#gremlin writing

[smol-feralgremlin]

oh fuck oh gods I have to update my pinned post and all of my tags

characters have gotten renamed to better fit with what influences are in existence for their worlds

thats so much work......................

[artemisdesari-blog]

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[pangur-and-grim]

okay sorry, one other thing annoyed me about that writing class. one of the students is this super clean-cut doctor who works at an HIV clinic, and he asked the prof "do you ever get distracted while reading books, because you find yourself analyzing the craft of them instead of sinking into the story?"

and she said "no," and turned away. and the whole class laughed awkwardly, bc it was a pretty abrupt and dismissive answer. so then she turned back to him and said "you wouldn't ask a musician if they get distracted listening to songs. they just enjoy the music."

but I dunno, I'm a newbie writer with only one (scheduled-to-be-published) book under my belt, but I get distracted sometimes when I'm reading. if I find I'm not sinking into a block of text, I'll squint at it and be like "okay, they're using too much passive voice, that's why my brain isn't grabbing on to it." so I'm sorry Mr. HIV doctor, I thought your question was reasonable!

[smol-feralgremlin]

Sylpha: Custom sized short swords, dual wielded/ Fire/ as many knives as she can hide on her body Aldon: War bow....preferably on horseback.

Alim: Talwar/magic Pippa: Longbow/Devastating sass

Alaric: Magic Fay: Anything bladed preferable

Ves: Staff. Gentle bonks. It's the expression of disappointment that'll get you first though Ulric: Crestovan military standard hand-and-a-half sword, and his attitude.

Rhys: Long knife/Asking a dragon very nicely Ali: Broomstick

Sen: Sling/obsidian knife. Will refuse to kill people. Thats taboo. Mal: Heavy wooden staff. But why does he need a weapon? He's not killing anything, and he'd rather not hurt things.

Ubon: Longbow...that the public knows about anyways. Jasur: The nearest knife if you get in his way when he trying to fucking cook/hunting bow Minoru: Actually a pacifist. Hope you like getting disarmed by a blacksmith though.

Weylon: Literally whatever he can get his hands on first. Lorai: Dagger

Wren: Longbow Theo: Unfortunate use of fiddle strings/ he's actually going to hide behind Wren.

Anthron: Standard longsword Jem: Crossbow Lira: Staff Vera: CAST IRON TO THE FACE

Nyrra: Short sword. Quin: Definitely not the sickles that are a symbol of office. He's got people for that.

Jaia: Whatever her lady asks of her.

what's your oc's weapon of choice?

[iamrizaka]

As much as I love the idea of Will wearing Lee's flannel after his death, I much more prefer a scenario where he was constantly trying to steal it when Lee wasn't looking. Lee got fed up with this gremlin child (affectionate) trying to steal his clothes (he knows that he should toss it out, burn it, but he can't bring himself to do it; it holds way too many memories) so he gets a green flannel and embroiders it with little sun symbols.

He hides it in one of the secret rooms in the infirmary, because he can't have any of his siblings – or worse, a spy – stumble across it in his cabin. He leaves it here and makes a promise to give it to Will on his birthday.

Over a year later, Will tries to find a place to hide – no one should see their head counselor and head medic cry. He finds this room and remembers the talks about it and how it was one of Lee and Luke's secret hideouts. He wants to leave; he doesn't need another memory of what it was and what it could've been. But his gut tells him to enter and he finds a neatly packaged box.

There's a green flannel and a note:

For my little brother, Will

— Lee

P.S. stop stealing my clothes!

He never takes it off.

[bluerosefox]

Of Tiny Tots, Mistaken Identities, and Reunions

Seventeen year old Damian Wayne is dragged to a business deal outside of Gotham (along with his father and Drake), mostly to keep up appearances that the family does work outside of Gotham, networking, and because Damian does need to learn the ropes of the company, he decides to head outside the meeting with the Manson family to get a breather (mainly cause the Manson's were annoying him fully, it was like they were trying to suck up towards Damian and trying to push their daughter on him but at the same time he caught them almost insulting and hostile towards him before they would stop and correct themselves) when out of the blue a three year old toddler with black hair comes running over with a cheerful "Daddy!" and latches onto his leg.

Damian is stunned in place but feels frozen when he hears a voice, older and almost identical to his own but he can detect a familiarity in it, a voice he only hears in his dreams nowadays say.

"Ellie, no! That's not me Starlight! I'm so sorry dude-"

When Damian turned his head towards the voice he's meet with an near identical face, granted there were some minor differences, but very, very familiar pair of striking blue eyes staring at him. Eyes that were somehow full of life, which shouldn't be possible because the last time he saw those eyes they had been dim and milked over years ago. The speaker had become startled at the his sudden turn and the words that he had been saying had quickly died out when he too took in Damian's features.

"D...Damian?..." the name came out so soft and small that Damian almost didn't hear it but he did.

And before Damian could stop himself, he spoke a name he hadn't dared utter in years.

"Danyal."

His twin looked like he had just seen a ghost, and Damian was sure he looked the same. And given the last time they had last saw each other it was no wonder they both looked like death warmed over them for a moment.

After all... Damian had failed to protect his brother, Danyal al Ghul all those years ago on a botched mission.

His bother who... wasn't dead.

His brother who was looking like he wanted to run but was keeping himself rooted in his spot.

His brother whose eyes were glancing downwards and seemed so nervous.

His brother who knew the little girl, Ellie, still hugging his legs.

His brother who had... responded and corrected her mix up when she had called Damian 'Daddy.'

And oh, she's looking up at him and making grabby hands wanting to be picked up and she has Danyal's eyes and his nose and-

Oh... Damian.... Damian's an uncle it seems.

[fandomhorde]

In the beginning, there was an author with a dream.

But the dream grew legs.

And when it did, I grinned.

Oh, the way I grinned.

Mwahahahahahaha (Boss music starts playing)

[smol-feralgremlin]

Soras landed not far behind her. Aldon had clearly spotted her from the air, seeing as Selenis was across the harbour, nosing at the remnants of some wooden structure or another. Futile. There was nothing and nobody here anymore. Just her and the remnants of the scream that had torn her throat apart. Not long after, Aldon's footsteps came up to her. He slipped a little but it was still his very familiar heavy, careful tread. As soon as he stopped, she held out the bottle of cane wine she'd used to wash the taste of his blood from her mouth and attempt to pretend she was using it to help her throat. "Peace?"

"I'm not mad that you bit me," he replied, his voice muffled. He took the bottle. "You need something that isn't this."

"You're right. That stuff is awful. Ale however-"

"No. You aren't doing this." The bottle went far into the harbour, landing with a splash bare seconds before Aldon sat beside her, his headscarves wrapped around his face to cover his nose. "Drinking to cope is the worst way to handle your grief."

He would know, wouldn't he. He withdrew into silence when he grieved. Gods forbid anyone else tried to do things a different way. But he had a point. She leaned back onto her hands and looked up at Aldon, who had his head scarves pulled over his nose. "I'm going to kill her."

Aldon's eyes creased in the way they did when he frowned. "You need to come home. You sound awful, and we can help you with everything-"

"No." She looked back out to the harbour. "Seraphim is already annoying me, trying to get me to go home. I'm not going home."

Aldon touched her shoulder gently. "We can stay here then, until you're ready."

He wasn't getting it. Or didn't want to get it. Looking up at the stars just barely starting to come out, Sylpha breathed in the cooling, smoke filled air. "Did you know we burn our dead?"

"You mentioned it once or twice."

"There's no wood around Hulls Deep. Not really. The nightstalkers killed a lot of people. There's a lot of blood around here, but not enough for them to have killed everyone and bodies would be floating if they'd just stabbed and and dropped them into the water." Even with her throat in this ragged state, she could recite the bare fact. Cold. Clinical. It felt good to explain why she was going to do what she was going to do. "So they took the rest. Killed who they wanted to, who they had to. And then left. It wasn't the nightstalkers who burned the dead. That was us. Others came back here. They did what they could and then they left."

"So there's still free pirates," Aldon said as he reached for her hand. She grimaced at the bandage on his forearm. He said he wasn't angry though. One day she might be able to make it up to him, considering he had already tossed the wine.

Share an excerpt where a character says "no."

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[deerspherestudios]

If anyone's wondering how the new VN for the Monstrous Desires jam is going,,

[natalievoncatte]

Kara heard a distinctive hollow pop as she approached Lena’s apartment. The doorman had been gracious enough to let her up, informing her that Miss Luthor was expecting her. She knocked on the door and listened intently. The soft clink of a bottle being set on a table and rather gentle passing of Lena’s feet on the hardwood floor. Kara resisted the urge to peer through the door.

When it swung in, she wished she’d had the chance to prepare herself. Lena was visibly distraught, eyes red rimmed from crying and cheeks puffy. She was dressed down in a a sweater and leggings, and couldn’t meet Kara’s gaze with her own.

It hurt. Seeing her like this physically hurt, gouging a dull ache into her chest. Her first instinct was to reach out and scoop the smaller woman into a tight hug, make her safe, to wall her in with her arms. Kara fought it down and sighed.

“You… don’t look so good.”

“Come in,” Lena said, her voice soft and flat. “If you want to hang out with a monster, that is.”

Lena turned and trudged back into the apartment as if she was walking to the gallows. She fell back into the couch and grabbed the wine bottle from the table, long since having abandoned the pretext of glasses.

“You’re not a monster, Lena.”

She stared at the bottle and took a long pull from it, the wine sloshing around the bottom.

“Yeah I am. You ever watch Godzilla movies?”

Kara blinked. “What?”

“Godzilla. Giant radioactive lizard.”

“Of course.”

Lena snorted a bitter laugh. “Monsters are born too large, too strong, too tall. That is their tragedy. Or something like that. Director of the movie said it. That’s me. I’m not trying to hurt anyone, it’s just in my blood. It’s who I am and I’ll never escape it.”

“That’s not true,” Lena said, softly.

She looked around the apartment, shocked to find dishes piled in the sink and two more empty wine bottles lined up on the kitchen island.

Kara quickly moved to the couch. Lena offered no resistance as Kara took the bottle. Lena stared as Kara took a long, glugging pull.

“There. Now you’re not drinking alone.”

Lena smiled weakly. Kara didn’t mind the taste of the wine but as far as getting her drunk, it was like pouring it down the drain. If she could keep Lena from alcohol poisoning, it was worth it. Kara felt a tug in her chest. Lena looked so soft, her big eyes wet with tears.

“I only wanted to help.”

“You did, Lena. You saved the world.”

“Children, Kara. Sick kids, dying because of me.”

“That’s not true, Lena. Edge is cooking the data, you know that. We’re going to clear your name and I’m going to help.”

“I’m so tired, Kara. My own brother tries to murder me once a week because I won’t help him try to take over the world. I keep getting kidnapped by my insane family and aliens and God knows who else and I’m tired. That woman today almost killed me. One of these times there won’t be someone to jump in front of the bullet and it’ll be my time.”

“That won’t happen.”

Lena shook her head, failing to fight back the tears. “I’m so tired of being everyone’s monster.”

“You’re not a monster to me, Lena. You are so good. You work so hard and care so much, and people don’t even know about your work at the children’s hospital, the reading to the kids. You’re a saint.”

Lena looked at her sharply. “How did you know about that?”

Kara thought, FUCK.

She fiddled with her glasses, knowing it was a tell.

“I um, well I am a reporter. I won’t tell anyone, I know you don’t want publicity.”

“Kara, I’m confused. I put a lot of effort into making sure no one knows I do that, so the kids don’t have to deal with the bullshit my life brings. Have you been following me?”

Kara licked her lips.

Just holding back the truth isn’t make it a lie, did it?

“More like keeping tabs, just to… keep you safe. To watch your back.”

Lena looked horrified. Kara’s chest seized and she thought for a moment that she’d gone too far.

“Kara, I don’t want you doing that. If Edge or my brother come after me and you’re in the way, they’ll kill you. You can’t risk that, you don’t deserve it.”

Lena grabbed her hands. “Listen to me, Kara. I have a target on my back. I have a price on my head. Sooner or later my number is going to be up and I’d rather die than have you be the one to catch the bullet. I just want you to be okay.”

“They won’t get you.”

Lena pressed her eyes shut and choked back a sob. “Yeah, they will. I’m living on borrowed time. It’s just a matter of the odds, in the end. Next time James won’t be there to take a bullet for me and Supergirl will be too busy and I’ll just be another monster on obituary page until-“

“Stop it!” Kara barked, shocked at the sharp snap of her own voice. “Stop it. I won’t let them.”

Lena’s eyes snapped open and she stared at Kara, more than a little shocked. Her hands tensed, closing tightly around Kara’s.

“Don’t put that on yourself. I’m not you’re responsibly and I don’t want you risking your life for me. It’s just not worth it.”

“You are worth it,” Kara insisted, shaking her hands a little as she leaned in. “You are, and I won’t accept that you’re not.”

“I love that you believe in me so much.”

Kara’s heart did a backflip. Love? She loved it? Lena was looking at her with such a softness in her eyes, and Kara scolded herself that she was drunk, that she might say things she didn’t intend or didn’t want to slip out.

“But,” Lena said, “you’re just one person, you can’t save me from this.”

Kara’s jaw set as she bit down on this pressure growing inside her, as if something had taken root in her chest and grown and grown inside until it made her ribs creak and her heart ache and it would split her open if she didn’t let it out.

She wasn’t drunk. She was lucid, clearheaded, but Lena was gazing into her soul with tear-filled eyes and she looked so small and vulnerable and resigned, like she was just waiting for her turn at the headsman’s axe.

Kara couldn’t take it. She couldn’t fucking take it, and the words came so easily she scarcely knew how she’d held it in for so long.

“I can protect you, Lena. I’m Supergirl. I can do anything.”

Lena’s soft expression twisted into a scowl.

“Bad time for a joke, Kara.”

Tenderly, as gently as she could, Kara guided Lena’s hand to her glasses.

“Go ahead.”

Lena hesitated, chewing her lip, eyes flicking strangely, gaze surveying Kara’s face- looking at her eyes, her scar, and in a way that pulled at Kara’s heart, her lips.

Slowly, carefully, Lena pulled the glasses free, visibly surprised by their weight.

“They’re lined with lead. It helps with sensory overload.”

Lena raised her now shaking hand and her thumb grazed Kara’s ear as she reached back to unclasp the clip holding Kara’s hair, allowing honeyed tresses to spill free across her shoulders and down her back.

“Look at me, Lena.”

Lena looked. Her expression flickered from pained annoyance to shock to something Kara couldn’t quite identify.

“You lied to me,” Lena whispered.

Kara bit back some lame excuse, like I never said I wasn’t Supergirl.

“I did, and I’m sorry. If this means your feelings about me have changed, that’s okay, but I won’t stop protecting you. I won’t let Morgan Edge or your brother or anyone hurt you. Never you.”

Kara’s jaw trembled as she spoke and her heart was racing.

Lena’s was doing the same, beating too fast in her chest. Kara carefully put her hands on Lena’s shoulders.

“Easy,” she said. “I know this is a shock.”

“When you caught me after… when you saved me from Lillian… when you… the helicopter… that was you?”

“Always, Lena. I’ll never let you fall.”

“Kara?” Lena whispered.

She was staring, but rather than meet Kara’s gaze, she was looking lower, eyes fixed on Kara’s lips. Kara’s gut did a backflip at the way Lena was looking at her, mouth slightly parted, flushed, her heart racing.

If Kara was human, she might pick up on those things, or she might not. She might be confused or briefly wonder if Lena was really looking at her the way it seemed she was.

Kara Danvers was not human. She could look up and see particles dancing across the atmosphere in hues for which humans had no names because their eyes were blinded to them. She could hear the rapid beating of Lena’s heart and see the heat blooming on her skin and taste on her tongue the tangy, pleasant musk of the pheromones Lena was emitting, and she could do it all so fast that her mind processed it so quickly that it could barely be measured. When Lena began to lean towards her, she watched it happen in curious slow motion.

When Lena kissed her, it was an explosion of sensation. Not just the soft warmth of her lips but her scent, her real scent breath the perfumes and sharp tang of wine smell, the pure scent of Lena herself. The soft sigh that broke from Lena’s lips was a symphony, and Lena’s hands on Kara’s flanks was like a blast of firecrackers running under her skin to ignite a sudden flare of warmth low in her hips.

Lena was kissing her. Kara was kissing her back, consuming every aspect of the contact in perfect detail, burning it into her solar-powered Kryptonian mind where it would live in perfect detail for the rest of forever.

She gently, oh so gently, pushed Lena back.

“Lena, stop.”

“Oh,” Lena murmured, her face falling. “I didn’t… I’m sorry… I thought… I misread…”

“No, no Lena it’s not that I promise, you’re drunk. You’ve had too much to drink and I can’t let you do anything while you’re like this, I couldn’t take it if you wake up tomorrow and…”

Lena blinked back tears.

“Oh my God. You really are a superhero, aren’t you?”

“I’m just being decent.”

Lena smiled sadly. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Well, you’ve got me, Lena. You’re not getting rid of me.”

Lena actually laughed, a bitter little chuckle that made her look away in embarrassment.

“I can imagine Lex seething if he found out about this.”

“Alex is going to kill me.”

Lena giggled. “Oh my God.”

“What, um, what is this, exactly?” said Kara, her voice cracking with tension. “I mean, you kissed me.”

“I did,” Lena said, guarded. “I’ve wanted to for so long. How does the saying go? In vino, veritas?”

“In wine there is truth,” said Kara.

“Yeah.”

“Lena, we’re going to get through this, I promise, and I will always protect you. Always. Right now I need to protect you from the hangover you’re going to have tomorrow. I’m putting you to bed, and I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t have to, but I need to know you’re safe, and you can’t get any safer than Supergirl crashing on your couch.”

Lena blurted, “I could have her in my bed.”

Kara thought her soul might leave her body.

“Not when you’ve had this much to drink.”

“God, you are amazing,” Lena sighed.

Kara nodded. “If you say so.”

It took a while for Kara to actually get Lena into her bed. Lena was suddenly taken with an extreme tiredness and Kara let her lean on her as they walked down the hall, fighting the urge singing in her veins, demanding that she pick her up and just carry her.

She may have been Supergirl, but even she had limits.

Once Lena was curled up in blankets and safe, Kara puttered around the apartment, doing the dishes, cleaning a little before she fell back on the expansive sofa to sleep.

When the warm morning sun woke her, she sat up and found Lena staring at her.

“I didn’t dream that. You’re really here.”

Kara rose from the couch and approached her tentatively.

“Yeah. I’m really here. Lena, if you’re angry with me because…”

Lena cut her off, darting forward to plant a soft kiss right on her lips. Kara froze as her brain essentially rebooted.

“Oh,” said Kara.

Lena smiled softly. She still looked bedraggled and had clearly been crying, but the smirk on her lips was everything.

[thatquietkid108]

Aliens: The pH of the soil is too high, I believe I'm gonna die!

Humans: FUCK YEAH! CONCRETE !

[smol-feralgremlin]

FebruarOC Day 17: Quin

This image was created with Picrew’s “[BAYDEWS' avatar maker!!] V2“!!  https://picrew.me/share?cd=XaLeZMqubv #Picrew #BAYDEWS_avatar_maker_V2

Quintheral Rattivan.

Fourth Galactic Imperial Prince, Sun of the Third House, and Holder of the Second Seal.

[mistercakerz]

Good night! Dream about these lesbians :3

[gremlin-girly]

Day 14: Winter Soup

Pairing: Winter Soldier x gn!reader

Fandom: MCU

Tags/Warnings: FLUFF, insinuation of ptsd/past abuse, ya'll are just having some nice soup :), petnames (sweetheart)

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, copied or reposted or put through an AI machine.

Summary: When a strange man turns up in your home for some unknown reason, you decided to offer him some soup.

Word Count: 448

Prev | Next | Fluffcember | Flufftober 2024 | Navigation

Not many people know what to do when there's a strange man in their kitchen. The usual ports of call, according to life and TV, is to:

a. Scream

b. Call the cops

c. Hide

d. All of the above

But somehow you created your own special fifth option (hereby referred to as option e): Give him soup.

He pokes at the soup with his spoon and you watch him over your own bowl. You can't tell if he's about to burst into tears or dart off into the night. There's something about his eyes, something that tells you he's a lost, stray in need of food and probably a hot bath rather than a six foot lug of a man in tac gear.

After a particularly hot slurp of soup, doing the whole hoo-ha-ooh charade, he looks up at you.

"Sorry," You mumble with an apologetic look. "Hot."

He nods but doesn't say anything. So, he clearly understands English. You watch as he stirs his soup again before finally bringing it to his lips. The air is heavy. You don't know why you care about what he thinks of your soup, but you do.

You want to make a joke; asking him not to kill you if it's awful but you think better of it. You still don't know if he would kill you.

His hum catches you off guard and you jump, looking over at him. His eyes flutter, and you think he definitely will cry. He sniffs a few times and raises a shaky hand with a second spoonful again, before he's suddenly gorging the soup.

His spoon clatters against an empty bowl and he looks over at you worriedly and you just smile at him around your own spoon.

"Want seconds, sweetheart?" You ask gently, getting to your feet and angling yourself to the stove. You're face is blasted with the smells of basil, garlic and roasted tomato as you lift the lid from the pot. You hold out a hand for his bowl which he carefully hands to you.

Ladling the soup to the brim (thank God for Bulk Soup Sundays), you reach into the bread bin and butter two slices of bread, placing them next to his soup when you set the bowl down. Retaking your seat, attempting to finish your own bowl, you watch him curiously.

He mumbles a thank you as he tears into the bread with his teeth, and you offer a warm smile.

"No worries. Help yourself to as much as you need."

You had the strangest feeling like your life was going to change, thanks to the stranger before you. Although, you didn't know just how much.

[smol-feralgremlin]

Real question is which of them doesn't suffer from them

Uhm.....biggest sufferers of the night terrors are Ulric, Sylpha, Aldon, Alim, and Fay.

which oc has night terrors?

[emo-gremlin]

SFW Mr. Puzzles x Reader!

PDA IS A MUST. He's always holding your hand, hugging you, tapping his screen against your forehead, arm around your waist (only after you've made it clear that he can do so)

Was never in a real relationship (platonic or romantic) until you. He definitely pulls stuff he saw in romcoms when you first got together. You admired his gestures, but you did eventually sit him down and explain not every romantic relationship is like the stuff on TV.

After you guys have that conversation, he tones it down a little, but he's still quoting the cheesiest lines and he will not be stopped

Tries to spend as much time with you as he can.

Have a dream of stardom? He's doing everything he can to help you get there. Prefer to stay in the shadows? He's fine with that too.

An absolute doting sweetheart.

Very nervous about touching you at the start, he knew enough from TV that consent is key in a relationship, and didn't want you uncomfortable. So once you clarified PDA to him, he never breaches those boundaries unless you say it's OK.

He still has his temper, but has not, and WILL NOT use his power OR raise a hand against you. He told you at the beginning if he ever does that to kill him, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he did that. He usually holds himself up in his office. You can tell he's upset if his voice glitches and he reeks of cigarette smoke.

It takes a while before he opens up to you about his childhood, and what drove him to the 'Transformation' as he calls it. It's an extreme sign of trust that he tells you about it. He tries to remain a puzzle to his audience, you are the first to get the tools to solve it.

Watching anything with him has stages.

1st time watching something: Remains quiet unless you don't understand a plot point, or need help identifying an actor.

2nd time: Fun facts about production, the tricks they used to get certain shots, gets more in depth with the Lore and explains symbols if there is any.

3rd time: Starts pointing out errors, plot holes, starts talking about how HE would have done it if he had been on the crew.

He usually stays in these guidelines unless the movie is GODAWFUL or is TRYING to be so bad it's good.

Loves having your input on his scripts, costumes (you may end up being a living mannequin for him at times if he's having trouble), set design, etc.

Will list you in the credits, but if you prefer a nickname to be used, he will use that instead.

CUDDLEBUG. My boy didn't get much physical affection as a child, and it shows. He's also a big spoon.

Absolutely adores everything about you, and it shows when he talks about you. Smiling wide, very energetic, so in love with you that you wouldn't be able to keep it a secret.

Loves being able to just slow down and enjoy being with you. Even if he's working on a script at his desk, he loves hearing a soft giggle while you look at memes on your phone on the couch.

Wanna watch something but afraid that there's content in it that might trigger something? No problem! He has no issue listing off what it includes for you. (If you still have interest in the plot, but wouldn't be able to see the media, he'll spoil the plot so it saves you the trouble.)

Always up before you, and definitely a malewife when he isn't working. He tries his best to be there when you wake up before he goes to work. If he can't, he leaves a note and fresh made coffee/tea in the pot.

You have to pull him away from watching the negative reviews, otherwise he WILL obsess over them and work himself to death trying to make them happy.

He's ready to commit various warcrimes if anyone so much as looks at you funny if you asked him to. You're the first person to actually stand by him and he's not letting anyone hurt you.

Definitely will set up private dates on his more romantic sets for the two of you. He turns all the cameras away from the set, as a way to show that this is all for you and you alone.

Will bring you with him if he's filming something in an exotic place. He makes sure you two get enough time together to see the sights.

Has invited at least one of your favorite actors/directors/writers to a birthday party. If you ask him not to, he will be a little disappointed, but respects it. (As long as he can AT LEAST get you their autograph)

Gets invited to an award show? You are going with him, but will try to convince the cameras not to point in your direction if you feel uncomfortable. He wants to share his success with you.

While he can't get props from your favorite movies, if you show interest in a particular prop from his sets, the second filming is done, it's yours. Same with costumes.

I love him your honor