#but the brainworms crawled into my head

[ibenology]

trust me to be able to make a simple lokius 5+1 x language confusion trope fic into a deep character study of love languages and attachment styles huh

[necrotic-nephilim]

Do you have any more ideas about the dead dove vampire!dickxtim au you wrote a while ago? It's lived in my head ever since and I'd love to know more.

first of all thank you so much that's so sweet! second of all, i have SO many ideas you have no idea. that fic ate at my brain for like a month before i found the time to write it so i had plenty of ideas i didn't fully explore. i'm adding a read more just bc. that was one of my more fucked up fics so i don't want to subject anyone to a necro kink jumpscare

so one of the big ideas i've thought about with that fic is Tim dealing with the aftermath of it, right. bc he's of course going to hide it from everyone. the Batfam all just neds to hold onto the hope that they can save Dick somehow, and knowing what Dick did would kill any lingering hope that there's anything left of Dick Grayson in the walking husk that he's become. so Tim has to deal with the worst of it alone, probably not even mentioning he ran into Dick.

the fun part tho is that above everything else, Tim wouldn't be able to let go of Dick's comment about fantasizing about Tim before being a vampire. Tim knows the comment was made just to get in his head, but that doesn't stop it from working. he spends hours pouring over old footage of him and Dick training, hanging out, on patrol, anything he can find. just to like. try to find evidence of Dick's gaze lingering. it eats Tim alive not knowing one way or the other if it was a lie. if it's true, at least it makes it easier for Tim to move on from the memory of Dick. but not knowing is worse. and he never finds anything that satiates the question so like. that'd destroy Tim the most. (the real answer is that Dick genuinely didn't feel attraction to Tim before being a vampire, *but* Dick is convinced he did bc being a vampire fucked him up so badly that he's become his own unreliable narrator. so it's both true and untrue, and in the end, it doesn't matter either way bc Tim is fucked up by the thought of it and even if they "fixed" Dick by curing him, i think Dick's romantic feelings would linger in the horror of what he did.)

i'm really just. in love with Dick's feelings toward Tim in the fic. the most difficult part of the fic was figuring out how to end it, bc sure as a sexual fantasy Dick is obsessed with killing Tim, but he's also deeply in love with Tim, so it's difficult to follow through on. Dick wants to make Tim a vampire more than anything, but he is genuinely worried about how well it'd take for Tim. the fic doesn't really go into who's on Dick's side as a vampire, but i personally believe he's turned most of the Titans. probably some of his own rogues as well, i could see him turning Slade. i can't explain why, those are just the vibes.

it is important to me just how much of Dick's feelings for Tim are based in him not wanting Tim to live under Bruce's thumb. like the whole vampire brain has convinced Dick that Bruce is somehow the villain in this, and it was Bruce's control keeping Dick from being the person he wanted to be. it's a very warped reality and if i continued the fic i'd love for the second part to be from Dick's perspective just to have fun with the unreliable narrator of it.

back to the porn tho. Dick would seek TIm out again. probably in Tim's own apartment, just bc he wants to destroy every safe space Tim has. getting into Tim's head is an important part of breaking TIm down. the fear of Tim fighting back against being a vampire is one that Dick is trying to figure out how to manage and his current plan is to break Tim mentally. it's why he brings up wanting to sleep with TIm before being a vampire. he *knows* it's gonna fuck up Tim. and the more he puts these little cracks in Tim's psyche, the more he's sure he's breaking Tim down enough to be able to turn him. so going to Tim's apartment and proving that at any point, Dick can easily find Tim and fuck him. always holding the threat of killing Tim over his head. and Dick knows Tim didn't tell anyone when days pass after their first meeting and no Bat comes after him so like. Dick really just pushes the limits. i think he would brand Tim just bc he can. i also got a comment on the fic that mentioned Dick stabbing Tim and fucking the wound and i canNOT get that image out of my head either-

and the necro/snuff kink just. Dick playing the long game, so it takes maybe months of stalking Tim, going after him. sometimes he fucks Tim, sometimes he just fights and taunts him. and all the talk about killing Tim fucks with Tim's head a little bit. i think it'd be fun if it killed Tim's ability to have vanilla/normal sex with someone else, like Kon. it's hard for Tim to understand anyone being attracted to him in a way that doesn't involve him being a dead body. i don't think he develops the kink fully, but he does end up convincing himself being a corpse is the only way he's attractive bc of all the things Dick has said to him. it all plays into Dick psychologically breaking Tim.

i am a lover of fucked up/unhappy endings so. for me. the ending would be Dick following through on his plan to kill Tim and turn him. it'd take months for Dick to work up the courage bc TIm was absolutely right when he pointed out that Dick was too scared to actually follow through on his fantasy. Dick tries, multiple times. he convinces himself no less than five times that this is going to be the one. this'll be the time he really does it. but just as Tim starts to die, Dick panics. i think it's especially fun if once Dick even gives Tim CPR bc of his cold feet. so Tim does "die" for a second and has to brutally come back while Dick is buried inside of him.

but when Dick does it, his fears manifest in that Tim does *not* take being a vampire well. he's constantly trying to kill himself (in the time it takes for Dick to break Tim, Tim probably does figure out what poison can kill a vampire) and Dick ends up having to keep Tim locked up so Tim doesn't kill himself. would truly love to try to write Tim as mentally shattered as possible. part of him loves Dick, but he's fighting himself so hard he's not even sure if it's the vampire side that loves Dick or the human side. he's kept like a human pet, bc Dick is convinced he'll get Tim to accept it sooner or later. just a very fun, very fucked up sort of ending. i say this about all the fics i write but this one specifically i do *really* want to continue someday. i know exactly the direction i'd take it, and it could turn into a pretty long fic with a lot of fucked up porn, a lot of unrequited love, and an eventual mind break for Tim.

[wygolvillage]

thinking about sara x shanoa yet again

[scrimbum]

no way it has been MONTHS since i finished house md and im still insane about it. there's something in the water

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Neverland

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 18

Prompt: Vacation

Rated: T

Tags: No UD AU; Cruise ship; Musician Eddie; Kids' entertainer Steve; Steve in a dress; Homophobic language; Sexual tension; Eddie being a horny disaster

Notes: Based on this brainworm. Artwork of Steve and Robin in their costumes, done by the incredible @arelliann this way.

“Hey, aren’t you on the band?” 

Eddie stops his beeline for the staff room, stuffing the hand that was just about to rip off the bowtie back into his pocket, and turns to face the couple that has strolled up to him. 

“Yeah?” he offers. 

“I knew it,” the woman smiles. “You play the guitar, right?”

“Um, yes,” Eddie says, unable to help the proud upturn of his mouth. “Glad you liked it.” 

The stuff they’re having him play is horrible, but at least he made an impression. It only goes to show how a skilled musician can turn even the most atrocious pieces into- 

“Oh, we didn’t,” says the guy conversationally. “We thought it was horrible.” 

Eddie gapes at them. They look back, like they’re honestly expecting him to reply anything that isn’t fuck you, you rich, entitled assholes. Maybe that’s what he should say. What are they gonna do, keelhaul him?

Except Wayne was so eager for him to take this gig. Two weeks on the board band of the MS Neverland, the Harrington Line's newest, shiniest, luxury cruise ship. He was so hopeful that this might be something Eddie would enjoy, and Eddie thought why the hell not? It sounded like an easy time, a paid vacation doing what he loved most. 

Except it isn't. The jazz music is making his skin crawl, the passengers are a bunch of stuck-up snobs, and the green suit jacket and matching bowtie make him look like some kind of demented leprechaun. 

But he can’t come crawling back home to confess that it didn’t work out.

“Erm,” he says. “Okay. Sorry, I guess.” 

Then, he books it for the staff room, stomach twisting and face burning.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he slips inside, slumping against the door and hiding his face in his hands. “This is so humiliating.” 

“Yeah,” says a voice. “Tell me about it.” 

Eddie lowers his hands.

There's a guy on the ratty couch at the other side of the room. A guy in sheer tights, glittering tulle wings and a dangerously short green dress. 

Eddie almost swallows his own tongue. 

“Hey,” says the guy, shucking off his slippers. There's little fluffy poufs on them. “I've seen you before. You're in the band, right?” 

“Hrrrgh,” Eddie says. The apparition tilts its head. Eddie pretends to clear his throat and tries again. “Yeah. I'm the guitar. I mean play. I play guitar. I've seen you, too.” 

In fact, seen may be too tame a word for what he's been doing. Ogle the way the skirt rides up his thighs until his eyes almost popped out of their sockets is more like it. It's kind of hard not to, he guesses. He's caught several passengers of various genders and ages do the same.

One perfectly shaped eyebrow arches. “Oh yeah?” 

Eddie nods.

“You're the … erm … kids’ entertainer. The fairy- no, shit, that sounds wrong. The … Tinker- … Tinkerdude.” 

The guy throws back his head and laughs. His throat looks impossibly long in the low-necked dress. 

“Oh my God, that's a new one. I love it.”

“What, really?” Eddie asks, chest fluttering with irrational pride. “I mean … you do?” 

Tinkerdude nods. Then, suddenly, something seems to occur to him. 

“Oh, do you mind?” he says, standing from the couch. “This thing is a bitch to get off.” 

Eddie is about to ask what he means, but then Tinkerdude gestures at something on the back of the dress, something half hidden between the wings, and … oh. Oh, fuck, Eddie’s in so much trouble. 

“Um, sure,” is what he says. Luckily, Tinkerdude has already turned his back, so he doesn’t see how Eddie’s legs wobble as he bridges the few steps between them. 

“So, why the dress?” he asks, just to say anything while his clammy hands struggle with the rickety zipper. “Wasn't there, like, a Peter Pan costume?” 

Tinkerdude chuckles. “There was, but I gave it to Robin. She was threatening to jump off board if she had to wear this, and I couldn't risk that. And besides, I make a great fairy. My dad calls me one all the time. Thanks, I got it from here.” 

The dress falls open, revealing broad, muscled shoulders, and inches upon inches of suntanned skin. It's riddled in moles. Small ones, large ones, some light and some so dark they look almost black, scattered all over the guy's back, all the way down to the dip of his spine and the curve of his-

Eddie reels backwards, trips over the slippers and just barely manages to turn his fall into a clumsy collapse into the sofa. It groans. Or maybe that was him. 

Tinkerdude, luckily, doesn’t notice. He's too busy shimmying into the jeans he's just pulled from the rucksack by the couch - all without taking off the tights, mind you, and how the fuck is Eddie supposed to live with the knowledge of what's under that skintight denim?

“What's your name?” 

Eddie jerks his eyes up. Tinkerdude, who has paused with his shirt in his hands, is looking at him with a quizzical expression and Eddie can't help but wonder if he's asked him that before. His chest has moles, too. So do his stomach and hips. The dress is bunched around his middle like a sparkly green miniskirt. The fact that the wings seem to be spouting from his butt does, unfairly, not diminish his hotness. 

“I, erm … Eddie,” Eddie croaks. Tinkerdude smiles and shrugs into his shirt. 

“Nice to meet you, Eddie,” he says. “I'm Steve.”

He lets the dress drop to the ground, carelessly stuffing it inside his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. 

“Looking forward to hearing you play again,” he calls as he breezes out. “I think you're really good.” 

Then he's gone and Eddie’s left alone in the staff room, trying to recover from whatever it was that just happened. 

Neverland just got one helluva lot more interesting. 

More holiday drabbles

[stanpinesdykewife]

hii! could I request stan/gender neutral reader fluff? maybe something along the lines of what mornings look like together? the direction you take it is absolutely up to you, thanks again YOU’RE AMAZINGGG <3

i got carried away can u tell stan's my favorite. I'M CRAZY!!! i'm crazy. also THANK YOU so much your request is amazing it gave me brainworms!!!!!! under the cut:

mornings together stan/reader (gender-neutral) pre/during/post-canon/unspecified fluff, 825 words

“Stan,” you say, nudging his shoulder. He grumbles in his sleep, rolling away from you so you're facing his back. You laugh openly, leaning further over the bed to nudge him again. Your other hand is adjusting your work pants, tugging it up and trying unsuccessfully to do your belt buckle. “Stan, wake up. You're giving me a ride to work, remember?”

“No gas,” he mumbles, pulling his arm away from you. When you poke him again, he raises a hand to wave you away. “Quit it.”

“Stanley.” Your belt is left undone as you shove him with both hands, and finally he rolls over to shoot you a glare. You just grin at him, and his face softens, just a little bit. “You're giving me a ride to work.”

“What genius came up with that idea?” he mutters, but props himself up onto his elbows with a groan. Stan rubs his eyes, some crust clinging to his lashes. His hair is all mussed up and his tank is crooked, one arm hole digging into his armpit and the other coming dangerously close to flashing a nipple. There's some dried drool on his face, from the corner of his mouth to the side of his jaw, and when he stretches his arms over his head, a series of concerning pops and cracks emit from his spine. One thing's for sure: if this were a cartoon, you'd have heart eyes.

“You did, you dork,” you say, the affection painfully clear in your voice. Stan picks the crust out of the corner of his eye and then looks at you, his brows furrowed still. He isn't glaring at you anymore—just needs his glasses. Before you can turn to look for them, he grunts and beckons you closer.

“C'mere. Gimme a kiss,” he grumbles, and you plant both hands on the bed to kiss Stan's cheek. A smile threatens his lips, but he keeps up the grumpy old man act: “What are you, Puritan?”

“I'm not kissing you until you brush your teeth,” you say matter-of-factly. Then, just to make fun, “I dunno where your mouth has been.” Stan quickly switches gears.

“You know where my mouth has been,” he says, the sleaze, and you laugh as a flush crawls up your face. Stan beams at you then, a charming, sleepy grin that makes you giddy. “Say I drive you to work. What's in it for me?”

“Here we go,” you say, rolling your eyes. Your smile cancels out any sass. “You've been awake for less than a minute and you're already hitting on me. You're a real perv, you know that?”

“Oh yeah, baby, love it when you talk dirty,” Stan says, and suddenly tugs at your wrist so you topple over. You faceplant right into his chest, and before you can react, Stan wraps his arms around you and heaves you onto him with little effort. You're laughing the whole way, eventually managing to shove your foot between the mattress and bedframe so you can push yourself up.

“Stan!” you protest, even as you grin into his shirt. Stan manhandles you so you're right on top of him, like a lizard on a log, and he holds you tight to his body with brawny arms.

“Alright. Back to bed. Goodnight,” he says promptly, tucking your head under his chin. He manages to fake one long, loud snore before you start squirming away from him. It's an impossible feat. His grip barely loosens. “Hey, what gives?”

“You're wrinkling my work shirt,” you say, and then squeal when Stan rucks up the back of your shirt like he's going to pull it off.

“Why do you need a shirt, anyway?” he snickers, and you manage to reach behind you to slap his hand away. Stan laughs and finally lets go of you. “Alright, alright!” You push yourself up, hovering over his face. You try to look mad, but you're still smiling.

“Stop fooling around,” you scold him lightly. You know for a fact Stan won't take you seriously, so your heart isn't in it. Still, you bargain, “If I give you a kiss, will you get up?”

“A trade, huh?” Stan doesn't even pretend to think. He tilts his head up at you, smug. “I'll take it.”

“Yeah, you will.” You close your eyes and lean down slightly. When you peek, Stan's closed his eyes, too, readying himself for a kiss. You shift your weight and smack his face lightly, very lightly, then roll straight out of bed and stand up. When Stan sputters, blinking his eyes open to look at you, you laugh in his face. “I'll kiss you when you brush your teeth! You really thought th—Oh, nope, you're getting up now, okay, meet you in the bathroom!”

You dash away, your undone belt buckle slapping against your thigh, your pants falling from your hips a few inches. Stan’s loud laughter follows you down the hall.

[itstimetojellyfish]

Hi Jellyfish,

I just wanted to say I really liked the Argenti reader angst fic and I had brainworms because of it the entire day at work. I got an idea of how it follows up.

It goes like this: Boothill is not feeling well about the situation because Argenti played with readers feelings and betrayed them and he one hates betrayal ab two is scared that Argenti could grow tired of him aswell.

So he brings Argenti to go to reader to apologize.

When Argenti go's into their home he finds everything in disarray and the place covered in thorns, rose petals and ginko leaves and in the middle of all, reader who ia losing themselve to the mara (The rose petals are from the transformation aswell)

Yeah... that's as far as I got in my mind and I have been microwaving the idea in my head the entire day so I thought I'd share :>

Anyway do with that whatever you want and enjoy your day/night

Ahem . I LOVE THE GODDAMN PLOT YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND.

Roses and bullets with a bit of Ginko( Argenti x reader x Boothill)

Link to the first part : I’ll wait for you

It’s been well over a month since the incident with you , Boothill , and Argenti happened. However it’s not exactly an easy argument to forget and move on from .

Something was bothering him ever since he saw your face , all pretty , and yet crying fat droplets of pure anguish and pain because of what Argenti said .

He’s never like betrayal from day one , the IPC betrayed their title , so called “peace makers” when all they’ve done was destroy planets including his own .

Something in him worms around whenever he remembers what happened , and it doesn’t exactly sit right with him how watery those pretty shinning eyes of yours were .

( it makes his stomach crawl even though he doesn’t exactly have a real one)

It bothers him how Argenti didn’t even look guilty, only disappointed, when the water slipped from your tear ducts . You fell to your knees and curled in as Argenti guided him out , he could’ve swore your eyes started to glow a warm amber .

It was like a dam broke in you , when he walked out he cast one last look at you and even though he couldn’t cry , it felt like he would’ve right then and there when he saw you sobbing your heart out and clutching your chest.

After that , it was just… like before , Argenti courting him and bringing him to places that Boothill likes .

But…

He’s … scared…

Scared that Argenti will get bored of him or is playing with his feelings and will eventually leave him heartbroken and empty just like how you felt .

So …

Boothill does what he’s best at , confronting people and making them pay .

But , since this is his lover , the worst that he’ll do is just make him apologize to you for playing with your feelings .

He could’ve just rejected you so you could heal faster but no! He accepted the offer and now Boothill feels like crap for making the knight fall in love with him!

So now he forces Argenti to your house and then knocks on the door with one hand while the other has a firm grip on the knights arm so he won’t run away.

Argenti just sighs and looks away into the flower field , consisting of red roses and white roses that you planted for him, they’re usually well maintained .

However , he notices that the roses haven’t been pruned and plucked yet , did you really resent him that much?

It’s been a minute now , no one has responded.

So Boothill does what he does best , break into building by using his gun or brute force , he kicked the door down and then said “ Hey lady! I brought rosey here to apologize.”

He then realized what bad shape the house was in , rose petals all over the place , vases shattered, bright yellow ginko leaves everywhere.

Argenti entered ,” Y/N I’m sorry but-“ He stared at what had become of your home .

Next thing you know your bedroom door is forced open as Boothill and Argenti look in terror as they see what has become of you .

“The Mara-struck…”Boothill makes a poor attempt at cursing before giving up and starting to raise his gun but before he can , Argenti stops him.

Your arms are covered in black , cracked open with roses and ginko leaves , a feature of the love you lost , you now suffer.

You can’t be saved anymore , the one you loved betrayed you .

They saw you squirm in pain and then….

Silence . You’re dead now .

Argenti and Boothill ran over to your position and saw , you died in between the process.

You’re gone forever.

And it’s all because of them

[reive-1]

the levi brainworm that crawled into my head a decade ago is alive and well…. nightly blorbo posting with a screencap redraw bc i’m procrastinating life

[fellomenking]

Man, that fic by @woahmyboi sorta got my brainworms a'wrigglin' -- cooked some delicious food there!

Anyhoo though, they mentioned the idea of Morgott imprinting himself on his little Tarnished.

Starts off with him lowering himself down to the Tarnished's level. In this case, they'd literally see him walking down on all fours - very much like how a Gorilla would carry itself, and yet he's showering them in very much catlike behavior.

He's crawling around them in circles, rumbling, growling, chuffing. And he keeps bumping his head into them. He's rubbing the side of his face against them. Quite roughly at that.

It takes the Tarnished a few moments to recognize this cat-like behavior -- realizes he's leaving his scent on them.

At some point, they open their arms up - and he ends up right in their embrace. And they hold him, his head resting against their chest as they play with his whiskers.

... They never realized just how soft he was.

... And they realize too that he's... Smiling?

They never see him smile...

As they rest, the Tarnished can't help but hold him closer, gently nuzzling into his hair.

[fowlfics]

been considering the idea of Roger/Rouge/Garp today

Roger/Garp as the decades-long rivals. When Roger disbanded his crew with no warning, of course Garp would try to seek him out, see what was going on

And he finds Roger sequestered on a small island in the South Blue, completely preoccupied with this pretty blonde

Of course, that'll end up in Garp's pride getting bruised, but like the uncommunicative asshole he is, there would be far more fighting than talking involved

Meanwhile Rouge's just chilling with a drink, watching the drama like her own personal telenovela

It all comes to a head, I think, when Roger blurts out that he was going to come back, that he was going to return to Garp, but only so that he could lead Roger to his execution

Because, surprise! Roger is dying. He had been dying, for years now. And he had never said a word about it to Garp

Gosh, that had to smart, didn't it? The one person Garp considered his equal in strength, his rival, and yet Roger didn't see him as anything more than enemy, did he?

Stubborn as he is, Garp would stick around like the world's most awkward third wheel, his oblivious ass never realizing he had basically forced his way into the relationship

When the time came for comes for Roger to leave, Garp is by his side the entire time. If Roger felt like he could entrust his child to him in canonverse, he definitely feels that way here, too

For Garp, it's the first time hearing about any child. Roger laughs at that hard enough to break into a coughing fit, spitting blood

After the execution, he oversees that Roger's body gets as respectful of a burial as he can manage. He requests time off afterwards. As the newly-heralded hero of the marines, for bringing the Pirate King to heel, the marines trip over their feet to give him whatever he wants

He's not really sure why he returns to Baterilla. The knock he leaves on Rouge's doors hardly has any strength in it.

She lets him in wordlessly, sitting by his side as the two of them try to come to terms with the larger-than-life Roger-shaped hole in their world

When he finds his words again, Garp offers to take Rouge away someplace the marines wouldn't be able to find her. He already knows about the planned occupation, he warns her about what's coming

She refuses, though. This island was where Roger spent his last months, and it was where she would do the same.

Garp suspects she just can't handle the idea of raising Roger's son without him by her side. In the end, both of them pushed the responsibility onto him.

It continues much like canonverse. Except that, now, Garp has two ghosts looking him in the face every time he sees Ace growing up

The "I don't have to listen to you! You're not my dad, old man!" must have hit particularly hard in that AU.

....honestly, this was basically the whole reason why that brainworm crawled into my mind: that singular line. The potential universe where Garp was so close to actually being Ace's parent

Can you imagine the terror of Portgas D Ace being brought up not only by Garp the Fist, but also Portgas D Rouge AND the Pirate King? the world would have been shaken to the core

i wish we could have seen it 😔

[fourfoldtrap]

open for better quality!

hit the keep reading if you wanna read me rambling about 2012 Raph's traumas within the show, I'm not the best at writing so take that as you will.

I think out of all the 2012 ninja turtles Raph has the most 'wow this is fucked' centric episodes. (note i'm writing from the memory of watching the show as it released so its been a while.) But while Leo has the most fatal injuries, Donnie's injuries are more centered around his mind/head, and Mikey is just a jack of trades for getting hurt. I think the majority of Raph's 'injuries' are related too his overall too his phobias, ability too protect, and insecurities (tho that honestly falls under all four of the turtles ngl).

Its amazing how many times everything that makes Raph- Raph is used against him, from mutant roaches, his anger towards his brothers managing too overtake his love for them directly causing his best friend too attack his family, had a squirrel crawl into his stomach a experience mitosis, his mutagen drained and becoming a plant-dog thing, the brainworm, almost loosing his family a 100 different ways, that whole melt down in the trashcan where he hallucinates bugs, the bug planet. And that's all I can remember off the top of my head!

honestly typing just too type but Raph just like all of his bros have been through it and I think it should be acknowledged more.

I'm honestly rlly proud of this bc its the first thing I've created on clip studio paint and was kinda just my test run for the program. Messed around with a lot of brushes, I love the verity Procreate nor Paper have this much stuff to utilize. Also love that i can rotate and resize stuff without immediately loosing the initial quality (procreate).

first artist too ever draw fly baxter stockman hated the whole thing, never again.

[beautyofsorrow]

fic author q&a

tagged by @onmytallesttiptoesspinning :)

why do you write fanfic?

my brain is a kinder space to live inside when i write, and fic is the quickest way to get words down on the page these days. also, thinking about the characters is not enough. i need to put them in enclosures and study them. i need to take notes. i need to read those notes obsessively. i need to scatter my toys all over the carpet and invite my friends to admire and compliment them and play.

which of your posted stories do you think of the most even though the story is "finished"?

...........this one. it's definitely this one.

if you could give yourself fic advice from when you first started writing fic, what would that advice be?

stop quoting bible verses. let the characters curse. don't freak out when a b7 shipper shows up in the comments section of your friendship fic, you're not going to get sent to hell for being interpreted as writing gay fanfiction. in fact, give it another ten years and you WILL be writing gay fanfiction. on purpose. with your whole chest. please put the jadzia and worf action figures down and back away slowly, you're just gay for dax, you do not really ship them.

what's your relationship to fic stats?

unfriended, blocked, reported. i have workskins installed so i can only see my total word count. on individual works i can see word count, chapter count, and whether the fic is in a collection or not but that is IT. my life has gotten immeasurably better since i did this

is there a pairing or scenario or friendship that you miss writing? if so, why? if not, why not?

raffi & rios. my god i miss raffi & rios. every day i yearn for the day i can take that box off the highest shelf of the closet and open it back up

what motivates you to write?

brainworms. literally the characters are in my head and i need to get them out. if they stay there too long shit starts getting rancid. i also really enjoy participating in gift exchanges because it gives me a deadline, structure, and a community that is focused on writing rather than a specific fandom. we are all cheering each other on in our various anonymous projects and it's so great!

why do you write for the fandom(s) you write for?

mostly it's because a character or characters have crawled inside my brain. sometimes they're there for a month or a season, other times i come back to them multiple times over a span of many years (star trek is the main example here). since entering the exchange scene i have occasionally picked up one-off fandoms if a pinch hit needed filling or if i needed to make myself matchable in order to participate. i've created some of my favorite fics that way and written far outside my comfort zone. it's great :)

if you're stuck writing a WIP, what do you do?

take a break. take a break take a break take a break. let the story breathe. let myself breathe. come at it from a different angle. read poetry. steal the poem's bones. use them as a scaffold. if all else fails tuck the work into the abandoned folder so i can't see it anymore but do not under any circumstance delete. it's not a failed story. it's just not the right time yet. no work is wasted work. it all breaks down into compost. every tributary feeds a lake.

what do you wish people knew about comments?

whenever i post a fic, there is an absolutely agonizing period of time between posting and first comments when i am very seriously considering deleting my entire internet presence and disappearing into the mountains. this is a me thing. i understand that. i've come up with various coping strategies through the years with mild success, but no matter how much i believe in the work or how much coaching i provide for my brain, there is always that voice in the back of my head that wonders what if it's actually bad. what if it's really really bad. what if they're pointing and laughing and making fun of me. comments shut that voice up. comments provide tangible, outside-of-my-brain proof that the words i wrote made a positive difference in someone else's day, and sometimes they make a difference in ways i never expected. you do not have to tell an author that you like their fics, but when you do, you are never ever bothering them. they're not thinking you're a weirdo or a creep. they're actually probably grinning in relief. they're backing away from the delete button. they're unpacking their suitcase. they're breathing more easily and re-opening the word doc and showing up at the sandbox of creativity to play another day.

maybe there's a question you wish had been on here. what's that question (and answer)? -> what are some fanworks that have inspired you or fed your own creativity?

Candy and Chlorine by scioscribe is so sharp and smart and sexy. 100% biggest inspiration for my jennifer's body fic An Unofficial Anthology of the Online Fandom for the Yellowjackets Tragedy by banerries is so CREATIVE and so FUNNY. it reminds me that at the end of the day fic is supposed to be about play i recommend this barbie/dracula fic to a different friend at least once a month. stunning character study, so unusual, i love love love crack treated seriously a little lower than the angels by mylittleredgirl got me to see the vision of b'elanna/kes for one lovely lovely sitting. i am forever grateful to rarepair writers. they encourage me to think deep, write hard, and trust the process of creativity @stardustcityhag's art is stunning. i am always on some level trying to channel the feeling of it when i'm writing @zannolin's fics consistently feed my desire for delicious-ambiguous-something-amphibious not-shipfic-but-not-not-shipfic. i've written some of my best and most favorite fics after reading their work. their national treasure polycule fic pops into my brain at least once a month. i adore it @73chn1c0l0rr3v3l's smut is some of my favorite smut in the whole world. so sensuous, so vivid, so lush and vivid and aching. i am always at all times meditating on this una/la'an bathhouse thunderstorm fic they wrote me. also, this una/nhan breathplay fic. and this satanic panic fic. and this la'an + insomnia one. i could go on

tagging @zannolin and @ceruleanphoenix7

[olecarrot]

grips you, for the no excuses writing meme (if you're taking them),

The End?

chokes in the same way bart was while homer was choking him--

The End is.. kind of difficult because I don't know which end to talk about. I got some brainworms to think up the ''end'' of some of my XIV OCs, but then that made me realise that... it's not really the end. Ah.. dilemma.. why is the kmgverse continuing like this...

So to solve this issue, here is a little abridged version about the end of a little girl's happiness, I guess..!!

Finally spying her home from within the woods, Tatara ran spiritedly till was within reach of the door. It was the same way she would return home everyday, but something was different. Birds that used to sing on their return home could not be heard anywhere. Tatara sniffed the air, expecting the fragrant aroma of spicy soup paired with homemade loaf, a home classic she had been looking forward to all week. In its place, however, she caught a hint of burnt fat. An ominous cloud hung over the little Lalafell as she turned the door knob and pushed it gently.

The warm lights she had always expected dimmed to a void. A putrid stench of sulfur and iron filled the house, and specks of ash drifted outdoors following the opened door. Tatara covered her nose and instinctively backed away. The visage of an Auri man crawled strenuously towards her and raised his head, just enough for Tatara to recognise his face, before crumpling lifelessly on the ground. His body, which lay in a puddle of liquid, had its lower half ripped viciously. The word ‘Father’ barely left her mouth. Shakily, she turned her head, in hopes of finding anything else to keep her composure. All she could find, however, was a horribly mangled corpse of another Auri lady. Blood drained from her face and she froze. Suddenly, she stopped trembling. A menacing aura shadowed over her, terrorising her far more than bearing witness to her parents’ tragedy. A reverberating scream echoed in her head, and a heart-wrenching pain throbbed quickly in her chest.

The last of her consciousness made out the visage of a Miqote stranger, with hair the same colour as her parents' blood, unleashing a bloodcurling cry. His eyes, filled with as much wrath as a thousand warriors, shifted focus from the carnage to Tatara.

[angelmichelangelo]

GIVE US THE 2/4 OF THE FIC 😢😢/lh /np

or is it a rlly long oneshot?? if so pleaseee give us fic spoilers human au my beloved <3

-🍒

haha i’m tempted but alas i shall hold out until it’s fully complete :’) and no it’s a multichaptered fic. im drafting up chapter 6 and im aiming for it to be about 16 chapters long? so ive made some progress at least :)

it’s actually a kind of sequel, follow up fic to this one i wrote not long ago. i have like. an entire whole lore to this fic that’s been brainworming in my head for the last year haha so being able to just punch out most of it so quickly has been pretty fun :D

so whilst i can’t post what ive already written so far for you, i can give you a little sneak peek :)

x

“I could kill you, Mikey.” His brother yells, fists curling tight around the wheel, making his knuckles glow red. “I could actually kill you.”

Mikey gulps. He finds the frayed edge of the cuff again and tugs on it, like if he yanks hard enough it might unravel his whole being, and he could just turn to nothing on Raph’s passenger seat for the rest of time. “I was just the driver,” is what he offers up.

That apparently was the wrong thing to say, evident in the way Raph’s eyes go comically wide, and his jaw twitches at the strength of which he clamps it shut.

“Alopex had to bail you out,” he tells him, so angry and raw his voice cracks. “She used her money she’s worked really fucking hard on because you can’t fucking help yourself.”

The cop station parking lot gets a bit of foot traffic around where they’re parked. A young mother strolls on by with a child skipping at her side whilst a group of teenagers bounce past them, laughing as they swap phones to no doubt share videos.

“I’m sorry,” Mikey says, voice impossibly small. “But. But you knew what Hun was about, don’t– don’t act like you didn’t work for him too once upon a time.”

Raph’s hands slam against the wheel as a frustrated growl crawls up past his lips. “Jesus, Mike, is that going to be your excuse every single time?”

Mikey can’t look at him, so he stares at the dashboard. There’s the remains of a torn away sticker, something he vaguely remembers putting there himself years and years ago when this car was Leo’s and he was small enough to still have sticker books.

When he doesn’t answer, Raph keeps going.

“I made my mistakes, Mikey,” he says, voice suddenly calm and level. It makes the temperature in the car drop about ten degrees cooler. “I made my mistakes with Hun and the Dragons but I owned up to them. I fixed them. I turned my life around.”

Childishly, Mikey feels tears spring behind his eyes. He fails to blink them away in time, so he resorts to scrubbing his face with his sleeve – Raph’s sleeve technically.

“I can help you,” Raph says, he says it so tiredly yet it holds so much weight still. “Leo can help you, Mike. All we wanna do is help you.”

[mayskalih]

which do you like more? inohina or inosaku?

I don't rank the ships by which ones I like more - they're all equal to me, but serve different needs.

If I crave cute, I go to inohina. If I want competitiveness and awakening, I think about inosaku. If I want toxic, obsessive love, I read sasosaku. If I have angsty masochistic needs, it's kakatsu time. If I'm all about roughness, I choose zabukaka. It all depends on my brainworms and I love all ships that crawl inside my head.

[formula-fun]

would you ever consider writing some scenes from the opposite pov in if I had words? I really love how you haven't written the same scenes in both fics but sometimes when I read a chapter I'm like whaaattt the fuckkkkk could the other one e be thinking rnnnnn ohhh my goddddd

also CANNOT stop thinking about the pacrim auuuuuuu it's like a brainworm always crawling in my headdd

the image of charles with glasses and dark circles but able to punch someone's lights out is soooooo funnn

you know he looks on bad weekends sometimes just tired and exhausted and sooo pretty

sorry

Hiii!! I tend to get really bored so I usually avoid it as much as possible ahshadhsd BUT i would be more than happy to write them up on tumblr as short snippets if there are scenes you have in mind! <3

and same fam same, she lives in my head rent free. im so excited to post that fic, it's gonna be so much fun!! exhausted revered underqualified secretly buff charles leclerc r&d neural bridge specialist complaining about the breakfast offerings in the science mess hall you have my heart. NEVEr apologize for bringing up my silly little au, i love talking abt her so much!!