#but most things are probably in those tags hah

[occamstfs]

Man Of Your Dreams

Wallflower Dylan is gifted a new psychedelic from his friend. Used to watching frat bros from afar he finds the pill seems to affect far more than his mind.

Intended this to be plot light but so it goes! Probably going to take this week off to avail myself to other authors entering my Viral Transformation Challenge! The next story will likely be my own take on the theme so look forward to that next week alongside those from a litany of other stellar TF writers! Until then! -Occam

Dylan was fairly straight-laced, going into his senior year of university he hadn’t strayed much at all from class besides tagging along with his friend from high school to some of the more boisterous frat parties. Said friend Tony was quite more of a wild child, often invited himself because he was the source of some of the more illicit substances to be found at these parties. He’d invite Dylan whenever he’d need a more sober pair of eyes, namely if he was planning on rolling or otherwise getting high on his own supply. Despite his mild manner, Dylan always hopped on the chance, going to ragers was supposed to be part of the whole college deal right? And besides, he didn’t mind the chance to ogle brazen men he would under normal circumstances be fearful of making eye contact with.

Knowing of his friend’s meek disposition, and repressed hunger for the most vulgar of men, when Tony hears of a crazy new psychedelic on the market he has a feeling Dylan might finally let his hair loose. Reviews say the stuff makes reality feel like a waking dream. Anything seems possible and to your body it might as well be. Steamier sources swear that dreaming about sex on the stuff is even better than the real thing. Tony, never concerned about side effects of his material, gets straight to hitting up the usual channels to see what he can get and is able to scrounge up a single pill of the stuff. He wonders if he should try it out himself first before deciding he owes his friend at least first dibs.

Dylan is floored at how quickly he agreed to taking the pill. After initially being standoffish at Tony’s suggestion that he use it to fuck frat bros in his mind, once his friend started explaining what he’s heard Dylan couldn’t pass up the opportunity to really live out his fantasy. He’s not going to outgrow being a wallflower, nor is at all confident that any of the performatively masculine men would fuck him. Staring at the pill the only thing holding him back is Tony’s vapid instructions. ‘Just have a blast dude, fuck your way through those bros hah!’ Dylan’s asking about the side effects falls on deaf ears as Tony just crassly humps the air to try to convince his friend to go out on a limb. Despite his qualms and fears, and the lack of confidence inspired by Tony’s actions, Dylan feels sure that his friend wouldn’t give him something actually potentially dangerous.

Holding tight to that misplaced confidence, as soon as Tony departs Dylan pours himself a glass of water and chokes the pill down. The small tablet leaves a metallic taste in his mouth, quickly hidden by the copious amount of saliva and bile starting to rise in the back of his throat as he immediately feels the urge to vomit. Man of will despite appearances, he keeps it down and just as soon scowls as he thinks about the lack of preparation offered by his friend and prepares to tear into Tony as soon as the trip is over. Standing up he feels the room spinning around and murmurs in shock, “su- surely it’s shouldn- work this… fas-” He stumbles over to his bed and falls face down as he feels his body growing sweaty.

Before his well-practiced anxiety response can rise his mind is flooded with every pleasant hormone it’s able to produce. Every muscle in his body tenses and he feels his cock struggle to force itself erect in the awkward position he’s fallen in. Dylan moans as every sensation sends signals so intense and potent that his mind can barely maintain consciousness. Indeed he finds himself struggling to even hold his eyes open as his eyelids grow weighty. Even perfunctory bodily functions feel erotic as he begins to fade, the burning of cold air in his stretching lungs, the sound of his own heartbeat and the warmth of blood coursing through his veins. Drool immediately pools under his head as he crests into a stuporous induced unconsciousness, far too unprepared for what awaits him in his trip, and the new world he is to encounter afterwards.

Dylan is sitting in a chair across from a man he knows too well and not at all. Face to face with Ben Harrington, president of Beta Delta Alpha, Dylan has to push down the immediate rush of fear. Taking a breath he reminds himself that this is a dream, one that Tony swears he should have pretty lucid control over. As the president stands opposed, leaning on nothing he flexes his arms and the pastel button up Dylan usually sees him clad in changes into a t-shirt with the sleeves torn off. He smirks as he pushes sunglasses up his face and speaks in a tone intoxicated, under the influence of nothing but Dylan himself. His raspy voice sends a shiver down the meek man’s spine as he feels himself unable to retreat, “So, uhh, Dylan is it?” 

Approaching enough to touch him, Ben puts an arm over Dylan’s shoulder, exposing his clearly unwashed pit. Dylan takes a deep breath and forces his eyes closed from the burning over-stimulation of this man baring down on him. Still, from the sticky breath blowing across the face it's clear he is continuing to inch even closer, “You want me do you?” Dylan gulps as the man gets even closer, Ben’s lips almost touching his own, “Or do you just want to be me?” This takes Dylan out of it as he steps back away from the imposing man. Eyes opening he tries to manipulate the scene as Tony implied he should be able to. The Ben of his mind tilts his head and tsks, “‘Fraid you’re not the one in charge here after all.”

Ben closes the gap once more and throws his arm around the easily manhandled Dylan pulling his body against his own sweat stained form. He smirks and leans in directly to whisper something into the dreamer’s ear, “and if you do really wanna fuck me, well. You’re gonna have to become something more my type. Yeah?” Dylan blinks in surprise, he’s heard of bad trips and the like but something seems decidedly wrong here. Before he’s able to come to any cogent conclusion the dream Ben reaches down his free hand into Dylan’s pants. His sweaty hand instantly wraps around the smaller man’s balls and squeeze. Dylan hasn’t a chance to scream in shock he feels himself lose control. Of his body, his mind, and the world around him as he begins to fall back.

He’s humping the air as he’s falling into an abyss. He doesn’t feel the fear that this descent should evoke. Usually nightmares that turn this way immediately blast him back to consciousness, instead it fills him with adrenaline that only heightens the delight coursing out from his cock. Sure that he’s now laying face down in a pool of his own semen in the real world, Dylan does what he can to focus on the pleasure as intended. 

The sound of wind tearing past him makes him unable to hear his moaning screams as his clothes are shredded by the searing gale. Rapt in delight, the blaring gusts begin to slow. Air caresses him like a full body hug and suddenly he is deposited onto soft ground. Dylan doesn’t quite repose as his body continues convulsing. Cum begins to sprinkle down on him from the plethora of loads released during his descent and he finally finds wherewithal to paw at his crotch. Grasping at his balls he finds them unmistakably larger, “Wha?” No longer falling, Dylan opens his eyes and seems to be back in reality.

Dylan awakens and blearily rubs his eyes with clearly semen stained hands. “Oh what the, ugh- Am I awake?” His eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the lighting of a room that is decidedly not his bedroom. “Can’t be right?” Shaking the mess off his hands without a second thought he stands to his feet with a grunt and feels his cock bobbing, still impossibly rigid. His hands return to this turgid beacon before they almost happenstance fondle his balls. His sluggish mind struggles with how heavy and large they feel, nothing like the ones he has in reality. He smirks as the last words of Ben snake through his mind- “Become something more my type.” Who’d’ve thunk the president was into horndogs.”

Sniffing the air he begins to inspect the room surrounding him. Dirty clothes litter the floor and he finds a pervasive musk filling the air. Something in the back of his mind itches that there should be a can of axe around somewhere to cover it up, which he ignores for a number of reasons. He should be able to will the room to stop stinking. He certainly wouldn't do so with cheap body spray, and for the life of him he can’t bring himself to want to. Each deep breath of the stink he finds himself growing even hornier. Dylan feels his balls churning as he grasps them, he’s already cum a good number of times and yet he still craves release. 

He imagines the firm ass of a frat brother and leans against his dresser he uncontrollably begins to hump once more. Something flickers at the back of his mind yet again and he rips into an open drawer. Throwing clothes onto the pile of dirtied garments already littering the floor, Dylan removes a fleshlight which he proceeds to make exuberant use of. No time for his mind to question why he’s suddenly a top as his cock fills the sex toy more with every grunting thrust. 

Pubes scratch against his thumb as his crotch shifts into one that would instantly render a razor unusable. Likewise hair that has never even had to be controlled on his ass begins to thicken, growing itchy as a true jungle of curls begins to flourish on both sides of his waist. Soon enough his cock grows large enough that the toy is rendered unusable, with a furrowed brow and ungrateful grunt he tosses it to his room leaving it dripping on the floor as he somehow remains just as sexually unfulfilled as when he began, “Fuck I need the real thing…”

The real thing not present Dylan looks down at his cock and gasps as he sees what has become of his package. He doesn’t have a ton of sex but he usually keeps it clean and pretty hairless down there just for his own sake. Beyond the forest of pubes thick enough to get his hand stuck in, he covers his mouth in shock as he sees a veiny cock larger than he’s ever seen on a man with the low hanging massive balls to match. He does his best to focus up on anything besides how horny he is, but as pre continues to trickle from his hardened cock that becomes increasingly difficult. He bites his lip and looks past his throbbing cock at the floor. If he puts it away perhaps it’ll quiet of its own accord.

Dylan doesn’t pay heed to which clothes are clean or dirty as he throws on whatever best could hide his cock from his hands and mind. Nor could he notice just how far cleanliness and decency have fallen as priorities for him as he struggles to fit his package in clearly stained sweatpants. Itching at his waist as his pubes begin creeping up into a treasure trail racing to mee the spreading curls beginning to decorate his chest, his dull awareness finally notices that his whole body has begun changing. His thin arms have clearly put on powerful muscle from his mindless sessions of self-love, veins trailing down them make it difficult for him not to get straight back to masturbating at the thought of his own strength.

Similarly his eyes latch onto a chest that has somehow exploded into pecs without his knowing. Muscle that has never begun to grace his body now jiggles with every movement. He clenches his jaw hard trying to muster willpower not to give into his most basal urges, but as he feels his thighs fill the sweatpants he just threw on he wonders how long he could possibly hold out. His cluttered mind struggles to recall that he is on some kind of psychedelic trip as he fails to remember how long Tony said it would last. Instead swimming through dulling memories the voice of his, er, the frat president speaks up. “Ah god… You’re looking fucking good Big D. How’s your mind hangin’ in there?”

It takes a few moments for the words to sink in before Dylan can reply, “My, unh- mind?” His balls pulse as his eyes dash across the room while he struggles to think. God he’s been struggling to think this whole time. His cock lurches as he’s able to realize that every thought in his mind has been growing increasingly clouded. “Big D?” Dylan can’t help but smirk as his beyond impressive cock strains his sweatpants at being called Big D. He grunts as he tries to shake off the lusty delirium, “Need to chill out. Ugh. Sober up.” He hears the president tsk at him yet again, waiting with bated breath for the mans words his pecs bulge even larger on his chest. “Too late for that bro, just give in. Why have a trip into true unadulterated ecstasy when you can have a lifetime. You can finally be the man of your dreams.” 

As soon as the words of Ben, his president, are spoken in his mind it becomes clear that Big D doesn’t even have the ability to fight back against the ever-present urges that now control his body. He tears off the sweatpants that were barely holding in there as he fully give himself to whatever is calling out for him, the drug, Ben Harrington, whatever. His body bulks beyond measure to become man enough to carry the vulgar package that lies in his crotch. He masturbates into the leg of his sweatpants torn asunder as his torso bulks up, evidence of his endless celebrations as a man of Beta Delta Alpha.

Bestial body hair begins to cover his torso as his beard grows thick and dark. The tangle of hair in his pits thickens and spreads enough that it, nor it’s dominating musk, could ever be hidden. Muscle bulges on his arms large enough to haul kegs and toss out fuckers that get to rowdy at their festivities. Beyond apathetic to manicuring his appearance as he knows he’ll have people lining up at his doorstep regardless of needless things like hygiene or cleanliness he rubs his thick sweat covered thighs and feels how sensitive every inch of his skin has become. 

He smirks as he imagines, recalls rather, how constantly he gets to enjoy the sensual opportunities offered by his new form. He’s got all he needs dangling between his thick thighs and everyone who matters already knows it. The president certainly does. Big D smirks as he thinks of their vacations together on the frat’s dime. He puts his arms behind his head and sniffs his musky pits as he lays in repose, a thick cloud of musky sweat surrounds him as he begins to hear the sound of festivities breaking out on the floor below him and someone’s fervent footsteps racing up the stairs to his den.

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and Big D imagines that some couple is looking for an empty room with urgency. He paws at his crotch excited to join in on their fun. Instead he sees some nervous looking guy who freezes as soon as he sees the behemoth, fear in his eyes. “D-Dylan!? I- That drug, there was something, something s-” He stutters and his hands shake as Big D rolls his eyes and stands almost two heads taller than he should over Tony, one of their frat’s little party drug dealers. Still, he wouldn’t have come up here for no reason. Big D silences him with a finger and slams the door shut behind him. Tony’s brow furrows as he looks around the room in confusion. Even his perpetually drug-addled mind can tell something unreal, something impossible has happened to his friend. “That pill can’t have done this right?” Tony takes nervous breaths and Big D’s musk rapidly fills his lungs, distracting him from whatever petty issue brought him in. Who cares about concern when his small cock is beginning to rise from simply standing near the priapic titan.

Big D’s voice rumbles through Tony, making him weak at the knees, “You wanna have some fun don’t you?” The drug dealer can’t help but nod and swallow the drool pooling in his mouth as the bestial Adonis stands over him, cock dripping ever-ready for another round. Tony isn’t sure if he’s started tripping himself or what, but as he begins making out with the frat bro he finds himself not minding as memories of whoever Dylan was disappear. After all pleasure is the most important thing, and no one is better at spreading heady delight than Big D.

[mewkwota]

Goo'morning I got a tag from @emeraldthelynx, thankyu very much!

I wasn't sure if it was necessary to add-on to the previous thread but to avoid mobile users from being overwhelmed by an oncoming Text Train I'll make mine a separate post.

--

Favorite Color: Cake Yellow. I find the bread parts of a cake to be the very appealing.

Last Song: I just came across this song, it's "Toki no Kakera" from Dream C Club. The instrumental immediately caught my ears, so now it's going into my "things I listen to while I drive playlist". :D

Currently Reading: I haven't been reading much. ( . _.);

Currently Watching: Vinesauce is constantly infused into my veins. I also like to watch the occasional spooky thing like NightMind I guess.

Currently Craving: Onigiri. It's a long story. On my last day in Japan I wanted to take one last stop at a konbini, but we were rushed to our departure (even though it turns out we were very early). But our gate was so far from the shops I didn't bother to run back. So I've been having many different dreams where I'm suddenly back in Japan and am this close to a konbini and then I wake up before I realize it, but to this day I've never been able to buy one even in my sleep.

They may not be the most fancy things, but I really liked how they tasted and my homemade ones don't entirely fill that hole. ( ; v; )

Coffee or Tea: Tea I guess? I like milk teas more, since most teas I've had on their own give me headaches. I know some can have bits of caffeine which I don't really need, so I wonder if that is the root of it. Otherwise, I love the smell of coffee but not so much their taste.

A Hobby I'd Like To Try: Probably animating. I've dabbled in it a couple times before, but it was never anything super crazy. Still, I liked seeing the results come together and I'm sure I'll slowly improve on it as I try more things (albeit very-very-slowly, and that's okay). :)

An AU You've Been Plotting: Whatever I have established in my general fanworks can be considered AUs as they are-- I mean, I crush canon/timelines together so particular families can interact closely... I don't have any huge AUs cooking in my brain anymore-- my last one was set aside indefinitely ages ago and no you get no remnants as to what it is other than the continued existence of One Character.

Other than that, everything I work with is set with crossing over of multiple series by default too. I just think that's a really cool thing, whether it's done for humor or not. If I needed to give an example there is that Animal Crossing one with Juste, I can think of things that aren't just "the sillies" with it too, but I'll get to it when I can. It also revolves around the idea of "that man needs to learn to rest".

--

So those are the answers to my simple-something self, I never really have much to say anymore. But! I can still tag people hoo-hah-- @indygotcha, @the-crow-binary, @sapphirestarz11, @rosiemissfandomchaos, @rubyrosevalentine

And of course you are never obligated to do the tag if you don't want to. You could also see this is a passing hello. So hello! ( ' v')b

[ofallthingsnasty]

I just remembered that one ridiculously cute thing in uni during the body donor class - for context: we dental students got pooled together with the meds during the pre-clinical semesters a lot, and that class was no different.

We were separated in two main groups, and one body donor was shared between 12 students - coming in from Monday to Thursday. On Fridays, you could come in until 12 and just look at the donors without any supervision, you just needed your coat and name tag. And I remember going in before the situs oral and trying to understand how blood flows through the heart and then one of the meds (super intimidating buff guy) saw me struggle and was like '... Hey do you want me to explain that to you?' and then we sat there - him with a whole heart in hand, explaining it all to me, more than happy to help. Not gonna lie, I had a bit of a crush on that guy for the rest of the semester. We weren't even in the same group, so we never saw each other during prep hours but I always had my eyes peeled for him during lectures haha tw.anatomical stuff (i'm german so if my translations are a little off then i'm sorry hah), cadavers, just fluff

Long story short - I'm thinking about that with Law. You and Chopper are at the same table, come in every Friday to review the material of the week, both a little on the not-so-studious side. (Don't get me wrong, you go to every lecture - but those suckers are two hours long and not the only class you have. It's easy to lose track, especially when all you wanna do is catch up on sleep during the weekends.)

You pull your donor out of the body bag, lay them down and go over your notes, some sessions more and some less successful. The two of you are usually not alone, either - there is always someone else rifling around on their own table. Today it's a guy with a severe expression and some earrings. You've seen him in the lecture hall but you and Chopper aren't in the same group as him, so that's really all you know. You get through this week's lecture notes just fine - until it's time for the heart. The way blood gets fed through the atriums and ventricles, how the pressure changes, systole and diastole, the coronary arteries... You two are feeling beyond lost and so, so close to simply giving up - it's just too much and too intricate (at least for someone who has heard all of that info only once, maybe twice). But then there is also that other student - and maybe, just maybe, he knows more than you two do. It's not unusual to ask - and so that's what you do.

Law can't be assed, actually.

He's reviewing his notes, trying to get his own studying done. He's really not the type to do tutoring, doesn't have the patience for it. But you two are loud - hemming and hawing over your own cadaver and if he has to hear you confuse the mitral valve with the tricuspid one more time, then he's going to get a migraine. What are twenty minutes of his time if it means that you get done with your little idiot session and finally leave the hall? So he sighs and motions you to come closer. He's surprisingly good at explaining. The heart of his donor in one hand, a tissue forceps in the other, he walks you through every fact one would want to know about the organ. You probably have stars in your eyes while he talks because finally, finally you're grasping the material - and really, it might be confusing at first, but it's not that hard. He even lets Chopper regurgitate it all to him and has the two of you giggling over it. Law is just glad you two morons are finally having your little eureka moment because it means that you'll be off in a matter of minutes.

But no good deed goes unpunished.

It's then that you notice his tattoos through the nitrile gloves and suddenly he's the most fascinating living guy around (the most fascinating guy is dead on table 5, with golf ball sized cysts in his liver, sorry Law). He gets bombarded with questions, you and Chopper all over him, way too loud, too excited, too fucking annoying. He's already regretting his little act of charity.

And not only do you have the audacity to ask him to explain fetal circulation (because, please, please it's so confusing) as well, no, from that moment on, you're all over him very goddamn Friday and he's been added to three different group chats the moment Chopper and you leave the hall.

[velvethopewrites]

The sob story with this is that I wrote this yesterday and it got deleted before I could save it. I wanted to die cry, basically. Somehow I managed to re-create most of it, after working on it all damn day. (I basically ended up writing over 6,000+ words in one day. Yowza) I still feel as though the first version was better, but…no one knows that but me, I suppose. (And my partner, who got to read it right before the horrors happened). Regardless, I am proud of this and proud of myself for not giving up when it really would have been easy to. So huzzah to the fickle hand of fate and all that stuff.

For Suptober 2023 prompt “starlight”

I tag @fellshish and @canonblastedships and @clarkenting for being super cool reblog buddies, lol (which is just a thing I made up) This is the longest destiel fic I’ve written yet and it will be my first official AO3 destiel! (As soon as I remember how to do that, oy)

Edited: Now with Spiffy AO3 Link! Here!

The Starlight

There were three types of people that visited the Starlight Lounge — drunks, people desperate to score, and the employees that made their bread and butter trying to tame the other two.

Dean Winchester, unfortunately, was a member of that third group. Oh, sure, Dean had been known to put away a fair bunch of liquor in his day, and sure, Dean had definitely been known to do the Bedroom Rodeo whenever the opportunity presented itself. Hell, back when he’d first started at the Starlight he’d often been three types at once. Work, drink, get laid. Sometimes, not even in that order.

But that was past Dean. Current and newly mature Dean (hah) just wanted to work, go home, eat and fall into his bed. Working at the Starlight wasn’t that bad – it had fairly decent pay and it was often interesting. And like everyone else, Dean had bills to pay and he gave more than his fair share to Sammy. Not that Sam really needed it anymore; he was busy working as a law clerk downtown, putting himself through school. But still, Dean wanted to help as much as he could and besides it was his brotherly duty. Heh. Duty.

Tonight, due to the cold and rainy weather, the bar was fairly empty and business had been slow. There was only one of his regulars, a writer by the name of Chuck crying into his notebooks at the back of the bar. To be honest, Dean had never seen Chuck write a damn thing but the man sure could put scotch away like a pro.  There was also a young couple making out in one of the booths near the restrooms. He’d been keeping an eye on them most of the night, actually, making sure no one lost any clothing. The Starlight didn’t need a public indecency charge on the books. At least, not so soon since the last one, at any rate. 

Dean yawned and finished cleaning up the bar, hoping Chuck and the couple on their way to Soft-Porn Town would soon be leaving. Maybe Dean could even push them on their way a bit early, so he could get home at a decent time, for once.  As he walked over towards Chuck to perhaps lightly suggest the writer hit the road, the double doors of the bar blew open – bringing in the rain, the cold rush of the wind and a new customer in a beige trench coat with seriously fucked up hair. Great.

Dean sighed and turned back around as the new guy slumped onto the first stool at the bar. His dark brown, messed up hair looked even worse up close, and he had a scowl on his face as he glared down at the bar in front of him.

“Whiskey. Neat,” Messy-Hair said, voice low and very rumbly.

Dean pulled down a clean glass and poured some of their nicer whiskey into it. Dude looks like he could afford it, at any rate. He had a nice suit on under the coat, now that Dean could properly see it and his watch was one of those big clunky things that could probably tell the time on Jupiter or some shit like that. The man’s hand reaches for the glass before Dean has barely pushed it forward. He throws back the drink in record time and hits the bar with it so that it makes a loud thunk.

“Another one.”

Dean shrugged as the man kept glaring down at the bar as though it contained all the answers to life and everything else; Dean knew for a fact that it didn’t. It didn’t even have a ‘42’ scratched into it or anything. (RIP Douglas Adams)

This time the man just wraps his hand around the glass, his fingers clutching at it and woah, Dean thinks, dude’s got some huge fucking hands. They’re big and they’re strong looking. The fingers are nice and long and graceful and oh, oh, oh. Maybe it’s a kink, or maybe it’s a preference, but Dean loves hands. Manly looking mitts like Messy-Hair here and even smaller, more delicate hands like on most women, with pretty nail colors. But Dean’s not choosy.

He sees motion out of the corner of his eye and notices Chuck signaling that he’d like to pay up. Glancing at Messy-Hair he figures he has a few minutes before having to pour him another so he sets the bottle down and heads over to the other side.

“All right there, Chuck?”

“Yeah, yeah, thank you, Dean.”

The older man is flipping through his wallet and counting out his cash slowly. Dean wipes the bar and puts Chuck’s last glass into the bucket for later cleaning.

“Write anything tonight?” Dean always asks this question. It’s like a little game he and Chuck play because it always has the same answer.

“No,” Chuck says looking up at him. He places his finger to his temple solemnly, almost like he’s holding a gun. “But I did a lot of work up here.”

He always gives Dean this look as though Dean should know exactly what he’s talking about. But, of course, Dean never does. He likes to read but he sure as hell would never attempt to write. Personally, he thinks Chuck is sort of crazy, but hey, to each their own, right?

Chuck pushes his notebooks into his old canvas bag on the bar. It’s bulging with everything he carries with him and looks fit to burst. Dean supposes that writer’s block is heavy business.

Chucks nods goodnight as he slips his bag over his shoulders, buckling a bit under the weight. Dean watches as he wobbles away and he’s not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the bag. He’d normally be worried (hey, no bar can stay in business if all its clientele got themselves killed), but he knows Chuck lives nearby. He’ll be all right and probably in his same spot tomorrow evening. He puts Chuck’s money into the till and realizes he tipped Dean more than usual. He really did have had a good night, then.

He notices the couple trying to break the world record for smooches in a single night are getting up and putting on their jackets. Maybe Dean can get out early; he’s got the DVR set for Dr Sexy already, but he wouldn’t say no to catching it live for once.

Glancing over he sees Messy-Hair is now resting his head on the bar, but he lifts it as the doors bang shut behind Chuck, the cold burst of wind making his hair looking even more disheveled. Dean heads back over to see if he needs a refill and is suddenly struck dumb by the other man finally looking at him. Holy Mother of Blue, those are some eyes. The dude is handsome. Like old-time movie handsome. Strong jaw, with a smattering of scruff, pink soft lips and eyes that look like they can see into your soul, no, scratch that, not see, but pierce. Dean swallows roughly and picks up the whiskey bottle. 

“Hey, uh, it’s getting late. One more for the road?” Dean assumes the dude doesn’t know the Starlight is technically open until midnight. Assumes, hah. More like prays.

Blue-Eyes stares at him and frowns. “I thought this establishment closed at midnight.”

“Er, yeah. I suppose it does.”

“Then I’ll take another,” Blue-Eyes pauses and holds out his glass. “And keep them coming for the next forty-five minutes, barkeep.”

Dean blinks at the old-fashioned word and pours another round. They stare at each other until he hears a giggle and a clearing of a throat. He looks over to see the couple and wonders how long they’ve been waiting. Judging from the churlish look on the guy’s face and the barely contained laughter emanating from the girl, it’s been awhile. He settles their tab and takes their money (lousy tip, of course) as the two saunter past Blue-Eyes and escape out into the night. Well, at least Dean can see it’s stopped raining.

Making up his mind, he follows them from behind the bar and locks the door after them. He flips off the sign, too. He may be stuck here with Blue-Eyes, but he’ll be damned if he’ll let someone else come meandering in to make him get home even later.

He comes back to stand in front of his customer and makes a decision. Pulling down another glass, he pours some of the whiskey into it and sighs as the warmth of it hits his system. What do they always say about good whiskey? It should warm the cockles of the heart, or something like that. Not that Dean actually knows what a cockle is, but hey, it went down smooth.

He realizes Blue-Eyes is watching him and Dean decides to bite the bullet. He’s tired, bored and probably on his way to cranky town if Blue-Eyes keeps his word about the next forty-five minutes.

“So, what brings you out on a cold and rainy night like tonight, Mr, uh…what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you what I’ve been calling you in my head.”

The other man squints and tilts his head at Dean like a tiny, confused bird. And no, Dean doesn’t find that adorable at all. Nope.

“What have you been calling me in your head?”

Dean purses his lips. Sometimes he’s really an idiot. He gives Blue-Eyes a shaky laugh.

“I said I wasn’t gonna keeping doing that.”

They stare at each other again, neither one budging until Blue-Eyes releases a breath and blinks, shoulders slumping a bit more. By the end of the night Dean expects this guy to be melted into the floor.

“Cas.”

Dean frowns. “Your name is Mr Cas?”

“No, just Cas.” Blue-Eyes, no, scratch that, Cas then holds out his hand so Dean can shake it like they’re fellow professionals meeting at a party or something. As he grips the other man’s hand in his own he realizes Cas’s hand is warm, dry, and, yep, strong. The dude is seriously ticking all of Dean’s boxes without even trying. It’s a bit unnerving, really.

“Is that short for something?” Dean asks, wondering what type of name that is.

Cas just looks at him over the rim of his glass. “Perhaps.”

Neither of them say anything else for a long moment and Dean shakes his head. “People ever tell you you talk too much?”

“Yes. All the time,” Cas says with a smirk.

Dean laughs. “Well, whatever. It’s officially nice to meet you, Cas. I’m Dean. Humble and professional barkeep at your service.”

“Hello, Dean.”

Cas’s voice is deep but there’s a warmth to it that makes Dean happy.  They chit-chat for a bit, just like Dean would do with any newbie to the bar. He pours them both another round and then tries his question again.

“So, you seemed a bit upset earlier. What brought you through my doors, Cas?”

Cas sighs and glances away. He taps his fingers lightly on the polished wood of the bar. He stares at Dean as though assessing him and then looks as though he’s made up his mind.

“My…er, the person I’ve been dating, dumped me tonight. We went to an expensive restaurant and ordered far too pricey food for the serving size and drank outrageously fancy wine. Then they ordered an expensive bottle of cognac, drank it all and then told me I wasn’t worth it.”

Dean winces. “Ouch. How long were you together?”

“Six months.”

“Well, it’s not too long for a relationship, but it’s long enough to hurt.”

Cas nods, looking sullen again.

“What special occasion was it?”

Cas stares at him. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Fancy restaurant, the way you’re dressed, the cognac. Nobody orders that unless there’s been a birth or an anniversary or both.”

“It was my birthday,” Cas says, looking down again.

“Fuck,” Dean blurts out without thinking. “And they dumped you? Seriously bad juju, man.”

Cas nods and takes another drink of his whiskey, looking miserable. Dean tops off both of their glasses and hums.

“What was his name?”

Cas whips his head up, suddenly looking confused and more than a little worried. “I never said it was a he.”

“It was your distinct lack of pronouns, dude. Always the dead giveaway. Trust me, as a guy who plays for both sides, I know. Pronouns are key. Hey, relax, Cas, this is a safe space.” Dean points to the small pride flag he keeps above the bar and watches as Cas visibly relaxes.

The silence that falls between them is comfortable now. Welcoming, even. Cas clears his throat and rests his hand on his chin, peering at Dean.

“So…you’re bi, I assume or, pan, perhaps?”

“Got it in one. Just another bisexual loser ruining the world one lay at a time.”

Dean winks to show he’s only kidding. He’s proud to be bi, but it doesn’t mean he can’t make a joke at his own expense. Of course, if Sam or his friend Charlie were here they’d both tell him what they thought of that.

“His name was Bartholomew.”

Dean snorts. “It fits him. Douche-y name for a douche-canoe.”

Cas barks out a laugh and it completely changes his face into something truly beautiful. Dean suddenly feels the need to always make Cas laugh like that. He can’t imagine anyone not wanting to – his laugh is infectious. And the light it puts in his eyes is irresistible.

Cas looks serious again as he swirls the rest of the whiskey in his glass. “To be honest, Bart was just the last in a long line of failed…connections. I’m doubting my own self-worth at this point. Everyone ends up leaving or they get fed up with me. I’m too introverted…too socially awkward to deal with, I suppose.”

“I don’t know, you seem to be doing okay right now.”

“I’ve been drinking,” Cas says, deadpan. “And also I’m paying you.”

Dean chuckles. “Not really, I decided to stop charging you as soon as I poured my first one.”

“Your hospitality know no bounds. Truly.”

Dean laughs. Cas’s dry delivery and poker-faced expressions really are the limit. He feels that familiar warmth he always gets when he meets someone new. A someone new that excites him. But he pushes the feeling aside because he knows on some level that trying to get into Cas’s pants is so not what the other man needs right now. Dean shivers as he realizes how damn mature that sounds. Next he’ll be looking into 401ks and cemetery plots.

“Well, consider them birthday drinks. Of course, this stuff doesn’t cost a small fortune or anything, but I figured you’d already paid out enough tonight.”

Cas smirks and shakes his head at Dean. “Thank you, Dean. It’s actually very kind of you to…take pity on me.”

He says it jokingly but Dean gets the sense that he means it. He reaches forward and touches Cas’s hand.

“Hey, no pity here. You are ridiculously attractive and if I didn’t have a conscience, I’d definitely be throwing out my best lines here to help you relieve some tension, if you know what I mean. And you are not awkward to me, but even if you were, it wouldn’t be enough to stop me from asking for your number or seeing if you wanted to meet up sometime. I barely know you but you seem like a decent guy, Cas. And I think all of those people that don’t get you can just fuck right off. You need to keep trying, man. Don’t give up just because a few losers couldn’t see what they had.”

Cas blinks at Dean, blue eyes getting huge. “You think I’m ridiculously attractive?”

Dean thinks back. Did he say that? Yeah, he said that. Figures that would be the only thing to register with the dude.

“What sort of line would you use on me? I mean, if you were going to, that is.” Cas shyly glances away and then back, a curious look on his face.

“Oh, uh, probably something like, well you know what they say — the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” Dean waggles his eyebrows and smirks, faking a leer.

“I’m not sure that would work with me,” Cas says, mirth clear in his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. You’d make me work for it, I know. But seriously, you need to regroup, clear out the douche-canoes from your life and find a new guy, man.”

Cas smiles at him in fondness, and nope, Dean is not going to do it. He will not break his rule about dating people just out of relationships. Not even for big huge blue eyes that make him feel sappy like a love song. Cas, however, clearly has other plans.

“This may be forward but, um, Dean would you allow me take you out for dinner? As a date, in case you were wondering how I meant it.”

“Oh, wow, Cas, um, I mean…”

Cas’s face takes an interesting journey in two seconds – from hopeful joy to miserable and wretched. Dean feels his heart break a little bit for him in that moment and mentally kicks his own ass for being a tool.

“Oh, I see. I…I’m sorry, Dean. Thank you for hospitality.” Cas fumbles with his wallet and places far too much money next to his glass. “I won’t keep you anymore. Go home and enjoy whatever is left of your night.”

Dean watches dumbly as Cas sits up straighter and then turns in his seat, his broad shoulders unyielding, suddenly. Dean knows he just can’t let it end like this.

“No, wait, Cas!”

Dean practically flings himself around the bar to reach Cas before he can unlock the door and leave without a backwards glance. He rests his hand on Cas’s shoulder, stopping him.

“It’s only because I have a rule about dating people that just got out of a relationship. It has nothing to do with you, I promise you. You need to focus on you, dude. Figure out what you’re looking for. If this one was just the last in a long line of guys who don’t understand you, try and see what people you’re going for. I mean, I’m no expert, and God knows I’ve had my fair share of jumping before looking moments, but I think you just need some Cas time right now, you know? If we ever start something I do not want to be rebound guy and you deserve something better than a one night stand.”

Cas stares at him, blue eyes half in shadow.  Dean holds his breath, hoping he didn’t just lose something. All he can hear is the clock ticking behind him and the pounding of his own heart in his ears.

“That was quite the speech,” Cas finally says. “You sound like you know from experience.”

“Cas, man. You have no idea.”

“I have some, like I said, a long line of rejections. Still…”  Cas’s eyes search his face and then nods to himself. “Maybe you’re right. I do tend to do things without thinking in this area of life despite being very practical usually. And you’re also right on anther point, Dean. You do not deserve to be “rebound guy”.”

Dean can’t help his grin as Cas makes the quotes motion with his fingers. They stare at each other for a bit longer before he unlocks the door. Cas steps out as the cold air filters in between them, causing them bother to shiver. Dean pauses, and then holds out his hand. “Let me have your phone.”

“My phone?”

“Yeah, you have one, right? Or have you moved on to something flashier like sky writing?”

Cas snorts and shakes his head. He fumbles in his pockets and then pulls out a slim, black smartphone. He unlocks it and hands it over. Of course, it’d be that kind of phone that can help you bake bread or turn off all the lights in the world with just a click or something. He finally finds what he’s looking for and puts his contact information in.

“There. There’s my number. Text me to let me know you get home, okay? And as for the rest, we’ll take it one day at a time, Cas. Let’s be friends, first.”

Cas smiles shyly as he looks down at his phone and nods. “Friends, first. I like that. Goodnight, Dean.”

“Goodnight, buddy. Be safe.”

Cas slips out and away, leaving a coldness in his wake as he takes his body heat with him. Dean watches him go, the black of the night almost swallowing him up. Cas pauses to pull his coat tighter, the glow of the streetlight lighting up his profile. To Dean he looks pure—angelic, almost, like a painting or a sculpture. With one last look at Dean, he eventually fades away, disappearing back into the world. Soon all Dean can see is his own breath in the air and the twinkling starlight from the surprisingly clear sky above. He locks up again and finishes his routine for the night. After he’s put the money in the safe and headed out back to his car, he feels happy inside. Like something good just occurred — like some new path has been cleared for him to travel. His drive home is quick and easy, there’s hardly any traffic mostly due to the earlier rain. It’s just as he’s pulling into his driveway that he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. It’s from an unknown number and his heart beats faster as he reads the message.

From unknown: I arrived home safely, Dean. Thank you, again. Would you like to get coffee tomorrow, or, perhaps I should say, later today? Oh, this is Cas, by the way. In case you didn’t know. :)

Dean saves the number and then returns to the message to reply, a grin creeping onto his face before he even realizes it.

Dean: Of course, dude. Coffee sounds great. Around 1pm?

Cas: Perfect. Do you know the Blue Java Café on Marion and Elm? It’s across from the park and one of my favorite places.

Dean: Sounds good. Can’t wait to talk to you sober, ya lush… (lol j/k hah) 

Cas sends him a sticking-tongue-out emoji as a response and Dean chuckles as he locks up his car. He has a nice, happy feeling in his heart as he thinks of Cas. Like maybe this is something special. Or maybe it’s just that it could be and has the potential to be. He knows he told Cas friends first, but Dean’s willing to see where it…where they, can go.

[iamamythologicalcreature]

Pitch Manor Progress (which is sort of like Six Sentence Sunday but also not)

It's still Sunday for five more minutes, here. SO....

Okay, I haven't written anything on the Haunting of Simon Snow in awhile. But I have been working on my floor plan for Pitch Manor, which is more than tangentially related to the potential progress of that fic. And today's a rough one for me, so I'm going to post about it like it's progress so I might feel a tad better. Ahem.

OKAY. SO. I've been working on a floor plan for Pitch Manor for... pretty much forever and a day. I ran into trouble when I was writing chapter 2 of Haunting and Simon (Construction Worker!Simon) began to describe the house. I realized... I had no idea what he was describing.

(Warning, there is a long winded geeky ramble ahead. It's just how I do things. Ahem.)

What was supposed to be a quick "let's find a floor plan that I can just copy with some minor adjustments" project has since turned into my special interest project. As a history nerd, that means a lot of research, looking at dozens of floor plans for other houses ranging in origination from the 16th century to the 20th (and probably a few older than even that, since a ton of religious buildings were repurposed into estates. Think Downton *Abbey*.)

But this past week, I feel I've really pushed through a lot of the issues I kept running into. (I've ridiculously been trying to make it as true to the descriptions in Carry On as possible, and something that fits the purposes of my fic, which of course I have envisioned in many, sometimes incompatible, ways.) I've had to make some "this or that, you can't have both" choices, but I'm finally happy with the basic shape and layout.

Whew.

Just for funsies, here's a cross section snippet of my floor plan WIP. It's pretty messy still, but I'm still excited LOL

And (finally), instead of six sentences, I will instead offer you all six tidbits of information about Pitch Manor, as I've envisioned it:

There are four (4!) different sitting rooms. Because the aristocracy just loved their sitting rooms. (Parlor, Withdrawing room, Drawing room, and Reception/Receiving room.)

There is a ballroom. Try and stop me.

The original manor house was built in the 17th century, and has been refurbished and updated a few times.

The most extensive refurbishment happened in the 19th century, which is how it gained its current stylings. (Baz is a freaking troll and I love him for it. The most popular architectural style in the Victorian era was "Gothic Revival." "It's not Gothic; it's Victorian." Hah.)

Some rooms were added on during the Victorian refurbishment, including a Smoking room. They were very popular at that time.

The largest room in the house isn't the ballroom. It's the library. (It's two stories. Try and stop me.)

(I do hope to release the floorplans into the fandom wild after they're complete, in case anyone else wants to make use of them.)

I want to ramble more. But it's almost midnight. Sooo.... Gratitude and hellos under the cut!

Thank you to @blackberrysummerblog, @shrekgogurt, @rimeswithpurple, @thewholelemon, @monbons,

and @cutestkilla for the tags. I'm looking forward to seeing what everyone is working on!

Thank you also to those of you who have willingly (I hope) listened to me ramble on about this damned project of mine for ages. Because boy howdy, do I ramble. @cutestkilla, @hushed-chorus, @artsyunderstudy, @youarenevertooold, @ic3-que3n,

@best--dress, @monbons, and @mooncello. It's good there are a few of you, that way no single poor soul has to bear the full weight of my obsession special interest. (If anyone reading this actually wants to join these ranks, hit me up on Discord XD)

Thanks also to everyone that has tagged me even when it's been ages in between progress posts from me. I appreciate being kept in the loop on what you all are up to creatively!

Hellos and howdies to @noblecorgi @bookish-bogwitch @that-disabled-princess @bazzybelle @messofthejess

@imagineacoolusername @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @prettygoododds @emeryhall @ileadacharmedlife

@valeffelees @fiend-for-culture @bubble-gumhead @brilla-brilla-estrellita @aristocratic-otter

@j-nipper-95 @whatevertheweather @ivelovedhimthroughworse @drowninginships @alexalexinii

@facewithoutheart @angelsfalling16

[ravetillyoucry]

PUPARIA

Chapter 7 - Oblivion

prev - chapter 1

It was at times like these when Hosah felt grateful for the New York Subway system, as even at four in the morning, him and his partner were able to commute all the way back to the office with ease.

Nobody had touched the package, it was a miracle somebody was even brave enough to pick it up and bring it into the security room. In all honesty, the shifter wasn't sure why the police weren't the first people Scotty, the guy Jules had hired to sit and watch their camera footage all night, had called.

He did have an idea as to why, though. He and Scotty had pretty much hated eachother since day one. The man had no positives to him. He's rude, he's cynical, he says the most offensive things, he's nihilistic and generally leaves a bad taste in everyone's mouth. Sure, all of those character flaws probably applied to Hosah himself, but his own hypocrisy was something the shifter preferred to not dwell on. The security guy wasn’t relevant enough to Hosah’s life to get worked up on anyway.

The rag-tag team all stood in near silence, as if they were waiting for the package itself to speak. Wrapped in a stereotypical brown paper bag, the little twine bow and all, the parcel was flat and wide, a four by four square with maybe and inch and a half of elevation to it. Just by looking at it, Hosah could tell it was a canvas of sorts. He'd been painting consistently for over a decade, so he thought himself to have pretty worthy basis to make such a theory.

Without thinking too much of it, the shifter spoke, leaning over closer to inspect the item infront of him, "Looks like it's a painting, or something."

Scotty was the first to dismiss his idea, "Why the hell would anyone mail you a painting to your workplace?"

"Why would anyone kill fifteen people?" The shifter's eyes stayed focused on what was beneath him, knowing that, if he were to look up at the crowd of much larger beings, he'd probably pussy out of indulging in any kind of argumentative urges that came over him when speaking to the insufferable man.

Jeanne spoke up, stood in the corner of the tiny office, leant against the wall away from the topic of conversation, "Let's just open it and see. Can't be anything worse than what we've already seen."

"Yeah, Hosah, you open it. That way if it's a bomb and you're blown to pieces, it won't be so hard to clean."

God, if only his prayers were answered. Suddenly, Hosah felt bad for admitting his uncertainty surrounding religion. The smell of burning flesh wouldn't be so bad if he knew it was Scotty's body that had spontaneously combusted.

The shrunken figures eyebrows furrowed, although his gaze was still unmoving. He wondered if Teddy shared the same annoyed expression as his own.

"Shouldn't we wait until we can get it tested for any , I don't know, DNA remnants? Assuming it's the same guy that fled the scene the other day that left the package." The shrunken figure questioned, leaning over to inspect every aspect of the seemingly normal parcel in close detail.

Unfortunately, Hosah seemed to have fallen perfectly into Scotty's hands with his reply. "Hah, so, you're a fucken' pussy, that's it, right?" How anybody could be so cartoonishly insufferable, the shifter did not know.

"Shut up, Scotty. God. I'll open it." Teddy's sudden bite back alongside the quick grab of the delivery caused the figure stood beside it to jump back slightly, he'd not seen such a side to his assistant before, and in all honesty, it flattered him.

Scotty wheeled his chair back out of the way into Jeanne's direction as the brown paper packaging was carefully torn apart. He was right. It was a painting after all, with a folded paper note on the hollow side of the canvas.

Upon turning it over, painted side up, delicately placed down on the table beside him, Hosah's face turned an unusual shade of white. This wasn't an original piece from the killer at all, it was his own work, even with his name written in small white text in the bottom right corner.

In any other situation, the fact almost everybody in the room gathered around, towering above him, would've put Hosah at indescribable unease, but he was far too distracted by what sat in-front of him to even notice.

"Looks like one of yours." He was glad to hear Teddy's voice again, all he really wanted to do was crawl back into the warm palm once more, and forget he'd ever seen anything to begin with.

A grating scoff could be heard from the distance away where the night shift security guard sat, although nobody paid any attention to him by this point.

Hosah looked up to the giant looming above him, whose eyes were fixated on the painting and not the shifter himself, "It is one of mine. See. Signed it and everything."

The look Scotty had on his face was disturbing if anything, a sort of sadistic smile to himself that worried Hosah. He wondered who's side he was really on, his team's, or the killer's. A hole grew in his stomach when he thought about the contents of the note, probably some edgy manifesto of all the killer's prejudices toward the most vulnerable of society, their sick reasonings for indulging in such cruelty. Nothing he hadn't seen before; but that didn't make it all any less unsettling.

"Huh. So it is." Teddy leant, his mouth slightly agape as he puzzled over what lay out in front of him. "Have you ever sold any of your art or something?"

The trouble brewing in the shifter's stomach rose as he blurted out, "No, that's the thing, I don't even.. They must've gotten it straight from my apartment." It could've been anyone. It could've even been Teddy, given his peaked interest in his work, and the fact he had a key to the apartment in the first place.

It wasn't a piece he'd done recently, it was one he'd remembered storing away in the closet under all of his old, dirty tarps. A shitty take at a man he'd pass almost every day about two years ago, always at the pick up bay by the station, always in the same coat smoking the same brand of cigarettes, Hosah had thought up a whole backstory for him. Divorced, retired, and on his way to the bar to sleuth out information on the man his wife had left him for. The type of guy Hosah imagined himself growing to be when he was around fifty, deeply troubled and fuelled by vengeance from the, in the grand scheme of things, meaningless.

"What about the note, what does that say?" Hosah's attention shifted as he heard the paper fumble in his assistant's hands in response, anxiously awaiting for what was on the other side of the folded sheet.

"Hmm," Teddy's eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursed, "It's long. And fucking.. Hard to read. Rushed cursive. Could scan it into one of the computers, get someone over to decipher it."

The shrunken man shrugged, annoyed his curiosity couldn't be fed into, but understanding of the situation.

"Sure. Sounds good." He said, standing to his underwhelming full height of three inches. Hosah wondered what was taking his body so long to adjust for another switch back, when he remembered he hadn't actually taken his size control medication since.. Maybe a week ago?

It was safe to say just about everyone wanted to get the fuck out of Scotty's office after the interaction. He wondered why Jules would hire such a dickhead, before realising she'd also hired himself too, and that was just as bad.

Even hours later, stood on his assistant's desk once more, Hosah couldn't help out pace back and forth, contemplating all that had occurred so far in the case. It wasn't a lot, but what he'd been left with felt like a thousand threads all tangled in one big, untie-able knot. The holes in the hands, the bodies lined up in order of stages of decomposition, his painting, the unreadable note, what did it all mean?

It was horrible to admit, but Hosah often found himself empathising with the criminals he sought after. Of course he knew they were society's most disgusting and depraved individuals, but that sort of behaviour doesn't just prop up out of nowhere. He'd be a hypocrite if he didn't give these freaks the benefit of the doubt, as some would go as far as to say Hosah had gotten himself into a fair amount of totally fucked scenarios that would group him with these kinds of people.

Nobody did these kinds of acts for no reason. He had his own reasons for getting into his own shit, so what gives him the right to pretend that they don't? After all, reasons are not excuses. But that was the thing, Hosah's curiosity was his biggest flaw. His utter inability to stay in his own lane, to keep his nose out of other people's business, it's what got him into the most trouble. Curiosity killed the cat or something.

Jeanne's words replayed in his head over and over, in all honesty, he never really considered himself a highly empathetic person beforehand, but everyone seemed to think otherwise. That was probably what got him into all the trouble he found himself in as a young man. At the age of twenty seven, he'd experienced a life time of shit. All because he didn't know when to stop surrounding himself with people who so obviously had ill intentions.

Hosah was an attention seeker, at the core of it, somebody paying attention to him, even if it's to hurt him, was what fed his ego. It gave him some sort of worth, this random serial killer was interested in him, it doesn't matter in what way, he had someone that saw him. What in particular they saw in him, he had no idea, and the itching to know just what made him of all the shifters out there so special was what drove him crazy. Why him? Why that painting? Why those fifteen people before him? All he wanted was answers, he didn't even really care if getting them was what killed him.

"Hosah, I think you should start living at my apartment." The statement caught him completely off guard, freezing mid step and turning to look at the giant that sat before him.

"We can go and get all your stuff you need today. I just.. It doesn't feel right. The painting, it was taken straight from your house. I don't want to leave you there, they know that's where you live," Teddy truly looked troubled as he went on, "I don't think I'd be able to forgive myself if anything happened to you."

The tiny man nodded in agreement, "Yeah, yeah you're right. I didn't even think about that, to be honest. Thanks. I appreciate it."

One week into their knowledge of each others existence, and the two had already made plans to move in together. Hosah wasn't even surprised, moving fast was his default. He had thoughts of marriage about everyone he's ever slept with, and that list was far too long to count on his hands alone. Teddy had that kind of look about him that made the shifter realise the two's lives were to be intertwined for as long as they'd live, he was just unsure of in what way that'd be.

"I know it's kind of sudden and we don't know eachother all that well, but, I mean, please don't feel pressured to say yes or anything." Teddy rambled on, the fact the giant seemed to care so much was very flattering.

Hosah could only smile, inching closer to the resting fist on the table he stood on, "I already said yes, Teddy. I'm not really one to get all shy in dangerous situations like these." That was a lie, and it sort of pained him to say it out loud with just how blatant the fact of the matter was.

-~-

"Your place is.. nice."

Hosah took a good look around from his shoulder view. Seemed his assistant had a few unpleasant traits after all. The apartment was packed with shit. Trinkets and vintage decorations, CDs and records, random pieces of junk he'd probably found out in the wild, his apartment was sort of like a hoarders home, or maybe a crow's nest.

Teddy couldn't sense the uneasiness in the shifters voice, "Thank you, thank you. I uh, I need to do a good deep clean sometime soon though. Got a lot of stuff but I can never find it in me to part with any of it. Just scared I'll need it one day, or I'll forget whatever memory I have associated with it, you know?"

"You don't say.." Really, the man stood, one foot on the shirt collar, one foot on the jacket shoulder, was in no place to judge at all. He had his absurd collection of art works, and Teddy had his absurd collections of everything else there was to own in the world.

The tiny eyes adverted to the three decorative plates mounted on the wall outside of his kitchen, a very pretty collection, with the centre piece capturing what looked like to be a rural house in a field of flowers, the rest being of various farm animals. Despite looking pretty old, the paint was just as bright as the day it was done. Bright pastels that popped out against be ceramic white, with a fine gold border around the curved edges.

"Pretty right?" His assistant noticed Hosah's fixated stare on the display, "They were a gift from my grandpa, for graduating university. His grandma gifted them to him too, when he bought his first house."

"Been in the family for a while then.." The tiny man leant closer to her a better look at the paint job.

"Yeah, yeah definitely. I'm gonna give them to my kids too. And hopefully it'll be carried on for the rest of forever."  With his hands at his hips, Teddy sighed a hopeful sigh. "Why about you? Any special family heirlooms going around?"

Oh, god, he had to wrack his brain around for a moment to even think of anything, "My mom always said she wished she had a daughter, you know, to pass her wedding dress down to. Well, it's not- I don't know, are hanbok's considered dresses? I think so,"

"Ohh," Teddy's interest seemed to be peaked as he made his way to sit on the couch, on whatever space there was free at least, as it was covered almost entirely with decorative pillows and blankets, "So, you're Korean, right? Fully, or?"

"Pshh, do I look full? No, my dad's Arab- Mizrahi, so I guess, Iraqi maybe? I don't really know, he's never specified. Always just says Jewish or American." Hosah had long climbed down from the shoulder, finding himself resting in the cupped hands of his assistant as he rambled.

"Hmm, yeah I thought so. It's hard to tell, really, never heard of that mix before." the giant's voice quietened a little, as if he were worried he could come off as offensive or something, "I was wondering where the name Hosah came from, too, is it Korean? Hebrew?"

"It's- It's a funny story, actually," Whenever Hosah started a conversation like this, the other person could expect probably the least funny story imaginable, "I'm named after my uncle, my dads twin brother, he was a shifter too. Died three days before my parents found out I was on the way. Anyway. The name Hosah in itself is Hebrew, but there is a really similar Korean name, just spelt '-suh' not '-sah'. And a different meaning, and stuff."

The giant nodded his head and gave an 'Ohhh' of understanding, "That's really interesting, actually."

"I've always been kind of worried about being named after someone who had a shifting related death. Like it's just sealed the deal for me to be.. cursed or something. It's stupid but it's always in the back of my mind whenever I do something stupid." The tiny man brushed his hands through his hair, avoiding eye contact, "I guess thats bound to happen though, seeing your own name on a coffin."

“Like an Ouroboros, the eternal cycle, history repeating itself,” Teddy soon realised that the man in his hands had no idea what he was talking about, “The snake eating itself, something like that,” still, Hosah was clueless.

��..So that Scotty guy huh!” The giant awkwardly laughed, desperate to keep the shifter talking for a reason that was unknown to him. “What a dick. So stupid too. Picking up that parcel and bringing it into his office, not even calling the police?? Total moron.” Teddy progressively seemed to get more worked up, his palms getting clammier and clammier by the second.

“I mean,” his face shifted, now looking more worried if anything, “He was just so.. rude to you. Completely unprovoked!”

Hosah’s eyes lingered down onto his shoes, now sitting cross legged in the palm, “Some people are just like that.” He sighed, “See someone weaker than them, and just getting the urge to..” the words trailed off into silence, although Teddy could probably piece together what came next.

“Well, he’s stupid. You’re great. I couldn’t imagine even considering speaking to you like that.”

“That’s cause you know I’d beat your ass, when I’d get back to normal size, anyway.” The shifter stood to his full height, not even the size of Teddy’s hand, “I need you to help me with something.”

Without a second thought, his assistant followed his every word. Hosah hadn’t taken his medication in days, he knew if he didn’t start, his doctor wouldn’t let him hear the end of it.

Teddy’s bathroom was just as cluttered as the rest of his apartment, with a cute little My Neighbor Totoro toothbrush holder and all. The tiny man hadn’t seen that movie since he was barely able to retain memories, just the sight of that grey beast sent him back in time.

“So you need to do this every day?” The giant spoke as he filled the human sized needle with whatever concoction of drugs his doctor prescribes him to take daily. Something he always forgot how to pronounce, somatotrophixine? Along the lines of that, at least.

Hosah just nodded, “Yeah. I’ve been forgetting lately.”

Pinching what little fat he had left on his thigh with one hand, and biting the arm connected to his other, the shifter was ready to take the dosage.

“Do you not get scared? This needles bigger than your whole body.”

Hosah really wished he’d stop being asked so many questions as he winced at the sudden contact, causing his assistant to give a quiet little ‘Sorry’ under his breath.

He waited until the needle had been removed to release his teeth from his arm, “Nah, been doing it since I was like.. I don’t know, twelve?” Hosah groaned a little as he let go of the skin, “Still hurts, though. Do you have any bandages?”

Very carefully, as if he was scared he’d break Hosah with the light touch from his fingers, the giant gave the bleeding wound a wipe, wrapping it with a cut up piece of gauze afterward.

“I don’t know how you cope. I think I’d be way too freaked out to even remember to breathe, aha,”

“You get used to it. I used to be terrified all the time. Constant state of fear, it was hell. Then I got medicated for anxiety and shit, all better now. You could put me in a case filled with.. I don’t know, rats and scorpions, wouldn’t break a sweat.” The shifter bragged, stretching the truth about a mile further than reality. Really, he still got scared, he was always still scared, he just knew how to mask it better.

“Well then,” his assistant leant back forward, having cleared away the surface from what mess the pair had just made, “I want what you’re on.”

This phrase had never failed to make Hosah laugh. “Let’s switch places first, then we’ll see.”

Maybe moving in together wasn’t the greatest idea. The rest of the day, and even into the night, Teddy asked questions relentlessly. On one hand, it made the shifter quite happy, nobody had ever been so curious about him, it made him feel pretty special for once. Then again, on the other hand, he quite missed his alone time with just him and his thoughts.

The giant’s chatter eventually became white noise to him, finally falling sleep as the sun had long gone down, the stars being brighter than ever. Or maybe they were just streetlights, it was hard to tell.

Hosah had managed to drift off on the pillow besides his assistant’s head, but when he awoke the next day, Teddy was nowhere to be seen. Not wanting to jump down from such a height, despite knowing that he’d probably just bounce along the floor due to his height and weight, the shifter waited patiently for his knight in shining armour to rescue him from the impossibly high castle.

Unfortunately, none of that was accurate to reality, as the shitty ikea bed was far from any fairy tale tower, and Teddy, in his boxer shorts and generic band t shirt- which the design on had long faded in the washing machine, was far from any kind of prince charming. That part was debatable, actually.

The shifter had no idea what had come over him lately, maybe it was some kind of sickness bug going around or an infection in his brain, but as every day went by that he and Teddy spent constantly in each others company, the more Hosah grew to love him. Not romantically, of course. He wasn’t even expecting to like him, never mind want to be as close as friends with him as they were becoming. Although.. he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he found the giant at least somewhat attractive. On a completely aesthetic level.

Teddy peeked through the slightly ajar door with a little knock, as if this wasn’t his own bedroom. Upon noticing his new roommate was awake, he entered shyly, still in his night clothes, uttering a quiet ‘Good morning’ in a sing-song voice. Hosah didn’t respond, he needed at least twenty minutes to properly adjust to his consciousness in the morning.

Instead, the miniature man sat on the pillow, watching Teddy carefully as he rifled through his wardrobe. From here, Hosah had pretty much the perfect view of the man. He had nice legs, thick calves, and his freckles extended past his face to the entirety of his body. One thing the shifter had always wished he had when he was younger was more moles. He had one pretty big one on the right of his belly button, and one under his left ear, but that was it. It was one of his mother’s traits that he envied, she had beauty marks pretty much in every place you’d expect them to be.

It was in moments like these which Hosah wished his eyes were cameras, so he could take a photo of the moment and store it in his brain forever. Having a photographic memory must be nice. The lighting was perfect as the sun shined through the thin fabric of Teddy’s curtains, with the dark red paint across the walls helping the man in catching the singular audience member’s eye.

The observer quickly turned his face away as his subject caught on to his peeping, “What are you looking at?” Teddy said in a laugh, his smile showing his endearingly crooked teeth.

“You, I guess.” His face flushed a colour similar to that on the walls, “I like your teeth.”

Yeesh. Hosah knew it sounded weird as soon as he said it, but it was too late now.

“Aha, thank you, my parents wanted me to get braces or retainers or something, but I always liked them too.” Luckily for the still shrunken man, Teddy seemed to take the compliment how it was intended to be interpreted.

Despite the fact it exhausted him the previous day, Hosah wanted to continue to talk with his assistant for hours. Maybe they were just rubbing off on one another, but he really wanted to know every little detail about Teddy’s entire life.

With the starting day’s rays hitting his so perfectly, the giant’s green eyes really shone, looking much paler in the direct sunlight compared to the usual darker shade they appeared to be. Hosah wondered if he had one Irish parent with how he looked, he wouldn’t have gotten Italian just by looking at him, unless told so first.

“You know,” Teddy started, buttoning up his dress shirt in the meantime, “Im so curious what that note said. The one in the package, I mean.”

Right. The detective had nearly forgotten all about the previous day, too focused on fantasising about some dream-like life he could have with Teddy. He really needed to get his head down, out of the clouds, and back into the game. He needed to talk to Jeanne, Jeanne always knew what to say, and what to do in times like these.

“Hmm, I’ll give it a look over. Might find it easier, able to see all the fine details and such..” Hosah rubbed the sleep from his eyes and combed his curly bed head with his fingers, “Probably just a load of manic shit. Dark web manifesto type thing.”

“This is all so scary. I mean, they went to your house, and mailed your own painting back to you, does that not scare you?”

“I told you, I’m not scared of anything.”

Teddy looked up from his undone tie, “I’m being serious, Hosah.” , his face really reflected just how serious he seriously was. “It’s okay you know, fuck, I’m scared of this guy.”

Eugh, that phrase the shifter hated so much, ‘it’s okay’ or anything of the sort. Being comforted verbally just caused his entire body to quiver and cringe, which was very likely evident in the disgusted face he didn’t realise he was making, as Teddy tilted his head to the side, his eyebrows angled down as if to say ‘Cmon,’

“Yeah. But I’m used to all of this, even outside of my job, I’ve had to deal with weirdos-“

His assistant rudely interjected with a counter argument, “That’s exactly what scares me. You shouldn’t just.. be used to this kind of shit. It’s messed up, even more so that you’ve had to experience it all your life.”

Hosah sat, silent- a little stunned, even, frozen for a moment. He was right, and the shifter knew it, he’d known it the whole time. It wasn’t normal for him to just be used to all the kinds of sickening, cruel and downright sadistic shit that was probably all wrapped up in a nice little bow on that note. Despite already being at his minimum height, the shifter shrunk back into himself, deciding not to say anything else at all, admitting defeat in the whole bicker.

For the whole period of quiet, Teddy never looked away from the man that sat on his pillow. He didn’t want to come off as controlling or infantilising, but it was so hard not to worry about the tiny detective. He’d been dealt a shit hand in life, all the odds stacked against him in this world, and if he was the one looking out for all of the city’s shifters, who was looking out for him?

[urmomsspeciallady]

thank my most recent hyperfixation and my need for more fics of him because i hnnnngggg

Random Brett Hand S/O Headcanons

Brett’s the kinda guy to take you on either really classic dates (straight from the movies. ex: a candlelit dinner) or a “weird” date (something you wouldn’t necessarily expect from a man. ex: going shopping at the malls)

He makes a playlist about you as soon as he catches feelings. (he is so me)

He gives the best hugs. Brett just gives the most comfy and secure hugs.

He LOVES holding hands. He’ll do it subconsciously all the time, but he tries to remember to ask first (if it bothers you). He definitely does the thumb thing.

His love language? This is a tough one because I feel like all of them would fit him, but I think it’d be words of affirmations. Although, he does enjoy going out to find you the best gift, or even just making something for you in his free time.

Are you artsy? Great! You two spend some time together just working on your own projects. Him on his puppets or crafts, you on whatever it may be that day. ADHD term is body-doubling, I don’t know if it applies but I feel like it does. Either way, you two are spending quality time together. (i’ve got adhd hah)

You’re not artsy? That’s okay! Brett may try and convince you to make a craft with him, maybe even Legos, but if all this fails, he doesn’t mind. This just means more crafting for him.

Speaking off the last one, you two definitely build Lego sets together.

He’s git the best manners in terms of romantic relationships. He’s holding the door for you, giving you his jacket, buys the meals, etc.

He likes to come up behind you and hug you. Sometimes for no particular reason, he just likes holding you and having you close to him. He knows he’s got you, and you know he’s got you. Just a reminder to you both that he’s/you’re right there.

He tries to impress you a lot.

There are times when he just sits and holds you face in the palms of his hands and just.. Admire you. Smiling. Stroking your cheek

He loves it when you play with his hair! Stroking it, combing your fingers through it, ruffling it, putting braid in it only to brush it out again. He’ll go out of his way to lay his head on your lap or sit closer to you than normal.

NSFW UNDER THIS LINE!!!

Brett is one hundo percent a switch.

If you’re a switch too, you’ll probably swap roles midway through sex. Not out of no where, just kind of like banter. Probably a “taking turns” guy in which you’ll take turns topping or bottoming.

HE KNOWS HOW TO DO THE KNEE THING!! At first, he was already amazing at it but had no clue. He overheard Gigi talking about it and ended up looking it up. Now that he knows he’s doing it, he’s a GOD.

As much as I don’t want to say it.. He has a mommy kink. It’s not an intense mommy kink, just the praise and nicknames. Nothing that would seem.. Incestuous D: Ick.

Canonically, he’s into what you’re into.

PRAISE!! This will bring him to his knees so fast

He also likes teasing. But this isn’t just in sex. He likes playfully teasing you and you tease him back. It’s kinda y’all’s thang.

I feel like he loves soft sex. Like the sweet mushy lovey dovey kind. Where you can just look into eachothers’ eyes. Where you hold hands the whole time. Or where he can just hold you, you can hold him and just be together.

Mans is above average, but not massive.

He had a sexy playlist. You already know it.

He likes casual sex but he cherishes the special nights. One of his favorite’s is when he’s able to clean up the bedroom, buy roses, light candles, all the romantics. But you know, getting head in the broom closet isn’t so bad either.

Even thought Brett is… Brett, you guys have a safe word. You insisted (not cus ur trying to help him learn to speak up for himself whattt nooo…)

Biting, scratching, and hickies. He likes those as well!

tags:

\/

[thehollowwriter]

📚🔺🐉💚🍔🤒

All for Silas!

(Still not done sending these 😈)

I'm excited to see more!

📚 BOOKS — What level of education has your oc most recently completed/is currently in (GED, undergraduate, grad school, phd, etc)?

Absolutely none. At all. Ever. At least not "formally" or "officially." He grew up in the Abyss, and there certainly aren't school down there.

Lady Rhoda taught him how to read, write and do math as well history and biology (sex ed at 20 something is better late than never,right?), but he already had steady income, so there was no need for trying "formal" education. He does research things on his own since he doesn't like not knowing things and having that used against him, though.

🔺 RED TRIANGLE POINTED UP — Does your oc know how to use any weapons?

Silas most certainly does! While he mainly uses magic as his weapon, he knows how to use spears, harpoons, knives, and probably swords if you give him one. I feel if guns could actually work under the sea, he'll be able to use one. Also, a fun fact from Silas: seaweed can, in fact, be used to strangle if you use it right.

🐉 DRAGON — What is your oc's favourite mythical creature?

I'd say Sirens from Greek Mythos. He finds them fascinating. It does annoy him that so many think these half bird half women creatures look like merpeople, including the mer people. It's probably the first thing he'll infodump about. Finn has heard his rants about the many misconceptions about Sirens hundreds of times.

🍔 HAMBURGER — Is your oc good at cooking? are they good at baking? which one do they prefer?

Silas is good at cooking! Though he technically can't "cook" anything since they're underwater? But I like to imagine there are heated air vents on his property he can go to cook something, though usually it's just not worth the trip when there are many raw dishes like stuffed crab, seaweed wraps, etc that he can make.

Baking involves cooking in dry heat without exposure to flame, usually in an oven (hah! I learned that in Hospitality), so I guess he could do it in those air pockets and mini volcanoes? But it's far from house and not worth the trip, though maybe he will "bake" on special occasions. He likes it and is good it at it. He prefers cooking, though.

🤒 FACE WITH THERMOMETER — Does your oc get sick easily?

Okie angst time

Hah! Nope! He used to get sick a lot as a child, then (and kinda now too, actually...) he was just sickly because of how malnourished he was. His immune system is something else, truly, as he's been exposed to so many sicknesses and infections it'll leave doctors confounded. It's difficult for him to get sick. Well... though it wasn't necessarily an illness, he gave himself "refeeding syndrome" by trying to make up for what he was lacking when he finally had steady access to food.

Refeeding syndrome is when someone malnourished or starved suddenly begins eating again, and the quick introduction of foods can cause problems and even be fatal. This is why it's best to have the process of healing from starvation overseen by a qualified medical professionals.

Now Silas didn't trust doctors at the time, so he never went to one, but what he did do was simply go back to eating the same amount of food he used to so he didn't keep throwing up and getting sick. Morrigan eventually forced him to go to a hospital. (Silas was horrified when he learned what a feeding tube was)

Tagging: @distant-velleity @kitwasnothere @the-banana-0verlord @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @jovieinramshackle @skrimpyskimpy for Silas lore hehe

[whathappenstotheheart]

Hello what about for the headcannon Meme.

Kira Nerys

☾ - sleep headcanon

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

▼ - childhood headcanon

Hah, I only saw the sleep part at first and thought this would be easy…

Let’s see!

Sleep - Nerys can sleep anywhere, at the drop of a hat, and in almost any type of noise. A habit from her resistance days. Relatedly she also wakes up at the slightest change in the soundscape. Her sleep graph is basically a yo-yo. She also basically never sleeps naked, just in case of an unexpected wake-up. At least not until she’s incredibly comfortable someplace.

Quirks/hobbies - This one is so hard! Nerys (at least at the time of the show) seems so married to her job and her duty (and her religious commitment) that she doesn’t seem to have any hobbies. Well, Memory Alpha says she plays springball… And honestly I think at the time of the show that probably is about it? Now I kinda want to work Nerys discovering a hobby into my Nerys/Keiko/Miles fic. I love exploring what chars do in their free time for these shows that are quite professionally focused. I know canonically she is “bad at art” but I feel like maybe she could find a more crafts-adjacent art form that she might really take to. Or honestly, maybe even writing? I know she doesn’t like the holodeck which I’ve always read as not enjoying “making believe” but I think writing could actually be super cathartic for her? And maybe the sort of thing that would surprise people, but sometimes those are the most fulfilling hobbies. I also think she could take to something more practical like gardening, especially with a focus toward edible or otherwise useful plants. Which would also work really well as bonding for her and Keiko… oh now I’m plotting, hehe.

Childhood - This is also so hard because Nerys’ childhood was so traumatic and tragic. I think she really liked hearing war stories, but grew out of it quickly once she saw active combat after joining the resistance. I think she was also incredibly protective of her siblings. I wonder if they are still alive… Memory Alpha doesn’t say and the fact that we never meet them makes me kinda headcanon they are not because I feel like she would try to keep them close. Have to ponder that…

Thanks for the ask/tag/chance to play!

[arisenreborn]

WIP (one-shot) Wednesday

No tags, I lied, was tagged by @fangbangerghoul - thank you as always! <3<3<3

I just happened to be possessed by the spirit of writing at 2am again - so it's a much more wip-y wip in terms of I just tossed it out there, first draft - but it is more or less a complete one-shot. Tense is a little weird but I rolled with it. Soft fluffy banter (of the sleepy almost nonsensical variety) and fluff.

"Carry Me" - post-game, Olivia & Emrys (Arisen x Pawn), 924 words.

The hour has grown late again and she is sat hunched at her desk over a nigh-unending pile of paperwork. She will never be a noble -let alone Sovran- who does naught but eat fine food and dance at fancy parties. Even if those were two of her favored past-times. 

She yawns and rubs her eyes, but only looks up from her work when she senses movement in the room. His presence is unmistakable to her, and she smiles even before their gazes meet.

“While your dedication to signing parchment of great import is admirable, I do believe it is well and truly past time you took your rest, Your Majesty.” 

She cannot stop from simply smiling at him; she is far too tired to argue, or come up with a quip. Instead she is all too happy to watch as he gracefully stalks around the desk to her side.

Stubbornness has always been her damning flaw and saving grace, but for him it has grown so easy to yield. She lifts her arms up and he bends himself low so she might wrap them around his neck.

“Will you carry me?” 

A warm laugh rumbles in his throat. “I think you may have grown even more spoiled than I thought you were when first we met.” 

He dips his hands down around her.

“Did you truly think that?” She doesn’t really mind either way, the words simply drift up playfully of their own accord. 

His head bows close, his voice a warm whisper against her neck. “Never truly.” 

“Liar.” She laughs and nuzzles the side of her face to his. He grunts as if in mock-offense, but effortlessly lifts her up into his arms.

“Why, I think I might just be telling the truth.” He says this to her as if he was just discovering something new about himself - and not something he’d probably turned over in his mind a hundred-hundred times before.

He leans down and she reaches out her hand to dim the crystal lamp on the desk. Then he turns towards the sliver of light at the door of the study and moves out into the corridor.

“Is that so? This discovery must be shocking to you.”

“Hah, hardly!” He grins at her, the tiredness around his eyes does nothing to dull the mirth that shines in them. “From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were going to be the most infuriating bundle of contradictions I’d ever encountered in my whole life.”

She smiles first, and then slowly her brow scrunches up. But she is too tired to think further, simply choosing to accept that his every compliment is joined by a complaint. And each complaint only further conceals a deeper compliment - a deeper love. 

“I think that makes us quite alike,” she tells him, and he hums in agreement. Bringing her hand up to the side of his face, she strokes her thumb over his cheek. Her eyes are so heavy they burn with the effort of keeping them open, but the thrill of fondness and delight in her chest makes it hard to even consider sleep. 

In direct contrast, she feels so light and weightless in his arms, even the comfort of their bed might fail to tempt her into such an irresistible ease. 

“Now, tell me sweet things.”

“Was I not just doing that?” He snorts, nudging the door open to their room with his foot. 

“Tell me you’ll keep holding me like this.” She nuzzles her face into his neck and he laughs again.

“You are spoiled. But that ought to go without saying, don’t you think?”

She resists a yawn, but her eyelids have lost the battle. “Say it anyway.”

“Aye, I’ll keep holding you, all night long.” There's a pause before he continues, quietly, like a promise for only her ears: "I'll never let you go."

She can practically feel the warmth of his sentiment in the way his chest swells - and then the rumble of laughter when he adds: “Heavens know if I don’t you’re likely to assail me in my sleep.”

She laughs quietly, shaking her head and pressing her face into him. Her fingers slide up from his cheek into his hair as he lays her down into bed, all but collapsing into place alongside her and half-atop her. She laughs more, but it’s so tired it is nearly delirious, and ends in a sleepy, contented hum. 

“You know, I’m feeling quite tempted to steal the sovran.” He confesses, lips brushing against the softest part of her throat, and she sighs sweetly at the sensation.

“And where would you take me?” She rakes her fingers gently through his feathery hair.

“Nearest town that’s further than anyone knows us.” He grins and she can feel his teeth against her neck. “Far, far away from that nasty desk work.”

“Mmm, you have my permission.”

“Just like that?” He peppers slow, soft kisses up the side of her neck, along her chin, taking a detour to the tip of her nose, and the spot between her eyebrows. For a moment it is all she can do to sleepily soak in his affection - but at last she finally answers.

‘Just like that. Though I do have one request.” 

“Anything.”

“Can it wait ‘til morning?” 

He laughs and kisses her temple. “Aye, ‘til morning then.” 

He shifts and begins to pull the blankets around them, and she cannot help but to think how lucky she is. How lucky and how loved.

[cacodaemonia]

20 questions for fic writers

Thanks for the tag, @flowerparrish! :D

How many works do you have on ao3? 213, but somewhere between like 85 and 100 of those are just images.

What’s your total ao3 word count? 1,049,952

What fandoms do you write for? Clone Wars

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Many of the top works are art-only, but if I sort through, looks like most of the fics are those that I have never reread or re-edited, so 😬

That’s Not How It Happened (This Is How It Happened) - My first fic, which I have re-edited since first posting it. Chip arc fix-it

Orbital Decay - Haven't touched this since I posted it. Codywan

Modulation - Also don't think I've re-edited this at all. Echo/Fives

Will You Walk With Me? - The only one of the top five that I care much about XD; Waxer and Boil (platonic or pre-relationship)

Kintsugi - Not re-edited. Codywan

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes! I love replying to comments with my usual unhinged yammering :D

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending You're Just Harder to See Than Most, but it's part of a larger series where the sad stuff in this gets better. As a stand-alone, though, it's very angsty 🙈

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Hah, so many XD Maybe Count Every Beautiful Thing?

Do you get hate on fics? No, I've only gotten it for art, and thankfully AO3 isn't infested with pearl-clutching busybodies like Tumblr is, so I've only had one (honestly hilarious) hate comment there. It was on like the 6th chapter of a a very clearly tagged sketch dump in which several of the previous chapters were fairly explicit smut. And then on that last chapter, the person was like "Ew, they're brothers! This is disgusting." Hah, okay pal, seems like you were really enjoying it if you got to chapter 6. 🤣

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Sure do! Uh, a variety, I guess, though I suppose I haven't written anything that would be considered heavy kink?

Do you write crossovers? Nope

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of, but I've had TONS of art stolen.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes!

What’s your all-time favorite ship? This is very hard to answer because I tend to latch onto ships for many years at a time. But no other characters before the clones ever inspired me to write fics, so I'll go with Waxer/Boil 🧡

What’s a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? I have an AU fic where the war ends shortly after Geonosis that I really want to write but can't make the brain go very well on it, for some reason. I have pages and pages of notes, some sketches, and like a chapter and a half drafted, but I keep getting stuck. I wouldn't say that I doubt I'll ever finish it, though. I probably just have to shake things around to knock loose whatever is gunked up.

What are your writing strengths? Maybe natural dialogue?

What are your writing weaknesses? I want to describe all the things. I want to put what I see in my head into your eyeballs. But I also tend to over-describe like, logistic-type stuff, I think—stuff that no one but me cares about XD

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? Like a real language or a conlang? I don't know any of either well enough to include much of them in my fics, but when I use a bit of Ryl (which I've largely made up), I really limit it because I get annoyed when there's a ton of conlang in fics I'm trying to read. Scrolling to the end notes constantly is not very fun.

First fandom you wrote for? Clone Wars

Favorite fic you’ve written? Hmm, well I have a soft spot for Will You Walk With Me? but I think my two objectively best fics are My Heart's Red Muscle (78K Waxer/Boil cyborg AU) and We Could Breathe Underwater (5K Force-sensitive Waxer/Boil).

That was fun!

No-pressure tags: @lizardberries @elismor @valkeakuulas @blackkatmagic @amukmuk

And because I always long for a blank version of these tag things to copy/paste, just the questions below the cut:

How many works do you have on ao3?

What’s your total ao3 word count?

What fandoms do you write for?

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Do you get hate on fics?

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Do you write crossovers?

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

What’s a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

What are your writing strengths?

What are your writing weaknesses?

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

First fandom you wrote for?

Favorite fic you’ve written?

[sanhatipal]

~~ Shards of Eden ~~

This is my little cove, and where I post art and dump other things occasionally. Come inside,have a look~

I haven't lasted 2 weeks on any other site since the fall of g+, except maybe twitter but that also drove me nuts and I always took long hiatuses, but have been here constantly since 2018. Which...says quite a bit. I'm a doctor by profession,but here on Tumblr for fandom (pretty obviously) and art

My fandoms:

Pandora Hearts

The case study of Vanitas

Fate series (mainly Fate/Stay Night)

The House in Fata Morgana

Shadows House

Rozen Maiden

Tegami Bachi / Letter Bee

Witch Hat Atelier

xxxholic

Witch's Heart/Majo no Shinzou

07 ghost

D gray man

Some others I'm into but not that crazy about: Touhou, Madoka Magica, Princess Tutu, Tsubasa Reservoir chronicle, Totsokuni no Shoujo (and more but my head is empty). I like seinen, josei and a very specific brand of shonen: aka things enough to mess up my brain. I don't enjoy romance, sexual things(says the Fate fan..HAH. but seriously,I don't.), or mecha unfortunately

I tend to draw Pandora Hearts, VnC and Fate fanart most

I collect figures,so you'll see them here,but since ,as you can see,most of my faves are a bit on the below the radar side,there hardly are any figures... you'll see custom figures here,and orginal character figures because I like those too.

I like a lot of things,but mostly whimsical, folksy aesthetics,forests and plants, and glowy flowers and things like wisp motifs (there's no limit actually).My favourite colours are,as you might have guessed, the multitude of shades of red, deep maroons and browns. I love fantasy,and folk tales and Celtic things in general have been my passion for a long,long time ,though I also love things inspired by Alice in Wonderland .

As far as music goes...I sang soprano at a choir for a larger part of my teenage,and choral music is very close to my heart. My favourite genres of music are Celtic, especially Irish traditional, new age, classical/neo classical, sea shanties,and whatever Yuki Kajiura and Mili have going on.

Now...art! When not doing fanart,I like drawing fantasy illustrations, and one day I'd like to illustrate books but that's a pipe dream. I'm self taught,and use mostly watercolour and ink. I also love sculpting. It started with trying to sculpt figures and while that's still what I do most,I sculpt other things too,and in general it has to be the favourite of my scores of hobbies . I also do bookbinding...and music box strips ...and doll customs...yeah there's no rhyme or reason to what I do and don't actually.

Sometimes I post photos of plants,I like taking photos and smelling wet mud

If you want to hop into my DMs to talk about fandoms or fanart,feel free! I would be very happy! Also I really love getting tagged and asked ,but often don't get around to responding because I'm a mess of procrastination...if that happens please don't mind, I really really appreciate it and it certainly made me happy,and I'll get to it as soon as I can.

If you've made it this far,thank you. It's been quite a long post,and thank you for reading,I appreciate it. Here are my other blogs:

@sanhatis-abyss absolute reblog hell,if you're looking for something I reblogged 2 days ago my condolences,you probably won't find it unless you scroll for hours. Sometimes I shitpost there , sometimes I scream about the latest thing that consumed me, that is ,if I don't accidentally do it here. Truly,an abyss.

@amaryllis-arachne my doll blog. I realise not everyone likes dolls,or photos of disembered plastic body parts,so I don't reblog those onto the abyss blog. Sometimes I put pictures of my own dolls there,and sometimes er...yes parts.

If you want my other links, they're all in the blog description. Except my Anilist, but it's really not worth anything,since I don't review or rate or anything,just use it to keep track. I do roughly-monthly uploads on YouTube of craft tutorials and drawings,but there's not much rhyme or reason to that either... anyways,hope you have a great day,and hope you find anything you like in this mess of a red coloured pit.

[amortensie-moved]

— moving blogs !

follow me at @eclliipsed , hope to see you there :)

nixie is logging out . . .

( old navi )

as i’ve been shifting in and out of activity, and experiencing a shift in interests ( surprise, surprise, i caught the kpop bug ! ), i’ve decided to switch blogs D:

this is mostly as i don’t enjoy the same things as i used to, primarily theatre after leaving a toxic performing arts program, unfortunately. for those who follow me for theatre, i still enjoy it and i will probably return back to it in the future, but for now i won’t be posting so much about it in my new blog.

yes its kpop themed lol, but its still multi fandom ! same me. no pressure to follow at all as it is your choice in what you’d like to see on your dash, but i’d love to have you there. in the future i may post more graphics, so hopefully i can start anew!

also no guarantee how active i’ll be there hah, i want to have a new beginning and try out a different place~

tagging mutuals :

@johnskeating @permanentreverie @musicallisto @daisysjones @daydreaming-optimist @eatacrackerandstop @stillbluedawn @rhaenyratargayen @lisrambles @retvenkos @rat-typewriter @ladyvesuvia @thereagles @ughgclden @roykeeleyjamies @sophiepowers @a-aexotic @biqherosix @heliads @drepane @noesapphic @vostokovasmelina @colinshughes @its-me-satine @mosiacbroken @missameliep @aleds @yellowshulker @amirahiddleston @yrhome @the-house-of-cards

reminder that you guys are not obligated to follow me in my new blog! its a shift in content, so it’s completely understandable. this is me tagging most of the mutuals i can, so you guys are aware :)

[derelictheretic]

Wips be upon ye again

I was tagged by @clicheantagonist @adelaidedrubman @socially-awkward-skeleton @unholymilf @strafethesesinners @aceghosts and @detectivelokis to share a wip!! Thank you beloveds 🥺💕

Tagging @viktor-sinclaire @baldurrs @deputyash @fadedjacket @florbelles @ishwaris @jinfromyarikawa @locustandwildhoney @redreart @shellibisshe @wewillryesagain @bl-beater @jollybone @trashcatsnark @afarcry5fromstraight @bluemojave @shellibisshe

My creative juices have been flowin so I got a whole three things to show off uvu

First Lola wip 👀 (I have half given up on this because I'm not confident in Lola's dialogue/mannerisms yet but it's also cute so who knows)

"I heard we had a newbie!" A boisterous voice sings from the left and the three turn to the doorway of the breakroom, a blonde with pink dyed tips bounds into the room with more energy than anyone else in the whole building had combined. A plastic container in her hands as she shoves past Staci and Joey to stand in front of Dean. Her grey eyes are bright and her pierced smile is breathtaking and infectious. She clutches the container to her chest with one hand and grabs Deans with the other, shaking it enthusiastically as she all but bounces in place.

"Nice to meet'cha rookie, names Lola! You can call me Darling or Your Majesty if you're feeling cute though."

Dean can't help but grin as both Staci and Joey sigh, the high energy from the woman now opening the container a nice change of pace from his slow and dull first week in the county.

"Nice to meet you, my name's–"

"Dean Sinclaire! Australian, twenty five, single, youngest of three kids, no criminal record and owner of a really shitty Jeep wrangler. I'll forgive you for the car because you were playing some bangin' tunes but you're on thin ice—Cupcake?" Lola holds out the container with a cheery smile and Deans tries not to look shaken as he reaches in and takes out a pink frosted cupcake. He knew his file would have some information on him but he had no idea who would have access to it, and he wasn't expecting anyone to list it all off in the middle of the office. Not that any of what she'd said was much of a secret, it was just unexpected.

"Tone it down Darling you're gonna freak him out—she does the background checks on newbies don't overthink it," Joey sighs, shaking her head and offering Dean a reassuring smile. He nods gently and decides to shake it off and take a bite of the cupcake and damn it was a good cupcake. Really good.

"Yeah, yeah i'm the only one tech savvy enough to do 'em, anyway interesting socials you got, don't really scream enforcer of the law if you know what I mean. Why're you here?" Lola takes a bite of a cupcake herself, watching Dean with an intense yet non-judgemental gaze that leaves him feeling unsteady. He swallows the piece of cupcake in his mouth and glances between the three deputies now staring him down, Joey and Staci seeming to want to hear his answer as well.

"Uh… I don't know how to say it without sounding cliché—I just want to help people." He offers sheepishly, suddenly having a hard time keeping eye contact.

"Plenty of other jobs that help people though, why'd you go this route? Is it the gun, it's okay if it's the gun I know you guys don't really get those easy down under." Lola raises the hand holding the cupcake to her mouth, her tone growing hushed in a conspiratorial manner as she offers a squinted, pursed lipped look his way.

"Hah—no, it's not the gun, I'm hoping I don't have to use it if i'm honest but uhm… I don't know it just, ended up this way I guess?" He shrugs gently, not prepared for this line of questioning. Which really he probably should have saw it coming, it's not like it was the one question in every cop movie ever or anything.

Lola nods slowly, humming as if she were dissecting his words in her head, ripping them apart.

"Better reason than Pratt's that's for sure, you'll do fine here. It's slow most days, holidays it tends to get a bit crazy but we'll look out for you." Joey offers another reassuring smile, matched with a welcoming pat to his shoulder. Staci scoffs under his breath, Joey quickly glaring at him to stop any complaints he had from surfacing verbally. Dean can't help but admire the interaction, it seemed like they had a good friendship—maybe in time he'd be sharing similar moments with them as a new guy walked in the door. It was a nice thought.

"You're getting paired up with me so obviously you'll be more than fine," Lola places a hand on Dean's other shoulder and he catches sight of her black acrylic nails, pink hearts dotted along them, "You're like my baby duckling now and if anyone fucks with my baby duckling I'll fuck them up with my car." Her happy tone turns serious in the blink of an eye, sincerity in every syllable and a promise that she meant it in her gaze. Oddly Dean finds the sentiment comforting instead of alarming, it was nice knowing he'd have someone so intent on having his back.

"I'm—Thank you, Lola." He smiles and she shoots a grin back, her vampire smiley piercings gleaming in the office light. She pats his cheek before stepping back and placing an extra cupcake on his desk. 'For later,' she mouths at him, pointing at it as if the other two with them couldn't see exactly what she was doing. As she's closing the plastic container the older deputy Dean had seen sitting at the front desk walks through the doors and Lola lets out an excited squeal, bounding up to the woman with glee.

"Nancy, my baby duckling is here! He doesn't have an accent but he's got the cutest little nose, do we have his uniform yet I wanna show him off—show him the ropes. I'm going to show him the ropes." Lola excitedly buzzes to the older woman, tacking on the last sentence as Sheriff Earl Whitehorse walks in behind her. Dean has to stop himself from laughing as she straightens her poster and blinks owlishly at their sheriff.

Earl shakes his head lightly as she shoots him a less than bashful grin. She tries to offer him a cupcake but he raises a brow at her and she pouts in response, mumbling something about being unappreciated as she walks off with Nancy back to what Dean could only assume was the break room.

And !! More of the jacob/dean fic from the last wip day, I know, me working on the same wip consistently? Shocking

"What did he do to you Rook?" 

Staci's voice feels distant, but Dean knows he's standing in front of the cage—clinging to the bars and probably looking down on him with the same dismay in the others' faces. Their resilient resistance leader was quiet, small, tired. 

"Fuck, your leg—"

They were all scared, Staci was scared. Dean wanted to reassure him, wipe his eyes and tell him he was still getting them out of here. 

"I–I'll get you some bandages, hold on."

But his mind just wanted to rest, shove down every memory of ginger hair and humid nights and stupid towns and stupid dreams and stupid wishes—He wanted to rip it to shreds and destroy every trace that said that motherfucker had ever been something to him. So he laid there on the ground and he stayed quiet. He tried to scrub the images behind his eyelids away, and tried to spit that name out of his mouth. Tried to rip that feeling out of his stupid heart.

Maybe if he was lucky he'd bleed out right now and steal the satisfaction of watching him continue to struggle through Jacob's trials. He could just see the hissy fit he'd throw, tables thrown and paper flying through the air as he cast blame onto whichever chosen shot him. Wouldn't that be funny?

I have a lot of art wips so uhh, peggie!dean and Jacob chillin' while Jo gives a sermon. Giving peggie!dean an alt look entirely based on a cosplay I did and i'm not sorry

[the-starry-seas]

yeah i'm watching the borderlands movie, liveblogging-style commentary below

spoiler-free tldr: dedication to aesthetics and easter eggs. a handful of funny lines. about half of them didn't land at all. the lack of blood is rather unforgivable. would've been a 6.5/10 if that exact script was for different brand-new characters. as it is, 3/10 due to the character assassination

no reason for tiny tina to not be blowing the shit out of random things what is this girl doing ??????????????? character assassination

roland kinda gives me bl1 vibes but i'm still not even vaguely sold on hart's casting

probably the only psycho to not be screaming about meat bicycles 0/10 also that jumpsuit just looks... cheap. love the mask though.

wym knox

is that supposed to be a skag?

MARCUS WOOOOOO honestly this guy nailed it good job. though the ponytail... i'm confused. did i just never notice marcus had long hair? (one google later: yeah i'm unobservant as shit)

i don't recall anywhere but the literal actual dump in bl1 looking anything like this. krom is an interesting namedrop though

oh fuck yeah i love seeing robot POV- oh shit they're canonising lilith's last name being cashlin?

oh shit i know that bunty board mission look!!!! nice tbh

this voiceover is. not working for me however.

okay i love everything about claptrap, this is the obnoxious twerp that i know and... tolerate. yeah, let's go with tolerate. "even completely unjustified ones like yours" HAH

yeah lilith i feel that violence/expression combo

i cannot at all understand how the echonot is... a bot-only thing? but then again there's no other reason to have him tag along

OH SHIT I KNOW THOSE CROSSHAIRS

ah those fucking rakk

bunny! i know that bunny! got a booty like POW

LMAO good going tina finally she bears some resemblance to canon

zero reason for lilith to not teleport here but i guess they're saving the siren reveal? for some reason?

"LIKEABITCH" "MY BIG BRUDDAAAA" i kinda like it tbh. she was never going to be tina in a pg-13 movie but this is near-ish enough that i'm not upset

where's krieg during all of this exactly? ah there we go

wilhelm scream!

cgi on teh creature is looking a little shaky

claptrap's dedication to annoyingly singing everything, yeah, it tracks

okay so characterisation is... y'all've heard everyone bitching since the first trailer, right? but tina and krieg BFFs are growing on me and i'd read the fanfic

i'm not over krieg having hair sorry i even googled to make sure he didn't in bl2

SUPERMASSIVE BLACK HOLE

could they not have worn normal masks instead of whatever these glowy cyberpunk things are?

"kriegy give me a ride!" oh they're cute

w. what is moxxi's accent? also why does lilith have mommy issues suddenly

temu tannis. honestly i think the casting for her isn't horrible, and the characterisation isn't as bad as some other characters, but it's still not what i'd expect

i'm not buying eridian clone. do we not remember what eridians look like.

this is supposed to be sanctuary???? geez they had so many other visual things nailed, i don't. get that. arguably one of the most iconic places in the series, idk how it's That

oh shit, caustic caverns?

yeah tina and krieg are everything to me

"hope blooms in the strangest places" coming from tina is the worst, it's a perfectly fine line but from TINA? would've been fine from lilith

i am not buying that knife-throwing action, would it have been so hard to find a stunt guy who knew how to do that already?

an ambush by dozens of enemies sure would be a nice time for some siren powers but tbf that is some pretty smooth gunwork

krieg dragging claptrap up the staircae and hitting every stair along the way LMAO

would it have killed them to have ANY lighting in that hallway

no way on earth did tina just snap a guy's neck

IT'S TIME TO BLEEEED HAHAHA yeah i'll give em that one, nice

at this point i'm wondering if lilith is human. with the characterisation in this movie it would not surprise me if tina was a siren instead. and siren tina could be cool! but c'mon. ah so tina teleported them. yep.

firehawk is what? i mean i don't mind it. but. canon, y'all. then again tina is phasewalking so

oh no way did roland survive that

that certainly is a scene that happened

was this one of the workers' villages that got abandoned when the corporations pulled out? bandits attacked and she got orphaned, sent offworld, and fell in with a violent crowd? that's actually a decent backstory tbh, it's just. not lilith's backstory.

i swear this hole place looks familiar i just can't place which map it's from

oh that miniboss-looking dude has a baller design

OH IT'S THE SYRINGE NOISE WOO

that was dumb as hell, killing knox like that

OH FINALLY SIREN POWERS and looks like rewriting the elevator bit yeah it was phasewalking after all

"you have my word" oh yeah that's valuable

"i have to open it" you could just. teleport them out. like you teleported in. could you not. or just kill atlas.

okay the vault arch building does look pretty neat

FIREHAWK WINGS YES

whatever cgi they're doing with floating lilith... i don't like that.

Do Not Hurt The Tina

Do Not Hurt The Krieg

okay the firehawk shield effects are pretty cool

NOBODY KILLS ME BUT ME YEAH

i will always support kids being able to beat up their abusive parents

ooh hentai

ELLIE AND SCOOTER ELLIE AND SCOOTER ELLIE AND SCOOTER ELLIE AND SCOOTER

i still don't get these shantytown vibes for sanctuary but i do love me some fireworks

glorious meat fiesta

"come onnn do the thing" i love when characters say that and the other character is all naaah but then gives in almost immediately cause they love the person asking

FIREHAWK IN THE SKY ALERT DEEPLY FUCKING COOL

[laundrybiscuits]

15 questions

thanks @greenlikethesea for tagging me! I just got back from Dykes On Mics, the London queer karaoke event of my heart, so I'm a little buzzed and as usual I'm not gonna tag anyone because I'm a bad person. just abjectly morally bankrupt, violating the tumblr social code with abandon.

are you named after anyone?

my parents are pretty religious, so my english name is from the old testament, but culturally my people don't really do the named-after-specific-individuals thing.

2. when was the last time you cried?

hmm I don't remember? I don't really cry that often, which is probably not the MOST healthy but oh well. I gotta be me! i.e. a deeply repressed individual.

3. do you have kids?

nope! I like kids and have a fair bit of experience taking care of them, I've just never felt that particular urge to become a parent myself.

4. do you use sarcasm a lot?

my sense of humor's pretty dry by default, but I think having a lot of friends from different cultural contexts has trained me out of using sarcasm too much. It's just one of those things that doesn't always translate super well.

5. what sports do you play/have you played?

unsurprisingly I'm not really a team sports person. in the past I've done a couple different forms of martial arts, fencing, a tiny bit of archery, ballroom dancing…I think that's it? an old friend of mine is running a stage combat workshop in the fall and I'm kinda thinking about getting into that.

6. what’s the first thing you notice about people?

this is gonna sound weird but stick with me: their character design. I just tend to notice stuff that seems like people making a deliberate choice about how they present themselves to the world, whether they seem to be going for a fully coordinated look or just have some pins on a bag. and sometimes you can really tell that people were like, okay, this is what I'm working with physically so I'm gonna fully lean into it. I appreciate that!

7. what’s your eye colour?

super dark brown. close enough to black that sometimes I think I look like a cartoon character.

8. scary movies or happy endings?

happy endings FOR SURE. some of my favourite books and audiodramas are horror, but when it comes to movies, I'm gonna need to be gently cradled in the tender narrative assurance of a happy ending.

9. any special talents?

hah, I literally just had an argument with some friends about whether I have special talents. technically I do music? I mean, ten years of classical piano lessons, five years of classical flute lessons, a hell of a lot of fucking around on guitar, some bass*, some choir, and the bit in purify our misfit ways where eddie gets pulled into percussion because he can read music is literally a thing from my life. that kind of makes me sound like a much better musician than I am, though; I promise I'm not actually that good, and that's not me being modest. I'm genuinely a bit mediocre, and pretty happy about where I'm at.

also, I live & work & volunteer in some pretty heavily tourist-y areas, so I'm actually pretty good at cutting through large crowds of vaguely confused people. that's a special talent that I will gladly own.

10. where were you born?

a swing state in the midwest USA. there were cornfields. I used to can my own tomatoes. my childhood friends regularly had white-tailed deer strung up in their barns.

11. what are your hobbies?

oooof so, so many. I play a lot of indie video games? music, obviously. I go to a lot of live theatre, like an average of 2 shows per week. I'm a regular at my local board game cafe. I've done a fair bit of arts & crafts. I am not currently running any TTRPGs but that's normally a fair chunk of my time. when I lived in the US I would do a lot of weekend hiking trips to national parks. I dunno, I do a lot of stuff.

eta: forgot it probably also counts that I volunteer as a public-facing science educator! I've been doing that for more than a decade with various institutions, usually a couple days per month.

12. do you have pets?

technically yes, functionally no. my mother kidnapped my cat almost ten years ago when I moved to new zealand, and refuses to give her back because it would be "too traumatic for the cat to move" but continues to refer to her as my cat. like, "your cat now eats at the dinner table with us." (the cat did not make that decision. my mother made that decision.)

I thought about getting a corn snake about four or five years ago, because I was working with them at a nature center at the time and I think they're pretty great. they also seem relatively easy to care for, and I had access to the local herp society, so I was pretty confident about my snake-keeping abilities. but then I moved to england, so.

13. how tall are you?

5'2" last I checked. yes I'm short af. yes concerts are hell.

14. favourite subject at school?

weirdly, I was pretty good at math and I liked it a lot. but when I got to undergrad, I discovered that STEM has like a whole separate GPA scale/norm, and I wanted to go to grad school for social science so I had to make a choice. in retrospect I probably could've handled a couple Bs or Cs, but it really didn't feel like that at the time.

15. dream job?

I don't believe in dream jobs, as a general rule. I've worked creative jobs, I've worked cause-based jobs, and I just don't think there's such a thing as a perfect gig. we're all just surviving capitalism, man.

*so my best friend in undergrad was dating a bassist in an indie band, and the bassist gave her old bass to him when she got a better one, and then they broke up. and that's how I got a bass to fuck around with.