#i do genuinely really want to write a fic for them

[nanamiscocksleeve]

heyy ray! first things first, i LOVE your writing. that's all i have to say like i literally go nuts every time

sooo this is not a kinktober request and i know you probably have TOO many things to write lol butttt if it's in your taste i'd really like to see your take on the lads man reacting to their lady not wanting to have sex because she hasn't shaved while being away on a mission or something and is feeling insecure about that ig???

and! if i can ask to be the little moon emoji🌙 then i'd like to, please! as always thanks for all the stories you're aMAZING

Hi there! Yes you can be moon anon. Thank you for the kind words! It makes me happy that people are enjoying my work.

Soooo it's actually such a coincidence that you mentioned the body hair thing because I have a story wip for Zayne involving that particular area and hair 😆😆😆 Keep an eye for it btw!

As for the general reaction of the men, I genuinely think all of them are mature enough to handle a little hair and they're not bothered by it. This is how I think this would go.

Sylus: He'll look at reader quite suspiciously. He knows she's not on her period and after trying to get an answer from her, he'll stop when she tells him to quit asking. For a little while anyway. They have a shared home delivery app and when reader makes a purchase later that night he sees all the hair removal products and instantly makes the connection. He'll seek her out, tell her he doesn't care and that his kitten can't be a kitten if there's no hair on her pussy 🤭. When reader protests, he'll pull her close and tell her he missed her and if it really bothers her, she can get a bikini wax tomorrow. He'll even pay for it, but he's needy for her NOW and nothing in his view can change how beautiful she is, hair or no hair.

Xavier: Will assume she's on her period and brings over stuff for her like tea, chocolate, and some selfcare stuff like scented candles and face masks. Reader will be amused at Xavier's assumption and after a few shy moments, she'll tell him in a very vague way that she feels unkempt and that's why she doesn't want to have sex. Xavier thinks unkempt = hasn't bathed and asks if maybe she wants to take a quick shower together. At this point reader shakes her head and admits that she hasn't had time to self-groom down there because of her mission. Things finally click in Xavier's head and he'll ask if he can look and if he doesn't think it looks unkempt then they have should have sex. Of course Xavier gets pussy drunk the minute he sees it and they end up having sex.

Rafayel: This man will straight up pout if you tell him you don't want to have sex. And he'll try to guilt you as well. He'll say you must not love him anymore or that you're hiding a secret from him. Then finally in exasperation, reader will ask him if he wants to fuck a shag carpet because that's what it looks like down there. And of course Rafayel, with his sarcasm and playfullness will say something like "A shag rug for a pussy? I've never heard of such a thing I have to see it now!" And you'll have to show him before he throws another fishy tantrum. When he looks at it he'll sigh dramatically and say "It's not even close to a shag carpet, you exaggerate everything. Now that it's out in the open, let's just have sex."

Zayne: Without giving too much away from my fic...Zayne doesn't care. He's a doctor. He's seen his fair share of hair on body parts and isn't fazed. Also, the vibe I get from them seems to be more of a long-term couple and they've seen each other through their ups and downs so reader will straight up tell him she feels self-conscious about having sex because she hasn't shaved. Zayne will say he respects her decision but removing the hair can cause ingrowns and itching and he doesn't want her to do it incorrectly in order to have sex as soon as possible. He convinces her that they should have sex at least once before she removes it because there's no telling how she might feel after the exhaustion of removing all the hair. You can remove it on your own time but right now he wants you and let's face it, you've popped pimples off his back and he's seen you trimming your toenails, are you really going to let a little hair stop you from riding this man? 🤭🤭🤭

[olderthannetfic]

How do we feel about the "Um just so you know the person you reblogged this from is an [insert undesirables category here]"? When it's some random meme or otherwise uncontroversial post, and not some elaborate political opinion post with a bunch of dogwhistles in it.

Because I just got it from a fandom acquaintance/friend and it felt really fucking unsettling.

Aside from the mutuals that I know from fandom and interact with, most of the other content I interact with on Tumblr is more about what it says than about who said it for me. I don't ever pay attention to who wrote what or which other Tumblr users they had beef with or whatever, I just read the post itself and decide if I like what it says or not. If someone posts something I REALLY dislike, I block them and move on, more in the hopes of seeing less of that sort of thing than with the intention of somehow eliminating that specific person. I never pay attention to who my mutuals are reblogging from and if I note that one of them reblogged something featuring a poster who's famously unhinged, I just assume they don't know and move on because I know my mutuals are reasonable people generally speaking. I like the anonymity of Tumblr and the focus on the content of the posts and not on specific people. It's why I hang out here and not on one of the platforms that are all about influencers and the like.

So today I was going through the blogs of a couple of people I don't follow to find a specific post and in the process I saw a fairly uncontroversial post I liked, reblogged it, and moved on. Then less than an hour later I was met with a wall of text in my DMs accusing that poster of having questionable political opinions and describing the beef they had with another person where they threatened them etc. etc.

TBH I felt incredibly uncomfortable with the level of scrutiny implied in paying attention to who I reblog random shit from, as well as the level of presumption in coming to my DMs and lecture me about it. I know nothing about the blogger they were talking about, have never interacted with him, and will probably never even have the opportunity or the desire to interact with him. He wasn't even the AUTHOR of the post, it was just on his profile. It makes me want to never post anything ever again.

I just... don't see the point of this sort of behaviour in general? "You shouldn't be giving [bad people] a platform" - look, I genuinely don't think that reblogging a pretty landscape from someone who turns out to be a TERF or whatever is platforming those beliefs in any way. I'm sorry, but I just don't see how my behaviour leads to any material harm to anyone. Even if I follow the person, the moment they start talking about TERF-y shit I'm gonna unfollow and/or block. The probability of me throwing all my well-developed political opinions down the drain and getting radicalized through the slippery slope of reblogging "CATS ARE SO CUTE WHEN THEY SWAT AT THINGS" from someone with a dogshit take about Palestine is literally zero. If it's the content of the post that's wrong, just explain why to me, or point out the dogwhistles or whatever. I'm open to being wrong in my opinions. I'm not open to my online friends acting like the fucking Stasi.

Maybe I'm just too old for these newfangled social politics but it just feels like either pointless catty high school drama or an attempt at social control that I can't help but interpret in a hostile manner. Even if it's followed by - as it was in my case - something along the lines of "obviously I'm not accusing YOU of anything!! I'm sorry it came off that way!!" when I pushed back against it. It feels like 1950s conservative housewives making sure you're not even greeting any of the town Undesirables at the grocery store, because you wouldn't want to be Morally Tainted by saying Hello to a divorcee!

It's kind of similar to the whole issue about people still writing HP fic. Am I interested in HP fic? TBH not at all - the author had soured it for me with her behaviour even before it was obvious how much she hated trans people. Do I think the people doing it are somehow harming anyone or putting money in JKR's pocket? I honestly can't see how, and so far none of the people adamantly against it have managed to explain it to me in a satisfying way, so I'm just gonna let it slide off me as another random internet hobby I don't get or care about.

--

My reaction is "Do you understand how Tumblr works? Do you?"

We have enough trouble with people reblogging barely-hidden anti-kink or homophobic shit. Who has time for cootie-based problems?

[facewithoutheart]

Five plus One, fic recs

A post is going around about fics you consider classics in the Snowbaz fandom. I’d like to take it a step further by asking …

What are five fics you consider your inspiration/influences for writing, plus one of your fics which you think best represents what you want to bring to the fandom?

5. Hang the Moon by @captain-aralias

@captain-aralias is, to me, the snowbaz fandom fic writer of our time. Her commitment to detail, to nailing Rainbow’s voice, while infusing every fic with a heart and purpose that will leave you changed. Every fic of hers is chef’s-kiss-perfection but I’m highlighting Hang the Moon specifically as a fic I often think about (Baz, wet tennis clothes, helping Simon fight the merwolves), and a fic that was my introduction to what fanfics could be/do. I think I finished this fic and just stared at the wall for an hour because I was just like, oh. Oh.

4. The Pitch by basic-bathsheba

Local Hero is one of my favorite fanfics but I wanted to highlight this fic because it’s just such a powerful and understated story. It’s love in the details. This Simon is the model for all of my Simon’s, just a complete simp for Baz haha but also a man who is comfortable and confident being the man who loves Baz even if he doesn’t get to claim it publicly.

3. Stay Up With Me by @sharkmartini

Not sure what to say about this that hasn’t been said a million times. It’ll break your heart; it’ll put you back together. The concept is brilliant and the exploration of two Simon’s will definitely put your emotions through a wringer. Time travel/what-if fics will always grab my attention but this one in particular makes the same case Rainbow posed in Carry On: what if the villain isn’t the villain? And takes it a step further, because Simon realizes he could be the villain, too. Absolutely beautiful.

2. Can’t Find My Way Home by @carryonsimoncarryonbaz

This is one of those fics that just has so much heart and sweetness. I love a good second chance AU, and this one has such Hallmark vibes in the best way. I just love the slow burn of it, and the amazing ending. A perfect holiday fic to snuggle up with. Reading this feels like being cozy up by the fire with someone you love. Actually writing this makes me wanna reread this so much; now that I live with actual Fall I wanna feel cozy like this again.

1. Basil Pitch’s Diary by @bookish-bogwitch

I know it’s a bit weird to rec a WIP as an influence, especially one that’s being written as we speak, but working with/beta-ing Em’s works have made me a sharper, smarter writer. I know this fic is a classic in the works and it’s something I think about on a weekly basis. The Baz Em gives us, to me, feels like canon Baz taken to the next level. What if Baz was the villain … but only to himself? Em’s writing really is just economical in the best way; every line hits, every paragraph teaches me something. And then the heart. It’s genuinely so hard to do what she does and I’m so lucky to get to see her work in realtime.

+1 This Will All Go Down In Flames

I think, at the end of my fandom career, I want this to be the snowbaz fic people associate with me (Spadey being a close second hahaha). But I do feel like it’s got a lot of fandom in-jokes, humor, and sweetness, plus the fun high-stakes of them being in the spotlight. I got to celebrate the Austin I love and miss, as well as poke fun at my own hipster upbringing. I put a lot of Me™ in this fic and it always feels so lovely when people like it. Besides, I got to work with the amazing @tea-brigade and their art just takes this fic to the next level. A dream collab.

(Throwing in the caveat that I started reading long before I got an ao3 account so it’s very likely I’ve missed some amazing fics from before 2021; I’m so sorry!)

Tagging everyone listed above and six more peeps to start: @cutestkilla, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @larkral, @ileadacharmedlife, @thewholelemon & @aristocratic-otter

[altocat]

all 50 of those Honest fave character prompts for Sephiroth

( @izunias-meme-hole )

........*cracks knuckles* OKAY.

1. Do you project onto this character?

All the time, every day. Like Sephiroth, I can often be avoidant, depressed, and overly attached to my loved ones. The struggle is real lmao

2. Did you always like this character?

Before falling into fandom hell, I didn't really notice him much other than Kingdom Hearts stuff. Or the occasional thirst post online.

3. What first drew you to this character?

Crisis Core making him a sad soft baby that everyone is mean to lmao

4. Did you initially dislike/hate this character?

No. I always thought he had a cool design and a badass voice.

5. If this character were a woman, would you honestly still like them? Or in reverse, what if they were a man?

Of course! Sephiroth is a fascinating character regardless. His backstory is very unique and I don't think that would change.

6. Do you have any nicknames or pet names you use for this character?

I mostly just call him Seph. Sometimes Kittyroth. Sometimes "Mr. Compassion" whenever I'm being sarcastic about him. And sometimes just SMUGFUCK because that's what he is.

7. Does the character’s age matter to you?

Nah. Like I said, he's a fascinating character regardless.

8. Does the character’s looks/design matter to you?

I feel like there are certain aspects of his character that you NEED to keep in--his catlike pupils, silver hair, etc. They are plot-related indicators of his heritage and genetics. Thirstposts aside, they are reminder that he is a lab-grown monster with alien blood running through his veins.

9. Does this character remind you of anyone you know? Does that affect how you see them?

Not really. Seph is pretty unique. And honestly I'd rather not know someone like him irl lolol

10. Do you see yourself in this character even without projecting?

Physically? Hell no. Emotionally? Sometimes. But that's on rare occasions where we can actually tell what he's thinking and feeling.

11. How did you “fall in love” with this character?

Watching Crisis Core cutscenes one rainy night in 2021.

12. If you could write effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what story (s) would you write for this character?

AU Redemption arc trilogy in which Zack and Aerith save Sephiroth from himself and he dismantles Shinra to become the planet's hero.

13. If you could draw effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what scene (s) would you draw for this character?

I'd really like to illustrate a lot of fic scenes. Especially the trippier Jenova-focused ones.

14. Are you physically attracted to this character?

...Yeah lmao But I don't ship myself or my self-insert with him because NO lolol I think he's aesthetically pleasing but I don't associate myself with him in any romantic sense. That's just weird to me.

15. Are your thoughts surrounding this character usually sexual, non-sexual, or a mix of both?

Non-sexual. I'm more interested in his character progression/fall into villainy. Like yeah he's attractive and there are some seductive aspects of his personality. But he's just more interesting to dissect as a villain.

16. Have you ever cried when thinking about this character? Genuinely?

Several times lolol usually after First Soldier updates.

17. Have you ever felt physical pain over this character? (ex: physical heartache).

Miiiight have happened once in dms with other fans (thanks @heraldofcrow)

18. Do you prefer to see this character suffer or know peace? Angst or comfort? Both?

SUFFER. SUFFERRRRRRR 😈NO COMFORT FOR YOU ALL IS PAIN AND ANGUISH.

19. Does this character serve as a stress ball/ security blanket for you? Something you run to after a bad day to feel safe or happier?

Oh totally. All the time. Imagine cute aggression but it's more angsty lol Angst aggression.

20. Do you feel affectionate towards this character?

For Sane!Sephiroth, yes. Very much so. Not so much after Nibelheim. Then he's just an evil little shit who needs to get clowned by Cloud again.

21. Are your feelings about this character platonic, romantic, or familial? All of these feelings at once maybe?

Platonic-familial. He's my precious baby boy. Who I have to hurt. LET ME HURT HIM.

22. Do you think you will always love this character?

I hope so! Assuming Square doesn't do something stupid.

23. Has this character permanently altered or impacted your psyche in a way you won’t forget?

I'm HERE. lmao There's your evidence.

24. Do you ever dream about this character? If so, describe a dream you once had about them.

I never have dreams about him and it makes me SO MAD SZDFGHFDSA EVERYONE ELSE GETS BLORBO DREAMS EXCEPT FOR ME.

25. What kind of fan-fiction do you read about this character? If you don’t read fan-fics about them, why not?

I mostly like character studies. Or slow-burn AU fics with him. I'm currently reading The Fear of Falling Stars and it's sooooo good.

26. If you look for this character’s name on AO3, what tags are you including or excluding?

It really depends on the fic tbh.

27. Do you like to ship this character with other characters or do you prefer not to?

I SHIP HIM WITH EVERYONE *feral noises*

28. Do you get defensive about this character? If yes, then why?

Only in select instances. I don't like the dudebro logic of "well Sephiroth was always arrogant/evil even before Nibelheim and he can't be vulnerable or sensitive because that's not badass" because those are fundamentally not true. And an extreme disservice to his writing.

29. Do you affectionately bully this character?

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

30. Are you especially sensitive about this character?

He makes me sad. His story is heartbreaking.

31. Are you ashamed of liking this character?

Nope. Not at all.

32. If you could make this character a meal, what would you make them?

Pumpkin soup, of course!

33. Are you “blinded by love” for this character or do you accept any flaws they may have?

Oh not at all. I have said many many times and will keep saying that Sephiroth does not deserve a happy ending after everything he's done. He deserves to be destroyed for good. He's NOT a good guy, not any more at least. He's caused so much damage in so many horrible ways. There's no going back from that. I love the guy and I feel for him. But that's still no excuse for what he did.

34. Does this character inspire you with little things in your daily life?

Uhhhh no.

35. Has this character ever prevented you from sleeping because you can’t stop thinking about them?

@ me whenever First Soldier updates.

36. Do you feel a spiritual/soulmate connection with this character?

Idk. Probably not. He's my angsty trauma son. But I wouldn't go THAT far lol

37. Is your love for this character a secret from people you know in real life?

Nope. I will literally never shut up about Sephiroth to family or friends lololol

38. Do you tend to joke more about dying or killing for this character? Both? What causes the distinction?

NO because Sephiroth is a villain and the goal is to not become like him lolol

39. Do you feel lovesick over this character?

Nope. He just makes me casually distraught.

40. Are you very empathetic towards this character? When they feel a certain way in the story, do you feel those emotions too?

Very much so. Like I said before, his story is heartbreaking. I've ugly cried about him so many times in the past.

41. Do you prefer to interact with this character directly via self-insert/reader type content? Or do you enjoy seeing them mostly with other characters in the story and/or your OCs?

Other than background OCs, no. I prefer mostly just his relationship with canon characters.

42. If you could, would you write this character a song or poem?

It'd be cool to do something creepy with his relationship with Jenova...

43. What type of weather makes you think of this character?

Rainy days. Because he's depressing.

44. Which season makes you think of this character?

Fall.

45. Do you feel as if you are intimately familiar with this character?

At this point, I'd really like to hope so. They have certainly added a lot of new stuff that feels on point with my previous ideas for him. But I'm open to new stuff too!

46. How much do bad interpretations of this character upset you?

It really depends on how they characterize him as a person before Nibelheim. I don't really like how people sometimes equate his evil/smug/arrogant post-Nibelheim personality with his CC-era one. They're really completely different.

47. Does this character ever make you laugh sincerely?

He made some the FUNNIEST goddamn faces in Rebirth, just sayin'.

48. What’s your favorite physical/design feature for this character?

R trilogy has the best overall design. Hair, eyes, and the sheer SIZE of him. All perfect.

49. What’s your favorite personality trait in this character?

Sane!Seph: His love for his friends

Insane!Seph: Him being a huge petty dick just for the sake of it

50. Link your fav song, playlist, aesthetic board, fan-fiction, reference pile, personal artwork, analysis post, meme, headcanon, or quote for this character. Whichever one (s) you are most comfortable with!

UHHHHHHHHHHH I'm just going to cheat and say THIS ENTIRE COMMUNITY because Seph-fans are BEST fans and we get along and get shit done. Best content. Best fandom space. No in-fighting or drama on his character. We're ALL peak 😎

[kiwiana-writes]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

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

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

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

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

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

Tagging @blueeyedgrlwrites @cactusdragon517 @cricketnationrise @firenati0n @getmehighonmagic

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

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

[crescenthistory]

Ok not a request but I loved the recent regulus fic with “where is she?”. I can just picture snape showing up in the infirmary the next day just fully bandaged and in casts all thanks to Barty and Evan

THANK YOU i really loved writing that one, hurt/comfort is my shit, especially with someone wound so tight like regulus. something about losing control you know?

and absolutely – as soon as you are out of the infirmary, your bed is taken over by snape for his egregious crime. as is the next one over by avery, for being involved in the situation. beside him is mulciber, for trying to protect his "friends", and any others who got in the way.

regulus is barty's oldest friend; any turmoil he feels must be avenged. reader is the one barty treasures perhaps most; any violence against them must be reciprocated. as for evan, he has that quiet, simmering, unwavering loyalty, both for reader and regulus, but of course, above all else, barty. even if he didn't particularly care for you, he would have followed barty on his almost-murder spree – but when you, someone who always holds space for him and understands him, is all but gutted on school property by buffoons? and not even with a purpose or methodology, just out of pure stupidity? he is not just supporting barty nor satiating some twisted fascination, he is revelling in the opportunity to protect you after-the-fact.

say what you want about those two, call them unhinged, maniacal, disturbing, but they are and will remain pack animals. they protect their own.

they do wait, though. not with the threats, nor possibly the restraining or light maiming of the offending parties, but with any level of repercussions that require immediate medical attention. because there is no way in hell they are going to let those sods near you anytime soon.

i also think you have to keep insisting and reminding them for the next foreseeable future that you did not die:

"when snape killed treasure" is a common point of reference for barty.

"i want nothing to do with that murderous bastard" "he didn't murder me, barty" "you don't know what you're talking about"

"i'm literally sitting here, breathing, right now" "i still hear her voice sometimes"

evan would always position himself between you and snape in a room, even if he genuinely never had anything against you specifically nor would risk the injuries himself

while you roll your eyes affectionately at their theatrics, it actually does unnerve regulus

he is still largely affected by the whole thing, the thought of losing you a sore topic (sorer than it already was, that is)

only when you give evan and barty a look before nodding inconspicuously at regulus do they quiet down

though they never truly let it go

barty would definitely reference your "death" in his best man speech at your wedding sorry

[mochinomnoms]

Hi! I’ve never sent an ask before so I’m really nervous, but let me just start by saying that I am completely and utterly OBSESSED with PTM! It has consumed my every waking thought. I’ve been thinking about it for months straight. Like, I have literally started thinking of stuff from the fic as actual TWST canon! I love it and I love your writing!

So, if it’s alright, I wanted to ask how your specific interpretation of Jade in this fic would react to a Yuu who’s a “stone top”?

I’m so obsessed with your story that I keep fantasizing about how scenes would play out with my own Yuusona. But as soon as Jade starts having his usual sexual fantasies where he’s the top, my Yuusona becomes distraught, thinking things like: Would he even still like me if he know I was dominant? Will he lose interest once he learns that I’m not what he wants me to be?

Even during the scene in chapter five where he fantasizes about Yuu being on top, Jade thinks, “I’ll fuck you so good, I’ll make you feel good if you’ll just let me,” implying that even when he’s on the bottom he still wants to be the one doing things to his partner, which, unfortunately, is a no-go for my Yuusona.

I don’t know your Jade well enough to think of answers to these questions myself. I’ve wrestled with this for months now because I didn’t want to bother you with this directly, but I finally caved. I need answers from the only person who truly knows that’s going on in PTM!Jade’s head!

(((I do adore the Yuu in the fic, of course! Their reactions to Jade’s thoughts are super relatable and funny, and I’m genuinely invested in their slowly developing feelings for him!)))

Interesting question! Hmm, well the whole premise of PTM is that Jade's fantasies are just that, fantasies! They're not accurate to Yuu at all, which is part of the humor! Yuu at this point also doesn't really reciprocate Jade's feelings, at the moment they're more confused about how they actually feel and are deep into believing that they want nothing to do with Jade.

If it helps, Jade's fantasies are more aligned to him wanting to have Yuu be dependent on him, as to me he wants to generally take care of them and have them see him as the ideal partner. It's not limited to the sexual fantasies, though, it's just something he wants to do as a partner in general.

And I'm super flattered that you're considering PTM stuff as canon aaaa that's super cute alskjdalkjsalskgjaljkgs

[bokettochild]

Okay, you wanted asks.

What is your favorite headcanon about Sky?

What would he do if he found out he was related to Legend ( and not currently imprisoned and in danger like in that fic)? Would he be happy or sad that another of his descendants had to suffer his fate?

Get well soon!

Favorite Sky headcannon? Golly, I have a lot, but one that makes me really happy is that he and his family are all really good at fiber arts, and while he's not much for knitting/crochet, he is amazing at embroidery. Like, he genuinely enjoys it,a ND he can and will add embroidery to almost any piece of fabric you give him unless it will cause direct problems to do so.

I also like the idea that he tries to write poetry, is abysmally bad at it, knows he's bad at it, but still tries <3

-

As for the Legend thing. If he'd found out in better circumstances, with the framework of "guess who's your descendant!" rather than "because I'm your descendant, I have a price on my head" he probably would have taken it better.

I really think Sky wants kids. Not right now, of course, since he and Sun are both dealing with a lot and adding a small child to the mix would be terrible, but they definitely dream of having a house full of little ones one day. While he's a bit young to suddenly be the ancestor to a teenager, the confirmation that he'll be a dad, and also meeting a descendant who's as great as Legend is would be very precious to him. In better circumstances, and maybe stumbled into rather than laid bare in all the bloody detail, I think Sky would be ecstatic after he got past that initial shock of "crap I'm a dad".

Now, it would be a bit weird of course, because he'd see Time being a dad to his descendant and have a bit where he had to figure out his relationship with Legend again, trying to find balance knowing that they're family and thus that he's "supposed to be the adult", but considering Legend's pretty well grown (or at least acts as though he is most of the time), I think, give time, space and a healthy environment, they'd sort of just decide to be friends instead except on the rare occasion where it actually becomes relevant. They're pretty close in age after all, so trying to parent someone only a few years younger would be weird for both of them. Now, if Legend needed a safe person Sky'd jump in, and yeah, he probably gets more defensive and worries ore for Legend than he would have before, because there's no direct responsibility, but I think he'd be okay at not becoming stifling or pushy about it.

I do actually intend to play with this dynamic in the Crown Amidst Courage fic I'm writing, and sort of did the same in the Feathered AU, so I definitely will be releasing content soon for these two (Sky is currently ranking as my #3 and I am getting majorly attached rn LOL)

Thanks for the ask!!!!

[cliophilyra]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @firehose118 - thank you Sam! 😊

How many works on AO3? 62

What’s your total AO3 word count? 228215

What fandoms do you write for? At the moment only 911 but in the past I’ve written for Supernatural, Sandman, Spiderman, Deadpool, other Marvel stuff & Sherlock.

What are you top 5 fics by kudos? Implausible Deniability (Spideypool) Put you mouth where your money is (Spideypool) Sex, Lies & Arguing About Chores (Spideypool WIP) Accidentally On Purpose (Spideypool) Sensing a theme here? The Other Shoe (Destiel)

Do you respond to comments? Yes! Always if I can.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Probably either When you’re tasting’ what he’s drinking (Saltommy - link below) or Therefore Love Moderately (Deanbenny SPN - link below) but I have a few.

What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Probably - If it comes back (Saltommy - link below) - but most of my one shots have fairly happy endings.

Do you get hate on fics? Touch wood - No

Do you write smut? If so what kind? Yessss. Only M/M so far. I think I’m best at it when I don’t over think it and just write what I think is hot. I’m probably not good at the kind of smut that drives plot/character etc. Definitely want to try my hand at more kink stuff soon.

Do you write crossovers? Never have - I like reading some of them but I’m very picky :-/

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes, by the dreaded Wattpad 🙄

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! Two as far as I remember - one into Russian and one into Chinese.

Have you ever cowritten a fic before? Not properly, I have worked with Betas pretty closely in past but I would love to have a go at properly writing something with someone else!

What’s your all time favourite ship? I know there’s probably a bit of recency bias here but it’s genuinely a tie between Bucktommy & Saltommy. Obviously in total I have written more for Destiel and they will always be super important to me but there is something about the upwelling of ideas and inspiration for these two ships that has been amazing. I basically had writers block for about 5 years. In that time I wrote about 15 fics - almost all of which were super short. In the last 6 months that I’ve had 911 I’ve written 12!

What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Sex, Lies and Arguing About Chores - that was the one that brought on the writers block I think. I wrote myself into a sort of corner and got all stuck on peoples expectations of it and just froze up.

What are your writing strengths? I think I’m good at smut when I’m in the right mood and I like creating a sense of place and atmosphere and also I usually like my dialogue.

What are you writing weaknesses? PLOT. I suck at anything that requires a complicated plot or planning. Hence I don’t have many multi chapter things. Also character analysis - I always think other people are much better at this than me.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I haven’t done it much. Definitely wouldn’t attempt more than a couple of words without checking with a native speaker. I do not put it in italics lol

First fandom you wrote for? Sherlock (BBC)

Favourite fics you’ve written? Oh god this changes all the time, but today my top 6 would be: If It Comes Back - Saltommy second-chance reunion fic. When you’re tasting what he’s drinkin’ (are you thinkin’ bout me?) - angry jealous past-saltommy angst Calendar Boy - light hearted bucktommy fire calender PWP Like A Circus Wheel - saltommy secret relationship PWP Therefore Love Moderately - SPN Dean/Benny angsty PWP Implausible Deniability - silly smutty & occasionally angsty Spideypool adventure thing that I wrote as I posted it and was really happy with how it came out.

Also honourable mention to I’m Wasted (and I can’t find my way home) - Destiel endverse WIP which may never be finished but I really like what I have so far.

Tagging: @rdng1230 @thecarrott @rcmclachlan @alchemistc @nine-one-wanton @judymarch15

@marvelousbuckley @bangpop91 @racerchix21 @girlwonder-writes and anyone else who wants to play!

[celestianstars]

Every word of this was breathtaking, Tara! 🩵 I am a mess in the best way. I loved reading this, and then reading it again!

The imagery of water all throughout is so beautiful it’s like you captured the sea as its own character, incredibly powerful and deadly bringing these two together and at the same time almost parting them forever—it’s haunting and I’m so in awe!

Goshhh how close they both were to drowning genuinely made my heart beat a little quicker you are so talented at evoking emotions and I could picture her trying to keep him afloat in the water vividly, her struggle to keep swimming and trying to save him too, how it would be easy to give in because she’s exhausted but she doesn’t 🥺 she looks at Kino’s face and keeps on swimming and I just !!!!!! ahhhh my heart that was such a profound moment that said a lot underneath what was happening!

The waves lap at your face, forcing salt up your nose on an inhale. You splutter, losing your grip on that arm slung across your shoulders, and for a moment it slips. You kick frantically at the water as you scramble for him.

Like! Once again I’m transported right to where they are and it feels like I’m in the water too, it’s sooo good I love how you wrote the beginning sequences, all the tension and desperation, the loss of time and being surrounded by water and then the detail of her dreaming of it, reliving it again because that also says so much in itself, all of that was so neat to read

The emotional layers of their own mortality and coming face to face with it also felt so raw and now they’re just adrift in the aftermath and the reality of escaping the prison while being stuck together whether they want to be or not, it makes for such a compelling and complicated and heart wrenching story and bestie you delivered, you ateee with this I was thinking about this fic for days when I read it

You know you’ll have to recommend sharing body heat at some point soon, but you’re reluctant to do so because you also know it won’t go over well. You’re certain it’s the last thing he wants, even if the alternative is stubbornly dying from exposure.

Ohh Kino…love that stubbornness being ever present, the way you write him does things to me because the way I love how frustrating he can be. Him being like yeah you should have let me drown, ooh this man is aggravating in the “JUST LET ME LOVE YOU IDIOT” kind of way and you are making me yearn so bad and I will forever be in love with your writing!!

The fact that he’s so hung up on how close of a call it was that she almost died too helpp do I sense ✨feelings ✨

Really love how she matches his attitude, she misunderstands his anger and everything he’s holding back as hate towards her and I’m kind of obsessed with how she gives it back to him when he’s being an ass! And I think it’s because really she cares and so does he, they care so much underneath it all and I simply have to scream about ittt

“You wanted to die.” The shocked realization tumbles from your lips before you can stop it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says quietly as he gathers those strong arms around himself and crosses them like a shield.

This line was so good! His body language 🥹

“Because I was scared shitless about what could happen to you! That place was cruel to the men it was designed for. Whatever it had in store for you was going to be much worse. I thought…” He runs a hand down his face and over the scruff of his beard…

Oh there it is! Please, his concern is so deep he was terrified for her from the start oh my god…and it makes so much sense why he’d want to try and distance himself, to create a hard line so when the inevitable did happen it wouldn’t hurt so bad to see I-

The vulnerability is incredible between them but especially from Kino, the fact that he didn’t think he was worth it if she had died saving him wow that hit me like a ton a bricks

This man can’t keep getting away with breaking my heart wtf!

TARA THE KISS! The kiss oh my god that was beautiful and the moment right before that with her reassuring him that she’s right here, they survived and she’s desperate to get him to see what she sees is literally so tender I have to take a second

I love that he went for it like it’s almost as if he can’t keep it back anymore and his apology in words, the way he rests his forehead against hers, the yearning is too real and it’s so amazing to watch these two realize they are breathing and next to one another and this moment is all theirs

Her “show me” yesss girl I know that’s right, she deserves it! They both need this, to come back from the edge of death that they’ve been so close to these handful of days wowww yes this is just perfect and the building up of them finally letting the walls down is everything, I was glued to the words!

He smells like sweat and smoke and saltwater, and his skin is sharp and briny on your tongue, as you lap at a spot on his neck. He tastes like drowning…

I think this may be my favorite line 🥺😍 so gorgeous especially that last line oh

Even how he lays her down, it’s different and she can tell he’s making it up to her and all the sensations that are in contrast here too, the hard rock underneath her and the chill air but Kino is covering her and pulling her under a different kind of tide and I am SHOOK at the heat there, the steaminess!

The sounds he makes oh my god he’s so sexy even in this perilous situation I love that they can indulge in the desire for one another, jfc 🥵🥵🥵 the way he speaks to her, how he doesn’t let her look away from him, how he wants to see and hear what he’s doing to her I am in love and in my feels ahhhh

“Above you, he’s blanketing you in heat and the delicious slide of flesh along your nerves. A lovely contrast already, but then his hand finds your hip, his fingers digging into your fresh bruise, and you gasp from the pain—it hurts, but if it hurts that means you’re alive. He doesn’t stop at the sound. Instead, there’s understanding in those eyes as he pulls you in to meet each plunge of his cock, and, oh, that’s even better.”

NEED THAT OLD MAN SO CARNALLY FR

Literally every word of this felt intentional and swept me right up from the beginning and you’re incredible for sharing this masterpiece with us all!

In the afterglow of it all Kino doesn’t shut down! My heart fluttered when he held his arms open for her and she snuggled against him in the end—the detail about being lost, the unknown is before them and it’s terrifying, they aren’t even out of the woods yet and very much still on the run but now they are together, the agreement that they’ll figure it out together in the morning…excuse me I will cry I’m being so serious right now!

Her insistence and reminder once again that he can’t ever tell her he’s not worth it to her, I LOVE IT I LOVE IT SO MUCH 🥲💞

That little passage at the end you included by Ocean Vuong is so fitting and so beautiful for this story, they became water in the end…your use of symbolism and just the sheer depth of emotions is so stunning and makes it all poignant and moving!

I could rave about this all day truly so thank you for writing this, it was a fantastic read!

Remember You Are Half Water

Pairing: Kino Loy x f!Reader

(7.2 k words)

AO3 link

Summary: Drowning is easy. It's surviving that's hard. Or: After the prison break, you and Kino hide out on Narkina 5.

Warnings: (18+) Explicit, angst, enemies to lovers (kind of), they argue and not in the flirty way, vaginal sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, grim realism, survival situation, descriptions of drowning, descriptions of resuscitation, cpr, thoughts of death, thoughts of dying, talk of dying, mentions of suicidal thoughts, mentions of imprisonment, themes of death, themes of drowning, description of pain, dreams, nightmares, illness, self-indulgent melancholia

A/N: I accidentally wrote this after getting a random idea in my head while working on I Want You to Show Me Weak (my brain will do anything but finish a fic 😌), so have a surprise Kino oneshot. Just please mind the tags, especially with the events currently happening in the real world. This isn't a dark fic, but the tone is quite grim. (Mostly. I am still a filthy hopeless romantic, after all.) Also, I'm well aware of what Narkina 5 is supposed to look like, however I simply Do Not care 😌

Fic title is from The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood. Collage quote from Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Ocean.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) it’s always ourselves we find in the sea

- e.e. cummings, maggie and milly and molly and may

Your lungs burn.

There's a weight across your shoulders, pulling you down and under the waves. Your arms are spent and heavy with exhaustion. You have no idea how long you’ve been swimming—dragging something through the water, but your muscles are on fire. Your lungs are on fire. It would be so easy to just give up.

To just let go.

Because you're so tired. You’ve heard drowning isn't so bad. Like going to sleep, they say. You can do that. That's nothing compared to this.

You catch sight of a face at your side, barely breaching the surface. His face. His eyes are closed and his mouth is slack. Like he's sleeping.

You go back to swimming.

“Breathe, goddamn you!” You sob. Even though you're numb from the cold, your hand is trembling as you pound against his back with your fist. Between the shoulder blades, behind his lungs. Every hit makes a wet slap. His white uniform is soaked through and nearly translucent. It clings to him. The water, greedy, still won't let him go. “Don't you fucking do this, you prick! Wake up!”

He doesn't flinch under your assault. Not even when you roll him back over onto the rocky sand and press a rhythm into his ribs.

This is worse, you think, because now you can see his face and feel the ghost of his angry stare, even through his closed eyelids. His skin is grey and clammy, his lips nearly blue, and his beard and hair are slick and dark with water. His expression is relaxed. Peaceful. Not asleep. He's never looked like that before. This isn't how he's supposed to look.

The only movement beneath your hands is the jolt of his body from the compressions.

You let out a scream of frustration.

The waves lap at your face, forcing salt up your nose on an inhale. You splutter, losing your grip on that arm slung around your shoulders, and for a moment it slips. You kick frantically at the water as you scramble for him.

“No—” Your voice gets choked off by the whitecap of another wave.

You grab at his face, drive it back above the surface, even as you plunge below it. Whatever else you were going to shout is lost in a cloud of bubbles. You're the only thing keeping him from sinking to the bottom now. Just you, clinging to the hope of life.

You can't think about that dead weight.

You fight back to the surface with a cough, spitting out a mouthful of saltwater. You have to keep moving. You have to keep—

You’re being shaken awake. The hand on your shoulder is warm, but the grip is almost harsh—unforgiving as the fingers dig into your flesh.

You blink your eyes open to find Kino staring down at you with a frown. The light from the small fire throws shadows across his face and deepens the lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth and along his forehead, making him look even more severe than he usually does.

“You were dreaming again,” he grumbles. Then he releases your shoulder without warning, nearly shoving away from you in the process, and he shuffles back across to his side of the small cave to resume lying down.

Now that you're conscious, all of your injuries and pains from the past few days come rushing back to fill your awareness. You let out a groan as you push yourself up off the cold stone floor. Not that sitting is any better—there’s a rock digging into your ass to prove your point, and you send it skittering. It doesn't make a difference. With a sigh, you rub the heels of your hands into your heavy eyelids in an attempt to clear the blurriness from your vision.

“Sorry,” you try, your voice hoarse with sleep. You quickly clear your throat and try again. “Didn't mean to wake you.”

He only grunts in response.

The sky at the mouth of the cave is a slate grey. It’s been raining the last few days—as if the water is trying to follow you ashore—so you aren't sure if the muted light is the growing dawn or due to the thick storm clouds that leave the landscape darkened, no matter where the sun is overhead. It's made everything damp and chilly, and you can feel it in every joint and bone. Between that, your desperate and adrenaline fueled escape from the prison, nearly drowning, and laying on the hard, rocky ground, your entire body aches.

You're both still wearing your white and orange uniforms, though they're worn and filthy now. More brown than white. The fabric is also next to useless outside of a temperature controlled environment, but you have nothing else to keep you warm and nothing at all for your feet. You’d gotten lucky that there had been driftwood piled inside the seaside cave, brought in by the tide and left safe from the rain. Kino had found several more pieces along the beach on that first day and dragged them into the shelter to dry out. Neither of you dared to venture any further afterwards, either from fear or exhaustion.

The last of the wood is burning between you, and, when it’s gone, there won't be anything left to keep the chill at bay. You know you’ll have to recommend sharing body heat at some point soon, but you're reluctant to do so because you also know it won't go over well. You're certain it's the last thing he wants, even if the alternative is stubbornly dying from exposure.

“Think they’ve moved on yet?” You ask, just to have something to distract you from your thoughts.

“Doubt it,” he replies in that gruff voice.

“Yeah,” you sigh. You slump forward and let your forearms rest on your knees, suddenly weary. “But we're going to have to leave eventually. We need food and real shelter.”

“You’re too weak to walk it,” he says to the cave wall.

“I’m fine,” you insist.

Kino's head whips around, and he meets your eyes with a glare. “No, you're not.” You let out a noise of disgust before you can reconsider, and his jaw clenches in response. “You nearly died.”

“Don’t start this again.” You mean it as a plea, but it comes out merely resigned in your exhaustion. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve had this argument since you first woke up to him coughing and shouting on the beach. You don't want to have it again.

“Like you’d listen anyway,” he says. And then he scowls, like you're the problem.

Alright, maybe you'll have it one more time.

“Gods, that bit of power really did go straight to your thick skull didn't it?” You laugh in disbelief. “Why can't you just accept that it was my choice? Mine!”

“I’m well aware of your poor decision making!” He shoots back. Then he sits up to face you, and now it's a proper fight, you think. “I’ve already told you, no one was supposed to die because of me!”

“And I already told you to get over yourself!” You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Do I look fucking dead to you? Hmm?”

“Don't act like it wasn't a close call!”

“I never said it wasn't.” You pinch at the bridge of your nose in an attempt to keep your frustration at bay. Screaming won't make him listen to reason, no matter how good it will feel. “What would you have had me do, Kino? Just let you drown?”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation.

“Well, I didn't.” Your arm flops to your side, too heavy to hold up now. “So maybe you should just consider being fucking grateful instead.”

“I didn't ask for this!” He snaps. It's followed by an immediate look of regret.

Oh. That's new. You take a moment to study his face—the way he can suddenly no longer meet your eyes, like he's ashamed of all things.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You ignore his sardonic, “You.”

Because you don't understand him. Is he really this upset or his pride so wounded over the fact that he needed to be saved? Is he truly this angry just because someone—or more specifically you—saw him when he was weak after being in control for so long? Those are convenient reasons. They're probably even contributing to his horrid mood, but they don't feel as if they’re the reason. It's almost as if—

“You wanted to die.” The shocked realization tumbles from your lips before you can stop it.

There's a long, deafening beat of silence.

“You don't know what you're talking about,” he says quietly as he gathers those strong arms around himself and crosses them like a shield.

Part of your mind is screaming at you to just drop it. You’ve entered new territory. You've never made him defensive like this before, and you don't know how he'll react. But based on all of your previous interactions with him, you know it won't be pleasant. Which is an understatement. The stubborn part of you, however, hopes that this means you're actually making progress. And if you’ve come this far…

“Is that why you won't even try to leave this shit hole again?” You press. “Is that why you're trading one prison for another?”

“That has nothing to do with this,” he says as he narrows his eyes at you, and you're almost disappointed to hear some of his anger returning.

“Yeah right,” you scoff.

“Listen, neither of us is in any condition to evade the searches. All we’re going to accomplish is getting caught.” It sounds almost reasonable, but you know better. You know it for what it really is: a deflection. You did hit a nerve.

“That's only going to get worse,” you argue back. “The lack of food is going to weaken us further, assuming we don't freeze to death first.”

“And it will still be easier if we're not being hunted. We have to be patient,” he says as his frown deepens, frustration beginning to take root once again. “Let them think we’re dead or gone.”

“And how long will that take? Days? Weeks?”

“A hell of a lot longer than three days!”

“Fine. Then we should at least go out and do some scouting so we have an idea of which way to go when the time comes,” you offer instead. “We might even find supplies.”

“It's too risky,” he says dismissively as he waves you off. You bristle against the gesture. “We’re safe here. The cave entrance is hard to find, but if we go in and out too often, we’ll draw attention to ourselves.”

“There's always going to be risk, Kino, whether we leave tonight or a week from now. If we wait, it could be too late,” you point out. “For all we know, the Empire is sending a blockade to keep us all trapped here! Then what?”

“They aren't going to send a blockade for a prison break,” he scoffs.

“And how can you possibly know that?”

“How can you?”

“Why is it so hard for you to trust me?” You hate the hint of misery that seeps into your voice and betrays how much that idea pains you.

“Why should I? If I recall correctly, your judgment has nearly gotten you killed once already,” he says in a mocking tone.

You glare at him. “My judgment saved both our lives.”

He glares right back. “I'm starting to think that was sheer dumb luck.”

Oh, how fucking dare he. After everything you went through—

“I didn't realize you were such a coward,” you say coldly, desperate to hurt him as much as he's hurt you.

The tendons in his neck go taut with rage. “Fuck you,” he spits, but he no more than gets the words out when he's racked with a violent coughing fit. The force of it makes him double over onto the cave floor, and his body heaves with each one.

You wince at the sight, feeling ashamed of your comment now. You didn't want this.

The coughing spells are a parting gift from Narkina 5—the water still won't let him go. He's had a few of them since you got him to shore and forced the ocean from his lungs, and each one sounds a little bit worse than the one before. You're no healer, but that's obviously not a good sign. He needs medicine. You also haven't broached the subject with him because you know it will just start a fight.

As if everything you say doesn't start a fight.

You lean back to wait it out, letting your head thunk tiredly against the cave wall. There's nothing you can do to help him and trying will only make it worse—you learned that the hard way. Plus, it doesn't seem fair to argue with him while he's like this, even if you're only doing it to get through to him for his own good, the stubborn jerk.

It takes several minutes before he finally stops coughing long enough to get his breathing under control. Then he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, rights himself with as much dignity as he can muster, and gives you a cold, hard stare. “Go, then, if you're in such a hurry to end up back in a cell,” he grits out, his voice a strained, wet gravel.

“Fine,” you huff, pushing yourself to your feet. “Stay here and waste away if you want. See if I care. I can find a way off this slag heap by myself.”

You almost make it past the mouth of the cave.

The moment your foot touches the rain slicked rock, the combination of fatigue and an unsteady gait causes you to slip. You hit the ground with a grunt, landing hard on your hip. Sharp, hot pain shoots through the joint, curling up your spine and down your leg. The shock of it takes your breath away, and your eyes sting with fresh tears.

Oh, brilliant, you think caustically. Of all the times to fall on your ass.

Behind you, Kino swears. A second later, you hear the slap of his bare feet on rock as he stomps towards you.

“Broken?” He doesn't quite snap the question at you, but it's a near thing.

“No,” you choke out.

“You have a fucking death wish,” he growls before he hauls you to a sitting position.

Despite the pain, that statement makes you laugh, though it's a bitter, near hysterical sound. You tilt your head back to grin up at him. “Guess we make quite the pair, huh?”

He doesn't respond.

He just shoves his hands under your armpits in an attempt to get a grip on you with those thick fingers. Then your laughter quickly dissolves into a wounded hiss as he drags you back into the cave with no care for your new injury. You're not sure why you suddenly expected him to start coddling you. He never did before.

He dumps you back into the spot you’ve been occupying, glad to be rid of you, and you catch yourself with your hands before you land in a heap.

“Asshole,” you mutter under your breath.

After that, neither of you speaks for a while, content to sit and lick your wounds in what passes for peace now. Eventually, the pain in your hip lessens to a dull throb and the fire is reduced to embers, the long hours sucking the heat out of both.

Outside, the sky has gotten a bit lighter, but is still that dreary mask of grey that makes time feel nebulous. Unknowable. The rain, at least, had turned into a mist about an hour ago. Without the sound of the drops echoing throughout the cave, the silence is unforgiving. Every shuffle along the rock, every sniffle or sigh, every brush of clothes is harsh between you.

“Why are you so mad at me?” You finally ask, desperate for any noise that isn't him heavily exhaling a whistle through his nose.

“I already told you,” he replies, emotionless.

“I’m not talking about that,” you sigh. “You hated me the moment I stepped onto the floor.”

In the low light, there's a brief look of shock on his profile before his scowl returns in full force. “I didn't hate you.”

“Yes you did. You could barely look at me. And you yelled at me all the time.” He opens his mouth to protest, but you continue on so he can't interrupt you. “Look, I understand, in a way. I was slower than nearly all of the men, and you were pissed about being stuck with me. But it's not like I did it on purpose.”

“It wasn't that.” There's a renewed touch of exasperation in his voice. You're intimately familiar with that tone. You’ve heard the way he normally sounds when speaking to other people—got to see what it was like without ever experiencing it yourself—but you’ve never spoken to him without receiving either his impatience or his distaste. You prepare yourself for another fight.

“Then why? Because I was a distraction?” Your bitterness bleeds from you, an anguish built from months of labor and fear. And loneliness, you think. Because, even though you’d been constantly surrounded by people, you’d never felt so completely and utterly alone.

“It's nothing.” He rolls onto his side to face the cave wall, intent on ignoring you.

“It clearly wasn't nothing,” you respond dryly.

“Just drop it,” he says over his shoulder.

“No.” You cross your arms. You're done listening to him just because he tells you to. You don't have to now. You're not in there anymore. “After everything, I think I deserve to know what I did to have you treat me that way.”

“And I don't want to fucking talk about it,” he growls.

“Well, too damn bad! Because there's nothing else to talk about, and I want to know why you hated me when all I wanted was—” You cut yourself off with a hitched breath before you accidentally finish that sentence.

Fighting is one thing. That's easy. Safe. But this is something big and messy that you're still trying to come to terms with, made all the more complicated by your current situation, which was already plenty complicated before. This will only make things worse. You know it will. And despite all the hurtful things you’ve said to each other, you wouldn't be able to stomach his rejection. His pity. His disgust—couldn’t handle being forced to endure it while stuck in this damned cave and made to wallow in the forced intimacy of the space that's anything but. No, this is the one truth you could never take back.

To your embarrassment, your voice is rough and raw with emotion when you speak again. “When all I wanted was to be treated like a person.”

“If that's what you wanted, you were in the wrong place,” he says coldly to the cave wall. “Now shut up and let me sleep.”

“No!” You shout. You no longer care if you’re being petulant because you are angry about it. You’ve been holding onto the feeling for months, but you're tired now. You don't want to carry it around anymore. “I won't let you bully me into silence. I want the truth.”

“Keep your voice down!” He hisses as he flings himself upright to glare at you. Every bit of him is rigid with tension. Dangerous. At least he's looking at you again.

“Then answer me!” You stubbornly glare back at him. “You owe me that much.”

“Fine! I was afraid, alright?” He finally snarls, reminding you of a cornered animal, spitting as it lashes out. “Is that what you want to hear? That you were right? That I'm a coward?”

“What?” All of your anger leaves you in a sudden rush. The hiding, the running, the water—that fear you can understand. But this? You stare at him in genuine confusion. “Why?”

“Because I was scared shitless about what could happen to you! That place was cruel to the men it was designed for. Whatever it had in store for you was going to be much worse. I thought…” He runs a hand down his face and over the scruff of his beard, now grown out beyond a neat trim. The action wipes his own anger away, and underneath it is something human: exhaustion and vulnerability. “I thought, if I kept you at a distance, it would hurt less when it finally broke you, but you made it so damn hard.”

“Oh,” you breathe out in shock, as though you’ve just had the wind knocked out of you. You have, in a way, because, gods, what can you possibly say to that? It's the last thing you were expecting—realistically, you thought he was worried your lack of strength or speed would get someone else killed. This, however…you couldn't have even imagined this. The implication of it… “Kino—”

“Don't. Okay?” He cuts you off. And then he turns away to shut you out as well. “Just…fucking don't.”

So instead you sit there in the uneasy quiet of the cave, feeling adrift. Helpless. Like you're right back in the middle of the ocean, at the mercy of the waves, with nothing to hold onto to keep from sinking; there’s only water in your fumbling grasp. At least then you'd known which way you were supposed to go, it was the getting there that was the problem. Now you don't even have that. You wonder if you’d have the energy to even try if you did.

A part of you wants nothing more than to reexamine every interaction, every look, and every word he’s ever spoken to you and see what you might uncover that you'd missed, but you can't do that with him right there. His presence just muddles everything up until you can't help but mix reality and memory, past and present, assumption and realization. You're nearly dizzy with it.

Plus, knowing that things weren't so black and white between you doesn't change what happened or how you feel. You’ve been hurting and angry for a while—especially at him, and most of which he still deserves for how he treated you. That something more existed lessens the intensity of those feelings, but it doesn't erase them completely. Not yet. Reconciling what you know and what you thought you knew will only come with time.

To the rest of you, however, that reconciliation doesn't seem as important as your fear at almost losing him or the realization that there is something more than just hatred on his end. Even if that thing is nothing more than kindness and compassion, it's something. And you could have died not knowing that. Or worse, you could have lived without knowing instead.

Gods, complicated is an understatement. If only you could have wanted something easy for once. You wonder if he thought the same thing as he watched you from across the work floor. And it feels odd to think that maybe it's not such an unrealistic hope anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, breaking the silence between you at last.

He laughs, and it manages to sound condescending. The familiarity of it is grounding. “What do you have to be sorry about?”

“I guess…” What are you apologizing for? For misunderstanding him? For making his life harder, even if it wasn't your fault? For not agreeing with him? For being unable to shoulder his anger? For continuing to push and push and push. Maybe all of it, you realize. For your part in the making of this. “I guess for saving you when you didn't want me to,” you answer with a shrug instead.

At first, you think he isn't going to respond to that, and you can no longer find it in yourself to blame him. But then, with a voice that’s softer than you’ve ever heard from him—weren’t even sure he was capable of it—he says, “It's not that I didn't want to be saved.”

“Then why? Help me to understand, Kino,” you plead, praying that he won't clam up or lash out again. Not when you've come so far. “Please.”

He gives you a heavy, resigned look before settling his attention on the cave entrance where his gaze becomes unseeing. Though there are only a few feet between you, he suddenly seems miles away.

“When we were planning all of this, I knew what was waiting for us on the outside. I mean, they built the fucking thing in the middle of an ocean and I can't swim. How ironic is that? All that work, and I was gonna make it to the door just to drown.” Then, quietly, “I never gave a thought to what I would do if I didn't. Now I've got no clue what comes next.”

“Neither do I,” you say in disbelief.

He lets out a dark laugh. “Sure don't act like it,” he mutters.

“I’m just better at hiding it.” You give him a small smile that he cannot see.

“Maybe I should be, too,” he muses to himself. “It’d be a hell of a lot better than feeling so lost.”

“Hiding it doesn't make that go away,” you say sadly. You know that all too well.

His only reply is a non-committal hum, and it suddenly occurs to you that he has no clue what you actually went through. How could he? He lept into the water and woke up on shore with nothing but darkness in between. All he knows is that you saved him. Without the rest, he thinks he's struggling alone.

“I almost gave up, you know,” you admit quietly.

That gets his attention again. He turns to look at you, and his eyes are wide with fear and concern. “What?” He gasps.

“I could barely see the shore when the adrenaline wore off. When faced with that distance, all that water, and no strength left?” You shrug in an attempt to seem unbothered, even as the memory fills you with dread. “For one horrible moment, I suppose drowning just seemed easier.” Like going to sleep, you don't say. “But I couldn't. I looked at you, and I couldn't. Not without trying first. And before you say anything, leaving you behind was never an option. Not for me. If this place was going to win, it was going to have to take us both.”

“I never wanted that,” he says helplessly. “When I came to and saw you laying there, I thought you were dead.” His voice breaks and he takes in a deep, shaky breath, but it does little to steady him. “I knew then what you did for me, and I thought it killed you. That after everything, it was me. I broke you, and it wasn't worth it. Not me.”

“You didn't,” you insist, desperate to make him listen. You recognize that despair because it's the same one that haunts your dreams and doesn't let go when you're awake. It's the same fear that grips your chest in icy fingers whenever you catch his sleeping face or you're forced to sit by and listen to him cough—the water still won't let him go. You understand now that he needs the reassurance that it's over just as much as you do. So you push yourself to your knees and dare to move closer, despite the protest of your aching body. “I’m right here. See? I was just tired afterwards, that's all. Just tired. I’m right here.”

Without warning, he reaches for you, and, even though he's never harmed you, you flinch thinking maybe you’ve finally pushed him too far. Only, he grabs the front of your uniform and pulls you to him, just as unkindly as he dragged you across the cave. And then you think he's going to scream again, but when he opens his mouth, he leans in and crushes your lips together instead.

You freeze against him.

Because Kino Loy is kissing you, and that can't be right. He hates you. His mouth can only scowl and scream and cough and—there’s a little grunt from the back of his throat as he adjusts the angle of your lips, and, oh, this is real. Without another thought, you're kissing him back.

At first, there's only tentative relief—at the reassurance, the sensation, at finally getting something you want—but heat starts to build in the breath-humid space between your bodies the longer you kiss and kiss. Something born of more than lust or desire. And though they flicker in your belly as well, it's a bone deep desperation to feel alive that drives you forward and aches to be quelled.

When you break apart to catch your breath, he rests his forehead against yours. Close enough for your noses to brush together and to feel each hard exhale—that blessed, life sustaining air—across your skin.

“I’m sorry,” he says with a sob. His voice is low and thick with grief against your mouth. The sound and shape of it is so different from his anger—in the low light, only a ghost of that harshness is left, clinging to the shadowy lines of his face. You don't have to ask what he's apologizing for.

“Show me,” you whisper back. You let your lips brush over his again in invitation. He responds by delving into the wet heat of your mouth and wrapping you in his arms with a moan.

So you give yourself over to the exploration of his tongue against yours and his large, callus roughened hands as they engulf the sides of your face, caught in the whirlwind of him. It leaves you breathless faster than you like, and when you break for air again, you don't want to give him a moment to change his mind or to pull away completely. So your mouth wanders to his cheeks, the scruff on his jaw, his Adam's apple, the hollow of his throat above the collar of his uniform—seeking out every bit of him that you can reach as he pants and swallows beneath your lips.

He smells like sweat and smoke and saltwater, and his skin is sharp and briny on your tongue as you lap at a spot on his neck. He tastes like drowning, and for a moment you're lost in the memory of him in the water, his weight pulling you beneath the waves. His lifeless face staring up at you from the shore. But then he sucks in a sharp breath, jolting you back to the present, and his lips are on yours again. Warm. Alive. Not the cold flesh you forced air through. Not the same shared breath.

“Wanna see you,” you gasp into his mouth as you lift at the hem of his shirt.

Without a word, he moves to obey.

You both peel away your filthy uniforms with trembling hands, revealing bodies that are just as dirty and unwashed to the chilled air, but beneath all of that is color. His flush of arousal. Bruises that are starting to fade, a gruesome rainbow of healing. The shadows playing in the shifting of muscle as he reaches for you to pull you back into the warmth of his arms. Alive.

He's the first soft thing you’ve touched after days of nothing but rock. And before that, months of only tools and labor and struggle. You bask in the sensation: The greying hair on his chest, the roundness of his belly and hips, salt dried skin, his palm on your cheek. The other on your thigh. He’s softer than you remember from when you were hauling him through the waves—

You wrap your hand around his cock, and his heartbeat throbs in your fist. Alive.

He lets out a groan when you stroke him, something deep and guttural that rumbles through the cave like thunder. The sound sends blood and heat rushing to your core, where it pools between your thighs and leaves you aching and empty. You tease the silken foreskin over his length and work your thumb along the underside of the swollen head just to hear more of it.

With a growl, he falls upon you, pulling you in for a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongues and hunger. His hand cups the swell of your breast while his thumb circles your nipple. You cry out and arch into the roughness of his hand. Then you're both eagerly groping and learning all the ways you can draw more noises from each other until you're left squirming against the insistent throbbing between your legs.

“I want you inside of me,” you murmur into his mouth.

He clenches his eyes shut as his breath hitches, and you're thrilled you can get that reaction out of him. But then he opens his eyes again and, in a shaky voice, asks, “You're sure?”

“Yes!” You growl, impatient. “Fuck me, Kino.”

He lets out a groan. “If you keep that up, I’m not gonna last very long.”

“Don't care as long as your cock is inside me first.”

“Fuck!” He hisses. His hips involuntarily jerk forward at the thought, and said cock grinds into the bend of your groin. “Then I'll give you what you want.”

After that reaction, you think he's going to throw you down and do just that. Instead, his touch gentles, his palm cradling the base of your skull as he lays you out along the rock. The movement doesn't make you feel delicate or like something that's injured and cowering in a cave, but rather like something to be revered.

This is his apology.

A caress along your inner knee has your legs falling open, leaving you exposed before him. Before you can be self-conscious about it, he gives your arousal a heated look that drives the thought from your mind. Then he traces a fingertip up the tender skin of your thigh, and fire licks from your thigh to your belly.

For a moment, you wonder what it would be like to have this on the other side of the galaxy. Not in a cave, but in a bed, warm and clean with a full stomach. Maybe it would be sweet like this between you the whole time rather than something that's taking an effort just to maintain. Because you know this is only a moment—a reprieve. It can't last, not when that cold desperation and panic are rebuilding within your gut.

It's a lovely thought. But by the time he kneels between your thighs, you need again. You pull him down and he goes willingly, falling to brace his hands on the stony ground on either side of your shoulders. Then you hold your breath as he closes the distance, slowly, until the length of his cock is resting and throbbing, flush against your sex.

Your hips grind up against him, trapping him between your heat and his belly so that when he thrusts back, seeking more, he drags himself along your wet folds; the sensitive head of his cock rubs against your clit. Both of you moan, wounded and strangled sounds. So he does it again. And again. Over and over until you're both gasping and shuddering at the slick friction.

All the while he stares down at you, studying you. Taking in the way your face contorts and breaks with pleasure. His eyes are sea blue, you realize—the water, greedy—so wild and deep and pulling you in. It sets your pulse racing and makes your palms sweat against his shoulders. You turn away from the intensity in that gaze.

“No.” To your surprise, he takes your chin between his finger and thumb, not gentle but steady, and he forces you to look anyway. To face him. “Let me see you.”

He holds you there with the weight of his body as he shifts to nudge at your opening. It's so close to what you need. Your legs wrap around his waist in silent encouragement. Then, once he's lined up, he sinks forward with a groan and stretches you open on his cock until you're aching and full.

His mouth goes slack. Those eyes become heavy and lidded. Not closed—alive. Which makes all the difference to your wounded mind. So you drink in the sight of him like this, buried in the tight embrace of your cunt. A ruinous look.

You're drowning again.

It scares you, just how much you want to give yourself over and let go. How easy it would be to become lost. To believe that this is something more than desperation. But then his eyes refocus and whatever tenderness had gripped him is absent from that gaze. In its place is hunger. Need. Urgency.

“Gods, you're so tight,” he grinds out from behind clenched teeth as he gives a shallow thrust into you. The sound goes straight to your core, soaking him further. “Feels so good.”

Then he finally—finally—fucks you. Hard and fast.

The ground is cold and unrelenting beneath your spine where you're folded and crushed against it. Above you, he's blanketing you in heat and the delicious slide of flesh along your nerves. A lovely contrast already, but then his hand finds your hip, his fingers digging into your fresh bruise, and you gasp from the pain—it hurts, but if it hurts that means you're alive. He doesn't stop at the sound. Instead, there's understanding in those eyes as he pulls you in to meet each plunge of his cock, and, oh, that's even better.

You spare a thought for his knees right before he shifts. Then he's dragging against that spot inside of you, and your mind goes blissfully empty with pleasure. Your head falls back, weightless with it. At that opening, he buries his face in your neck, muffling every grunt into your skin. He presses the vibrations of them into your flesh and bones alongside his exhales, the scrape of his beard, the unconscious skim and purse of his lips. You shiver.

You won't come from this alone, but you don't care. This is enough. You just need to feel something—need the proof that he's alive. That you're alive. That this IS real and not some drawn out hallucination your dying brain came up with between the span of one heartbeat and your last.

But it has to be real. Even in your darkest moments, alone in your cell, you never allowed yourself to want this—the thing you could not have. The galaxy had been cruel enough on its own without any assistance from you. So there were no images or dreams in your mind to conjure this from. Which means these messy kisses, the wet noise of your joining, your sweat slicked skin, his hair, salt-stiffened and curled between your fingers, must be real. It also means every moment of this is new and unburdened by expectation or comparison.

It's everything else that haunts you.

All too soon, and just as promised, his body grows tense, and he starts to tremble above you. Between your exhaustion and his unrelenting pace, this was never intended to last. And he's so close, but when he meets your eyes, you see hesitation. Uncertainty. When he moves to pull away, you realize he means to finish by stroking and spilling himself across your belly instead. But that isn't what you need.

“No! Don’t,” you beg. Your legs tighten around his waist, and you grasp at his neck and shoulders, unwilling to let him go with a strength that surprises you both. Then you roll your hips and grind yourself onto his cock, dragging a hiss out of him. “I want to feel you.”

He groans as he yields to your plea, too near that edge to argue, so he falls right back into a punishing rhythm. Yet underneath the hunger and determination, there's anguish now, too. As if by doing this, he remains afraid he'll break you somehow. Still, he clings to your hips as every thrust turns short and sharp with purpose until, at last, he buries himself fully and chases that relief in the depths of your cunt.

When he comes, the only sound he makes is a harsh sob. And then his cock is pulsing inside of you, filling you with warmth. Life.

Alive. Alive. Alive.

He collapses heavily at your side with a few wet coughs, spent and too exhausted to hold himself up any longer. You lay there for a moment, listening to his ragged breathing, unsure of what comes next. You're afraid he’ll push you away once his mind clears. That he’ll go back to hating you from across the cave, now muggy with the scent of sex, as his come leaks down your thighs.

He doesn't.

Instead, he holds his arms open in silent invitation and you realize he's offering you a choice: move forward with or without him. And this time, you know he accepts that it's your decision to make. But you’ve already made this choice once, when you watched him slip beneath the waves. When you dove for him in the water, hauled him back out of it, and then forced it from his lungs. It was just as easy to make then. Maybe now he’ll understand what it means.

You go to him and curl against him in acceptance. He kisses the fragile skin of your temple, and then he helps you get settled by tucking your head under his chin and rubbing warmth in a soothing pattern along your stone chilled back. Your hand finds his waist. His leg entangles with yours. Back and forth until there's nothing but drying sweat between you, as if you have always fit together in this way.

You want to savor this. More than that, you want to have this if you can. If he’ll let you. If he doesn't go back to holding you at a distance out of habit and self-preservation in a day or so, always waiting for the worst to happen and scared of the hurt that might follow. As if anything could be worse than losing him now. Then he really would be the thing that broke you. A self fulfilling prophecy. You almost want to laugh at the irony.

All at once, the silence feels heavier than you can bear.

“Never again tell me you aren't worth it,” you whisper fiercely to the cave. “You are to me.”

He doesn't respond, but the hand splayed over your ribs twitches before clutching you tighter.

“We’ll try in the morning,” he says quietly instead. Under your ear, the compromise rumbles loudly throughout his chest. Beneath that, his steady heartbeat.

His statement doesn't fill you with anything as naive as hope. The Empire is still looking for you, and they aren't ever going to stop now. You’ve only traded imprisonment for the illusion of freedom. The thought claws at you, threatens to pull you under. But there's an arm around your shoulders that squeezes as it holds you close, and you remember that you can't let go. You can't lose him. You won't. You have to keep moving.

“In the morning,” you agree.

"Hey,” he said, half-asleep, “what were you before me?” “I think I was drowning.” A pause. “And what are you now?” he whispered, sinking. I thought for a second. “Water."

- Ocean Vuong, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous

A/N: The song for this fic is Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish btw.

[lesbian-in-leather]

jacquelyn/esme !

Oh oh oh this is such a good one!!!!! Okay:

They're definately a very explosive pair—Jacquelyn likes to come off as very composed and controlled, but Esmé can get under her skin in a matter of minutes; which she both hates and (if she was to be entirely honest with herself) immensely enjoys because very few people can get to her like that. Esmé just likes causing problems, and their verbal (and physical) sparring matches are infinately entertaining to her

The fact that, on paper, Jacquelyn is the high society lady and Esmé is some nobody from nowhere important is endlessly interesting to me. They go to fancy events together and people that have never met them assume Esmé is Jac and Jac is Esmé based entirely on how they dress/act/etc. It's not that Jac is necessarily bad at it, but even though she was raised to be a Duchess, she just seems so much stiffer and less comfortable in the world of tea parties and endless gossip, while Esmé fits in seamlessly. Esmé's also the only partner Jac's family has ever approved of (despite her lack of land, title, or breeding), and Jac is constantly furious about it

Maybe it's just because I'm a sucker for angst, but I do like to imagine that, despite everything, Jacquelyn did genuinely care about Esmé. She never made this known, of course, and even Esmé just assumed she merely appriciated what they could do for each other—but if you rewatch Esmé's speech at the In Auction in Netflix's TEE and watch for Jac's reaction when she thinks Esmé's coming back to their side... it's sad, lads

Send me a ship and I’ll tell you three things I like about it!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

still unwell over the prospect of Howdy slowly putting the pieces together and having a complete mental breakdown over it. Laughingstock edition!

[necrotic-nephilim]

in lieu of having posted any writing/headcanons/asks in the past few days because i have been *so* busy and unable to do anything fandom-related which is terrible and evil, i have a poll out of morbid curiosity and self-indulgence. i've been meaning to ramble here about how i feel about DC's lack fo Deaf representation and which Batfam members i would personally make Deaf, but i am mildly curious about the larger opinion and now i will subject you all to the question, i would love to hear thoughts/opinions/headcanons on any specific choices. (would love d/Deaf/HoH opinions esp but i'm mostly expecting this to reach the hearing crowd, so opinions from hearing ppl are ones i'm very curious about. if you've never given it thought before you are going to now or else /lh)

[soaps-mohawk]

hey when the fic is finished would you be okay with people binding it into a book for their own personal use? I personally would love to eventually have this fic as a book on my shelf so I can reread it whenever - 🌻

I really hate this question 😭

It's nothing against you anon, I just never know how to answer it. Because if I say yes, then I have to trust that you're only doing it for personal use and then someone that isn't going to use it for personal use could take that as permission and then turn around and start selling it which could get me into legal trouble above all the other ethical issues with it.

I just never know how to answer. It takes a lot of trust (which I'm not saying you're not trustworthy) and I doubt if someone was going to do it with nefarious intentions, they wouldn't be asking permission.

So I don't know. I really don't.

[pbpsbff]

my adoring fans do u guys prefer shorter fics (1-3k) that come out more frequently or longer fics (4k+) that take longer to put out

[muirmarie]

the real reason i don't do spirk to mcspirk that often is because the idea of being a second pick bothers me so deeply and terribly that i would prefer not to be with someone at all. you love me or you don't. what does it say if you're happy in a relationship without me and then eventually something happens and you're like, oh, our friend, yeah we should probably love her as well. i don't want to be wanted like that, and the idea of being wanted like that makes me want to never be wanted at all, makes me want to disappear forever and never let a hand touch me, never let a hand catch me - better to never be held with love at all then to be held like that. and what does that mean for kirk and spock? to learn to love a thing too late? to be too blind to what's in front of them? to hurt someone they're supposed to love? better to swallow their love for him like poison than let it seep out and kill the friendship they already have. it's too late! it's too late. you made your choice and you can't go back. why would you ever want to be a second choice? the person left behind, waiting, hoping they come back for you? i am taking the choice away from you, i am turning away from you, i am telling you that this isn't love, i am telling you that i don't love you back. i will choke to death on my own bloodied, swallowed words of love before i ever let myself want you like that.

anyway yeah that's why i don't usually write spirk to mcspirk unless spirk is already REAL FREAKS about mccoy. like they have to be insanely obsessed with that man before they're in a relationship or it just doesn't work for me.

also i'm aware i clearly have some deep-seated issues about this lmao, but i genuinely don't know what they're from!!! but they're DEEP AND THEY ARE EVER PRESENT lmaoooooooo

[and like: i cannot stress enough????? i am just laughing about MY issues, i am absolutely not saying other ppl shouldn't write that!!! this is more me just being like lmao why does that make my ears ring and my vision blurry when i see it???? haha isn't that weird????]