#damn tumblr published before i was even done

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 50

Wow. fuck it’s weird to think we’re halfway there. 50 fucking days of Junkan . . . How’s everyone holding up?? I’m still writing these in advance so I have no idea if Future Jem is holding it together having to wait day by day for these, especially as we enter the period of the project where a lot of our favorite pieces come in.

So anyway “No Regrets” There’s the fic again for if you haven’t  read it and are interested.

There is a LOT to talk about with this one. So much that I’ll likely put this in a read under once again. I’ve got history, fun facts, scrapped(?) ideas, and memes.

Let’s start with my history with writing in general. Because the biggest thing that comes to mind with this fic is that it was the first time in Four Years that I had ever written something.

When I was, say, around 15 or 16, I entered the Death Battle Community on Deviantart (I swear to god this is relevant and I won’t take too long). It did a lot of things for me, it gave me a source of income when I was confident enough to open commissions, it helped me make a small amount of close friends (eventually leading to even closer friends), is the community that introduced me to Danganronpa in the first place, and it’s where I first started writing.

Now obviously, what I was writing were fights between fictional characters, most often to the death. With some attempt at a logical outcome for the match. And the account is so old and untouched that it still has he/him pronouns baked into it. I still have a lot of pride in some of the work I did on that account despite the equal amounts of dumb bullshit, grammar issues, and a severe lack of proofreading.

But shock of all shocks, Rocky Balboa fighting an Anime Character (yes that’s really the last thing I published online, it was like 40,000 fucking words and it made someone cry allegedly), is a far cry from a fic about Junko Enoshima really wanting to swap spit with Mikan Tsumiki.

 Suffice to say, I was very, very nervous about writing again. However I’m a woman with too many ideas, and not every idea can be done through just drawings alone. Especially with how I was doing things at this point. This wasn’t the first time I had desired to try writing fanfic, I still have a RWBY x Kamen Rider W fanfic haunting my brain to this day. But it was the first time I had felt so tempted. However as you might have gleamed over time whether through these posts, or talking to me personally, I have a severe lack of self esteem, ESPECIALLY when it comes to writing. And it was even worse at the time of this fic. This was the biggest roadblock for the it.

However, Junkan broke me once, causing me to draw Angst shipping art for the first time. So it only makes sense that it would break me a second time, making me write a god damn fanfic. And I made plenty of memes about this too, which i’ll post in order of creation. 

As you can tell by that last one I was fucking nervous as hell making this, which is understandable since it’s completely new territory for me in a medium i hadn’t touched in years. However, enough friends who also liked DR seem to be into it, so I was able to post it.

My AO3 account was of course originally a secret because at the time of this fic being made I was still deeply paranoid over anyone knowing I shipped Junkan. Now granted CJ is kind of an obvious alias given y’know, it’s just the initials of my fuckin main account. However it does require that someone on AO3 also have a Tumblr account and also be aware of a chick named “Carbonated-Jem” who at the time was drawing a suspicious amount of separate Junko and Mikan art.

Last thing before I talk about the actual fic. This was posted February 4th. Which fucks with me because I’m pretty certain that means that the first 50 Days of this project (reminder that most of the colored ones were after the fact) were made before that date. Half of this project was done in One Month at most. How the fuck did I do that????

Okay. So the fic.

The idea was simple at first, what if Mikan saved Junko from dying at the end of DR1. And then it spiraled from there.

This is not something I plan to talk about on this blog or anywhere but the privacy of my friend groups very often. But I am not a big fan of Danganronpa 3, I have very little nice to say about it, but my biggest issue with that Anime is it’s handling of Mikan. I do not like that Mikan was boiled down to just being whatever that was in the anime, since while I’ll never say that it was definitely a perfect relationship even with what we had teased in DR2, I think there’s a lot of nuance to the way Junko and Mikan described their relationship (moreso Mikan since last I remember at most Junko just made heavy implications that she broke each class member one by one with unknown methods). So seeing it be . . . that in the anime, just never sat right with me. If it were not for events that will be discussed later in the project, I would have been fully adverse to this ship as a result.

As you can see now I’m not only all for the ship, I’m dangerously brainrotted over it dsljfhsdlaf. How things changed.

Point is, regardless of whether you like DR3 and how it handled this dynamic (In which case, more power to you despite my lack of understanding), I had less than fond thoughts toward it. So you can kind of see this fic as also like, a way of me trying to do something more productive with that negativity rather than just wallowing on it. 

I’m gonna be real until Mikan jumps in to save Junko I don’t feel very strongly about the intro. You can very much tell this was my first time writing in 4 years, and not just that but it was me writing Junko for the first time rather than drawing her, and to take it EVEN FURTHER this was at the time the closest I had ever gotten to depicting the canon versions of the characters rather than Non-Despair takes on the characters like I was for every pic before and after this. Which yeah spoiler, beyond I think 2 instances later (there MIGHT be more) everything in this project is non-despair in nature.

You can probably still look at a lot of the art as like, just them dating Pre-Tragedy I suppose? But that’s up to you and your suspension of Disbelief.

Tangent, sorry. Back to it where was I.

Oh yeah, so I don’t know when the hell the idea for the Neo-World Program being implemented came in. But when it did that’s when I had like a solid vision for where I was going.

I think originally Junko wasn’t going to enter the program alongside everyone else? But the more I thought about it, it was like the only sure way that she could get what she wanted in the end. Since if Mikan came back reformed, whether with partial memories or nothing at all it’s a hard sell to think Mikan would be willing to go back to Junko outside of the specific circumstances that brought them together in the first place (that said i can’t say the idea of Junko trying to win her back isn’t interesting). I’d find it more likely for a full reformed Mikan in this context to like, get with Hajime or Ibuki.

So I threw Junko into the program as well, despite my concernsI did actually have a lot of fun writing the interactions. Not just Mikan (we’ll get to her in a sec) but also with Makoto. 

Writing Junko’s first moments in the program was my favorite part though, from what I remember at least. Especially once she starts giving Mikan her full attention. And that’s where we finally get to the art piece.

So here is the singular fun fact about the art. Junko had the bear clips originally, but I realized after the fact since the Neo-World program put the cast in their outfits prior to becoming Remnants, it’d make more sense to give her the bunny and bow clips instead. So I edited the art at some point to make that more clear. 

Anyway here’s the interesting part. There was in fact a time where this was going to be a series. 

The original intention was always a Oneshot, but you know how the mind tends to wander, it was inevitable that I’d be tempted to think about what else could happen in this timeline. 

It would have mostly been a Slice of Life series, more rom-com elements. Focused on the developing relationship between Junko and Mikan, essentially kind of recreating how they first met and fell in love, albeit with less of the evil girlfriends stuff.

Another part of it is that because Junko’s plans are on a hard hiatus till she gets off the Island, and more specifically because of Mikan’s influence on her in these very specific circumstances, the NWP actually does start reforming Junko on some level. I’ve always loved the idea that Mikan could have the potential to help Junko become a better person, whether it’s a Non-Despair AU where that means she just stops being a bitch to everyone (or at least mostly stops), or in Canon where she ponders that maybe starting the apocalypse isn’t the best course of action.

I did plan to try and write the rest of the DR2 cast, which admittedly was a roadblock because I had no idea what the fuck I was gonna do for characters like Nekomaru for example. I’ve only really latched onto a small handful of the overall cast of DR, so i’m severely lacking in my ability to write most of them. I did plan for Junko and Chiaki to become besties though, I feel like under a normal context Junko would just think Chiaki was really funny.

So it would have mostly been romance and shenanigans, one way I thought of to just give random little plotlines for Mikan and Junko was the MonoMono machine. Have Junko just get a bunch of coins and gamble away at the thing getting random items. And then said items just make the plot for the chapter.

That idea is what made me think of the other half of this fics equation.

So you know how there’s a fucking painting of Junko made during the Tragedy??

First off, missed opportunity to have that be a “Love” item for Mikan, would have been great foreshadowing.

Second off, actual point. I was like “how the fuck is junko gonna react if she sees this??” So I realized that while I wanted to have this overall fic have a lot of fluff and shenanigans and Junko kissing Mikan. There is in fact the elephant in the room of what’s outside of the program.

So, why not have Junko by some means start remembering reality, and realizing everything she’s been responsible for. Most importantly, killing her sister and killing Chiaki (yeah I would have kept Chiaki being a real person and not just an AI, partially just cause I think that’d hurt Junko more), and then having to cope with all of that because by that point Mikan would have unintentionally helped to make Junko a less apocalypse hungry person. 

And beyond that I don’t think I had any plans to show like, the aftermath of the program working. Partially because I feel like that’s reaching a level of writing I’m not mentally strong enough to pull off properly, partially because I think keeping it vague similar to how DR2 did it would have worked.

Now all that said, on some level I would try to like writing that story. There’s just a lot of hurdles I’d have to get past first. Not just my normal “Writing makes me want to slam my head into the wall” issue, but also stuff like-

How do I write the other characters when I have very little experience with them?

I actually have to make a plan for this one, I can’t just wing it like I did for the Vampire AU.

I have to write the Canon version of Junko for a big stretch of it and as I already established I barely grasp how the fuck to do that.

I just have other things I want to do which includes other writing.

So if you’ve made it this far into my inane ramblings, would YOU dear audience like to see this fic? I can’t say for sure how soon it would be assuming the response is positive, but I wouldn’t be opposed to making the attempt if there’s even mild interest for it.

Anyway, thankyou for your time! Hopefully will be awhile before I yap this long again.

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[msbirdiewrites]

Dead Boy Detectives Did What No Fandom Could for Me

So as someone who has lurked in many fandoms over the last decade I truly can't overestimate what Dead Boy Detectives has done for my engagement in fandoms.

Dead Boy Detectives got me back into Tumblr after I stopped using it regularly back in college. Like I literally made a new tumblr account so I could engage with the DBDA fandom.

Dead Boy Detectives literally made me create an ao3 account because I saw so many restricted fics on rec lists that I wanted to read. I've been reading fic since way back on ff.net and never created an account.

Speaking of ao3, Dead Boy Detectives and the wonderful fic writers got me to start leaving comments on fics. Shoutout to @thenyoumaykissthebride for responding to my comment on their fic which was the first comment I had ever written on a fic as well as to @halffulljampot who's encouragement of my ramblings on their fics and their thoughtful responses has been life changing 💛💛💛 as well as soooo many other authors!

I also wrote and published my very first fic! No longer confined to my head before going to sleep, I finally contributed to a fandom with my fic A Symbol of Hope!!! It's short and it isn't perfect and yet I am so damn proud for even writing and publishing it!

I love the Dead Boy Detectives fandom so much and I am glad that I get to experience it. Regardless of what happens next, I can't wait to be a part of this fandom for a long, long time!

[louroth]

Hello hello everybody! It is time for another months progress, and I am so excited to share with you, all the things I have gotten my grimy little gremlin hands on. First off, what we are all here for; writing. I have been on fire, to be honest! Last month I churned through the last of the first batch of erotica stories (there's 6 (!!!) of them on my patreon already) and set them up for publishing along with two more unseen ones- I'm still going over the logistics of where to publish for the best revenue (I know this sounds boring, but I have to make an income somehow, and hopefully find another audience as a smut writer on other platforms 💀 I love writing it so why not!), and I am making headway, learning the ins and outs of self publishing. On patreon, there are also two Q&A's that are written in a bit more fictional manner, in character: a more fun way than just writing answers straight up and down. I have enjoyed those so much! There's a bunch of other stuff I haven't even mentioned- honestly, I have to say, I'm really proud of my output on Patreon even though I have been really anxious about writing full time. It's going great! I have to thank my new friends and support-network on discord; you make this all worth it. I cannot express how fun it is to shoot the shit with you in vc, gaming together, or seeing your shenanigans in gen or your in depth theories (thanks for the brainworms!) or memes or staring longingly at the fanfic channel or drooling over your art (ouro related or not) or... Gah. You are just amazing people, and I will waste no opportunity in saying so. Thank you forever and ever and ever an-

When it comes to OUROBOROS, I am happy to announce that the next chapter is damn near done! I was halted because of the discovery that dashingdon is no longer supported by it's creator, and have been working on the twine version ever since, earlier than I expected- it's tough work, but I am so excited to make this an actual game made entirely by myself, and not submitting to a company that quite frankly leaves a bitter aftertaste. It is taking long to make because I want to make it mobile compatible from the start, which there isn't a lot of resources for. But I'm doing my best! The plan is that I will be posting the next chapter for Patreons in the coming month, and then treat you to a full twine release here on tumblr. I haven't made any rewrites when porting the twine build, but I would like to do that too... so we will see; this plan is not set in stone. I will just have to see how it evolves over the next month. Yes, beta-readers is still on the schedule, just holding off a little while while I wrap my head around this new coding landscape.

Other than that, I have been working on the set aesthetic for ouro, which has been really hard, a lot harder than I expected. You all know I am no wizard when it comes to graphic design, but I want to at least develop a set palette and imagery and portraits that is cohesive to the story. The work is ongoing, and I don't have much to say about it- even though it is taking a lot of my brain power. I'm hoping I can come to some kind of set and in depth conclusion that I am happy with before the twine release, because I want the game to feel like a treat to open up and play; a world to get lost in.

That's it! If you want to see weekly and more in depth dev-logs, you know where to go. I hope you have an amazing day or night, and we will see each other soon. xx

[theink-stainedfolk]

Writer Questionnaire Tag

Thank you @drchenquill @the-golden-comet and @paeliae-occasionally for the tag

how long have you had your writing tumblr/writeblr? a fast and loose estimate is fine!

It's been at least 6 months or more I believe.

what led you to create it?

I actually had it from before but i never really posted anything. The thought that there might be people willing to read my works more than my own family and friends led me to create it. I was done shying away.

what's your favourite thing about the writeblr community?

I absolutely adore the supportive and inclusive nature of the writeblr community! It's a space where writers from diverse backgrounds and genres come together to share their passion for storytelling. I love how everyone encourages and uplifts each other, offering constructive feedback and celebrating each other's successes. The community's enthusiasm is infectious, and it motivates me to keep writing and improving my craft. I also appreciate the wealth of resources and knowledge shared within the community, from writing tips and prompts to editing advice and publishing insights. It's amazing to see how writers willingly share their expertise and experiences to help others grow. Most of all, I cherish the sense of belonging and connection that comes with being part of this community. Writeblr feels like a virtual writing group, where we can discuss our projects, share our struggles, and rejoice in our triumphs together

what's one thing you'd like your mutuals to know about you?

That i really love talking about my WIPs and OCs aand everything related to my story. I feel happy, seen and appreciated. If you like anything i woorte, please don't hesitate to ask or just tell me how you feel.

is there anything you'd like to see more of on your dash?

Uh..memes? More aisan drama related things? More HSR stuff everything about my interests etc.

which wips or writing projects are you noodling about, lately?

Very wrong question lol. I've been going back and forth between my WIPs. But the most recent one I've done, or am thinking about is The Masque of Murder .

how long have you been working on them?

Hahaha.... Since months, years and i still haven't even written a chapter for some of them. I hate myself for that. But since The Masque of Murder is recent, it's been a week or so.

do you remember what inspired them/ what got you started?

Yeah i remember reading a manhwa which had this crazy but mad genius doctor as a minor villan. It got me thinking that it was a waste of his abilities and damn good looks and he would have been surely protected by the plot armour had he been the main character instead. This forced me into making it lol.

how much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them?

🎵Every hour, every minute, every second. And night after night, I'll thinking 'bout you right, 7 days a week.🎶

name any characters you created. side characters, protagonists, antagonists, characters who've never been written, the first original abomination you ever pulled from your ass; whomever you'd like!

Uh... every single one of them? I created everyone, if that's what you're asking haha.. I'm not sure if i understand it correctly but i created everyone on my own. I'll mention the one that comes to my mind first then.

Side character- Emrys from In The Silence, Strength

Protagonist- Dr. Phineas Abel Thorncroft from The Masque Of Murder

Antagonist- Dante from Beyond The Pages (but he is also the protagonist)

And i can't really remember the last two.

when someone asks the dreaded, "what do you write about," question, what do you usually say?

Yknow, fantasy stuff with magic and murder mystery with actual murder and blood and stuff and all that hahah none of the stuffs that you like or understand or are interested in right? Hahah it totally doesn't have queer peoples. Just fictional stuff you don't wanna know hahaha.

Deadass.

who's the most unhinged?

Dr. Phineas Abel Thorncroft (from The Masque Of Murder), Acheron (from Legacy of Creation), Dante (from Beyond The Pages) and Eitenne Lumiere( from Wicked Games, Wicked Fates) from what i remember .

who comes the most naturally for you to write?

Vesperine, Cleo, Pareen

do you ever cringe at them?

Hahaha... sometimes..

how much control do you feel you have over your characters? do they ever "write themselves," refuse to cooperate, or do things you didn't expect? to what degree? are some less cooperative than others?

I feel like i have 70% control and 30% is something they do it themselves because i give them the freedom to do so. Because that is the story of my character and not of me, even if I am the one who wrote it. Sometimes the decision i make for them is not what they'd do.

do you enjoy people asking questions about your characters? and do you have a preferred means of receiving said questions? for example, as asks, as replies, as reblogs, as tag notes, as comments on ao3, etc.

Yes i absolutely love it please ask. Doesn't matter how just ask♡♡♡

what makes you want to follow another writeblr account? do you follow 'em as you see 'em, or take time scoping out the blog to make sure you align with its content? do you follow based on wips, or vibes?

I take time scoping out the blog to make sure i align with it's content. And i follow based on both, wips and vibes but mostly vibes.

what makes you decide against following?

If i don't align with the content or i don't fond the story interesting, i don't follow.

do you interact with non-mutual often?

Not often but i do.

do your mutuals' characters occupy space in your noodle?

There are so so many characters of my mutuals that i love love loveee but my memory rn isn't functioning at its best so i will just write whom i can remember rn.

The Madness, the lady and that guy from Foliè written by @drchenquill, my friend. Whose writing always leaves me with surprises and cliffhangers. She supports me so much i almost feel guilty 💕💕💕💕 i love you so much💖💖💖

@paeliae-occasionally Xanren, Marsh and Paeliae. I love their stories it captivated me. I hope you can tag me on their journey 👍, @cssnder, my first mutual whom i talked with so much courage that i almost didn't open tumblr the next day due to embarrassment and nervousness. Her works are like renaissance paintings, truly mesmerizing and beautiful. Thus Saith The Lord is truly a work of art and i hope i get to read it soon.😭 And also, @roarintheheavens , my new friend, I'm so happy. Vron Carson, he is very interesting and i can't wait to know more about him. And of course, @the-golden-comet, I'd very much like to read more about peter hart.

Just because i didn't mention everyone doesn't mean i don't appreciate your works, it's just that i haven't read them yet. I hope you all can send it to me. I'll definitely read it.

I'll tag @finickyfelix @willtheweaver @ascotwriting @agirlandherquill @leahnardo-da-veggie @illarian-rambling @winglesswriter @graveyardshift111

[kaelidascope]

Dude, I love this fanfic so much! I just wanted to ask where you got the idea from. Did you have any inspiration from anyone? Also, what's your favorite fanfic? And want do you recommend ?

AWE bless!! Thank you so much I'm glad you're enjoying it <33

So actually a good 80% of this is written from personal experience LOL I used to dance and was into drift building/racing in my late teens/early twenties! Most of the references or scenes in Midnight Menagerie are references to things I've seen or done in real life, OR stories friends have told me within the same field. (Nora is literally just a rebranding of this one mutual friend we had who just. Absolutely fucking unhinged) Like for example, the anticipated Hangover Chapter is just a retelling of an insane Summer weekend I had in 2017 ☠️ it's a personal delight being able to translate things into the narrative, even more so knowing people find my stupid, terrible decisions as amusing as I do in current times lol

My general rule of thumb is to write from experience. Things I understand either on a technical point or emotional connection. So, if you've read it in my work, it's probably something I've done LOL

Another reason I find drive in writing this type of narrative is that MM!Blake's type of dissociative PTSD is something I haven't seen much in media in general. I've seen people depict her in various ways (some of them good!), but none of them ever really apply directly to me, so I wanted to make something that I could relate to and how to properly navigate life, given the environmental circumstances. Plus some us need better examples on how to juggle mental illness as adults and also be in healthy long term relationships because damn I have zero reference LOL

For the fic recs, oh boy I have so many LOL time to be a pathetic fangirl on main but okay here's the ones that immediately jump to mind (also heads up most of these are mature or explicit rating);

Certified Kaeli Fresh Fics

Let You See My Wilder Side (If I Can See Your Bones)

We all know this one but it is, hands down, my favorite piece of literature of all time. Masterfully crafted and a timeless classic worth several rereads (and I have. Embarrassingly so)

Written by @/lucytara on tumblr || @/explosive_sky on twitter

honestly all her works are immaculate and beyond compare. Also a major fan of I Have A Bullet With Your Mouth On It (That was first RWBY fanfic I ever read LMAO a friend recommended it to me before I even watched the show) I aspire to write like her some day. It's what got me writing fanfiction in the first place. So, credit goes to Erin for inspiring me to post my manuscripts at all. Words cannot express my gratitude and appreciation. I have two book series in the process of being published now and I wouldn't have had the nerve to do it had it not been for this specific fic.

2. One Day At A Time

Also one of the earlier fics I read before getting into the show LOL I love all of @/Frenchsoda 's work, the full list is also worth checking out. I'm a fan of disgruntled Blake who doesn't understand her attraction to Yang but it's so god damn sweet ugh

3. Fucking In Love

Written by @/Set_WingedWarrior and @/Softlight

This one circulates a lot in my social circles. Everyone I know LOVES this one and after reading it earlier this year, now I see why. As someone who worked in the sex industry for a brief period of time, this one's not only accurate but also A DELIGHT to read. The premise is fun, captivating, and worth the wait. I actually discovered a chapter update earlier this year and sent the gc into hysterics because we thought the fic was dead LMAO props to these authors!! They're doing an amazing job and deserve praise

4. You're A Mountain, Full Of Glory

written by champion author @/lescousinsdangereux

I should just preface already that every book Blake reads in MM is a fanfiction that exists because I love Easter eggs. Everyone knows I had Blake reference this in chapter 3 LOL but it's equally as immaculate as Erin's work. I LOVED especially the dynamic between Weiss, Yang, and Ruby in this one. Baby, we're complicated fucking murdered me 😭 also that fuckass Christmas scene, that's my favorite Christmas song LMAO

5. The Home Inside Your Head

Written by the ever skilled @/writeriguess . I found this fic by accident by seeing fanart for it floating around on this site. Got curious, picked at it, and. Oh, my god. It's not very often my brain gets scratched in the right way, but boy this one does it. This author does something specifically unique I haven't seen many do before, and I applaud them for it. There's great detail on the scenes that matter, and the fucking organic build up between Blake and Yang is just. God. Chef's kiss. Truly. It feels so god damn natural and healthy and it's already crossing off several of my agendas already. Give this one a read and give the author some love. SENSUAL FACE TOUCHING? CHAPTER 13????? BOOOOOOOYYYYYYY I'm normal about it

6. You'd Be Paranoid Too (If Everyone Was Out To Get You)

Written by @/WabaJaba_ on twitter

Okay so this one's completely different than what I've previously listed but HOLY FUCKING SHIT IS IT A THRILLER. It doesn't nearly have the amount of love and attention it truly deserves. A friend of mine recommended it to me because it shook them so fucking hard they were in total brainrot hell for a MONTH. NOW I UNDERSTAND WHY LMAO God I was obsessed with this for weeks myself. It obviously lives up to it's rating, horror fics aren't for everyone. But if you're able to read it, good lord you should. It's chilling, captivating, and had me on the edge of my fucking seat the entire time. Both endings are good, I still can't decide which one I prefer but RAH I will make sure this is seen god dammit

and last but certainly not least

7. You And Me and This Temptation

written by talented author @/ProfessorSpork

Okay this one was an accidental find as well. A friend sent it to me because THEY found it by accident, I clicked on it for later, went looking for a completely different fic that I mistook for this one, started skimming and realized 'wait a minute LMAO I don't recognize this'. But the thing you have to understand is I hate reading. I'm not a reader, I'm picky and it needs to be worth sitting down for long periods of time. This is one of the rare instances where I was so captivated by it I kept reading more and more from the middle where I landed, and eventually just said ykw let me just start from the beginning cus LMAO context.

This one is, by far, one the healthiest and loveliest depictions of first times I have ever seen. This shit was so inspiring to me that it literally kickstarted an essay in someone's DMs why depictions like this are so important. I didn't have this experience irl, and why MM is written the way it is is because its meant to serve as a lighthouse for those who, like me, haven't. This fic however I feel like should be a required read for anyone getting into relationships for the first time because if it's not like how these two interact, LEAVE IT. This is the standard. This is amazingly written, it's the closest I've ever seen canon Yang and Blake be written to date. The fucking souvenir bit 😭 NJKFGNFJKGNGJ killed me, I was kicking my feet laughing for a good minute. This is the kind of standard everyone should look at and go 'yeah, I want what they have' BECAUSE IT'S CORRECT. LOUD CORRECT BUZZER NOISES

Honestly everything in my bookmarks is certified Kaeli Fresh but these 7 are my top faves. They're probably also really commonly known I'm sure but LMAO like I said I don't read much 😭 which is heavily ironic considering I write myself. Anyway this ended up way longer than I intended but LOL <3 <3 go give these incredible authors love!!

[punemy-spotted]

Sixteen Tons - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Muscle and Blood

Pairing: Miner!Curtis Everett x Witch!Reader

Warnings: THIS IS A HORROR FIC, Discussion of death, graphic depiction of someone bleeding out, 1890s coal mining town aesthetic in the modern day, strong pro-union opinions, Pentecostal Christianity, Appalachian Gothic Horror, Cosmic Horror, See future chapter warnings for additional tags, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY AND IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE CONTENT THAT IS BEING PRESENTED, PLEASE DO NOT READ

Chapter Summary: The world melts away, rots into dirt and decay, and as a garden grows untended, you find your gifts crowding out the rest of your life.

We all know that the only light in the deep dark is a paycheck. So hush. Count your blessings, boy. Roof over your head, food on the table, diesel and grease, work boots on the porch, crippled back, crumbling joints, and silence. Company and even union, tuck you in, shut you up, and leave you to rot. And God damn it, you’d better be grateful. - Old Gods of Appalachia Episode 3: The Covenant

Notes: This fic also serves as a sort of direct sequel to Glory, Amen, in that the reader is technically the daughter of Pastor and Ma Rogers, but uses a pseudonym outside of the home she grew up in. The song referenced in this chapter is No Glory, by The Eagle Rock Gospel Singers. They're wonderful, so check them out!

At the time of publishing this chapter, the Family Sleepover, Down in the Valley is still ongoing! Please come by and check it out as we celebrate spooky season all year ‘round!

Also, in this house we support Unions.

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

‘Course, everything dies, eventually. Much as you loathed sittin’ through your daddy’s sermons, you knew the truth in ‘em — death is a prize every livin’ being, regardless of sapience or the desire to be, ought to aspire for.

Death is the gift of all gifts, your daddy would proclaim from his bone-and-antler pulpit, the final gesture of our loving Lord and Savior — an’ of course, you, your sisters, your momma, your daddy and a few others your daddy claimed were kinfolk on his side were just… all the guides meant to introduce all manner of worldly beings too blind t’understand just how precious that kind of oblivion was to the glory of that final, permanent end.

Still.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

Curtis Everett is going to die in your kitchen, his own pickaxe embedded in his chest, the final desperate pumps of his pierced heart pouring blood all over that pretty linoleum you didn’t actually like keepin’ in your kitchen an’ probably would tear up after you came to terms with never feelin’ like you could scrub away the remnants of him.

You watch it play out before you like you’ve done plenty of times before, the course of Curtis Everett’s life written in scars yet t’be earned, bruises waitin’ to bloom on flesh that has known little more than the danger an’ dread of coal dust for as long as you have known him.

You also watch him sittin’ in your clinic, for once not complainin’ as you finish cleaning and re-wrappin’ the thankfully not festering burn he’d been dutifully lettin’ you treat — per your own professional orders — for the past week-and-a-half, Looks like it’s healin’ nicely, but it’ll probably scar.

It’s not the first scar he’s earned in Snowpiercer, but it’s certainly not goin’ to be the last. You’ve been countin’ down the months — and injuries — to that particular worry for a while. The ones you can help him avoid — the ones he listens to you about — you warn against, and the ones he can’t escape, you patch up. The same as you would anyone in Snowpiercer, bein’ the company’s own doctor as you are.

Your momma’d scold you up, down an’ sideways if she knew what you were doin’, interferin’ with the predestined path of men as you watched ‘em struggle, suffer, an’ eventually succumb. But your momma wasn’t here to know, an’ ever if she was, your momma’d never be able to understand just what sorta poison of a gift it was she’d saddled you with.

Death is a Rogers daughter’s birthright, even if they themselves were more often than not denied the majesty of its truest gift. You were not born into this life to die, but to be a guardian of it, to guide the walkin’ dead makin’ their way beyond the borders of that ol’Holler you’d been born in through the trials of judgment an’ that precious, ultimate verdict.

You were not, your momma woulda reminded, voice sharp as the trowel she always kept at her side, garden bloomin’ by her stern hand, meant to shield ‘em from the pains of life — an’ the lessons to be gleaned from ‘em!

Anythin’ you want me to do with it? Curtis Everett’s question breaks you out of your bitterness, reminds you of the more pressin’ responsibilities you chose. You turn to watch him, lookin’ at him as if you might just need a moment to remember the exact instructions you ought to give for his wound care.

Except that’s not what you give, is it?

‘Stead, you look over Curtis Everett’s work-weary expression, the quest dread in his eyes at the prospect of needin’ to manage yet one more thing, one more purchase at the Company Store, one more burden to bear, Just come by every evenin’. I’ll keep the coal dust outta them wrappin’s for you.

You know full well you’ll need to work late t’take care of it — an’ t’clean the coal dust outta your clinic — but it’s better you than him.

Least, that’s what you tell yourself, as Curtis Everett’s shoulder relax, relief floodin’ those work-weathered features you’ve almost started memorizing by this time, makin’ the sleep you will almost certainly lose tomorrow and the remainder of this week worth it.

It must always be worth it.

By the time you leave your clinic, barrin’ the doors for  the night, even the moon’s started its settin’, leaving the town in near-pitch darkness. You might’ve — if you were young an’ naïve enough — equated the darkness around you to a mineshaft, if mineshafts still had the privilege of fresh air to reward you for breathin’.

Not on Company Time.

Wiser folk than you might’ve considered stayin’ indoors ‘til sunup. Maybe even considered the merits of puttin’ a cot in your office to avoid havin’ to brave the deep woods durin’ the Witchin’ Hour, everyone more than aware of what sorta shadows lurked beyond the borders of a sad little minin’ town — an’ what sorta shadows would encroach upon those borders the moment they got the chance.

You… ain’t got much time t’think about that now though, not when you catch sight of the figure lurkin’ by the road, the only path there is t’ween your two worlds — the Clinic and the House. Everett?

There he is, hands jammed into the pockets of his overcoat, lurkin’ by the lone streetlamp Pierce an’ Rumlow’d finally seen fit to install in this part of town, after you’d spent about four years complainin’. Too late to be walkin’ back alone, Doctor, he tells you, almost sheepishly, expression invisible in the darkness — and yet you know exactly how his lips have curved into a half-smile you might’ve been quick to return had you seen it in the daytime, Figured I’d walk you back up as thanks for stayin’  late for me.

You can’t help yourself, really — you smile at him right back, the corners of your mouth tickin’ up despite the cruelty playin’ out before your eyes, at least until you remember yourself an’ blink away the vision, If I kept the same hours as you pit boys, nobody’d be gettin’ patched up. Now you best not be tellin’ me you were lurkin’ out here in the pitch dark an’ cold waitin’ for me t’finish my notes and close up, Curtis Everett.

Maybe you ought not have put words in his mouth — or taken ‘em out, as the case may be — as he shrugs at you and flashes you a grin you cannot see but are certain of, Then I won’t, Doctor.

An’ with that, he starts off back down the road, towards the lights still spillin’ from the windows of your boarding house, hummin’ some ol’ work song you only halfway knew the words too. An’ you watch him go on for longer than you should, takin’ in the sight of his silhouette slowly becomin’ part of the gloom.

You catch up soon enough, keepin’ up with his long, languid strides as if by some miracle, your own steps quick and harried. There are moments you wonder how a man like Curtis Everett — always managin’ to tower over everyone in the room, includin’ Superintendent Wilford an’ that lady Minister Mason he’d installed over at  the Tabernacle of the Iron Gospel — ever really managed to fit in the mines this whole sad sack of a town was built around.

Shouldn’t have stayed out waitin’ for me, you scold with a good-natured ribbin’, not really meaning to chastise… but worry instead, You’ll’ve missed dinner call, Everett.

So’ve you, Doctor, he counters, the burr of laughter in his voice makin’ you roll your eyes an’ put on a scowl you barely mean — mostly cuz you hate feelin’ so outwitted, but no one dare make you admit it.

I’m allowed to be late, I own the place, you argue right back, a rebuttal that earns you another low chuckle, a sound you’re only used to hearin’ from Curtis on rare occasion — earnin’ you a burn of pride in your chest at hearing it now.

You really ought not do this, you know. But here you are, comfortable in the cold silence of the deep night, hands jammed into your coat pockets, walkin’ alongside Curtis Everett with all the calm an’ ease of dear friends.

Glancing at him. Looking without lookin’, pretendin’ you don’t know what you’ll see when you—

You know better, is the bottom line. You know you ought to know better — hell, you know your momma taught you better.

In the corner of your vision, Curtis Everett bleeds his last on your linoleum floor.

In front of you? Curtis Everett hums a work song an’ walks with you through the gloom, right up to the gold-light gleam of your doorstep an’ into your kitchen, the ghosts of the future fadin’ into an approaching dawn.

An’ maybe that’s enough.

Company House — its true name barely in use by you or your boarders, halfway for your own protection an’ halfways cuz it’s just easier — is a handsome-enough structure, nothin’ like that ramblin’ greenhouse you’d sprouted in, a bloom in your momma’s garden.

No. Company House — name lost an’ purpose found — on the other hand, is yours. All yours.

A loomin’ thing, the house cuts through the nighttime gloom like a lighthouse, every window on its main story burstin’ with light. Built on a hill overlookin’ the town proper, it served as home an’ hearth for any miner ineligible for the pretty pre-built housin’ developments south of the mine, where Pierce & Rumlow… rewarded those willin’ to produce more bodies to throw into that gapin’ wound the combine’d carved into the mountainside with such luxuries as driveways, fences, mortgages, an’ obligations.

It was just the way you liked it. Home for the lonely an’ the friendless — least that’s how it sounded in town, if someone dared ask Minister Mason about the mountain fortress an’ the ‘Godless Heathens’ inhabitin’ it. The Iron Gospel she preached ran on the blood an’ bones of its congregation, on family an’ obligation, on ties that bind whole generations to the mine.

A Gospel that had no room for the wholly different kinda worship that comes from strangers sittin’ round a table breakin’ bread an’ formin’ bonds. On brotherhood an’ union, on wantin’ somethin’ better that the paltry concessions afforded by minders with plenty of money t’provide more. You knew it then from your daddy’s own congregation an’ those Sunday suppers your momma arranged each week. You know it now from the warm surety of Curtis Everett’s hand on your arm, keepin’ you from losin’ your footing on that trick step you ain’t had time to fix — I can get Ed to take care of that tomorrow — and the sound of hurried conversation bubbling outta your front parlor, house still buzzin’ with life.

Shit, Curtis’s swearing nearly startles you outta your skin all over again as you both stand on the front porch, stompin’ the day’s coal dust off your shoes, forgot there was meeting tonight. Foreman’s gonna have words for me, no doubt.

You’re allowed t’be late, for walkin’ me home, you tell him, letting the light of the house illuminate your smile as you open the front door.

Meeting is a cute word for it — s’the way things go, get the lonely and the friendless to start airin’ grievances an’ suddenly they ain’t so lonely nor so friendless anymore. A man with a wife and children might think twice about givin’ the company a reason to tear away the roof over his family’s head, divin’ into his future tomb day after day, respirator an’ headlamp in hand, but a man with nothin’ to lose is a man with a bone to pick with the only industry in town capable of puttin’ food in his belly on a daily basis — so long as he survived to see his next meal. Unions, you got used to hearin’ back in your own holler, are the Lord’s way of puttin’ His protection back into a man’s own hands.

Too bad them folks at P&R’d forgotten that sorta conventional wisdom.

Tonight’s union meeting is just about comin’ to a close when you and Curtis walk in, a cracked joke derailing whatever Gilliam’s supposed agenda had left to cover. You’re late, the old man half-scolds, room hushed by his disappointment as all eyes turn to you and the union leader you know you’re already being accused of distracting.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

Ignoring the raised voices that begin in your wake — and unwilling to get between two men in the middle of a union dispute — you make yourself proper scarce, disappearing into the kitchen. Between running the clinic and  the house, you’re run halfway ragged, but you do cheer quietly upon seeing two foil-covered plates sitting in the fridge — Yona keeps true to her eternal word, making sure nobody goes hungry if she’s got the time and the ingredients.

The sound of someone entering the kitchen while you’re putting plates in the warmer don’t surprise you much — someone was bound to follow you into this place eventually — but you don’t turn around, not immediately.

Not ‘til Curtis Everett clears his throat, Thought I smelled food.

You sure  you ain’t part bloodhound, smellin’ it all the way out there?

There. Another burr of laughter, low in his throat, and another burn of pride.

They calm down out there? You wave your hand toward the general direction of the parlor, noting the distinct lack of raised voices now that the warmer’s stopped beepin’ at you.

It’s my fault — should’ve told ‘em I’d be late.

They worried?

He’s quiet at that, the silence sittin’ heavy on both your shoulders while you move around the kitchen some more, collectin’ utensils and glancin’ back at him occasionally, waiting.

Finally — Gilliam’s steppin’ down. Nobody wants the job — company’s made sure of that.

You set the platter in front of him, to quiet thanks, He still want you to take over?

He don’t need to answer. You see it again, written all over his face — someone’s gotta do it.

The rest of the meal is… quiet. Heavy. Uncomfortable. A silence neither of you are willin’ to break, coupled with glances neither of you are willin’ to admit to, brows furrowed and thoughts elsewhere. Barely tasting the food, just glad to have something to busy your mouths with, ‘stead of trying to hold a conversation neither party wants t’have or worse — trying to change the fuckin’ subject, with both your minds trapped on the things you’d rather not think about.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

Everything dies, eventually. You rationalize it between bites, teeth on tongue to keep the scream of it all held in your chest. Everything dies, including Curtis Everett. Including Gilliam — whose death you’ve pre-emptively forgiven certain parties for. Including Yona — whose hands will evidence endless adventures before she lays down for that final rest, satisfied an’ satisfying. Everything dies. Includin’ Curtis Everett.

Curtis Everett, who will take on the work. Who, in three weeks’ time, will be back in your clinic, bullet in his shoulder an’ strike unbroken. Company infuriated.

One injury closer.

You open your mouth, about to do the unthinkable, disappointment and poisoned bloom — everythin’ dies, but Curtis Everett deserves to choose — when the music finally registers with you both.

Music. And singing. And laughter.

The kitchen door slams open hard enough to rattle the plates in the cupboard, Yona’s wild presence in the doorway, Come on!

No explanation. No answers. You’ll have t’see it to know it.

Curtis glances back at you, brow raised an’ hackles too. Better make sure they’re behavin’ out there, is all you give in response to it, on your feet in a flash, empty dishes in hand.

He lingers, eyes on you. Imposes his will with his presence, You need help with the dishes?

Let him stay.

You don’t.

S’two plates an’ a couple mugs. I’ll be fine — you go, keep an eye on ‘em for me.

He’s so fast — behind you in a flash. How does a man so tall an’ so full of presence move so fast?

Got no time  for answering that, not when his hand’s on your shoulder and you’re glancin’ back at him without thinkin’, waiting. Come out there when you’re done or Yona’ll never let either of us hear the end of it.

An’ neither will I, is what he doesn’t say. Not aloud, at least, stepping back only when you nod.

It don’t stop you from hearin’ it though, playin’ on loop in your mind all the way through dishes, through cleanin’ up your kitchen, through makin’ good on your word an’ takin’ that cautious walk to your parlor, where the sound of stompin’ boots joins in with the chorus of voices pouring outta your record player, blessedly drownin’ out all manner of conscious thought.

Take me down to that red dirt road Where all them white tails, white tails roam

The parlor is abuzz with life, a hive of movement as you take in rearranged furniture an’ the slowly climbin’ beat of stomping boots coupled with clapping hands, ring of bodies circlin’ the room, all watching Tanya — up from the General Store like always, on behalf of the widows this town left behind — in her valiant attempt to tutor Edgar in the complexities an’ social conventions of a good ol’ fashioned barn dance.

I don’t belong in a big coal town Can’t hear my Lord in all that sound

You almost manage t’become part of that ring of onlookers, slippin’ past the disapproval ruining Gilliam’s face, but turns out no one escapes Curtis Everet, work-hardened fingers winding around your wrist an’ pulling you back, Thought I was gonna have t’come rescue you from the sink, and now there’s no getting away, nor are you feelin’ quite so keen on it anymore.

Not when he looks at you like that.

Wanna show ‘em how it’s done, Doctor?

You dance, Everett? Since when? And since when did Curtis Everett become capable of smiling so sweet he just might fool you into saying yes?

Hell — what gave him the right?

Well I’ve had my fill, of concrete floor Where all them highways, them highways grow

You don’t get a chance to ask too many questions of him, not when he’s pullin’ your fool self right into the center of that cleared floor, sayin’ somethin’ about secrets you barely catch before he’s turnin’ you about an’ you gotta start paying some fucking attention.

There ain’t no glory None that I see None to compare Your love for me

‘Course, you’ve danced before — your daddy might’ve been a fire an’ brimstone preacher up at that bone an’ antler pulpit but he wasn’t a fool — but barn dances an’ church revivals don’t do shit t’prepare you for the rush, for the easy pressure of Curtis Everett’s hands on you, for the peal of laughter that pours outta your throat before you get a chance to think about it the moment he spins you out an’ catches you back with entirely too much ease.

He surprises you and doesn’t at the same time, sure hands and steady feet, both of you catching on to the rhythm quickly as the rest of the room drums the beat, a cacophony of work boots strikin’ the floor in a steady pattern, You gonna answer my question properly, Everett, you accuse him and he pulls you closer, smile on your face betrayin’ any anger you might be feigning.

I’m full of surprises, Doctor.

My days are few, my time is near But I know God will take my fear

He keeps his hands respectful, holdin’ one of your high and keepin’ the other at the small of your back, but there’s nothin’ either of you can — or want to, you’re startin’ to realize — do about the closeness, about the way you can’t stop looking up at him and the stormclouds in his eyes, like you’re seeing them for the first time. Really seeing them, that is.

It’s somethin’. Hypnotic.

The chorus turns into a loop, a rising swell of voices joinin’ your thudding heartbeat, lips parting to ask another question, make another joke, feel that burr of laughter against your chest, feel hands fallin’ from the glory of God to meet a different kinda worship, feel fingers curl into his coat like a lifeline.

He holds your cheek. He draws you in.

His mouth slides over yours like an invitation, your lips parting like an acceptance, like forgetting, like surrender. The music does not slow, but you do, fallin’ into the languid ease of hungry breathlessness, like you could find answers in the sweep of a tongue against yours, in the tightening of his grip on your back, in the wall of him around you.

Your love for me Your love for me Your love for me Your love for me

[tetsunabouquet]

Screw this bitch, absolutely god damn it. Two days ago, I mentioned to @vespersposts that I was working on a book with my mom but we only managed to complete chapter 1. I just deleted that chapter because of the conversation in between my mom's break that we just had. It started perhaps 2 years ago, with my mom saying she wanted to write about her experiences in the 90s. She was the cleaning lady of a brothel back then. Amsterdam brothels back in the 90s were the peak of wild so I agreed to help her because that's certainly a book with potential. After a year, she finally had a finished draft for chapter 1. Now, because of my mom being in that setting but also the content of the stories itself, it wasn't my most comfortable thing to write. I mean, chapter 1 was about prosititute who was so far gone on drugs that she comitted beastiality with a rabbit. I definitely needed a break in between writing chapter 1 because I found that scene so icky. But as I mentioned in that post a couple of days ago, she's now working as the cleaning lady at the police station and hears various juicy stories about the people brought in. So now she decided to write about that and told me chapter 2 wasn't going to be about that time that a couple of working ladies managed to lock up a police officer that they essentially robbed but about the police force instead. But I, as the person who's studying writing knows that those two whilst similar, still were very different settings and places at heart. You can't just combine those two without making a connection between those two, like having the prostitutes mirror the actions of the people arrested in modern day or holding them up against one another to make a statement about crime of the 90s vs modern day era, etc. My mom barely reads and writes, she likes to joke she's illiterate. So my mom doesn't understands these basic writing principles. It's why she approached me to help her- as to this day I have to do things like rewrite her emails because of her mistakes. Like even though I told her once or twice, she has a habit of writing locatie (location) with a K, that sort of stuff. So I tried to butt in and point out that's not the book we agreed to make and before I could even explain how the way she's going about it is going to make the book feel all over the place and how a book about the police force would be better as a sequel knowing my mom's writing weaknesses, she dared to tell me it was 'her book'. No it wasn't. Even during the earliest days of conception, my mom always spoke of this as 'our project'. We agreed to write together, we even created a psuedonym as she wanted it to be published under my name but I didn't. Because back then she could see that I was doing most of the heavy lifting of the writing and that I was going to be the one to bring it to the publisher. We even agreed I would get the majority of the profit because I put in the most work. I feel so hurt, because this is such a pattern with my mom; going to me because she's terrible or downright incapable of doing a certain something, telling me that she needs me and praising my skills and then I do it. Only for her to turn around and be like, "Please, what did you do?" And then I start crying, and then she's all surprised, wondering why I am upset. Rinse and repeat. She can re-write chapter 1 herself, make her own Tumblr (she actually wants to write on here as well and of course she was relying on me to make it), go to a fucking publisher herself. I am done doing all the hard work only to get spit in the face instead of getting even as much as a 'thank you'.

[non-cannon]

Me work-shopping my fanfic idea: What if Nina went though the portal at the end of season two, and instead of season three, grief stricken Sibuna gets messages from her in their dreams asking for their help to return to the land of the living? And they're not sure if it's even her or not. Yes, I am a genius for coming up with this totally original idea that's never been done before, at least in this fandom.

The heartbeats of my abandoned and published WIPs: Trapped in a Dream by artsoccer on fanfiction.net. Summary is, and I quote:

"On the way over to England the plane Nina and Eddie are riding on explodes. No one on board survives. Upon finding out, Sibuna has to struggle through the four stages of grief. Amber, Fabian, and Patricia start getting strange dreams detailing Nina and Eddie. Are these just grief spawned dreams, or something more?"

Me with my fingers in my ears: LALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU!

The heartbeats of my abandoned and published WIPs/My Inner Critic: I wonder who that artsoccer is? I mean, your original tumblr url was artsoccer, and it's still the title of your blog... Such a mystery.

Are you sure this isn't just Trapped in a Dream 2.0? But with eight years improvement in writing skill?

Me who can't drown them out anymore: They have different plots! For one thing, this one is just Nina, and not both Nina and Eddie. For another thing this is less exploration of grief, and more taking a lot of inspiration from the "Song of Dreams"

My Inner Critic: Ah, so this is less original, got it.

Me who's getting fed up at this point: Shut up and let me write the damn thing. It's been years since I wrote anything other than a one-shot. Let me have this.

The asshole inside my head: It's been a year since your last proper one-shot, too. And if you're that determined to write this, why aren't you writing the fanfic instead of this text post?

Me who thought writing this out would be funny: shut up

[ravnloft]

writer interview

tagged @bardic-inspo (*´▽`*) thank u my friend these are so fun

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

3 lol. eventually i'll post more. probably. maybe

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

100,989 (not counting the original "draft" of wicked turns because a lot of that got reused in the current version)

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

girl (gender neutral) i don't even have 5 fics total... top kudos though is wicked turns :')

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

yes!!!! comments are so nice and they let me know i am not posting into a void and that other people are actually interested in what i'm writing!!!! if you have ever left a comment on anything i wrote you have such a special place in my heart and you make me so happy!!!!!!!

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

haven't finished it yet but it's going to be drowning lessons :)

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

also have not finished it but everyone in how to win friends will come out SO happy and well-adjusted. it's at a good little stopping point for now and i might skip into act 2 for the next chapter/s... idk it doesn't really have a plot it's just me giving myself like. writer aftercare from the stuff in drowning lessons or wicked turns fjgdfjjfdgj

7. Do you write crossovers?

not anymore but if you know the ancient piri lore of when i did tumblr rp......... the harley quinn/norman bates "it started out as a joke and now we're really invested" ship still makes me go insane from time to time...... i have a type and it is unhinged men who fall for somehow even more unhinged women

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

nah

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

yes. the kind where i get wine drunk or have an edible and then scream into my hands after typing each word because i hate writing smut but damn if it ain't relevant to the storyline

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

no but i HAVE had my peebles art stolen/reposted on at least one site

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

if you count tumblr rp as co-writing fic, then yes

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

ough. waugh. how can i choose between my beautiful children

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

yeah so i have. the loose outline of a peebs fic. and it has been rolling around in my brain for years and years and years. but in order to truly do it justice i feel like it would be a full-on multi-issue comic series and the last time i tried making a graphic novel-style work (shoutout to princess huntress, your worldbuilding lives on but i'll never finish you) i got maybe 8/100+ pages done and then spiraled into art burnout for like 4 years

15. What are your writing strengths?

i like to think i am good at writing horror and gore teehee <3

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

sex scenes...... i don't like writing it, i don't like publishing it, i am ehhhh about reading it, but again, damn if it ain't relevant to the storyline

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

don't trust google translate. just use <> or whatever if you don't know the language.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

batman (stares wistfully out the window for 10 hours)

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

i REALLY want to write a skyrim long-ish fic. i have so many thoughts on it. there would be two LDBs (amma and sigg). both of them are cursed by daedra but in wildly different directions

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

wicked turns :)

[airabuhan]

hello tumblr there is no 280 character limit on here so i'm going to throw ALL my kohaai fic thoughts out into the wild here that i almost never do on the other app i’m active on…

i have so many fic ideas i’ve never finished and kohaai aus i would love to elaborate on,, the fics on my ao3 now i care for very much and i think are just silly and fun but i have even more ideas that are currently SO neglected by me… most people don’t even know i /have/ an ao3 which i think is silly,, it’s my open secret only the real ones know

there's this one fic wip i have that i'm pretty proud of for certain sections while others i just want to completely rewrite… it's a soulmate au, and it's been sitting in my docs for over a year now… i did want to finish it for kohaai week which i hosted a couple weeks ago on twitter (btw the fanworks from that ship week are so amazing and i'm so happy it was successful on the bird app) but that did not happen… it’s not even remotely halfway done but it’s sitting at 5k words which is more than i’ve ever published on my account before too 😭 every time i revisit it i’m always like. damn. why can’t this fic write itself?! but alas, writers block is evil and i’ve never been one to classify myself as much of a writer anyways

still, kohaai roams my brain CONSTANTLY and they motivate me to create content for them and id love to properly explore my ideas more in fic form (and in art as well… both?) did y’all know i love kohaai? only they could rot my brain so much as to make me practice drawing and even pick up fic writing again for them

[starset21]

Sincerely, Yours

Standard disclaimer: I only own my original characters, I've done some research but there will likely be Navy/military inaccuracies, and I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may be found is on tumblr and Wattpad under @.itswildflower

Warnings: N/A

Summary: First day of training

Chapter 2:

Sincerely, Yours Masterlist  

“Attention on deck!” A woman called out. All of the Lieutenants stood, their chairs scraping on the floor as an admiral took his place on the podium. “Morning. Welcome to your special training detachment. Be seated.” The sound of chairs moving again filled the hangar they were using as a classroom. “I’m Admiral Bates, NAWDC commander. You’re all top gun graduates. The elite. The best of the best.” From a single glance around the room, Ria saw smirks on the faces of the other aviators. “That was yesterday.” She again watched those same smirks fall. “The enemy’s new fifth-generation fighter has leveled the playing field. Details are few, but you can be sure we no longer possess the technological advantage. Success, now more than ever, comes down to the man or woman in the box.”

Jake smirked and looked over his shoulder to where Natasha sat. Nat simply flipped him off and Ria rolled her eyes at his antics. “Half of you will make the cut. One of you will be named mission leader. The other half will remain in reserve. Your instructor is a top gun graduate with real-world experience in every mission aspect you will be expected to master.” The sound of boots on the ground echoed from somewhere behind them. “His exploits are legendary. And he’s considered to be one of the finest pilots this program has ever produced. What he has to teach you may very well mean the difference between life and death.” Heads turned to look as he came up the center aisle. Jake, Javy, and Rueben all cringed and faced forward, as the man they had thrown out of the bar the evening before walked towards the front of the room. “I give you captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign: Maverick,” the Admiral finished and stepped away from the podium. Ria raised a brow but Bradley was glaring daggers at the man so hard that if looks could kill, Maverick would be 6 feet under. “Good morning. The F-18 natops. It contains everything they want you to know about your aircraft. I’m assuming you know the book inside and out,” he said, earning a chorus of ‘Damn right’, ‘Damn straight’ and ‘You got it.’ 

“So does your enemy.” Maverick threw the manual he was holding up in the trash bin beside the podium. “And we’re off,” Hondo muttered. “But what the enemy doesn’t know is your limits,” Maverick pauses for dramatic effect. “I intend to find them, test them, and push beyond. Today we’ll start with what you only think you know. You show me what you’re made of.” The aviators were dismissed to don their flight gear and head out to the tarmac. While doing her preflight checks Ria couldn’t help but notice Maverick stopping Bradley to talk to him. The sound of the engine’s starting up made it impossible to hear what was being said but she had a few guesses. She watched as his jaw clenched before he turned and went to his jet, leaving Maverick to watch him walk away. Ria shook her head before turning her attention back to her own jet. 

“Good morning, aviators. This is your captain speaking. Welcome to basic fighter maneuvers. As briefed, today’s exercise is dog fighting. Guns only, no missiles. We do not go below the hard deck of 5,000 feet. Working as a team, you have to shoot me down, or else,” Maverick's voice rang through the radio speakers. “Or else what, sir?” Payback asked. “Or else I shoot back. If I shoot either one of you down, you both lose.” Jake twirled a model F-18 in his hand. “This guy needs an ego check.” Ria raised a brow in his direction. “Like you don’t?” Halo scoffed, leaning against the mini bar. “We’ll see to that,” Harvard and Yale high-fived across a foosball table. “What say we put some skin in the game?” Payback says. “What do you have in mind?” Maverick asked. Elliot looked at Ria, who was shaking her head and got the feeling that those two idiots were going to be making a big mistake for all of them. “Whoever gets shot down first has to do 200 push-ups,” Payback says causing Ria to cringe. “Guys. That’s a lot of push-ups,” Maverick told them. “They don’t call it an exercise for nothing, sir,” Fanboy chuckles. “You got yourself a deal, gentlemen. The fight’s on. Let’s turn and burn,” Maverick calls out. “Fanboy, you see him?” Rooster asks. “Nothing on the radar up ahead,” Fanboy tells him. “He must be somewhere behind us.” Not even a minute later Maverick zoomed between them. “Damn it! What the hell?” Rooster yells. “Shit!” Payback and Rooster were forced into a barrel roll. “Tally, tally, tally! Maverick’s coming in! Break left!” Fanboy yelled. “Breaking left,” Payback responded. “Payback, where’s your wingman?” Maverick called out. “Rooster, where are you?” Payback asked. “I got your back. I’m coming. Hang in there. Hang in there,” Rooster called out. “Hurry up, man! Hurry up!” Payback yelled. “Payback, break right,” Rooster ordered. “Breaking right.” Rooster flew through Maverick’s line of sight. “Rooster just saved your life, fellas. But it’s gonna cost him,” Maverick said, setting his sights on Rooster. “Not this time, old man,” Rooster grumbled. There wasn’t any chatter for a moment all pilots focusing on avoiding each other. “Rooster, you’re too low! Pull up! You’re hitting the hard deck!” Payback called out. “Oh, shit.” Altitude warnings rang out for a moment as he pulled up. “That’s a kill.” 

Fanboy and Payback watched Rooster doing his pushups through the window in the lounge. “That should be us down there,” Fanboy says as Phoenix walks over to them. “But it’s not. And now you know a little something about Rooster.” Next up were Harvard, Yale, and Fritz. They paused out on the tarmac to make fun of Rooster but then they weren't laughing anymore when they got ‘killed’ too and had to join him. “Say, Phoenix. How about we tell everybody “Bob” stands for something? Other than Robert, I mean,” Hangman said with a slight laugh. “Don’t take the bait, Bob, want to know why we call him Hangman?” Phoenix asks him. “I got it. Baby on board.” He chuckles to himself until Maverick flies in between them just as he had the first group. “Shit!” he yelled. “Greetings, aviators. Fight’s on,” Maverick calls out. “All right, Phoenix, let’s take this guy out!” Hangman yelled. “Watch your back, Phoenix,” Bradley muttered as moved to stand beside Ria at the radio. “Break right!” Hangman called out. “Breaking right,” Phoenix responded. “Where’s he going?” Bob asked. “That’s why we call him Hangman. He’ll always hang you out to dry,” Phoenix told him, mildly irritated. “Leaving your wingman. There’s a strategy I haven’t seen in a while,” Maverick said as he followed Phoenix. “He called you a man, Phoenix. You gonna take that?” Hangman asked.

“So long as he doesn’t call you a man. Talk to me, Bob. Where’s Maverick?” she asked. “Jesus, his nose is already coming around!” Bob exclaimed. “Get him off me, Hangman!” Phoenix yelled. “For all you folks at home, this is how you Bury a fossil,” Hangman said rather arrogantly. “All right, Hangman. Time to teach you a lesson, you’re out, Phoenix,” Maverick said. “Son of a bitch!” Phoenix yelled. “That’s it. Let’s go, Mav. Let’s see what you got,” Hangman called out. “Come get me,” Maverick taunted. “Evil be gone. Hangman’s coming.” Maverick rolled his eyes as he swung his jet around towards the sun. “Yeah, you’re good. I’ll give you that,” he said. “Shit. Phoenix, I can’t see him. How close am I? Phoenix?” Hangman called out. “I’m dead, dickhead,” she replied. “See you in the afterlife, bag man,” Bob added with a chuckle. “Where is he? Where is he?” Hangman gasped as he heard the tone ring out. “That’s a kill. Let’s go. Who’s next?” Omaha, Halo, and Fritz went next and were out within minutes. 

“Coyote, Tempest, and Denver, you’re up,” Hondo said as he stood in the doorway to the lounge. “Alright, let’s do this,” Ria told them. Soon enough she was flying side by side with Coyote, her eyes scanning the skies for Maverick. “Anything on the radar, Denver?” she asked. “Radar’s clear,” he tells her and Ria bites her lip beneath the mask. “Every other run he’s gone straight between them from below to split the pair up,” she mused, causing Coyote to look over at her for a moment. “How sure are you about that, Tempest?” he asked. “About 90%, but it’s Maverick, he can be unpredictable.” Elliot’s eyes were on the sky, scanning for any sign of Maverick. “Tally! Maverick’s 5 o’clock low!” He shouted. “Greetings aviators,” his voice filled the radio. “Breaking left, who’s he going after?” Coyote asked quickly. “Looks like he’s staying on us, Tempest,” Denver answered. Ria let out an exasperated sigh. “Of course, Coyote, Combat spread,” she orders. “Copy Tempest.” The combat spread is one of the most basic maneuvers pilots can do. A pair of aircraft will separate, often by a distance of about one mile horizontal by 1500 feet vertical. The fighter with the lower altitude, which was them, becomes the defender, while the wingman flies above in "the perch" position. The defender will then attempt to lure opponents into a good position to be attacked by the wingman. “Hold on, Denver, it’s going to be quite a ride,” Ria called out as she sent the jet into a barrel roll to avoid Maverick's lock. “I’m getting closer, Tempest,” Maverick teased. “Coyote! Any day now!” she yelled as she did evasive maneuver after evasive maneuver. “Can’t get a lock,” he yelled back, frustrated. “Then switch with me!” Coyote came from above so he was right on her wing and she gave him a silent nod before she pulled up and hit the brakes. She soared right over the top of Maverick as Coyote started into a dive, forcing Maverick to chase him. Ria smirked as she inverted and flipped around so she was now chasing Maverick. She stayed on his tail, closing in until finally, she heard tone lock. “That’s a kill, old man.” Denver and Coyote cheered. “Good work, Lieutenant, back to base,” was all Maverick said as he resumed lead and Coyote leveled out behind her. 

Maverick watched as Ria was all smiles as she climbed out of her jet and removed her grey, blue, and purple cloud-themed helmet. Coyote rushed her, even going so far as to lift her from the ground in excitement. Elliot wrapped an arm around her shoulder as they set off towards the air-conditioned lounge, leaving Maverick to do his 200 pushups. She had done one of his signature maneuvers with an ease he hadn’t seen in anyone but him for years. She really was her father’s daughter. When they walked in, the others cheered. “The first of us to get a shot in, well done, Tempest,” Phoenix said. Ria waved her off. “Couldn’t have done it without Denver or Coyote,” she told them. “Oh someone’s had a slice of humble pie this morning,” Fanboy teases, and Ria rolls her eyes. “All right. You’ve all shown me some real talent. You’ve also proven the very best often have the most to learn,” Maverick said as he stopped in the doorway to the lounge. “Hangman, Rooster, you’re up,” he added walking away. 

 “So, Rooster, mind if I ask you a personal question?” Hangman asked. “Would it matter if I did?” Rooster grumbled. “What’s the story with you and Maverick? It seems like he’s got you rattled,” Hangman stated simply. “That’s none of your business. Now where the hell is he?” Maverick inverted so he was over Rooster. “Been here the whole time,” he said. “Holy shit,” Hangman says. “You see me now? Come on, let’s get it over with,” Maverick replied. “Fight’s on!” Rooster yells and peels away from Hangman. “What is with these two?” Hangman asks. The sound of heavy breathing was all that was heard for a moment. “All right, you put us here. How are you gonna get yourself out?” Maverick said. “You can bail out anytime,” Rooster replies. “How low do you want to go, Rooster?” Maverick asks. “I can go as low as you, sir! And that’s saying something.” Ria put her head in her hands. They’re going to get themselves killed. “What’s past is past. For both of us,” Maverick said. “You’d like to believe that, wouldn’t you?” Rooster said. “Hard deck is 5,000 feet, fellas. You are running out of room,” Hangman’s voice came through the speaker. Phoenix and Bob, who were closest to the radio, glanced up at each other. “Your strategy is about to run us into the ground. What’s your move?” Maverick asked. They pulled up with about 700 feet to the ground, Maverick was in front of Rooster. “You got it. Don’t think, just do,” Maverick encouraged. “Come on, rooster, you got him! Drop down and take the shot!” Hangman yelled. “It’s too low!” Rooster yelled back. “Too late. You had your chance. That’s a kill. Knock it off.” Ria sighed and leaned back against the counter, Elliot squeezed her shoulder. “Same old Rooster,” Hangman’s own sigh was heard. “Go see Hondo about your push-ups,” Maverick ordered. 

“All right, that’s enough. Rooster. That’s enough, man,” Hondo said. When Bradley didn’t stop Hondo sighed before walking off, having spotted Ria and Natasha walking out of the hangar. “Breaking the hard deck, insubordination. Are you trying to get kicked out?” Ria asked him, causing him to stop and sit down on the still-hot tarmac. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. The pair stopped in front of him and kneeled down, Ria passing him the cold water bottle she’d brought with her. “Look, we’re going on this mission. But if you get kicked out, you leave us flying with Hangman. Talk to us. What the hell was that?” Natasha asked. “He pulled my papers,” Bradley mumbled before taking a long drink from the water. “What? Who?” Natasha asked. “Maverick,” Bradley told them. “He pulled my application to the naval academy. Set me back four years.” Natasha frowned looking between the two friends. “Why would he do that?” she asked. Ria shrugged, “I’ve had my suspicions but Maverick never told him, or me for that matter.” Bradley nodded and pushed himself up off the ground. “It’s like I have to prove to him that I belong here, that I belong in the sky,” he told them. “Bradley, the fact that we’re even here already proves that we belong here,” Ria told him. 

[thievinghippo]

Hippo’s Writing Year in Review 2022

Believe it or not, this is the TENTH writing review I’ve done on good ol’ tumblr dot com. TEN. This upcoming April will be the 10th anniversary of when I created this tumblr and donned the mantle of the thieving hippo. Time freaking flies

For prosperity’s sake, here are all of the previous years reviews: 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021

I ended the year with 188,642 words. Well below my goal of 240,000 words. But I moved and had to clean out my childhood home, so I’m gonna give myself a pass on that one

I actually only ended up posting 4 fics in 2022. Worked on a total of 13 in 4 different fandoms (The Untamed, My Time at Portia, Dragon Age, and Mass Effect)

Here are the fics that were posted!

Two Bits (m!Hawke/Fenris)

you lift my heart up (when the rest of me is down) (Wangxian)

A Game of Chance (Wangxian)

The Boys of Summer (Wangxian)

I really enjoy doing a deep dive of the year, so below the cut is a fandom breakdown of 2022

Overall, 2022 was mostly The Boys of Summer. I’m really glad I chose to write it, but DAMN. I have never had more trouble with a fic before in my life. I outline extensively before I start writing but that method failed me with this fic. I outlined, started writing, realized something wasn’t working, trashed everything, outlined again, rinse and repeat. This is what I mean. The posted version of tBoS is 83k words. I wrote 130k in 2022 (150k total over 21/22). More than 2/3s of my words in 2022 was tBoS. To be perfectly honest, I’m really glad its done and not taking up my brain space any longer

Had a surprise fandom hit me in the face with My Time at Portia, which is SDV-esque. (I actually like it better than SDV now!) I love my OC, Lettie, and I love the unconventional romance path I set her on. I’m in the process of writing a total of 7 fics for the fandom, all part of a series. Four are complete while two are in-progress, and the last one is outlined. I don’t expect much interest in the fics, but they’re actually helping me a lot with my original fiction

Dipped my toe in the Fenris romance and made a new Hawke. Who I absolutely have to get in a game at some point. Astor Hawke, an archer. He’d call himself a dashing rogue but he’d be wrong

Then while I didn’t post any Mass Effect fics, I did continue to work on my Sonya Shepard alphabet fic. I made the decision not to post any chapters until it was complete. Only 4 letters left, so hopefully sometime in 2023!

#

So let’s talk the good, the bad, and the ugly

The good. The Boys of Summer is DONE and even though I was banging my head against the wall, I’m really happy with how it ended up. And I might not have made my word count goal, I’m pretty happy with the words I did write

The bad. Honestly, I can’t think of much. I made steady progress and I learned a lot last year

The ugly. I absolutely have to start documenting the work I put into outlining and planning fics. I wrote no words in June, but half the month was me struggling to outline tBoS and planning out the My Time at Portia series. I deserve to see that as productive writing time!

Goals for 2023

Write 240,000 words. Yep. I’m going there. I’ve done it before and I can do it again

Finish the My Time at Portia series

Finish Sonya’s alphabet fic

Finish two in-progress Wangxian one-shots

Work on my next multi-chaptered Wangxian fic idea

WRITE TWO ORIGINAL NOVELLAS

Yep! I’m finally gonna branch out to some original work. I’ve got a boatload of ideas and I’m ready to actually give this a shot. I’ll probably end up self-publishing, but we’ll see!

So that was the year. I am ridiculously excited to see what 2023 brings!

[krickets-chirping]

DA:A Honest Review

Ok so, imma rant cause this is tumblr— home to screaming into the void.

Dragon Age Absolution isn't as good as everyone thinks it is.

Before you hate me lemme ask: Can you show this show to someone who has never even heard of dragon age Exactly.

That's not all.

So like I mentioned, DA:A is confusing as hell to anyone who hasn't played or read anything in the Dragon Age universe. As someone who is in the publishing industry and has tons of family in said industry, it's like a fanfiction made into an animated series. For a fanfiction this show would be... okay...? But the quality is definitely not for an offical Netflix show.

My biggest issue with the show is the coloration of the characters. Not with the main cast but with the Tevinter nobility. Is someone going to tell me that everyone with hatred towards the elven slaves is white?? When the Fandom knows damn well that Tevinter is a place based on fhe middle east and ancient Greece/Rome. All the nobility, Templars, and Mages within Absolution that aren't slaves are white whereas the all slaves are mixed!

I understand making POC characters own slaves is something people are nervous about, but Dragon Age is a world that is not discriminatory of color. But rather the race of a character.

Next, the main cast.

Everyone has already heard the complaint that Mirium is too simular to Fenris. To that I both agree and disagree.

I'll be honest the main cast is so incredibly boring they made them interesting. I can't even remember the names of the cast apart from Mirium and Qiddy.

Because the series is so short, you don't get to know the characters apart from: Former slave retribution and her mage gf, gay dwarf who is mad at former slave for??? Reasons????, the Frenchman, and the comedic qunari.

Lightening round now.

1) There is no true character development.

2) Animation is a shitty rip-off of Critical Role's Amazon Prime special.

3) The general vibe this was a HS DND campaign

And lastly,

4) The villain loosing all interesting themes of breaking the cycle and wanting to end slavery but in a dark way (AKA with blood magic) to loosing all his character to be "big bad slaver."

I remember saying a while ago not to dog on the newer writers coming in cause the older ones were leaving, but if DA:A is any warning, I'm terrified that DA:DD is going to be total nug shit horrible. Patrick Weekes has his work cut out for him.

Alright I'm done. Someone take my soap box.

[mxtxfanatic]

I hate that 7seas is "the eng danmei" publisher now because they fucking suck. They've always taken a heavy editorial hand with their works and have even censored a queer relationship before. Tor almost got the publishing rights and I mourn every damn day for that.

I’m new to reading danmei translations from official publishers like this, but my stake is just the complete disrespect of authors that happens when translators take liberties with others’ writings, especially Black creators and creators of color.

I’m remembering how it came out that a lot of Rumi’s poems translated into English were actually translated by a someone who only pretended to know the language. So it was mostly made up sayings now ingrained in a lot of English-speaking readers’ minds. I’m remembering how poet M. NourbeSe Phillip had to put up a petition to have a butchered translation of her Zong collection removed because the Italian translators erased the intentions behind her forms to create gibberish. I’ve seen people speak fondly of old fan translations before anime became big where translators would just throw anything in without knowledge or care for the language, which really isn’t cute. And this doesn’t even account for how if something isn’t popular enough, no one thinks to even translate it, let alone translate it faithfully.

Translation is so hard, but the way I rarely see these problems pop up for mainstream white creators with a ton of money behind them but I can list and list and list this happening to nonwhite creators of all walks of life, across all mediums and popularity, officially published or fan-run is absolutely a problem that 7seas is only a part of. And the way that there are translators who care for the works and creators, who would have translated faithfully, who I can list at least five of them who would have done better for mdzs just from tumblr, but none of them are getting paid to do this? This is an industry problem and a cultural problem around translations.

I’m not giving money to 7seas for shoddy translations; they are not the only avenue in which I can monetarily support mxtx. But the bigger problem is lack of respect shown to certain creators and the works that they put into the world when it’s time to translate them.

[mzhydes-funtimes]

When you get this, list 5 songs you like to listen to, publish them, and send this ask to the last 10 people in your notifs!

I dont know the tumblr rules of etiquette on this so imma answer then dyah

Or fuck imma just list them here bc im going to forget midpost the rules

Last night i had dragonforce in my head and ouuhhhhhggggg it felt soo good to losten to them again, it was specifically the song Seasons

And fuck acoustic version has soo many accidentals bc the notes are in marcs singing "blind spot" where its really hard to not get it sharp or flat but you can song above and below that just fine

2 one of the more fun song by amaranthe is Boom!1 its fucking exciting as hell. For a bit of background there are 3 singers the main lead - Elizy Ryd, whos the female singer voice, Nils Molin whos the male singer voice, and (now formerly as he quit the band 2 years ago in 2022) GG6 or Henrik (not even gunna attempt his last name) with the scream metal vocals. This song is about gg6 and explosion and bombs and shit but it sounds soo good

And this song is mainly sung by gg6 with the main chorus done by nils, hell elise is barely in the song and shes like the main amaranthe person, but thats pretty cool tho, every singer has a song specifically devoted to them

3 This next one im not as obsessed with the artist but my god does it sound soo cool its called Fly With Me and it sounds like a fuckin space exploration song

Mmmm its just soo good

4 Sumo Syco Sleep Tight. Literally fuckin amazing ass song. First off the Singer made the band by herself, somehow got a major publisher to back her band, probably writes most of the songs herself, makes her music videos independently and yeah

With this song especially i swear ive heard it on the radio before and the coolest part is that she made the band wear blue during the music video and blue screened everything at the end and it looked soo fucking cool

Damn im at the fifth already damn whatever lets see here...

Oh! The pretty reckless Death By Rock and Roll. First off the singer is the same person who played cindy lou who from jim careys the grinch but now shes singing about sex drugs death and rock and roll. But like this song is so good tho

And if you combine this with Save Rock and Roll by fallout boy you get a fun story. But yeah uhh if you wanna make a statement to a party dont bring a shotgun, everyone else brought one

Im so sorry for going off like this i just love music so much i have so many notes on how to write scales and shit and know so much abojt music and my favorite artists its so hard NOT to ger excited and god i havent listened to these songs in so long it feels soo good to listen to them again like a part of me woke up again anyways gotta go finish the ask hope you enjoyed my rambling

[classicsubliminalbo]

Captured #8: The Long Night

Originally published May 28, 2019 This series is being revised

“Could you please, please, please stop pacing?!"

“I’m sorry!” Jacob cried. “I’ve never been a part of anything like this!” “Just sit down,” Mel rolled her eyes. “You’re totally freaking me out.”

Mel wasn’t the type to lose her cool, but Jacob was right. No one had ever been a part of anything like this. She’d taken the plate in the seventh down one with the tying run on third and didn’t bat an eye. But somehow Jacob pacing around her living room mumbling, “Fuck, fuck, Jesus fuck” was more tense than any trip to the plate.

Jacob collapsed on the couch next to her.  “I shouldn’t have done it,” he said. “I should have just…stuck to Tumblr.” “Damn right you should have!” Mel snapped.

Jacob clutched his legs to his chest like a bullied child on the playground.

Mel frowned and said, “But like, you can’t do anything about it now. Shit, I ain’t kink shaming.”

“But I should have known it would be used like this. When I sold my program I was just thinking about the money.” “I’ve got a thing for nerds,” Mel said. “What?” Jacob asked.

“Cute nerds, y’know, with stubble. A real D&D character sheet, Firefly binge night, dress up like a Jedi for the Thursday night premier ass nerd. Guy who has all kinds of opinions about Marvel and will absolutely worship my pussy. See, I’ve dated my share of jocks and it’s a real mixed bag. Most of them are too scared even taste it.” “Why are you saying this?” “It’s my kink. Nerdy guys who’ll fix my laptop then fuck my brains out.” “Huh,” Jacob dropped his feet to the floor.

Silence.

“Y’knew,” Jacob said. “I don’t play D&D but…I am kind of a thing on the YuGiOh circuit.” Mel turned to look at Jacob, sizing him up. Then she said, “I don’t date white guys.” “Cool, cool, cool.” “You smoke?” she asked.

I could hear the voices but I couldn't make sense of the space around me. Everything was black. Every noise filtered through the droning whistle in my head. A shattered eardrum, or the effects of a concussion? Maybe a bit of both. “Take care of her!”

Even in my state I knew they were talking about Tina. I made a conscious effort to protect her but my body wouldn’t budge. I was barely gripping on to reality.

“Corbin!” Tina cried. I felt a panicked hand on my shoulder but it did little to pull me out of it. “Corbin, help! Help!” Tina’s voice was pulling away from me. “No! No! I belong to her now! I won’t go back! I won’t go…”

Tina’s protests were replaced by muffled cries before no sound remained but the monotonous click-clack, click-clack of my turn signal, inadvertently engaged during the accident.

“God, she’s heavy,” a second voice said from my passenger side door. “Like, does she even follow Sister Madison’s diet?”

The other one laughed. “She’s probably the one eating Sister Madison’s Nutella. Figures, always acting like the special Alpha.”

“Maybe we’ll be her special Alphas now…” “Daisy, what is Sister Madison’s first rule?” “An Alpha never wants…” “An Alpha only obeys. I’ll take her legs.”

As the two Alphas carried Tina to the truck, my vision returned to me. At first I thought I was looking up through a spider web into the starry sky, but soon I realized that it was my shattered windshield. They ran me off the road somewhere around Carpenter State’s ag department. It’s a lonely stretch of Romero that feels more like rural Kentucky than northwestern Washington. At this time of night the Alphas knew they could take their time cleaning up the mess before any kind of cop arrived. I knew I had underestimated Madison’s slaves. I should have expected anything after the show that Piper put on in The Lonely Pine, but I assumed that the rest were more like Tina.

Driven on momentum alone, I lurched sideways toward the passenger’s seat, stretching my hand down to the floorboard where I felt around for anything that I could use as a weapon. I cursed myself for turning down Mel’s shotgun. There was nothing on the floor. I knew I had no option but to make a run for it into the woods. They couldn’t follow me in there with their truck. That would even things out a bit.

The woods were on the opposite side of the road, about a fifteen-yard dash from my car. I could make it if I got the jump on them.

I heard a loud plop into the bed of the Alpha’s truck and I knew that I had to make a move quick. I took a deep breath, pushed my door open, pressed my foot into the moist grass and began my sprint. I made it all the way to the road before my legs gave out and I collapsed on the ground with a yelp.

I could only see the Alpha’s silhouette in front of the truck’s headlights as she stalked toward me. I was helpless, and the nonchalance in her stride made sure that I knew it. When she closed in I began to make out the features of her face. Maybe it was the concussion, but the Alpha appeared angelic in her bath of light. She smiled, leaned down, then quietly pressed the rag over my nose.

“I'll take you to the Alphas tonight and fuck your head so bad you won't even know your own name."

“Come on, baby,” Mel begged. “Make me your VR slave.

Jacob heaved a frustrated sigh. “It’s not VR. I mean, it is VR. But it’s not like…we’re not talking Resident Evil 7 here. The program only stimulates the viewer’s brain. It triggers a reaction in the pleasure center, forcing the wearer to live out an erotic fantasy that ultimately subjugates their will. Essentially it uses your deepest, darkest, sexiest desires to turn you into a perfect slave. That’s why it’s so powerful. The VR gives you the push, but your brain does the rest.”

“Fuuck!” Mel cried as she flicked a finger over her clit, clutching at her breasts with her other hand. “You fucking nerd!” she laughed.  “Are you eating me out or am I doing all the work myself?”

“You don’t mind?” Jacob asked, looking up at Mel from his view between her legs.

Mel rolled her eyes and pressed her hand to the back of Jacob’s head, burying his mouth into the folds of her wet pussy. She closed her eyes and waited for Jacob’s tongue, but a few seconds of an anticipation yielded no results. When Mel opened her eyes she saw Jacob looking back up at her.

“Do you think we should call her?” he asked.

“Jesus, Jacob,” Mel groaned. “She’s gonna walk in the door any minute and the last thing I want is for her to find us like this.”

My head was spinning, a coat of drool caked to my chin when Madison pulled the visor from my face. It was the first time I’d seen her since The Lonely Pine. Maybe I was expecting too much in Madison assuming that she’d have a speech prepared for me. But she’d said everything she wanted to at the bar. I truly was nothing more but an inconvenience to her. At least she respected Piper enough for the “Who sent you?” routine.

All I got was the visor. Stripped down, tied to a chair, an Alpha’s lips anchored to my pussy. I woke up like this. My mind already bombarded by seductive images. The first time I came, I genuinely feared for my mind. But I clung to the reality that all of this was my fault. That I’d put Piper in this situation and I was the only one who could get her out. I counted the number of times I came, making mental tally marks on my brain. That’s how I managed, that’s how I broke the unbreakable control of Jacob’s program.

When Madison pulled the visor from my face, it was easy to mistake my vacant expression for mindless bliss. But there’s a difference between brainwashed and tired. And I was tired as shit. I didn’t know how long I’d been in that chair. As far as I knew it was the same night. A very long night.

Madison scrunched her nose and said, “She looks pretty empty to me.”

“Fuck yourself,” I whispered.

I whimpered as the Alpha between my legs worked me to another climax. She backed up for a breath and, adjusting her jaw, she said, “We’ve been at this for hours…” I recognized the voice immediately. Madison had already wrangled Tina back under her sway.

“This shouldn't happen,” The other Alpha said behind me. I recognized her voice as the one who subdued me on the road. “The others couldn't hold out for more than a session, let alone a dozen.”

I straightened by back in an attempt to look strong, but my body was so sensitive that I feared any movement could make me cum again.

Madison was losing patience. She took a fistful of my hair and yanked my head until I was looking into her eyes.  “Fight it,” she said. “But you will worship me.” She backed away and then nodded to the Alpha leading my therapy.

I held my breath as the visor slipped back over my eyes.

I lost count somewhere around the thirties.

“You’re wasting your time,” I forced a twisted smile. This time when the visor was pulled from my eyes my whole world was distorted. Though Madison stood before me in clothes, I couldn’t shake the image of her naked, dripping wet. All for me. The program was warping my mind. I could feel my knees scraping against the carpet as crawled to her. I wanted to know how she tasted under all of those fucking clothes.

“Why?” Madison asked curtly. Her arms were crossed like a disapproving mother.

“I’ve gone…” My voice caught in my throat as the Alpha’s tongue lashed viciously over my clit. The last time I was conscious they were still gentle with me. By now they’d learned their lesson, desperately working my sex to keep me in a near constant state of climax. It was agony. It was bliss. “I’ve gone under this before. Your connection? My fu…fucking ex, you d-dumb, crazy bitch.”

“Jacob?” Madison asked.

My smile widened. “I have…a trigger.” I said. “E-Even if I g-give in…he’ll…break it! Fuck!”

Madison’s sneer brightened into a smile of her own. “Jacob’s gone, honey. I think he took your trigger with him.”

“Wh-what?”

“Yep,” she said. “Saw what we did to his car and I guess he made a bee line for the airport. Exes, am I right?”

“Mel!” I protested. “Mel knows the trigger. Mel knows…” “Yeah,” Madison shook her head. “I think Mel’s gonna keep her mouth shut though.” “Wha-?” I gasped. “What do you think, Mel?"

The Alpha between my legs dug her fingers into my thighs as she began to lick more vigorously. I glanced down to make sense of the sudden change in tempo and my heart stopped.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfcukfuckfuckfukcfuckf

The sight of Mel’s face buried in my pussy made me cum harder than I had all night.

“Oooo,” Madison admired Mel’s work, offering her a loving pat on the head. “I like this one. Grabbed her last night. Way more useful here than at the Circle K, I’ll tell you that.”

When Mel leaned away from my pussy, her mouth was soaked in me. A dreamy grin stretched across her vacant face and she echoed the Alphas. “Thank you, Sister Madison.”

“I’m sorry…” Tears dripped down my face as I peered into my friend’s empty eyes.

I couldn’t save Piper. I couldn’t save Mel. I couldn’t save myself. As the visor slid back down over my eyes, I knew that the next time it came up I would no longer be Corbin Arroyo.

“It’s okay, Corbin. You’re safe now.” “How long did I hold out?” “Longer than anyone.” “I did it for you.”

It’s a strange feeling when your thoughts come back to you. You don’t think much about how precious your thoughts are until they’ve been ripped from your skull. When my conscious mind returned to me, it was like I was being pulled up from the deepest depths of the ocean. I was drowning, and suddenly I could breathe.

“Corbin?” Piper snapped her fingers at the bridge of my nose before gently taking me by the shoulders and shaking me. “Are you with me, Corbin?”

I blinked. “Piper?”

“Thank God,” Piper said. “We don’t have much time.” “What’s going on?” I asked.

Piper freed me from my bindings and I stumbled out of my chair to the floor.

“Careful,” she said. “I got Madison under, but the slightest disturbance could wake her.”

For the first time since I’d been taken to the Alpha House I saw the full room of my captivity. It was a simple bedroom. Behind my chair was a queen sized bed and sitting on the edge of it was Madison Wells herself. Her eyes were closed, her head slumped over and a thin line of drool had begun to drip from her lips.

“What did you do to her?” I asked. “Hypnosis,” Piper said. “We’ve gotta get out of here.” “Wait,” I said. “What about Mel?” “She’s driving,” Piper replied.

On the drive back to the apartment, Piper explained how she’d broken free from Madison’s control. “The visor requires frequent therapies to reassert the Alpha program. When I saw you at The Lonely Pine it just…jogged something loose.”

I looked to Mel in the driver’s seat and asked, “What about you?” “I was never under Madison’s control!” Mel smirked. “Piper needed someone to distract Madison while she put her under.” “Distract, like…?” “I figure you once you eat one pussy you pretty much eat any.”

I blushed.

“You taste great, by the way,” Mel winked.

That night we celebrated our victory over drinks. “To friendship!” Mel cheered, holding her Pabst high. “To the Alphas,” I replied. Piper glanced at me, then Mel, then said. “Tomorrow, the real work starts. We’re going to free every girl under Madison’s power.”

“Well,” Mel clapped her hands. “I’ve got “I’ve got things to see, people to do…”

Mel left us in a silence heavy with unspoken thoughts. Piper knew where my mind was.

“It’s okay, Corbin.” She assured me. “You’re safe now.” I looked down at my feet and asked, “How long did I hold out?” Piper took a few longing steps toward me and said, “Longer than anyone.” My eyes darted up to her, “I did it for you.”

“Piper…” I moaned her name as she pushed me onto the couch. She popped the button on my jeans and pulled the zipper down, exposing a triangle of panties. I closed my eyes as she slipped her hand beneath my waistband. A loud cry escaped my lips.

“Ohh,” Piper moaned. “You’re soaking wet…” “Piper…” I repeated her name, my voice dripping in lust. I looked up to find her eyes, clear and powerful. “Fuck me,” I begged. “I’ve wanted it for so long. Needed it.”

“That’s right,” she said, pushing her finger inside of me. “Only me.” “Only you,” I repeated. “You love me…” “I love you…”

“…I embrace you…” “…I obey you…” “…I worship you…” “…Sister Madison…”

The thing about the bottom of the ocean is that if you come up too quick you’ll get the bends.

I am no longer Corbin Arroyo.

Madison was giddy at the sight of me on my on my knees. My arms were weak, floating at my sides. My head was wobbled on its shoulders as I repeated my mantra, a drooling, mindless, obedient, Alpha pledge. “I embrace you. I obey you. I worship you. Sister Madison. I embrace you. I obey you. I worship you. Sister Madison.”

Madison clapped her hands with a squeal and pulled Piper into a tight hug.

“Are you pleased, Sister Madison?” Piper asked. “I have to admit, I was nervous,” Madison said. “I can’t imagine a tougher assignment for your first time, but you really did a number on her. And your best friend,” she clicked her tongue. “You’re ruthless, Pipes.”

“I only did as you taught me,” Piper smiled. “Corbin was a bigger threat than anyone on sorority row. She had to be neutralized.”

“I embrace you. I obey you. I worship you. Sister Madison.”

Madison placed her hand on my cheek, admiring her latest prize. “Yes,” she said. “She could have been a problem for sure. But now, I think we can put her talents to good use.”