don't have much put away for anything fancy.”

He was right. When you finally heard Adam shuffling around in his apartment again, after four weeks of oppressive silence and knocking on your neighbors’ doors to see if anybody had heard even a whisper of where he had gone, he had reappeared ten pounds lighter with a broken foot and broken soul. He had thrown himself completely into new work. No longer did you smell tobacco on the fire escape or hear the familiar chords of industrial guitars beneath your pillow.

Until, one brisk October twilight, you came knocking with a pot full of curried vegetables and a pack of beer, asking him to explain everything about his abrupt absence and the bulky leg cast that he donned. Since then, you had been one of the few people he actually held closer than ten feet away, cracking that facade of ice-cold indifference.

“Don’t we usually toss a coin for who's apartment we’re eating dinner at, anyways?” You replied, taking a couple short steps down the stairs and leaning over the banister, chin perched on folded arms. 

“That’s not much of a date, though, is it?” Adam inquired, shrugging his messenger bag up on his good shoulder.

“Why not? It is if we say it is,” You said with a grin, reaching down to fluff the messy, black mop atop his head. The gesture made Adam’s heart thump aggressively in his chest, beating at its cage like a lashing tiger. 

Adam shoved a hand into the pocket of his bag, fingertips brushing the cool metal of a quarter and holding it between your gazes. You two were used to this routine; heads always meant his apartment, tails meant yours. Regardless of who was hosting, you always brought the food, since you had put more effort into exploring flavor on a tight budget instead of simply whipping together whatever bland pantry staples could fuel a vessel of flesh like Adam did. With a quick flick of his fingers, Adam sent the coin spiraling in the air, landing in his palm a moment later before he smacked it on the top of his other hand, revealing the ruling as a clairvoyant would with tea leaves.

Heads.

“Looks like you've got to clear off a table tonight, Stanheight,” You volunteered for him, fingertips tracing the worn lacquered wood of the banister. “What time?”

Adam paused, racking his brain for an idea to make tonight's plans stick out more than your usual meetups. A moment later he smiled, his ego swelling for thinking effectively on the spot. He looked up at you, eyes bright and boyish. “Come down the fire escape at 5:00. Meet on my deck.”

“I’ll bring the food, you bring the wine?”

“Oh, now you're speaking my language!” He exclaimed, huffing a laugh and starting the journey up the splintered stairs to his apartment, the ache in his ankle dulled by the distraction of his mental checklist and the churning pit in his stomach.

———————————————————————

Hot enamel of a heavy, worn cast-iron pot nearly burned through your cheap oven mitts as you climbed through your window and began your descent down the fire escape steps. The golden glow of a setting sun peered through pink clouds, bathing everything as far as the eye could see in a warmth that contrasted the brisk fall evening. As you rounded the corner onto Adam’s grated deck, you paused, laughing incredulously at the sight before you.

A threadbare comforter was laid out atop the cold metal, candles that were barely more than melted hunks of wax sitting atop a baking sheet in the center. Adam had taken the time to place two chipped plates and silverware next to each other, fork and knife on the wrong side laid out from a faded recollection of table etiquette. By the time you had set down the heavy pot and taken your spot on the comforter, Adam was stumbling out of his window, a large speaker in his arms taken from his stereo straining against the tether of its extension cord.

“I'm surprised you even had a romantic cell in your body,” You said as you turned to face him, watching him balance the speaker atop his window sill and pull the window down to clamp the box between its gaping maw.

“Don't get too used to it,” He replied, rotating the dial to turn up the volume of the CD he had playing in his living room. “Blink and it’ll be gone before you know it.”

“Should I consider that a red flag?” You inquired with a sly smile, knowing that the sarcasm coating every one of Adam’s words was merely a defensive shell to protect that ember of empathy.

“One of many,” He plopped down next to you, bobbing his head at the screaming guitar tones coming from the speaker as he peeked into the lid of the piping hot pot and inhaled the savory scent with a hum of approval. He was doing everything he could to hide the glances he stole of you dishing dinner onto plates in the golden sunlight, heart and gut churning in their confines. 

“Guess I'll find out in time, huh?” You teased, watching that nervous smile on his lips. He shoved a slice of tofu into his mouth to distract himself before he said anything stupid. He plucked up the two disposable plastic cups and cracked open a bottle of wine, pouring two cups and handing one to you. 

“I washed them, don't worry,” He said between bites, savoring the hot meal. “‘S good!”

You winked at him and took a long sip of wine between bites, humming the melody of the track you were familiar with and admiring his sharp features in the glow of incoming twilight. You were grateful for the moments like this, basking in the warmth of Adam’s suppressed sweetness beneath the prickling cocoon of sarcasm and vitriol.

“What made you finally ask me on a date, Stanheight?” You asked.

“What made you say yes to me?” Adam countered.

“Well,” You began, washing down a bite with another swig of wine. “At first, I chalked it up to your boyish good looks…but then, after you were gone for so long, I realized that I missed your company.”

“Hell of a company to have,” Adam shook his head, laughing over the rim of his cup and focusing his attention solely on you. His heart ached to hear your reasoning.

“You are!” You exclaimed, pointing your fork at him. “You've always been my favorite person to bring to shows, to the gallery, or to just hit the bodega when a beer and cigarette are in order.”

“Yeah?” Adam’s heart began to twist again. His chewing slowed as he focused intently on every word, each stirring up a memory that made him smile.

During his captivity, after all, memories were all he had to keep him from completely losing his grip. How you laughed as he fumbled in his canvas bag for an extra fifty cents for a pack of mint gum so he didn't smell like cigarettes at your gallery opening. How you marched him out of his apartment and down the block for falafel from a street cart that you shared at the end of a shitty week. How he always seemed to carve out a bit of extra time for you over the rest of his friends, and you for him.

“It was lonely as shit with you gone,” You mused as you looked over the wrought iron railing at the sun sinking behind brick and a kaleidoscope of glass. “I went door to door every night after work hoping someone had seen you in the neighborhood.”

Adam felt the lump in his throat sink as he looked over at you, slowly chewing, the fire escape silent save for the harsh melody of a song forgotten. His head sunk slightly, eyes wide in disbelief. Your gaze was soft, wanting nothing more than to reach out and grasp his hand with your own and pull him in for a tight embrace. 

“You went looking?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well…” He murmured, averting his gaze down to hide the heat crawling up his neck and into his face. He set his dish down and smoothed his hands nervously along the softened denim of worn-in jeans. You leaned in just a hair, encouraging him to continue. “I always joked that, had I turned up dead in some freak accident or some shit, nobody would have looked sideways at the situation, or even looked at all.”

You coughed, the surprise causing you to swallow the bite of your food too soon. You waved your hand at him as he looked back at you, sipping your wine before placing your own plate down and turning your body to face him fully. It took everything in Adam’s core to not stare at your lips, studying every soft curve of your features in the warm glow of a dying sun. You moved instinctively, reaching out and placing your hand atop his in his lap and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I wouldn’t scour every inch of this godforsaken city for you, Stanheight,” You whispered, your own stomach fighting turbulent waves as it flipped over each word. “Don’t be saying silly shit like that. Hear me?”

“Heard and reciprocated,” Adam replied with a meek smile, lacing his fingers with yours as you leaned in to rest your head on his shoulder and watch the final shimmers of sunlight paint the sky vivid hues of violet and rose. You couldn’t help but smile as you took in the smell of his cheap soap and dollar store detergent in the slight breeze. Adam tapped his fingers on the palm of your hand to the beat of the song on the stereo, absentmindedly leaning his head to rest his cheek on the crown of your head. A moment later, he paused.

“Can I kiss you?” Adam inquired softly, the question sending a jolt down your spine.

“What?” You lifted your head, cheeks flushing in the low light of the candles he had laid out before you two. Your eyes lit up and a cheeky grin flashed on your face.

“You don’t have to, I just thought I would ask…I mean, I’ve been wanting to ask you for a—” He quickly tried to brush off the question before you leaned up, pressing your soft lips against his own and cupping the curve of his jaw with a warm hand. Adam was caught slightly off guard, leaning into you and lacing his hands under the hood of your zip-up. His eyes flickered shut, heart racing as you both melted into the gentle gesture, the faint taste of spice and cigarettes on his tongue.

Your own hands slipped into soft black curls, feeling him lean back onto his elbows, refusing to break away from you. Adam smiled and let out a quiet laugh as you slid into his lap, refusing to pass up the opportunity that you had been waiting months for now in silence.

“I really thought you would never ask,” You whispered against the corner of his smile, grinning ear to ear as he craned his head up to steal small, chaste kisses of his own. Your fingertips danced down the warm skin of his neck and trailed along the weary fabric of his threadbare shirt—worn weekly since 1999, you could have guessed. His heart thrummed under your gentle touch and his own arms wrapped tight to keep you close.

“Guess I was just nervous,” He murmured into your lips, eyes heavy under his lids as they locked onto yours. “I knew I wanted to do that since I saw you spill that beer all over your shirt at the Underground.”

“Shut the fuck up!” You exclaimed, rolling your eyes at the vivid memory. You both broke into boisterous laughter, leaning your forehead against his and curling strands of his hair around your finger. “You're such an ass when you want to be.”

“Yeah,” Adam mused into the miniscule void between your parted lips, fingers curling around the soft leather of your belt and pulling your warm frame against his own. “Only sometimes when I want to get a rise out of you.”

The space between you fell silent, chaste lips melding and hesitant hands exploring soft fabric as the ring of car horns below and the strum of metal guitars filled the air. You were the first to take a step more, tracing his cheeky grin with your tongue and slipping into the warmth of his mouth. That same nervous tinge trailed slowly down the back of your spine, punctuated by the sensation of Adam’s fingers drifting absentmindedly along your frame.

“So,” You breathed as the two of you pulled away from each other for just a moment, noses touching and hands tangled. “Does this make us official?”

“Do you want it to be?” Adam inquired, eyes locked on yours to search your face for an answer. One he had been toiling around in his head for months now.

You hummed, that impish smile back on your lips.

“I'll think about it,” You whispered against him, though you already knew the answer in your mind. You both laughed breathlessly, lips colliding once more in the chilled air of that apartment fire escape.

[toffeebrews]

tell me your Ink headcanons NOW 😼😼😼

You're... giving me permission.... to share my ink headcanons.

well get ready

Talked about this one already but I'll share it again: I think Broomie is semi sentient. I like to think at first Ink didn't know that though, but still talked to broomie anyway. So, regardless of this fact Ink probably would've talked to broomie.

He's good at encouraging people but not comforting people. If that makes sense? (projection much pfttt)

If you ran your hand over the "tattoo" marks it have a slight divot in it. Like a crack in a road. Probably because... in my hc they're literally semi healed cracks.

They're is talented in many types of art not just one. Hes talented in singing, dancing, fashion design, mechanics, and architecture! Really the only one he struggles with is well... cooking. Do NOT let that man in a kitchen (I mean he's immortal why would he not learn multiple artistic skills?)

Y'know how canon!swap climbs on people because hes insecure about his height? I think Ink does the same thing.

(More yappening under the cut)

Deep down he feels like something is missing... what he doesn't know is he's missing his home, his AU. Sometimes hes goes on a search universe to universe in search of "something important he can't remember" but can never find it. Until he gets bored, forgets what he's doing or gets preoccupied with something else.

He likes switching up his looks so he may give himself a tail or paws or claws with his brush. Maybe he even changes the color of his limbs sometimes (that's more a crack hc though). He gives themself a new outfit at any chance he can get. (Edit: I actually imagine one of the reasons he would get excited for multiverseal events is mainly because he gets to show off a new outfit for that event. He goes ALL out)

Due to his dulled sense of pain often he isn't aware he's injured unless it's pretty severe. So he may just go about their day with injuries they don't know about. Typically Dream or Swap have to be like "dude you have a crack in your skull."

After that one comic with Swap and Ink, Swap bandaged up his skull despite Ink insisting he didn't need it. Mainly because Swap didn't know Ink could heal themself and just thought Ink was being humble. Everytime he went to go take it off, Swap would freak about it hasn't had enough time to heal. Until Ink did a more through "I have a brush bro chill" (not ink accurate dialogue).

He's super flexible!! like contortionist level of flexibility.

Oddly specific but I think they're the type to consume all sorts of fan content and enjoy it. Completely ooc and fanon stuff too. He would be the type to read a fic and go "I would NOT say that" with a giggle and write a heartfelt comment anyway.

If you know homestuck... Nepeta has a shipping wall. I think Ink would have something similar (projection?? blasphemy!). Maybe in his sketchbook or smth. I mean do you see how he reacts around his dads smh 😔😮‍💨. He doesn't take it all that seriously though... LMAO. But I feel like he would be like "🏳️‍🌈?" y'know? Is this making any sense? I hope LMAOOO

Ink knows being called "child" annoys Dream so when Dream's like "I'm not a child I'm 500 years old" he just uses different synonyms of kid " heya youngster" " hi boy" stuff like that to annoy him. Just to mess with him.

He loves "aggressive affection." Like he bites people. He also likes to be bitten (not in a sus way but like in a cat like way). He loves bear hugs. Stuff like that.

He loves being drawn on, like literally. He loves the sensation of art supplies on his bones. Particularly the texture of paint and pencil are the ones he enjoys the most. He draws designs and stuff on his bones sometimes.

He has that cartoon ability to walk on walls or the ceiling and completely defy gravity. How? Cartoon skelly powers ig.

[fitztragedy]

Ranking my own fics

I've had writers block for almost a year now so I decided to go down memory lane and re read all my Rivusa fics to see if I should go back to writing them or if the mood is officially dead. And then list/rank/rec them here in case any of you are interested in my thoughts of my own writing.

I decided to keep this list to just shippy rivusa fics that are over 6k words because otherwise it'd be a huge post.

Gonna be a long post so it's all under the cut! I'm curious to see what you guys think of them or if you agree with my order. And if you think I should go back to writing those two.

1st place: TEMPTING FATE (collab with @septemberrie)

I feel like this one is obvious. It's by far the most popular of my fics and one that I never get tired of re-reading. It was so fun to write and make the arts for and I loved working with Skye on it. I still get butterflies when I read all the comments, it truly warms my heart to know so many people loved it. We still get the odd comment here and there of people re-reading or reading for the first time and it makes my day whenever I see those. This fic not only holds a dear place in my heart because of all of this but it truly is, for me, the best written out of the list. I'm not very good with descriptions and since english is not my first language I feel like sometimes my dialogue comes across a bit stiff, but since this was a collab with Skye, she filled in where my weaknesses were lacking and the result was a masterpiece.

2nd place: THIN WALLS (collab with @theperfectrose)

It started as my first attempt at a multichap fic written by myself and soon I realised I did need help so I brought Iva in and I'm so glad! The result was something I'm super proud of and I also love re-reading it. It has around the same wordcount as Tempting Fate, and it's also a rom-com type fic, but it only has half the hits, kudos and comments, so if you liked TF and don't know this one I'd say maybe give it a shot and let me know what you think?

3rd place: TIRED OF PRETENDING (collab with @gossipqueen2000)

In all honesty I had forgotten this existed until I re-read it and I'm so shocked I forgot about it because it's so good! The start of the fic is probably the best start of any of my fics. Mo was the first stranger-I-met-online I collabed with and it was such a nice experience, she brings such a depth of emotions in the descriptions and you can really feel it reading her fics (and collabs). I'll definitely not make the mistake of forgetting about this fic again. And I'll never be fixing that one very obvious editing mistake contained in it.

4th place: TOLERABLE

I consider this to be the most underated of my fics, because I think it's super good but it has very few hits/comments/kudos comparing to others that I don't love as much. Not only I wrote it all by myself but I really loved how it turned out, the dialogue and the descriptions, the worldbuilding and setting of the story, the way Riven and Musa slowly fall for eachother in a arranged marriage situation. I meant it when I said in the notes that I poured my heart and soul into this and I am proud of it and actually finishing it and posting. I keep thinking of coming back to it, add another chapter or another fic in this same universe because I love the premise of it, but because of the lack of feedback I'm not sure if people would actually read it or what they'd be interested in reading about. So if you do read it pls lemme know!

5th place: TAKING IT SLOW

This is me, dipping my toes in whump and going out of my comfort zone and I'm so proud of myself for doing so. I loved how this came out. I know I keep saying I'm proud of myself for the fics I've written but I really am. I'm very self concious and I'm always comparing myself to others, thinking what I do isn't as good or thinking I shouldn't keep doing something because others do it better. Even if I tell myself that I shouldn't write for others and I should do it for myself and not mind if a fic gets few comments or kudos a part of me will always look for validation. But re reading this fic made me feel so good about my own writing, genuinely proud that I did it. I love this fic so much.

(Here is where I realise my top 5 fics' titles all start with T for some reason??)

6th place: AN INNOCENT TRUST EXERCISE

I always think this is a lil' one shot that I wrote and an okay one but then I realise it's over 10k and really good? lol I guess I have a habit of forgetting my own fics. It's the first "big" fic that I wrote by myself and I remember being so happy about this fact. Re reading it I feel like it could be better, the pacing is a bit off and the ending doesn't really match the tone of the fic, the smut feels like it came out of nowhere and some bits are cringy to read. But I still love it. Maybe one day I'll go over it again and make some edits.

7th place: SHARK WEEK (collab with @gossipqueen2000)

I love this fic and I know a lot of people adore this too but I feel like it isn't as good as the others, maybe because it's been so long since I wrote it. I do still re-read it from time to time (maybe sometimes during that time of the month for me).

8th place: ANY WAY YOU WANT IT

This is more like a collection of one shots than an actual fic but I do like it a lot. Is it self-indulgent? yes, a lot. It is a collection of smut after all. I feel like my specialty is writing funny smut and I have a blast writing it, inserting comedy and fluff into sexy situations even being an ace person in real life, lol. I have a couple more wips for the next chapters but writers block is a bitch.

9th place: THE LAST RESORT (Colab with @septemberrie)

I'm only putting this this far down on the list because we just posted 1 chapter but I still love it. This was mine and Skye's second attempt at a rom-com type multichap fic after the success of Tempting Fate and I feel like it could have turned out amazing too, but life got in the way and we haven't managed to get back into it. If you think we should give this another try let us know!

10th place: I CAN FEEL YOU

I really like this one, but I'm putting it here in the list because it isn't just Rivusa. It's Rivusa + Sky, PWP. More focused on Sky than Rivusa. But I do really like the emotion I managed to write in this and I am proud of stepping a bit our of my comfort zone with this.

11th place: WHY NOT

I feel like this one is too basic, bland, not a lot of effort or emotion was put into it. I mean not all fics need to be deep and whatever and this one is basically just PWP, which is fine too. But idk it feels unfinished, like a first draft. The first half has too many characters and I feel like I get overwhelmed when I have to write that many voices at once so it's basically just dialogue with no description. And then it switches gears to just Riven and Musa and smut. Feels like 2 different fics glued together.

Honorable Mentions (Rivusa fics listed on my AO3 that fit the +6k words criteria I set for this post but that don't quite fit my ranking list):

EN GARDE: I don't really consider this my fic because @septemberrie wrote the majority of it, I just came in as a final push at the end, but I absolutely love it and I'm so happy she let me dip my little fingers on it and write a bit. Definitelly a must if you love period/medieval AUs.

A LADY'S GUIDE TO FOOLS AND FORTUNES: Another one I don't consider my fic but had a part in the making. It was written by the forever-amazing @septemberrie with art/gifs I made for the Reverse Big Bang event. I adore it and am so SO proud of the gifs I made. One of my best ones for sure.

REASSURANCE and JUST FOR YOU (both collabs with @gossipqueen2000 and AmandaLovegood): Both of these were witten back in 2021 when Fate had just come out. Feels like ages ago. I'm putting them here because I feel like they have more Mo and Amanda than Val to be honest, I don't really remember writing them or the process of it but I really like them a lot. Again Mo has this way of writing emotion and feelings and you can just tell it was her. It feels real and raw and so good to read, whump in the best way.

[kiwiana-writes]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

A big ol' fuck you to @rmd-writes for the tag xoxo

1. How many works do you have an AO3? Lol. Lmao even. 289.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 914,620 on AO3, but that includes co-writes as well as things I've podficced where the fic and pod are in the same work. My actual personally-written wordcount, per my Batshit Spreadsheet, is 771,819.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Mostly RWRB these days, though most of my back catalogue is Schitt's Creek. Also The Pairing and various other things scattered about.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Kinda think that I might be his type aka Alex and Bea fake date coming in at the top spot, which will never not bewilder me. Don't get me wrong, it's a lovely fic!! But I am always surprised that it was a few hundred more kudos than:

With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest), the Much Ado actors AU. My magnum opus, my beloved.

We were supposed to find this - baby's first soulmate AU and my first RWRB fic. The brainrot really took hold with this one lmao.

All the Lonely Starbucks Lovers, in which Henry takes 'open mouth insert foot' to a whole new level.

Warm like the glow that you feel head to toe, the age gap fic with older Senator Alex and younger Prince Henry. This is probably the only one in my top five that really surprises me, considering age gaps are... divisive.

5. Do you respond to comments? Always always always.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I mean I did write that one MCD fic in Schitt's Creek, though I maintain the other five parts in that 5+1 are in fact angstier than the MCD ending.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Uhhhhhhh, the rest? The Doylist answer is any of my fics where the HEA is literally forever rather than 'till death do us part'; so, the Schitt's Creek afterlife AU and the RWRB zombie!Alex AU. (Is that all? Am I forgetting one?)

8. Do you get hate on fics? Yeah, sometimes. Weirdly, more through tumblr anons than on the fics themselves? A lot of them I just delete, sometimes I'll give them a bit of a public scolding etc. Frankly at this point if you come into my ask box to be a cunt on anon I'm going to assume you have a public humiliation kink and will indulge you accordingly.

9. Do you write smut? Who's to say.

10. Do you write crossovers? I'm more inclined towards a fusion than a crossover (love a good media fusion) but I did write a short RWRB/The Pairing crossover for VoiceTeam.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope. Someone did ask recently, so we'll see!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? HEAPS. @ships-to-sail is an ongoing collaborator, but I also did a bunch of "each write a chapter" type collabs in Schitt's Creek. Currently co-writing something truly fucking incredible with @indestructibleheart.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? IDK if it's a WIP by the strictest definition, but every day the likelihood of the SC kink!verse series being completed slips further away lol.

16. What are your writing strengths? Rae, you're the worst.

Smut, I guess? Giving people new kinks, apparently. Character voice. Also a very specific type of world-building where I explain nothing because the characters already live in that world and let y'all infer how it works, which came up a LOT on one of this year's Kinktober fics in particular and led to my spouse saying "okay so you're basically the Brennan Lee Mulligan of tree fucking", which is sure not a sentence I expected to ever be directed towards me, but here we are.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Anything original, apparently. Good thing I didn't quit my job to be a writer or anything OH WAIT.

(In all seriousness, though, I am genuinely shit at, like, plotting. And action sequences.)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? If it makes sense for the character, sure! I'm enlisting someone who speaks it for anything more complicated than, like, a pet name - I've seen what Google Translate tries to spit out for my second language and therefore don't trust it lmao.

19. First fandom you wrote for? terf queen mcgee's property.

20. Favourite fics you've written? The RWRB fic specifically based on the episode The Husbands of River Song from Doctor Who. Hands down the best thing I've ever written.

I also fucking LOVED the Much Ado actor AU. My love letter to Shakespeare and theatre and queer joy.

-

Tagging @blueeyedgrlwrites @cactusdragon517 @cricketnationrise @firenati0n @getmehighonmagic

@hgejfmw-hgejhsf @indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @notspecialbabe @orchidscript

@piratefalls @sherryvalli @sparklepocalypse @stereopticons @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play! 

[isat-script-project]

i know this is a weird thing to ask but are there any dialogue lines that use both of siffrin's pronoun sets? when i'm talking about someone with multiple pronoun sets i try not to use the same one too much and sometimes i feel like i'm overcompensating

Gosh, i swear there is, but I can't find anything offhand, and it's sadly not something I can just search for.

There's not a lot of scenes with Siffrin referred to in the third person to begin with, what with them being the protagonist and all.

My best find and guesses under the cut~ Act 5 spoilers yay

So i got THIS from the act 5 clocktower scene, because i just have this image of isabeau specifically mixing things up pronouns wise.

And from what I can observe of this scene as a whole, it seems pronouns are switched up per sentence, pretty consistently. (don't take this for gospel, mind you.)

I've seen some different things across fanfics. Most common (I think) are either as this scene does, varying per sentence, or, if you're talking about Writing in particular, per paragraph.

Honestly, you don't really need to be all that anxious talking about people with multiple pronouns. Even on the wiki, I'll only change some around if the entire section only uses one pronoun set (specifically if it's he/him, because, well, if someone only uses he/him for siffrin, it's kinda clear they see sif as "man lite".

The most important thing when talking about others is Clarity. you can only switch up pronouns when it's clear who you're talking about. Particularly with he/they, both of these pronouns have different grammatical constructions, so if you spice it up too much, it can get kind of messy.

Personally, I would avoid switching mid-sentence. If you say something like "He took off their hat", that reads like your subject just stole someone else's hat, yknow?

And if I'm writing something about Siffrin and Loop, then I tend to use he/him for Siffrin more often, because if i switch back and forth between they and he for Sif when I'm also talking about a character who only uses they/them, it'll be unclear whether I mean Sif or Loop. Same flipside, if I talk about Sif and say, Isabeau, I'm more likely to just they/them Siffrin throughout.

If you're talking about a real person in casual conversation, I'd wager your exact ratio matters even less. You can go a whole streak using one set and then switch, or use a different one in different conversations, or what have you. People get it. If you're making an effort, it'll get through. If people also uses neopronouns, I like to use those more often just for practice, and then default back to the "standard" quartet of he/she/it/they when i forget the neo grammar construction and dont have time to google it, lol.

Uhm. Very verbose answer!

TLDR: The game seems to vary per sentence, but exact ratios don't really matter that much as long as you make an effort. Hope this helps!

[fictionalsownme]

Do you have any tips that you're willing to share when it comes to writing Wilford? Like, tips to keep writing him as in character as possible?

Hi! I’d love to share some tips!! 🥰 Wil is pretty hard to write for to be honest ^^" It can be easy to fall out of the rhythm of his character since he's just so strange of a guy haha but I guess that's what makes him fun too! each of the points ended up pretty long so hopefully I didn't get too ramble-y!

anyway! hopefully some of these pointers help out! 💞

some disclaimers really quick: all of these are my own interpretation but by no means does anyone have to follow these or do I think I'm right or anything like that! also, this is for wmlw!wilford since I pretty much only write for him so far :) let's get into it!

Wil has two modes depending on how grounded he is. The first is a go-with-the-flow airhead who has no idea what's going on and is completely unbothered by this. Everything just washes right over him, and he seems to think everyone else is like this too. He speaks in non-sensical idioms half the time, each sentence only barely connecting to the last. His accent is pretty over the top in this headspace too! The second is when he's a bit more grounded, probably leaning more Colonel than Wilford. In my writing, he gets like this when he's reminded of his past (similar to wmlw), forced to be present in the current moment, or emotional in some way, etc. His accent is less subtle and more typically british, and he speaks in longer, more logical sentences.

Stress the right words in his dialogue. This one might just be a quirk of my writing style because I love to overuse italics as you can probably tell haha but Wil emphasizes really random words when he speaks, so even just sprinkling it in every once in awhile I feel like adds a lot!

Don't forget his body language. In a similar vein to the previous point, Mark's performance of Wilford is reallyyy physical, and dependent on his mannerisms. How he moves his hands is a big one, they hang in the air or land in interesting spots. Same for his expressions, how he tilts his head, how he sits and walks around, etc. Don't forget to keep him moving often unless he's still for a specific reason (scared, thinking, etc).

Have Wilford 'MOTHERLOVING' Warfstache on standby. I play wmlw pretty much on a loop & on silent in the background while I write him if I feel like I'm struggling to get him right. The way Mark acts him is so specific with his voice and his mannerisms and everything so having the video to refer back to is super helpful even just to get the vibe down. Sometimes I'll watch the whole thing start to finish before I start my writing session, though,, maybe I'm procrastinating hehe

Try to balance his humor, sweetness, and attractiveness. This one is a little weird, and probably depends on your preferences and what kind of fic you're writing, but for me, these are the main aspects of Wil's personality I like to focus on. Like, let's not forget, he's totally ridiculous. But he also seems very sensitive, and you know... he's hot. He's a goofball! I found myself forgetting the funnier side of his personality while I was working on my fic so I figured I'd throw it in :)

He's not as violent as he used to be. so it's clear that Wil doesn't have the temper that he did as the Colonel, but I like to take it a step further and say that once we reach WMLW, he doesn't struggle as much with violence. This is a bit more headcanon territory but Wil's violence post-WKM was based in a (mis?)understanding that death isn't real in this world. I think that plus his desensitization to violence eventually brought him full circle all the way back around to just being kind of passive. He's not scared of violence or guns at all (ie kissing Abe's gun) but he doesn't really bother with them himself either. I just like him as kind of a harmless clueless puppy idk 👉👈 hehe

I hope these helped, and lmk if you have any more questions! I like rambling about my boy(s) kikiki 💞 thanks for the ask!

[notmorbid]

crime and punishment, pt. 2.

dialogue prompts from crime and punishment by fyodor dostoevsky.

nothing could induce me to leave you now.

tomorrow all this nonsense will be over.

the drink makes me swear. don't mind it.

even running away is impossible now.

i'm not drunk. i'm never drunk.

do you trust me, or not?

you understand me because you are an angel.

you seem to have fallen from heaven.

i've sworn never to argue.

through error, you come to the truth.

you never reach any truth without making fourteen mistakes, very likely a hundred and fourteen.

we can't even make mistakes on our own account.

talk nonsense, but talk your own nonsense, and i'll kiss you for it.

to go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.

lock your door, and don't let anybody in.

what an ass you are sometimes.

i sometimes speak too much from the heart.

your complete recovery depends solely on yourself.

i never go to bed before two at home.

a normal man hardly exists.

why, are you afraid of me?

that's all in another world, and so long ago.

why are you laughing again?

why do you demand of me a heroism you do not have?

if i ruin anyone, it is only myself.

to act sensibly, intelligence is not enough.

people will write anything.

how did you find me, by the way?

if only you knew how you interest me.

pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart.

the really great man must, i think, have great sadness on earth.

be angry with me, if you like.

i knew you were pretending to be asleep.

reason is the slave of passion, you know.

there's something wrong with you.

i rarely lie.

in the past, have you ever seen ghosts before?

i know i'm not well, but i don't know what's wrong.

i don't believe in a future life.

there's something about you like me.

if only you knew what you're asking.

i knew you were lying.

forget me altogether. it's better.

if you love me, give me up.

i knew you would run after me.

aren't you sorry?

you're not saving anyone from anything.

what does god do for you?

don't ask. you don't deserve.

children can't remain children here.

you are like a child asking for matches.

don't play with me. don't dare.

[roxannarambles]

The Forgotten Man Dialogue (Ch 3 Deltarune)

Well,

Spring changed to summer, and summer changed to cold, and sure enough, I am the forgotten man. Will you forget me, too?

>Yes

Who are you talking to?

Well, there is not a man here.

[Dialogue ends]

>No

Are you sure? You have forgotten me many times before. Even if you meet me, I will be forgotten thereafter. Sometimes, I even forget myself . . . I ask again. Will you forget me?

>Yes

Who are you talking to?

Well, there is not a man here.

[Dialogue ends]

>No

You'll remember me?

Well. In that case, forget about it. I am just a man. Listen well to my story. Once upon a time, the whole world looked like this. Do you think so?

>Yes

Really? You believe something so absurd? I'm happy to hear it. Let me continue . . .

>No

Of course not. It's just a story after all. Now, let me continue . . .

[Dialogue continues the same from this point]

Well, the world changed. Society was developed. The earth was covered in water, dinosaurs appeared, an ice age, Hm . . . actually, there are still dinosaurs . . . is it mixed up? In any case, this island is the only place left I can talk. Do you understand what I'm saying?

>Yes

Funny, I haven't the faintest clue what it all means.

>No

That's funny. I don't understand it either.

[Dialogue continues the same from this point]

But one day, this island will disappear, too. We may not meet again in that case.

. . .

Did you want to meet again?

>No

Well. I'm starting to realize why I was forgotten.

Well, there is not a man here.

[Dialogue ends]

>Yes

Oh, joy. I'll tell you my schedule. Listen carefully.

On Thursday, I go to sell the donuts. On Friday, I toss the leftovers in the dumpster. On Saturday, I let it cool on the windowsill. On Sunday, I harvest the wheat. Hold your breath, head to the left, and count backwards to 100 . . . Did you remember to write that down?

>Yes

How very kind of you.

>No

Well, it seems you are already forgetting.

[Dialogue continues the same from this point]

Please take this to remember me.

(Kris received the Egg)

Although, you may lose it in another day. So be sure to put it some where. There's no shame in an egg.

>Yes/No

You are very opinionated. I like you! You may forget me, I may forget myself, but I will remember your kindness. Now, this island will disappear soon. You must depart. If you will it, we shall meet again at that place . . . Whether 11 hours or 11 years, Deltarune will be waiting.

[mithrilhearts]

Fanfiction Author Interview Game

Thank you for the tag, @pomgore!! It's been so long since I've done a proper tag game, it feels like lol

How many works do you have on AO3?

32 currently, though I'm tempted to trim some of that down with some works I'm not really fond of anymore (orphaning I guess? I'm not sure yet lol)

What's your total AO3 word count?

784,858, with a good handful of words written down unfinished and unposted

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

May Your Forge Burn Bright

(Take Me Back To) The Night We Met

Dragonhearted

Forget-Me-Not

An Ink-Stained Vow

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to anyway!! I may not get to them in a "timely" manner, but I try. Even if it's simply reacting with an emoji - I like to let people know I see and appreciate their kind commentary!

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I am a happy ending type person, so I don't have any angsty endings, I don't think?

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

See above lol they all end happily, and I want to keep it that way!

Do you write crossovers?

I haven't written any, and as of now, I have no intention to. Not my vibe

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I have a few times now, yes. Honestly, it just goes back to my philosophy of "don't like, don't read", but hey, not all of us can be reasonable and not leave hate when we don't like something. The back button exists for a reason!

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do yep, as for what kind...soft? I don't know how to describe it 🤣 it's not exactly a strength of mine.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

As far as actually WRITING it together, yes! @sunnyrosewritesstuff and I did a collab last year for The Hobbit: An Unexpected Collaboration!

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Bagginshield, I would say. I have some other OTPs, or ships that I enjoy, but they're the one that have their claws deep in my skin at this point

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

This is such a hard question. I genuinely don't want to leave a started (as in, I started posting it on ao3) fic unfinished, but I have no idea where life is going to take me. I have an assortment of fics started, and plot bunnies fleshed out, but no idea where I'll get with them.

What are your writing strengths?

These questions are so hard to answer! I think maybe dialogue, sometimes? And maybe descriptions of emotions.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Run-ons are a huge issue for me during the actual process, but I also struggle very much with battle sequences. I would also throw smut under this as well lol

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think it depends! I throw in Khuzdul for dwarves, but offer in translations, but never really go beyond that. I think there are cases where it works, and others where it becomes too much.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

Baldur's Gate 3 and Dragon age! I have stuff drabbled out a little bit for the latter, but haven't posted anything yet. I'm ready to expand my horizons!

What's your favorite fic you've written?

Asking me to pick my favorite child, I see. It can change from day to day, and for TODAY, I'm going to say Kurdu 'abadaz - it gave me an opportunity to do my own take on a "fix it fic", but also held something unique and unseen before which is amazing in a 10+ year fandom lol it was such a huge accomplishment that meant a lot to me.

Tagging @elvain @chaoticangel666 @fantasyinallforms @sunnyrosewritesstuff @imakemywings and any other writers who want to participate!

[secret0codename]

I went back! ^^ With a Headcanon

=/ Hello people, I disappeared but I'm back maybe I'll be less active but I'll post more that way! What happened was that I have anemia and it's getting worse, insomnia and some other things... But I'm back to writing!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-☆☆_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-

♣︎My Ticci Toby Headcanons ^^

I was looking forward to writing this, as I know the most about Creepy! Besides Sally hihi, I hope you like it, as always my English is not perfect :)

*Small start *

-This boy definitely has a passion for fire and is a pyromaniac; he plays with fire as if it were something simple, but who cares, he doesn't feel any pain!

-"S-shit, uhush, because it d-doesn't hurt" Toby did everything he could to try to feel pain, which didn't do any good and even caused his body to be full of scars, and when he's injured he rarely notices it because he doesn't feel the sting of the wound.

-But he uses this to his advantage, because if any victim tries to fight he will have an advantage because if he is stabbed* or shot* it will not hurt him in any way, which makes him feel "stronger" than his opponent.

- He loves animals, even so he doesn't get too close because he's afraid of hurting them, the fact that his favorite animal is a raccoon makes everything better, Toby feels much better around animals than people

*Appearance*

- Toby is an adult man, over 20 years old, after all he became a proxy at around 17 and 18 years old, his appearance is adult

-Is your skin always very pale, perhaps because of your condition or perhaps because you want to go out more at night? Here's your opinion

-His eyes are brown, almost black, dead eyes, with very obvious dark circles on his face, he doesn't care about it, and he clearly doesn't sleep regularly

-His hair is the size of a Mullet but it is not a mullet, it is tangled and full of curls, perhaps dirt like leaves or even dirt

-Body hair, just like every teenager, he had hair but he never cared about taking care of it, he has hair like anyone else, perhaps very rarely he bothers and tries to remove it but a small cut always comes out, his tics make he loses concentration, which makes him spend hours trying to shave any hair off his body

- "Stupid Ush- Pel-Pelo is sh-shit.. It won't come out" This man has a very dirty mouth, that's nothing new

-He has big hands, with some calluses, he also holds the ax tightly

-He has separate teeth, they are not aligned or much less just white, His teeth are yellowish and a little crooked, but he likes to keep his breath good, so he brushes his teeth slowly to avoid tics, he feels much prettier when he takes care of himself, even if it only happens a few times.

*People*

-He knows very well how to differentiate between friends, victims, lovers, enemies, etc.

-He has long dialogues with victims that he takes a while to kill, even if it could go wrong and the person escapes, he captures them and leaves them tied up listening to him talk for hours, or even days

-If he makes a friend, know that he values it. More like him, he makes people angry, mocks them, humiliates them, but deep down he just wants them to stay there forever, always, ALWAYS

-If he has crushes, that's a problem, he becomes crazy, persecutes, hurts, kills and kidnaps* and if that person doesn't want to, he will get frustrated, at first he would stay still but then he would kill you or something else he comes across your mind

-He doesn't mess with enemies, but if enemies mess with him... Poor things, he won't stay quiet he hates being taken out of the concentration area

*Bônus*

-He doesn't remember Lyra, just small memories or sometimes hallucinations with her, but he forgets. If you are similar to her physically or mentally he will have some dejavus and he will be tame for a while but will soon raise his guard again

[atopvisenyashill]

What is your personal pet peeve about fanart or fics in the fandom

Mine is when they give rhaenys daughter of elia valyrian features

Like when they describe her in fic as having purple eyes so dark they looked black, or faint hints of purple in her eyes. Or in fanart when they give her a white streak in her hair. Like the point is that she doesn't look valyrian! And racist grandpa hates her for that!

I love the fanart, they're pretty, and visually interesting, and also a labour of love, and I feel like such a tool for feeling like this about something fellow fans make

tbf the book does mention she had a streak in her hair BUT it is described more like alysanne going grey rather than a white/silver streak like Valarr so I do get that point.

i think i've talked before about being kinda picky about fancasts. sometimes the graphic is nice enough that i'll reblog anyway, but i hate charlotte hope as catelyn, isolda dychauk as sansa, and that girl from the last kingdom i always forget the name of as arya so much, it positively IRKS me. same with using big bollywood names as martells - esp because like, i don't think Deepika Padukone or Aishwarya Rai even look anything like how Arianne, Nymeria, or Elia are described. Ranveer Singh is less annoying just because i get it at least, I can see the Oberyn vibes but Deepika or Aishwarya are nowhere near delicate enough to play Elia, who is always described as basically ~looking sick.

And of course i've talked about the fic pickiness. I make up for this by having very low standards for grammar. I think I've even recced fics, sometimes highly, where the grammar is not good, the writing is clearly very clunky, the dialogue is not particularly accurate because for me what's more important is that you get the character right. I will tolerate so much formatting nonsense if you have a) a good plot idea and b) a good grasp of the characters. Like, I can't tell you how many HOTD fics I've backed out of that are incredibly well written but they either straighten the fuck out of Daemon's behavior, have Rhaenyra and Daemon (sometimes Alicent) hate Viserys, or are weird about Rhaenyra having kids out of wedlock in a way that makes my ass itch (once I was really into one and then Jace confronts her about the bastardry and asks why she dead ass went "because i wanted to." bro she would never saw it like that to Jacaerys of all people). But like, if you're getting crazy with the run ons, using em dashes like they're going out of style, have dialogue that sounds like d&d wrote it? idc so long as it rings true to the character!

[gottaread2]

ao3 author ask game !!

tagged by @theevilcactus. Thank you so much! I had a lot of fun with this :D

total number of ao3 works: 59

total ao3 word count: 419,565

fandoms I've written for: Gotham

top five fics by kudos:

When Only Bitter Memories Remain (no surprise here)

Broken (I always forget about this one)

Forget-me-not

What He Deserves

1001 Riddles

Honestly, it's a little unfortunate that all of these are older fics. We just don't get kudos like we used to in the Gotham fandom. The fandom has really slowed down in general, but I'm happy to still be making stories for it and to see others creating new works as well when I check the tags ^_^ We're not dead yet lol!

do I respond to comments? Yes, mostly. Lately I haven't been as active on ao3, so it may take some time for me to reply back, but I always try to when I see them.

what has the most angst ridden ending? That's a tough one cause it really depends what kind of scenario someone considers to be most angsty. Two of my fics come to mind though when I think angsty ending. The Penguin's Enigma (MC loses custody of his child) and Russian Roulette (worse than death ending). Even though neither of these involve permanent character death (and I do have a fic with permanent character death), I consider them more angsty because of the emotional weight I feel is built up in them and the somewhat hopelessness of the outcome for each. Some of my readers may disagree with these though.

what has the happiest ending? Most of my fics have happy endings but I think the winner would have to be 1001 Riddles It's just pure syrupy fluff at the end complete with family togetherness and a marriage proposal.

have i received hate? Not that I'm aware of. If I have, it went over my head lol.

do i write smut? if so, what kind? I don't not write it, but it's not something I go into with the purpose being about the smut. I'm all about the feelings and plot. So what kind? Porn with plot/porn with feelings I guess.

do I write crossovers? No. I'm not opposed to it. I just haven't been inspired to (yet).

have I ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge.

have I ever had a fic translated? Maybe? I was asked once but I never found out what became of it.

have I ever co-written a fic? No. However, I am currently working on a fic heavily inspired by another creator's work and getting input from her for some of the creative decision. This is probably the closest I will come to co-writing. The fic is Caged Birds Don't Sing (They Take Up Painting).

a WIP I'll never finish? I never say never with my WIPs. Anything is possible! (Probable however...)

writing strengths: coming up with new (and sometimes unusual) ideas.

writing weaknesses: completing those new ideas with a finished fic (I have soooooooo many WIPs).

do I like foreign language dialogue? I enjoy it in others' works, but don't use it myself.

first fandom I wrote for: Gotham. I'm still here. Someone help I can't get out.

favorite fic I've written: You want me to choose just one?!?! ONE of my precious babies??? Yeah, okay, I do have a favorite, but don't tell the others (shhhh). Forget-me-not. It's incomplete, so you might question how well I really love it, but I do. It's my comfort unfinished WIP that I may never finish. I just really loved the idea when I thought about it. Oswald & Ivy are one of my favorite headcanon friendships that never really went anywhere in the show and this fic fixed that.

Tagging: @yourminecraftboyfriend, @zebrashavestripes, @cowchickenbeefpork, and anyone else who wants to play