#i'm actually going to write a better more fleshed out fic for this

[yandere-romanticaa]

Seen the request, so I shall deliver. Could you pls write a drabble or hcs of a yandere sunday with an isekaied reader?

Good timing because I'm actually planning a non yan isekai fic for him, I wonder if you saw that post. Here it is in case you haven't.

Sincerest apologies if this isn't the best, this fic is 100% emotionally charged by my obsession with him and frankly with a little bit of a high for passing a tricky exam. This is a treat for myself.

EDIT: Please check out this wonderful comic that @danijaci made me based off this fic!! 😭🫶

Picking up the cup from the fine oak table, you gazed towards the eerie galaxy before you, hundreds upon thousands of stars giving you a constant reminder of just how far from home you truly were. Taking a sip from the little porcelain cup you could not help but to hum in delight, the soft notes of the tea soothing your nerves ever so lightly as you pretended to ignore the heavy gaze which lingered at the back of your head.

Even from this distance, it was easy to tell that Sunday was eager to approach you. Still, he kept his distance and made a silent offering in the form of the very tea you drank at the moment.

Anything is better than Himeko's coffee but you were never going privy her to that.

In a not so distant past, all of this was nothing but fiction. The Express, the story, the characters - it was all nothing more but fiction, something to pass the time as your days went on and on, the same monotony repeating each and every day.

It was hard to not think about your friends and family, what sane person would not? Lord knows how they must be feeling right now, worried sick out of their minds with indescribable sorrow. In their eyes you had merely vanished, not a single trace to be found. For all they knew you could have been left for dead in a ditch somewhere, beaten, bloodied and broken, never to see the light again or if they were even more inclined to be morbid, you had succumbed to a fate worse than death. Death at the very least grants you finality, that all is over regardless of what happened moments prior.

But that was simply not the case for you.

Here you were, lounging about in a comfortable chair as you pondered on your old life while enjoying tiny little luxuries, far away where none of your loved ones could reach you. However, life was funny sometimes because it had some fun games in store.

Sunday was very kind upon arrival. He made sure to always be there for you, always checking up on you, always there to keep you company. You were already smitten with him but now to actually witness him in the flesh was just... Indescribable. You got along like a house on fire, so much so that the crew liked to tease that you ought to just get a room. Sunday, ever the gentleman, would just brush their words aside and assure you to not take their playful little jabs to heart.

You wouldn't say anything, resorting to merely giving him a smile but not because of what he said but rather of what he did not - never once did he actually shut down those perverse accusations. Never, not even once did he deny them.

He became an emotional crutch, someone to whom you would come running to when things got tough and he would always welcome you with open arms. Sunday would hold you tenderly, his serene voice dripping with honey along with a tender drop of ecstasy, for his excitement with holding you would just show itself sometimes. His grip would be too tight at certain moments, never quite ready to let you leave. His hugs were warm and comforting, he always smelled so good too. He smelled like kindness and sweet wildflowers, always lulling you back to him no matter the time. In dark corners and perhaps even under the watchful eyes of the crew, Sunday would wrap his scarf around your head, securing the soft fabric in order to provide you with a sense of comfort.

It was humiliating just how much you would try to inhale his scent as much as possible. You wanted it etched deep inside your memory, you wished for it to linger on your very soul and for it to follow you everywhere you went, sticking to your being like tar. The fabric of the scarf would muffle your ears a little but someone was always chatting in the background. Be it March bickering with Dan Heng, Mr Yang scolding someone for doing something they were not supposed to, or just Conductor Pom Pom trying to give a speech, all of it was irrelevant.

You were ready to kill whoever would try to pry you away from sweet Sunday. That thought came often which had left you worried - just what kind of person had you become? Regardless, you kept your mouth shut and had no plans of sharing such violent sentiments with anyone, particularly not to the one you held so dear.

When it was time to part for the evening you would bid the crew farewell and wished them a good night. You always made sure to take a few extra seconds with Sunday, just to ease your aching soul. He would tell you to sleep well and would see you in the morning, ready to take on any endeavor that crossed your paths.

As everyone parted ways, Sunday would wander off somewhere dark and distant, somewhere no one could see nor hear him. He would fall to his knees and clutch his chest in agony, fat tears streaming down his face as he did everything he possibly could to steady his raging heart. In a rush he would reach for the scarf which clung around his neck, his grip tighter than iron as he would bring it close to his nose. Taking a large, deep breath, Sunday was greeted by your familiar scent which would promptly calm his poor heart.

He sometimes wondered if his heart would start bleeding from the pain due to the sheer intensity of his emotions.

This was wrong, everything about this was not right and it hurt. Sunday was obviously ill but he had no clue on how to fight this... This emotion, this white hot feeling of need whenever you stood by his side. He started to choke on the air around him and fell into an abrupt coughing fit but even then, he could bring himself to remove the scarf from the lower part of his face.

Sunday wept and sobbed, filthy snot coming out from his nose but he could not handle that now. He needed you, Oh Heavenly Aeons, how he needed you. However was he going to tell you how he felt? How, oh how was he going to express the sheer magnitude of his true thoughts? He would scare you off, he was sure of it.

Even with this pain, even with these clipped wings and bleeding heart, Sunday had never felt so alive, so harrowingly present in the moment whenever he was with you.

Perhaps, he was doing himself a kindness by just letting you be. Drink your tea, be at peace.

He can always just make you another cup if you so desired.

Without knowing, you both haunted each other in the most agonizing way known to mankind and neither was strong enough to face the reality of the situation.

[arimbaudspierre]

Anything You Knead - Doey x Reader (18+) HCs

Some headcanons for my on-going fic (nsfw!), or rather, just some scattered thoughts I have on how I've written some things about Doey, the Player, and other things. Blown away by all the sweet comments and kudos on it, just to say thanks again. HCs below the cut! Probably nothing NSFW but the fic itself is EXTREMELY NSFW so minors please DNI.

‣ Obviously, Doey's an adult in the fic. There's a tape that says that Matthew was at least 15 when he was under observation by Playtime, with the expectation that he was too old to be likely adopted and that they were considering hiring him when he was 18. Given that Doey was made in 1993 and the game takes place in 2005, he's at least 27, but even if Kevin and Jack are slightly younger than Matthew was, they too would be in their early 20s at the least. ‣ To the extent that that matters though, I'm not sure-- at least not for what I've written. I actually don't treat the three personalities as distinct, I have sort of taken a page from Steven Universe on this one, but I like the idea that Doey is his own wonderfully complicated person as a result of the merging, although I know that the game has fairly unsubtle imagery to suggest otherwise. It's part of why I think Doey is so much better written than almost all of the other characters in the franchise though; in their attempt to create a character that exhibits qualities of three different people, I feel like they actually just finally wrote someone who feels three-dimensional and fleshed out, because people are complicated things who are often compelled by many wants and fears within themselves, those of which may even be at odds. So, in the fic, there is no personality that 'fronts' at different times, Doey simply is himself-- for better or worse. ‣ I do think he's tried his hand at a relationship or two before (despite what he claims in Chapter 3 of the fic, slight spoiler), before the Player walks into his life, since there's obvious hints within the game that the Bigger Bodies project has been tried with more than just the orphans (the whole theory surrounding DogDay's true identity, the Prototype, etc) and there are reasonably other hot-blooded adults sharing the space with him. But, it's probably best left to hand-wavy-head-cannon territory since I don't want to spend a whole lot of time explaining that. ‣ The Player is an adorable little bombshell so Doey is quite correct when he calls them pretty. I did a quick lil' drawing of them, taking some fashion cues that I would have worn in 2005 (but much less layering. I am so glad we are over putting flared skirts over flared jeans). They are Hispanic, 28/29ish, and you know we gotta do the pale nude lipstick and sequin 'Angel' shirt. They are based on a Bratz doll, although I don't think the Player is a toy, just a cute little nod to that theory.

‣ I think the Player was an intern or a small-time assistant at Playtime, although I know there are nods within the game that suggest otherwise. There's a part where I wrote that they used to fetch coffee for Harley at some point. If that's true, I know it's possible that they know of Doey, but I really want to put some distance between the Player and Doey in the early days. Would make for some great angst, though, and probably would be better set up for romance if they'd been friends. Someone take that idea and write it for me! ‣ The Player is selectively mute. They can talk, but I think it's rare for them to speak even in their everyday life, and the trauma they've endured at Playtime is pushing that to the extreme. Doey is great at interpreting what they mean, though, and being mute doesn't stop them from talking about their feelings. ‣ The Player's candidness in inner dialogue is also inspired by how my friends and I spoke in 2005. Sick! ‣ One thing that I have loved writing is that both the Player and Doey have aspirations beyond falling in love and sharing intimate moments together. They are both there to do what they need to do, and although it's clear that something is brewing between them, that unfortunately cannot stop what's to come. ‣ I know a lot of you really want it to be a fix-it fic, but I hope that you trust that what I have for the ending must be what it is-- love is not without sacrifice, but I think the core of the issue is that in the actual game, we don't know why the sacrifice was made (narratively, because we are in the dark about the Player's motivations and Poppy's motivations, and thematically, because Doey's crash-out and our conflict with Poppy is largely due to miscommunication). This doesn't leave us feeling like the Chapter had a good conclusion, even though stories can have feel concluded without it being one where everyone we like lives and good, sensible decisions were made. I initially just wanted to write a one-off little smut story, but since I'm tackling some plot, my terms will be that I want to give the canon ending set up that makes the pay off feel earned, but bittersweet. ‣ That being said, 100% I'm rooting for him to return in the next game. :) You can count on more stories if so. That's the end! If you read all this way, thank you. Please share some HCs with me, if you have them, I love any and everything about this stupid doughman. The next chapter of the fic is almost done, and because I am a loving and fair god, it is mostly fluff, and we will get to the angst in the chapter afterwards. Don't say I don't do anything for you guys. Bonus: here's what I listened to almost on repeat while writing the next chapter. -arim

[miirohs]

cariño [c.s]

pairing: Mob Boss!Carlos Sainz x GN!Reader wc: 1.3k cw: blood, implied off screen violence an: i cannot write hurt/comfort, forgive me for this raw ahh fic... i actually did most of the spanish in here myself though my spanish sucks for someone whos been learning for two years. also this better do well or im actually going to ragequit (not).

“Carlos?” You sat up, eyes heavy as you turned your head in the direction of the bathroom. 

There was a crack in the bathroom door, a sliver of light faintly illuminating the room. You could hear him clunking around inside, soft groans of pain reverberating around the room. He’d been in there for god knows how long, leaving you restless as you waited for him to somehow come back.

Pulling yourself out of bed, you tiptoed across the room, pushing the bathroom door open quietly.

A mess was all that greeted you.

You grimaced at the smell of iron staining the air, slightly pushing the gun that sat right at your feet. Various articles of clothing had been discarded all over the floor, a trail of blood stained the floors and the granite countertops.

Your eyes followed it to the bathtub, where you saw Carlos laying. His breathing was shallow, head tipped back against the edge of the bathtub, exposing the cuts all over the visible upper half of his body. 

He wore nothing but a white undershirt, pants seemingly still on as they weren’t among the pile of clothes you’d seen earlier. Hearing you shuffled seemed to wake him from his dazed state, head turning in your direction. You froze.

The low lights seemed to cast a shadow over his eyes, barely hiding his bloodshot eyes, full of frustration and irritation as he stared at you. 

“Creí haberte dicho que no me molestaras (I thought I told you not to bother me)…” He trailed off, annoyed expression on his face softening into something less harsh at the sight of you, “…Y/n. Is something wrong?”

“What happened?” You murmured softly as you approached him, causing him to try to sit up in the tub as.

“Nothing cariño, please go back to bed, I'm sorry for disturbing your sleep.” He groaned, offering you a faint smile as if to comfort you. In all honesty, it made you all the more unsettled at his disheveled appearance, like an itch you couldn’t seem to rid yourself of.

“Carlos, who’s blood is this?” The question made the smile drop off his face, a closed off expression taking its place as you got closer to him. 

“You don’t need to worry about it.” He snapped suddenly, glaring at you as if daring you to take another step closer. “No más de esto, déjalo cariño (no more of this, let it go sweetheart).”

You didn’t listen to him, gently sitting yourself down next to the tub. The cold was a sharp contrast to the heat in your legs.

Looking over, his hand was covering his waist, teeth gritted in pain as you reached down to move his hand. 

Pausing, you looked to him for confirmation and he nodded, despite his former reservation about you seeing him in that state.

Gingerly, you lifted his hand off, eyes widened at the sight of blood soaked in his shirt.

“Te lo dije (I told you),” He retorted with a frown, “I told you so, I didn’t want you seeing all of this.”

“Could you roll it up so I could at least see what's wrong?” You fretted, fingers lightly running up and down the ribbed material of his undershirt.

Exasperated, he obliged, pulling the material that seemed to stick to his skin.

“What the fuck happened…” You trailed off, breathing becoming uneven as you scanned the expanse of his wound, cutting through his skin and exposing the flesh. His ribs were bruised up, various other cuts around the area of the wound.

Worst of all, the coppery smell seem to burn your throat, tears welling up in your eyes at the sight.

“Breath, mí felicidad,” He groaned, bringing up his hand to your own and caressing your knuckles, “I’ve had worse happen to me, and you panicking will not make things easier.”

“But we should call the doctor-”

“We can’t,” He insisted, straining as he sat up to look at you, “You need to do it. There should be a first aid kit in the cabinets, can you get it?” Even as he was bleeding out there in the tub, he had such an intense gaze, mixed with some form of adoration as he watched you.

Reluctantly you got up, opening up the cabinets to shuffle through the boxes, hands eventually hitting something in the back. You pulled out a big black box, and he nodded as confirmation that it was indeed the right box.

You were shaking slightly as you set it down next to you, opening up the box. There were various supplies such as painkillers, bandaids, gauze, even sterilized materials resting at the bottom in their packets.

You shakily cleaned your hands, pulling out everything you could need before putting on the gloves you had found sifting through the box.

“What- what do i do now Carlitos?” You whimpered, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat as you pulled the antiseptic out. 

He grimaced at the sight, but nonetheless shook his head, moving so he could show the wound to you.

“It stopped bleeding a while ago, so it needs to be cleaned so that it doesn’t get infected, then we can think about stitches.”

The thought made your stomach churn but you pushed aside the nausea, gently dipping a cotton ball in antiseptic and bringing it to his wound. He hissed as you wiped away the dirt and sweat, his jaw clenched tightly, but he didn’t protest.

At some point during the whole process, his hand had reached up to you, running up and down your arm rather gently for someone having a needle stuck in them. You could hear him wincing softly, licking his lips as you pulled the needle through his skin another time. 

His grip on your arm tightened a couple times, but not to the point of making you uncomfortable, more as a way of telling you it hurt even if he put on a stoic expression.

The final stitch was made, and you could finally breathe a sigh of relief as you wrapped the gauze around his waist.

Done," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "You'll be okay now?"

“Sí, gracias mí amor (yes, thank you my love),” He murmured, offering you a kiss on the forehead as he hauled himself out of the tub, seating you down on the lid as he limped to the sink. You sat in silence as he wiped the blood off himself, watching as he grimaced at the bruises and various other cuts.

The gravity of the situation was still fresh on your mind, a sense of unease as you watched him lean over the sink.

“What happened tonight…?” You stopped, noticing how he had tensed up once again. You had touched a sore spot, obviously one fresh in his mind. “If you don’t want to answer-”

“Some fucker brought a knife and tried to sabatoge me during the meeting, but I made sure to personally take care of him before I left the room. I couldn’t say the others were very happy with me, I think they were just unhappy it wasn’t me who dropped dead this time.” He chuckled incredulously, heart dropping to your stomach as the implications of what could have happened floated through your head.

He must have noticed your reaction, because his simpered smirk slowly turned into a look of realization about what his words must’ve meant.

“Ay cariño, i didn’t mean to worry you like that,” He cooed, reaching over to pull the hair out of your face, “I love you. You trust me, don’t you?”

You nodded, leaning into his touch.

“Venga, dímelo (come on, tell me) cariño.”

“I do trust you,” You repeated to him, looking into his eyes as he broke into a faint smile, “just promise me you won’t come home like this, don’t die on me.”

He stroked your hair, bringing you closer to him. “And I will, mí amor, I will.” 

You didn’t have to know of the things he did to others, the things he’d done just to come home to you. All that was important, at the end of the day, was that he’d always come back to you.

[burningcheese-merchant]

How on earthbread do you ship BurningCheese. Im gonna try to not judge you. This is 80% a non-rethorical question. like genuinely how do you ship them?? /lh

I was wondering when someone would come ask me this lol. It's ok though, you can be honest, I can feel you narrowing your eyes at me through the screen 👀

I could honestly go on for a REALLY long time about why I ship BurningCheese/GoldenSpice. But I'll try to distill/narrow down my thoughts the best I can so my answer isn't longer than the Bible

I adore the enemies to lovers trope and hero/villain pairings in general. I did long before Cookie Run and I will long afterwards

I like how they complement and contrast against each other, aesthetically + personality-wise + backstory-wise

I love how they interact with each other. I love how they talk and snipe at each other. Golden Cheese's frustrated yet unyielding confidence and wit VS Burning Spice's brash, raucous excitement is fun to see. (The back-and-forth they have during their fight in episode 6 is dangerously close to how I've written them in my fics, even before the episode came out. So technically, in a way, my fics have been canonized lol)

It's fun imagining them together in different ways. A one-sided crush/obsession on Burning Spice's part is fun in a dark way (my Yandere Spice). So is a mutual love and respect between them. Main canon for me is a slow burn romance and a slow redemption arc for Spice alongside it. I also have an AU where Golden corrupts and becomes a Beast herself, and they become an evil villain couple. I have another where Spice doesn't get better and Golden doesn't get worse, they just have the standard forbidden love affair that they hide from the world (the latter out of fear of judgement, the former just so no one can try to keep them apart). I've got a million story ideas with them. You can do all sorts of things with them imo. And I think it works because of how they bounce off of each other. Put them in different situations and see how their relationship changes/adjusts/adapts, see if love can exist and how

I like their size difference. Spice is significantly taller and wider than Golden and it's really funny to see lol

The way they and their relationship/dynamic parallel actual Egyptian and Indian mythology (the latter in particular) is absolutely unreal

Not kidding, I can go on about the symbolism and allusions and references forever. I could write an actual paper on it. How can a ship go THIS hard

Come on, don't act like they wouldn't give each other a fantastic time in bed lmao

They follow each other around in my kingdom almost 24/7. Literally every single time I log in they're next to each other or one is trailing behind the other while they walk somewhere. If they want to be together that badly, I'm not going to stop them

They are literally the cycle of life and death, they have the single most important connection of all the Beasts and Ancients, one simply cannot go on without the other for together they make up the foundation of the goddamn cosmos

It actually all started with me and someone irl joking about Burning Spice having a stalker crush when the very first trailer came out. Then I went "haha that could be a funny fic". Then I wrote it and went "wait this is an interesting idea". Then episode 5 came out and I went "wait wtf does he actually want her??? He's acting like he does in my fic!!!" Then I wrote more and got even more attached to the one-sided attraction dynamic. Then I started imagining them in an actual, normal relationship and how that might pan out. Then I started writing stuff for/about that and I got extremely attached to that. Now they have a fully fleshed out relationship and they're married and have two kids, and I have a billion side stories and AUs, and any other ship involving either of them viscerally repulses me. I unironically memed too close to the sun and immediately fell straight down into BurningCheese hell (but it's ok, I like it here and I don't plan on leaving ever)

I can and I want to and no one can stop me

I still wrote a Bible, didn't I lol. BurningCheese/GoldenSpice is perfect in every way, they are my ride-or-die and you can pry the ship from my cold, dead hands. The end, roll credits

[drspleenmeister]

*Holding my smut!logistics head despairingly in my angry little hands*

Ugh.

Okay.

Girls, guys, whomever: I've said it before and I'm going to say it again now, because I've read more logistically implausible fics in the last few days than I dare to count on my grumpy little claws. The writing may be smoking, but if you can't get the logistics of sex right then you are just going to make your readers go, "Eh, what?!"

You cannot deepthroat someone while breathing through your nose. You can't. Unless you have gills. If you're writing smut for fish then by all means continue to have your characters comfortably taking in oxygen whilst choking on a cock. Otherwise, stop it.

Throat-fucking is hot, HOTTT, but again. Breathing is not possible simultaneously. Please. This type of breath-play is sexy. Use it.

Have you ever tried to hollow your cheeks with a cock jammed down between your tonsils? No? That's right: you can't. Your characters are either using their tongue and cheeks or they are using their throat; I guarantee they can't do both at the same time. Also, having a man able to feel the outline of his cock through the cheek of his partner while they are going down on him: only possible if he is JABBING his fingers into his partner's cheek and forcing the flesh between their teeth, or fucking the head of their cock into their partner's cheek-flesh. Either way is really not going to be comfortable for the partner who is doing the work.

Having your characters stop kissing because they can't breathe is fucking stupid. Have you ever kissed a human? You have a NOSE (which in this instance is NOT being blocked by a cock). It is perfectly possible for two humans to mack on one another for hours at a time without having to come up for air. Drawn-out snogging is hot; have you ever kissed someone so much that lube/prep is not even needed? Trust me, it's awesome.

Limbs. LIMBS. Block your smut scene out in your head, for the love of God. I can't count the number of times that a writer has led me to believe that a pairing are facing one another on a bed, only to find in the next sentence that one is actually behind the other up against a wall; or they're laying down; or one is seated and the other standing.

Get your names and pronouns straight (heh heh...), with m/m or f/f fiction it's so easy as the reader to lose track of who is doing what if you're only referring to the characters as him/her. Don't be afraid to use names, it's better to be too clear than not clear enough.

If you don't have the first-hand experience yourself to write about certain sexual experiences then LOOK. IT. UP. I am neither male nor queer, yet I adore m/m explicit fic and I've done my goddamn research; it drives me up the wall when a writer puts their men into a position that does not warrant easy access to the prostate, but then go ahead and try to write the act as if it's as natural as breathing. My dude, if you're making me - a straight female - shake my head at the logistical inaccuracies of one hot man fucking another hot man, then just imagine the fits of hilarity that you're sending an actually gay man into, who attempts to read your work!

I would say I'm sorry for ranting, but I'm not. I've been reading fanfic for a very very long time and it makes my cold, dead heart so happy when writers get it right, and so sad when they get it wrong.

[rubberduckyrye]

You know I've seen quite a few people say they're wanting to make v3 rewrites lately--and as someone who is actively working on one by myself, I feel like I should give some advice. I know I'm nowhere NEAR done with Twins AU, but I've made a ridiculous amount of progress and I think these things have greatly helped me out personally

So here are my tips for making a V3 rewrite and actually making it stick/not to burn out before the first chapter!

This is important. Don't try to please everyone. You will never please everyone. Write this for yourself, and you will find an audience. People can and will hate your fic no matter what you do. Don't try to please them, they are not your target audience-- so Write this story for, first and foremost, yourself. It'll feel so much more rewarding if you do I promise.

V3's main theme is extremely muddied due to how the narrative was and how open ended the game was left, and from my own research, no one can agree on what V3 was trying to say about truth and lies, or Reality and Fiction. If you want to rewrite this story, you're going to need to narrow down what you want your rewrite to say about the themes presented.

PLAN THE EVIDENCE AND MURDERS AS THOROUGHLY AS YOU CAN. I think not knowing what I was going to do for the cases and trials really scared me for the longest time until I essentially sat myself down and fleshed out all of the cases for Twins AU. Make evidence lists, do research on how your murder cases might go, the works. It's a lot of work but I personally followed this post and also made an evidence list to help me out plot out the murders for Twins AU. This is also a great way to flesh out your protagonist as well, since you get to explore their note-taking style and what kind of language they'd use for taking notes and if they have opinions about certain things.

Write a summary of each character in the story. DR games have a big cast and V3 has an even BIGGER cast than usual, so it's good to write down summaries for all of the characters. I also suggest really studying each character too, even if you plan on changing a character to better suit your tastes (or to get rid of offensive material.... looking at you Angie) you still want to keep the core of their character intact for fans of that character.

Speaking of characters, make sure to try and remember to write each one as a human being, even if they aren't human (Kiibo for example). Develop them, give them quirks and flaws, motivations and wants and desires and dreams. Even if you hate a character, doing this much character study will help you keep them in character and keep their motivations reasonable and understandable.

If you don't have a good grasp on a character, study harder. Don't go looking for other people's interpretations or try to be a crowd pleaser. Make your own interpretation, and that interpretation becomes special to your rewrite.

If you plan on changing a character, for the love of GOD do your research first. Don't go accidentally making Angie into a worse racist caricature of Pacific Islanders Please and Thank You. Actually, just do a ton of research in subject you think might be relevant to a character or the plot--like Gonta and how ableism prevails in his story. Like how Shuichi has anxiety up the wazoo and how Maki has learned helplessness. Study and research hard.

Pace yourself--I don't think people realize how GIANT a V3 rewrite project is--remember that this game is extremely long and you cannot write this in a single month. Once all of your planning is done, write a reasonable amount for it each day. For me, I'm able to crank out 2k a day because I type absurdly fast, but most people would probably want to start at maybe 500 words a day.

If you're not having fun, step back. You might be burnt out and need a break, or maybe the scene you're writing is just not working. Take time to assess your own feelings and do what is appropriate to resolve them.

Don't feel too discouraged if you need to rewrite a whole scene--it happens to the best of us and sometimes things are just not working. It's not lost progress to retry--consider the scene you are replacing as a rough draft you need to remake. I've had to erase huge 1k chunks due to this.

Reward yourself for big accomplishments! When I finished the prologue, I threw myself and my editor ( @trans-shuichisaihara ) a pizza party, and I plan on doing something like that again, albeit probably cheaper. Reward yourself for huge milestones! Hell, I owe myself at least one treat for two chapters I've written, but tbh I've been having so much fun just writing that doing so is rewarding within itself. That doesn't mean external factors can't help, so if you finish a chapter and you're proud of it, buy yourself a treat for working so hard!

If you got a friend who likes editing/beta reading, invite them to beta read for you! They can help you find errors and typos that you might've missed. If you plan on editing your fic, I highly recommend reading your writing out loud to help you find weird sentence structures and awkward phrases. This should have the bonus of making it easier for people who use screen readers/just prefer audiobooks to enjoy your fic as well!

EDIT! Here are two more:

It's okay to be scared writing something new! Getting out of your comfort zone is going to happen with a giant story like this, and maybe you're going to flop at the best parts. That's perfectly fine!!! You can always edit it later--or even just call it "good enough" and move on! This is fanfic for fun, not a professional project you're making money off of. It's okay if things are less than ideal and incredible imperfect. An imperfect story is at least written. That's better than not writing it at all.

For the love of everything that is holy, remember that the characters should be people--and remember that their talents do not make up their entire personality. Their talents should not solely dictate what they wear, how they act, or the worst offender in this fandom--how their executions go. When writing a character Execution, think instead of what would be the worst way for that character to die--that is to say, what would bring them the most despair upon their death. DR1 and DRV3's executions all play with the despair of the blackened in each execution (with DR2 being noted to heavily miss the mark and to be the set of executions that are the most disappointing to Kodaka, from what I've been told.) So if you're stuck on writing a new Execution, try to think about what each execution from DR1 and DRV3 does to play with the despair of the blackened. What about their executions are giving them despair in their final moments? Do they at all relate to their talents, or are they completely separate from their talent? Study them, and you'll be able to use that information to write your own unique executions that are miles better than most of the fan made executions out there.

And I think that's my advice for now! Happy writing, everyone!

[heyits-kris]

bnha au Idea

just a random brain rot. But I think that people need to write less fic about midoriya becoming a villain or just straight up depressed when he's quirkless.

like wouldn't it be cool if we got a story where midoriya just grow up to be a normal guy. He didn't get ofa from all might. He didn't become a villain or anything (not that villain deku isn't cool. I just think it's sad that this au doesn't really highlight midoriya personality.)

He just grow up and graduated from a normal high school. Or he can go to a hero school (like ua) but the normal people course? (Is that a thing?)

And the story starts with adult him working as a quirk analyst. Heroes from different agencies would contact him for help. He slowly gains popularity and meets the class a-1 gang.

I think deku wouldn't really be that respected by the heroes (especially the older generations) because he's young and there's some quirkless factor. Like they would argue that he wouldn't be able to understand it fully other than theories on quirks since he doesn't have one.

We get to see him interact with the different types of heroes. Maybe his first proper open minded interaction is with ochako. Who's new a being a hero. She could be the first person that actually makes him feel respected for his opinion and that he was helping people with his job.

Their first case together could be similar to the bnha side story with mirko but it's just deku and ochako. Helping someone who was classified as a villain but the guy just needed help with his quirk. this could give perspective that quirks might not a complete blessing.

And as the story progresses we get to see a different perspective on how the hero industry is. The good and bad, making deku rethink on the heroes. Also the whole having a quirk can be a good thing but can be bad. (The whole with great power comes great responsibility). Also the bad side of having a villain type quirk even when you're not villain, with characters like shinso and toga as examples.

And when he bonded properly with ochako and iida (who he meets along the way) we finally got to meet the one and only bakugou. Who a new and upcoming hero, rising the rank rapidly. Deku old trauma slowly resurface just when he was finally comfortable with himself. I think it's hinted throughout the story that deku has some bad things happened to him we just barely see it and he doesn't really tell other people. Even though ochako can see that something did happen.(But she's doesn't want to overstep)

Would he join the fighs with villains? Maybe, this is still midoriya we're talking about. He would run to save a civilian, quirkless or not.

The story should totally be written in a more detective style story.

Next

(I got bored and watched the fourth movie. I know I'm a bit late but hey better late than never. The plot wasn't that bad I just wish we had more than an hour and a half to actually flesh out the characters. My favourite part is just that the movie brings back midoriya personality that honestly has been lost in the series at some point. It's nice to see him more than just the polite and nice guy. Like he actually react when he was insulted and almost died multiple times. He felt normal in the movie. Idk if that makes sense.)

(I think people should flesh out his character and personality but as in his fanboy of quirks thing. And not just write him as a pushover and depressed guy. Like he can still be depressed and save the world)

[khonaker]

So, I've been scrolling for uh, a LONG time on your page because I really like your takes and learn a lot of insight that I didn't know before, and I wanted to ask if you can give your opinion on Hawks? (Also, that one post like, 2-3 years ago about how Ectoplasm should've been Tokoyami's mentor has literally sent me to the heavens. I agree with it SO much it's actually unbelievable so I'm not even going to start on that.)

You've had really interesting and unique(?) takes on characters (especially Aizawa, I've started to do my own research/deep dive on him because of you) and I was wondering how you feel on his particular character and relationships.

Anon, I have no idea why I didn’t get a big notification on this, so I apologize for not responding for so long!

So, in the manner of Hawks.

I honestly *don’t* care for him. I don’t know if gets to *hating* him, but I don’t get the hype with him. Originally, I had thought he was actually playing double agent for the MLA and we would *actually* get a character that is labeled a hero but he actually becomes a villain for his own reasons and beliefs. An actually morally grey character or a twist villain.

But nope. All we get from him is he actually is just an agent for the government that is just a very chilled guy and his biggest trait is glazing Endeavor, regardless of what he did. His backstory doesn’t move me because at that point, just about every other character in the series has abuse trauma, and Horikoshi loves using this to try to make us feel sad for characters. At this point, I became numb to it and didn’t care about it, as cold as it sounds.

I also have great issues that my *favorite* character, Tokoyami, who I thought was going to be fleshed out more ever since we see him teaming up with Hawks, was also used to glaze Hawks up, and we always learned more about Hawks, *never* Tokoyami. People think Hawks and Tokoyami is similar to Izuku and All Might, but that is so far from the truth. With AM and Izuku, we get to learn about *both* characters, and we actually get to see the bond between them grow and change overtime. Hawks and Tokoyami is very one sided, we never see Hawks ask about Tokoyami or get to know him. Toko is too much of just an accessory. And Tokoyami became a diehard fanboy of Hawks too quickly and suddenly. As you brought up in my post, I see Ectoplasm and Tokoyami being more likely having a bond like All Might and Izuku.

And Aizawa…

This guy I have no problem admitting I hate.

People love the concept of Dadzawa, and I have seen fics where it’s pulled off successfully and believable.

But that is purely fanon. There is no Dadzawa in canon. All Aizawa is is a flat, hypocritical hardass that plays favorites and barely does anything ‘rational’, despite how much he loves to use that word. I’m convinced if he could, he would have his class comprised of only Bakugou and Shinsou with how much he favors them. He *barely*, if ever, goes to bat, hypes up or cares about any of the other students, he always seems to particularly defend the blonde Gary Stu.

Horikoshi also loves to try to use retcons to try to fix the glaring flaws of his blantantly favored characters instead of trying to improve them organically just so more readers can get suckered into suddenly liking them, and Aizawa is no exception, with him “putting the fear of expulsion and death” into the students he expelled being a cheap copout.

I also have no idea also what Hori was trying to accomplish with his history with Present Mic, Midnight and Oboro. They never seem to have any real significance, especially with this information that Midnight was suppose to be Aizawa’s friend according to Vigilantes series. Could have fooled me, since after her death, we don’t see him ever think about her. And his relationship with Present Mic isn’t anything to write home about. PM can clearly do better finding friends. And seeing as how we knew nothing about Oboro, I couldn’t care less how torn up Aizawa was with him.

Again, sorry for the late response, Anon, but yes, those are my thoughts on these two characters, and in my opinion, we wasted time on these guys instead of more interesting characters.

[thebearer]

I was curious about the erogenous zones for men so I looked it up and it was was I expected but one place that I was actually surprised by was the lower back! So can you write a fic about Carmen and his reaction with the reader messing with his lower back? Like biting it, kissing it, licking it, pinching it etc.

"Jeez, Bear," You mutter, heels of your hands digging into his lower spine, working out a rather large knot there. Carmen tensed under you, body going rigid and breathing staggering. "This one's bad. Does it hurt?"

"N-No, no." Carmen shook his head, face pressed into the mattress, hands balled onto the sheets. He hoped you couldn't see the way he was flushing. "It just- ah- it feels..." Carmen's groan stopped his sentenced, hips wiggling, grinding into the mattress.

He was desperate for friction, for something. You straddling him, hands working down his spine, over his sore muscles, pressing sweet kisses over the spots when you got done- "to make them feel better" you told him.

Carmen had been fine, relaxed, even, until you got to his lower back. This 'knot' you were so diligently working out was making him squirm, cock throbbing and teeth gritting.

"Are you sure it's not hurting you?" You asked, frowning at the way his body squirmed.

"Yeah, I-I mean no, baby. Feels good. So fuckin' good." Carmen groaned, eyes rolling back when your thumb pressed into his spine, cock rushing with pleasure.

"What?" You asked, lifting a brow curiously. "Carmen are you-"

"-don't stop, please, don't stop." Carmen panted, white knuckled grip on the pillow beneath his head. "'m so close, baby, so close. Keep goin', please."

You blinked, a little appalled that he was so turned on by this. It wasn't your intention, really. You were trying to help, make him feel relaxed... you supposed this was a way to relax.

Your fingers moved back into his spine, right between his hips, hands rolling and kneading the flesh there. Carmen's strangled moans filled the room, his face shoved into the pillow to conceal them. It made your own cheeks burn with excitement.

"Fu-uck, ohmyfuckingod, yes. Just like that. I-I'm-" Carmen grunted, heavy huffs out his nose, hips jumping and grinding into the bed.

You stilled, hovering over his thighs, watching as his body settled, still shuddering in tiny waves. Breath ragged and puffs of air that he tried to hide, barely looking out from the pillow.

"I, uh, I'm sorry about that." Carmen muttered, blushed with embarrassment. "I, uh, I-I didn't... I don't know why that, uh, that happened."

"It's ok." You bit back a smile. "Do you feel relaxed?"

"Yeah." Carmen nodded, a hint of a laugh ghosting on his words. "Feel like I probably need to take a shower."

"Why don't you take a bath?" You purred, nails raking lightly down his back before you rolled off of him. "I think that would be more relaxing, and I can sit with you."

"Yeah? O-Ok." Carmen muttered, awkwardly waddling towards the bathroom. "I, uh, I don't think any got on the sheets. Sorry if it did."

"I'll lick it up if it did." You grin, playfully, tossing him a wink that had his whole body flushing. You knew it would, always did when you'd say filthy things to him- it's why you did it.

Carmen grinned, chin tucking to his chest to hide his red faced smile. "Easy." He warned, eyes still glossy and starry from his release. "You want bubbles?"

"Whatever you want. I'll grab a candle." You hum, swiping Carmen's lighter next to his cigarettes and the half burned candle off the bedside table. "Really set the mood, hm? Keep this romantic night going." You winked at him, smirking at how he blushed, cleaning himself up with a hand towel.

Minutes later, you were sunk in the bath, you on one end, Carmen on the other. Legs intertwined under sudsy, warm water, your foot playfully slipping between his legs to make him jump. The candle flickering on the vanity was the only light, a warm, soft light casted over the small bathroom.

"That was really relaxing though." Carmen muttered, a hand running over your knee in the water.

"I can tell." You hum, grinning wickedly over at him.

"No, I mean- yeah, that- but the whole thing before. Really helped. My back feels better." Carmen smiled softly at you.

"I'm glad." You smile back.

"Think I should return the favor, huh? Think that's only fair?"

"Yeah, I would hate to disagree with you." You rasp, squealing when Carmen shifted, the bath water sloshing over the edge of the tub when he shimmied towards you.

"'s only fair." You whisper, his lisp hovering over yours, hands pressed by lip of the tub to cage you in.

"Only fair." Carmen hummed, his free hand slipping between your legs under the water.

[feyascorner]

Preview | The Fangs Between Us

summary. “I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

Intimacy is not something you like to indulge in after your last lover nearly strangled you to death. Sometimes, you wonder if letting him ascend would mean he would still be here, by your side, rather than lurking the shadows of Baldur's Gate.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. 0, TBA

a/n. This is just a preview of the multi-chapter fic I thought of :)) I'm not sure if I'll be able to continue writing it yet, but I'll definitely try lol. It takes place after the game!!!

As dark spots blur your vision, you realize you can no longer breathe.

His hands–the slender pale fingers you’ve grown to love more than your own–wrap desperately around your throat, digging crescent-shaped indents into your skin. You’d always thought that if he were ever to realize you weren’t as precious to him as he believed you to be, your neck would be the one part of yourself he’d continued to cherish. The softness in which he brushed his fangs against the most vulnerable areas of your throat had led you to believe so.

But as you stare up at him with wide eyes meeting a murderous glare, you understand that you are wrong.

His crimson eyes gleam with an emotion you’ve seen plenty on his pretty face, but never toward a friend. Never to you. You’re going to die, you think. And it wouldn’t have seemed so bad to die at his hands if it were not for the hatred reaching his eyes.

You’re not sure who–maybe Karlach or Wyll–but someone tears him away from you. Your chest dares to tighten from the loss of contact, yet you desperately grasp at the air, hands flying to the tender flesh of your neck while Shadowheart rushes to your side in an instant with her eyes narrowed dangerously at the very man who’d made the dark blemishes.

They’re yelling. Everyone is. At you, out of panic, or at Astarion, you’re not sure, but you just stare at the vampire spawn who’s now unwillingly locked into a life cast into the shadows of the city. He doesn’t look at anyone else besides you, either.

He says something and a few more muffled voices spit back before he throws the dagger you’d given him to the ground, turning to leave. Your hearing clears just in time to hear his parting words.

“I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

A pair of hands shake you awake, and you quickly remember the poor consequences to your back of falling asleep on the empty, narrow street beside the Elfsong tavern. You look up wearily, eyes in a daze as Shadowheart sighs irritably, brows furrowed in a way that tells you to ready yourself for a scolding. “Honestly, at this point, I’m just surprised you haven’t gotten robbed during the night yet.”

You force yourself onto your feet, leaning against the walls as you rub at the crust forming under your eyes. “I have nothing of value anyway. They’re better off stealing from some other poor bard who actually bothers to write songs.”

She raises a brow at this, scanning over your appearance. “Where is your lyre?”

“Sold it,” you shrug, dusting off the muck garnered at the sides of your pants. “Wasn’t much use to me anymore. Better off adding to the funds to rebuild the city, don’t you think?”

Shadowheart frowns, and it makes you look away shamefully. Thankfully, she quickly shakes her head and then paces past you. “Speaking of which, are you in any condition to help out today? Gale’s promptly exhausted trying to cast mage hand at least a dozen times yesterday to rebuild the Blushing Mermaid. That foolish wizard nearly passed out by noon.”

“‘Course,” you offer a pathetic smile. “We’re nearly finished with the Baldur’s Mouth. I’ll catch up with you once I check up on everyone there.”

“Very well,” she says. She purses her lips after a slight pause. “You should stop falling asleep on the street. Especially since there’s been quite a few murders recently around the city,” she checks to see if you haven’t dazed off, “I expect you to come home tonight–We’re making stew.”

“I will. Don’t think my back can stand much more of this anyway.”

Her shoulders relax the slightest bit, and she finally manages to catch your darting eyes. “Is it the nightmares again? They’re getting worse, aren’t they?”

Your throat goes dry, and you can feel your knees grasping at its remaining strength as you search your mind for a way to respond. You’re tempted to lie through your gritted teeth, knowing she’s fully aware regardless of what pathetic answer you offer her, but you opt to seal your mouth shut, shrugging.

The flash of disappointment in her eyes is enough to make you feel the knots tighten in your stomach. With a curt note, she turns to walk away, glancing back for one last time. “Don’t give him the privilege of occupying a part of your mind for so long. He doesn’t deserve even the dirty filth you have all over yourself.”

For the first time after he nearly killed you and you defeated the Elder Brain four months ago, you think she might be right about him.

[circusinthewalls]

SFW Gaz Ramblings - 18+ MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS DNI

(CW: Therapy Dog Hybrid! Reader | ow ow ow my fuckin' arms 😭) [Masterlist]

You whine as Kyle strokes his thumb over the length of your forearm. The movement is a little too quick, just a fraction too abrasive for your newly sensitive flesh. That familiar searing pain thrums back to life in mere seconds. Heat radiates off you with every pulse of it.

He sighs, setting your arm back down gently in your lap to instead inspect the other.

"You didn't wear sunscreen?" he asks.

You want to lie because you know how utterly avoidable of a mistake this was, but it's not like the truth isn't written all over you. You'd only make a bigger fool out of yourself at this point.

"Didn't think we'd be outside that long," you murmur, avoiding his gaze as your ears pin back somewhat.

Opposed to the chastising tone you expect to receive, he only tuts.

"Gonna have to have a word with those recruits, huh, sweetheart?"

Disapproval laces the question, but much to your surprise, it isn't actually directed at you. This sparks a bit of inquisitiveness within you, those folded ears perking up again. You tilt your head at him, curious.

"What?"

He looks up to meet your gaze now and seems almost amused at your apparent befuddlement, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a cheeky smile.

"Well, they're the ones that took our therapy dog for too long of a walk, aren't they?" he says. "Bet they forgot to put any on themselves."

"But I wanted to go," you interject, leaning forward and nearly sliding off the counter he has you sat on when he steps away to get in the fridge.

You watch him rummage around in it, digging through until he emerges with what smells to you like aloe vera gel. He returns then, already unscrewing the cap on the way over.

"I know," he replies, "but they knew how long that walk was going to be. You didn't. They should've known better than to go without sunscreen on any of you."

Your brow knits as you consider his words, ears pinning back once more.

"Guess so."

Kyle hums, content with your supposed agreement.

"Let me see your arms, love."

You comply, raising both. Another hum sounds from him, this one praising.

"So good," he murmurs. "Just hold still while I apply this, yeah? You'll feel better in no time."

---------------------------------------------------

Little something I wrote back on the first of this month while I was dealing with the most egregious fuckin' sunburn on my arms.

Anyway, sorry for the lack of posts recently! Been busy with work and other life things. My drafts are full up of stuff I've been working on (three larger fics and a number of one-shots + requests), so I really wanted to get something out for y'all. I do have a decent bit of free time this week, and I'm hoping to get back into the swing of writing. There will be more of Therapy Dog Hybrid! Reader in the form of little one-shots over time, but other stuff I've been meaning to get posted will come first.

As always, thank you for your patience! Y'all are delightful. Means a lot to know you enjoy my work. <3

Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or to use with AI technologies.

[anticidic]

thanks for tagging me @frankenjoly @marichild and @saoirseyun <3 (I meant to do this eventually but three time's the charm)

20 questions for fic writers!

How many works do you have on AO3?

24 (but really 25, but one of them is written by a friend and I am merely a spectator and not really a cowriter)

what's your total ao3 word count?

406,373 words

what fandoms do you write for?

Only Bungo Stray Dogs, though I keep toying with the idea of writing for others (and then never do).

what are your top five fics by kudos?

from a to o, i love you so — omegaverse A/A -> A/O Soukoku piece

foiled fables — Kitsune!Dazai and human!Chuuya AU

with me, disaster finds a playfield — omegaverse Beast AU

letters to my chosen one — Angel!Dazai and Demon!Chuuya AU

bad days, good nights — Dazai birthday fic

do you respond to comments? why or why not?

Yes 💖 I do my best to respond to all of them because I appreciate others taking the time out to read and comment their thoughts, even if it's a simple emoji

what's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

still the snowflakes fall — A what-if had Dazai been a part of the Decay of Angels instead. It doesn't end well for anyone involved.

what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think probably from a to o, i love you so. Because it's about Dazai waking up one morning and losing a critical part of his identity and suddenly everything he knows is a lie. But despite fumbling, he comes to accept a new reality because, as Chuuya puts it, he's still Dazai. That core part of him hasn't changed.

do you get hate on fics?

Not really. I've gotten dumb trollish comments and people demanding for requests but I've shut them down

do you write smut?

wildly gestures to almost my entire catalog of fics And I'll do it again

do you write crossovers?

No, but I've wanted to write fusions. Like dropping bsd characters into Genshin or Honkai Star Rail or Psycho-Pass or something. Some of my fics have been loosely inspired by games or things I've watched but I definitely wouldn't call them crossovers.

have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge, but I hope not jkdkjskj

have you ever had a fic translated?

I've had a few requests for one of my recent fics to be translated 👀 I'm over the moon every time someone asks

have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I SUPPOSE Darling, Some Things Are Meant to Be counts in a very roundabout way. @ohhcinnybuns gets full credits for the actual fic on there, but we go back and forth on here writing Snow White!Dazai and Prince!Chuuya ficlets (hey, go check out our fairytale playlist for them, I'm obsessed)

what's your all time favourite ship?

Probably IwaOi and ShuAke

what's the wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I started a zombie apocalypse-flavored omegaverse in anticipation of finishing it for omegaverse week and that never happened. I'm feeling ambitious but I also have a lot of events I'm participating in at the moment and ongoing fics that need prioritizing.

what are your writing strengths?

Painting scenes and going into depth about character motives and inner thoughts! Also, tying subplots into the overarching plot. I love worldbuilding and creating seemingly insignificant backstories for characters that end up playing major roles down the road.

what are your writing weaknesses?

The last time I did this tag game, I said dialogue, and that was a couple of months ago now but I feel like I've made major improvements in that area with my recent stuff. I'm becoming a lot more comfortable with fleshing out the plot through characters interacting with one another than in exposition and narrative. Now, I'd say editing. I tend to second guess myself and will scrap several thousands-worth of words if something's not working and then rewrite it all over again because I can't pick out what exactly is wrong with something.

thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I write Japanese honorifics simply because I feel like it reads a little better, but that's about it since most of what I write takes place in Japan.

first fandom you wrote for?

K-Pop help it was so long ago...we don't talk about those days...

favourite fic you've ever written?

hunter's season my beloved. It's a Dark Era omegaverse fic revolving around Dazai/Chuuya, with Dazai who thought he was an alpha but turns out he was really living a lie his whole life and finds out the hard way after taking some tampered medications.

no pressure tags: @altruistic-meme @monkey-banana41 @chuuyaspinkmotorcycle @calmlb @bloodsherry

[the-peak-tmnt]

I know you probably weren’t intending this when writing Reciprocity, maybe focusing more on entertainment and the different relationships within the brothers themselves, the family, and friends; but I just wanted to let you know that your fic has been helping me so much.

I’ve always had a hard time opening up to people about my problems, worries, doubts, stuff like that. I’m currently going to a psychologist, and it was thanks to your fic that I was able to talk to her fully about things that worry me. And not only to her, but to family and friends, people I was afraid to bother with my problems; but I noticed that they really do care for me and only want what’s best for me.

Your fic has literally changed my life for the better big time, seeing one of my favorite characters going trough a hard time, but learning that there are people that care about him and want to help him, really put things into perspective to me.

So really, deeply, from the bottom of my heart: thank you for writing this. It has helped me so much and it’s great to read and I feel a lot relation, being so afraid of the consequences, but learning slowly that there are people along the way that genuinely love me and want to help me has bettered me.

Thank you!

I am SO SORRY this took me so long to respond to! I wish this was a joke, but a guest died at work the other day. Which of course I'm sad about and I feel terrible for the family, but I am the entire marketing department for our company, so I've been buried in dealing with the news & social media for this. Then we had a big even planned this weekend that we...didn't cancel??? Even though someone literally died????? Anyway now I'm just venting! The point is I'm really sorry this took forever to get to!

Okay, on to the actual ask...

I feel like no matter how hard I try, there's no way for me to adequately express how this message makes feel. It's hard to even wrap my head around the idea that I've had a tangible effect on someone else's life...let alone with a fanfic about sad ninja turtles.

You're right that I didn't consciously set out to get this serious or deep with the fic. I'll totally admit that I started writing it with nothing but a couple plot points vaguely mapped out in my head that I wanted to get to (many I still haven't after a year and a half...)

But when I really started delving into Raph's character to flesh him out, I realized there was so much more I wanted to do than just the fun "where is Leo and why is only Raph sure he's alive?" mystery plot.

And some of those things were that I wanted tough-guy Raph to learn to be vulnerable, to come to understand that there are people who genuinely care about him, and to let himself not only accept their help, but to actually ask for it.

I feel silly using the word "cherish", but I do genuinely cherish every single kudos, comment, fan art, playlist, tumblr ask, even tweets people think I don't see when I'm actually just pretending to be cool by not comment on them so you don't know I'm over here kicking my feet in delight...

I find my job to be really rewarding. I love helping people make memories and have a good time. A lady literally hugged me at this event today to say thanks because she and her family were having so much fun. But I've never done anything as rewarding as write this fic, and not just because of all those different kinds of engagement I mentioned above that I cherish so much. This fic is the most rewarding thing I've ever done because of you and everyone else who has gotten anything more than just entertainment value out of it.

I'm so grateful to hear that Raph's journey so far has resonated with you in such a profound way, and I'm genuinely so happy that it's helped give you a new perspective. I know I say "my silly fic about sad turtles" a lot, but to know that for some people it's actually more than that...that seriously means more to me than I know how to even say.

Thank you so much for this ask. The past few months have been pretty rough, and what happened at work the other day definitely didn't help! I appreciate this so, so much. THANK YOU!

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

20 Questions (for fanfic writers)

Thank you for the tags, @cindle-writes and @izharmilgram! I'm procrastinating on other responsibilities, so let's have some fun~

Tagging @i-dream-of-libraries, @chaos-bear, @floatingdandelionseeds, @pitzer, @riverxsong-ao3, @tommarvoloriddlesdiary, @thefangirlibrarian, @hikarimeroperiddle and @blackseatwenty (no pressure, only if you want to! ♡♡♡) and anyone else who wants to talk about their fics -- consider this your tag! ♡

how many works do you have on ao3? 47

what's your total ao3 word count? 226,795

what fandoms do you write for? Harry Potter, Yuri!!! On Ice

top five fics by kudos: A long, hard road; Gone bananas; thrown into the nest; refuge from the miseries of life; unfailingly ingenious at having a good time (surprised the cat!Harry fics are so high tbh) Edit: I can't read... (:‚‹」∠) Top five fics by kudos are as follows: Gone bananas; A long, hard road; thrown into the nest; refuge from the miseries of life; and Coriander (not a big change, but it does explain why the cat!Harry sequel was so high...)

do you respond to comments? uhh... occasionally. Social anxiety kicks my ass and so I put my energy into writing fic instead. I love every single comment I get and reread them any time I need a pick-me-up, but I am a bad author who doesn't reply...

what is the fic your wrote with the angstiest ending? hmm... probably pyrrhic victory, but Capsized is also a contender

what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? considering I write mostly fluff and crack, this is a surprisingly difficult question to answer... I'm gonna go with either if you like it, then... or thrown into the nest. Or maybe don't blame the stork? (Some lovely reader out there is shouting at their screen, "Flaky, you goof, it's obviously ____!!" and they're correct.)

do you get hate on fics? Nope, not really! Some readers express that they wish I'd done certain things differently, and a couple have said I ended a fic badly, but I don't think I've received anything I'd consider hateful.

do you write smut? uhhhh... sometimes. When it's the best way to tell the story I have in my head, then I'll write smut. But it's still a bit uncomfortable to do. I'd like to think I'm getting better at it?

craziest crossover? I'm not sure I've actually written anything that could really be considered a crossover, but A real voyage of discovery is kind of a mash-up of Harry Potter characters in a Star Trek-y world? And it has alien!mort, and I think he's nifty.

have you ever had a fic stolen? A couple of my fics have appeared on Wattpad without my permission, but other than that, no.

have you ever had a fic translated? Yep, a few! (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

have you ever co-written a fic before? Not yet -- I don't really know how it'd work, and I'm afraid to try (¬_¬") Intensely private about my writing before it's ready to post unless you're Jenny. But! I'm counting the Telephone and the Corpse (coming soon) because they're collaborative (in a way) and have been such a major part of my fandom experience!

all-time favorite ship? tomarrymort~ (honourable mentions to sefikura, madohomu, and viktuuri)

what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Fingers crossed I'm not breaking anyone's heart with this, but probably Let's Talk About Sex, Baby. I have some more written for it, but it's been a while since I've returned to it and other projects interest me more. I have every intention of finishing my WIPs, but... there are only so many hours in a day and my energy is, sadly, finite (´•︵•`)

what are your writing strengths? whimsical finger guns! Poignant fluff? Emotions. silliness, and dialogue, probably.

what are your writing weaknesses? Worldbuilding, continuous narratives (as opposed to short scenes without much context), plot-heavy narratives, description, writing the main characters in true opposition to each other, fleshing ideas out rather than keeping it (overly) brief... I'm sure I'll think of a bunch of other things as soon as I post this.

thoughts on dialogue in another language? I'd like to! I speak French reasonably well, and I'm lucky enough to have some fandom friends who speak other languages, so I'm sure I could beg their assistance.

favorite fic you've written? Hhhhhhh, why must I choose? I'll go with naïve melody, because it still gives me the warm fuzzies. I'm just so proud of the tone, and I really like how that Voldemort comes across.

[hiskillingjar]

Yoo what if Lawrence x mc with a knife kink and they be fuckin... like lawrence learns of the knife kink

i'm in the mood to write some stuff for law. be prepared for that!

1200+ words, cw for self harm mentions, same MC as this fic

"It was my grandad's in Vietnam,"

It was late in the musky apartment, and you were a little high (as you so often were) when you pulled the pocket knife from your messenger bag, unfolding it and holding it out for Law to look at.

The blade was probably shiny once, but it had been spotted with brown rust since you'd been given it, and its hollow, wooden handle was on the verge of splintering (wrapped up with white, packing tape) and black with mould, showing its age, what it had seen, the life it had lived before it was put in your hands.

“Cool, right?” You then asked, holding the dirty blade against your palm.

Law lowered the joint from their lips, sleepy (dead) grey eyes blinking as they sat up and stared at the knife.

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling proudly at their somewhat impressed expression.

"I always carry it when I'm out," You explained nonchalantly, taking the burning joint as you passed them the knife, raising it to your lips for a slow drag, heat burning in your lungs as you quickly breathed out. You still weren’t very good at smoking weed, but you were getting better at it. "But I have more at my apartment, vintage ones, new ones. I collect them."

"You collect them?" They repeated, looking up at you with a raised brow. "That's probably-"

"Probably a little concerning, right?" You asked with a little titter, leaning back on the bed, spreading your legs lazily, your skirt hiking higher up your thighs, exposing dashed white scars under your fishnets. "Come on, don't play therapist with me, Law. It doesn't suit you."

"I was actually going to say it's probably a little stereotypical," They replied, a slight and uncharacteristic smirk on their lips. "You’re a trans girl obsessed with knives...that's kind of obvious, even for you, isn't it?"

You barked out a laugh, sitting up quickly (not closing your legs).

"Look at herrr though," You drawled through your giggles, pitching your voice up to the catty drawl you and your girlfriends sometimes spoke to each other in, taking the knife back when they held it out to you. "Clocking me for my phallic fixations. I didn’t know you had jokes, Law.” You grinned. “You're gonna have a field day when you show you my gun, aren't you?"

"You…really have a gun?" They asked after a moment, lowering their voice as they took the joint back for another drag. “Isn’t that illegal?”

They had the priorities sorted, it seemed.

"I mean, just one," You said with a shake of your head, watching as they breathed out a thick mouthful of smoke. "And it's, like...plugged up with so much junk that it doesn't work. It’s probably as legal as your joint," You gestured towards it and huffed out another little titter, feeling oddly defensive. “Like, I’m not gonna go flashing it to the cops, but I don’t think they’re gonna bust down my door for it.”

They nodded their head slowly, taking another drag of the joint.

You knew that they weren’t calling you out. They didn’t care about you owning weapons, just like you didn’t care about the dead animals they had rotting in barrels in the forest.

They were both parts of you that you didn’t make public to polite society but kept to yourselves and, occasionally, each other.

You knew how meaningful that was. And how important it was for you to have someone you could be authentic with.

You wondered…

"Sometimes…” You stared with a little sigh, slowly lowering the blade of the knife to your thigh, running it along one of your dashed, white scars. “I cut myself and I swear …I can feel the pain of everyone it's ever hurt inside of me. Like a pulsing heat."

You cut through one of the segments of your fishnets, exposing flesh and showing off your scars.

Law’s eyes glanced up lazily, just enough to make you feel desirable.

"You think it's hurt other people?" Law asked softly, lowering the burned-out joint to the ashtray at their bedside.

Figures, they wouldn't care about you hurting yourself, or give a second glance to your self-harm scars. 

That's what you liked about them though. They didn't ask questions.

"It's a product of war," You said like it was obvious, pressing a little more pressure against the knife, making the skin underneath it turn white. "Of course, it's hurt people…that’s, like, all it was made to do."

"Mm, that was lifetimes ago, though," They drawled, leaning forward and running a hand (big, made you feel small, made you feel delicate) over your knee, not stopping you as the rusty blade started to split your skin. They never did stop you, though. "You've kind of taken it and...made it your own, you know? It's kind of like you, in that way."

"Mm?"

"You...existed as one thing," They explained, reaching out for the knife with long, bony figures and waiting for you to give it to them, which you did readily, obediently. "And now you exist as something else. Just like this knife was once a product of war, and now it's a...tool for your pleasure, mm?"

"Pleasure," You repeated with a huffed laugh, trembling with pain as they pressed the blade against the bleeding cut, teasing the skin open more, making the wound that much harder to heal. "That's a funny way of putting it, Law."

"You're hard," They said, a little bluntly, using the blade of the knife to flick up your skirt (the gesture made your cheeks flush and your knees tighten together), showing your cock pressing tight against the bars of your chastity cage. It was less of a symbol of your submission to them (the two of you were above such binary concepts, after all) as it was a symbol of your devotion, your promise to remain faithful, your promise to not do anything they didn’t agree to. "Or, harder than you usually are. You must be enjoying something about this…"

"Okay," You huffed again, hissing as they dragged another shallow cut into your thigh, severing more segments of your tights. "Let me hold onto one phallic symbol, can you? If I’m now allowed the other…"

"Sure," They replied, taking your sarcastic retort seriously (they weren’t good at picking up on sarcasm) as they continued to stroke your scar-patterned skin with the blade. “Whatever you want…”

You breathed out unsteadily as their other hand reached up your thigh, their thumb tracing over the twin cuts tenderly, smearing blood and tracing the lines of muscle that they had inadvertently exposed.

“You have a good pain tolerance,” They observed as they dragged a third cut into your skin, their gaze going up to your face to watch you as you bit your lip, a bead of sweat running down your cheek as you tried, with all your might, to not flinch or whimper.

“Thanks,” You murmured with a sardonic smile, leaning back on the bed as they kept rubbing at your cuts. “Hh…I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” They replied with a smile, gentle and eerie and unnervingly sweet.

“I meant it as one.”

[deepdarkdelights]

really excited to see you might write a hunger games au but it got me curious that you chose namjoon for it.. what made you choose him? i thought you might end up writing about jk

but i'll gobble up anything you post!! thanks

THE HUNGER GAMES AU - PREVIEW

Yeah, honestly I don't have much written and I'm not sure if I will ever pick it up again so I I'll just post everything right here below the cut off - and the reason I was leaning to Namjoon was because there is already a really amazing JK THG fic on here called Quarter Quell - I want to avoid drawing inspiration from that and try and go my own way!

Anyway - Here is what I have:

When your name was called, it was the furthest you felt from reality. 

Your ears rang like a shotgun had just gone off beside them, your fingers trembled, and you could feel a nervous sweat beginning to prick at the back of your neck. You could feel your district’s eyes on you, their gaze digging into your flesh only made the gravity of your situation all the more real. What had once been your worst nightmare, had suddenly become your reality. 

You had managed to escape the reaping for five years in a row, but each year had only worsened your chances in tandem with the teserae you had continued to take out in exchange for more slips of paper with your name hastily scrawled across them. You had thought it was worth the risk, after all you knew more people your age who had taken out twice, even thrice the amount that you had. 

No one ever thought that it would be them. Sure you and the rest of the children in the district knew what you were signing up for, there was always the risk of being reaped. But the idea that it could actually be you had never been rooted in fact. But the idea that it couldn’t happen to you was dangerous and look where it had gotten you now. 

Right here, right now, the events of that morning couldn’t have felt farther away. In all honesty, it felt like a completely different time and place now that you were faced with the utmost certainty that you would be dead within the next three days. 

It shouldn’t have been you, but the odds had not been in your favor. 

~~~~~~~ 6 Hours Earlier 

You watched as shallow waves lapped over your feet, rushing in and receding out in a familiar, calming rhythm. The shoreline was decorated with pebbles that had been there longer than you had, smoothed over from years of erosion. And, not much farther away, you could see a rocky cliff face decorated with thick greenery and towering trees, the very beginning of district 7. 

This was not an unfamiliar practice for yourself, every year on the morning of the reaping you would rise early and make your escape to one of the many beaches. Although this one was your favorite - small, secluded, and never patrolled by the district's peace keepers. Over the course of your life, your father, mother, and yourself had most certainly overfished that small beach in times of hunger and need. Now, it was nothing more than a pretty sight and a calming spot. 

District 4 was often thought to be one of the lucky districts, afterall, the closer you are to the capitol the better off you were supposed to be. There were several problems with that idea. 

District 4 supplied the capitol with most of its expensive and sought after foods - mainly seafood. And, due to the gluttony of the capitol, the demand was high and the supply was becoming smaller and smaller each year. 

It was easier for the southern portion of your district. There it was often sunny and warm, the weather favorable to the fisherman which oftentimes filled their pockets. The further to the north you went in district 4, the worse it became. It was colder there, the weather oftentimes drizzly and gloomy as well as unpredictable - sending the sea into violent churns that capsized boats. It was much harder in the north, something that the south of district 4 had no problem degrading the north for. 

Even now in the first week of July the sky rumbled with the warnings of oncoming thunder and the sea turned a menacing gray. Your stomach groaned in response. 

That was another sad truth of the north of district 4, there were a fair share of people who went hungry despite the bounty of the sea being mere feet away. Recreational fishing was banned in the north. Here, it was a job and it was only to be done to provide for the capitol - not your own dinner table. 

There was a horrific memory that was seared into your brain as a child. The sight of a mother and her two children dragging a net full of a catch to shore only to be apprehended by peacekeepers, tied to posts, and flogged for hours on end. Both mother and children. That had been enough to scare both your parents and yourself away from illegally fishing for a few months. 

There were slums in every district, and that was where you would reside. You were by no means district 12 who had been dealt the worst hand in all of Panem, but you were still quite unlucky. 

But that day, of all days, you had hoped otherwise. And, you were almost convinced. 

The next wave of warm water had carried a much stronger current and with it came an oyster, one you carefully examined in between calloused fingers before eagerly and violenting shucking it open. Inside lay another commodity of your district: pearls. 

This one was predominantly white with a soft pink flush around its curves. You had seen your fair share of them in your time, but you had never been permitted to keep one. But this one you desired to keep so desperately. And so you tucked it into your pocket and retreated from the water. 

Pearls were supposed to symbolize many things but mainly they were for luck and for protection. 

You later wondered if your violent murder to steal that symbol of luck was what had been your downfall. If you had not plundered the creature, would you still have been reaped and sent off to your death in turn? 

There was no telling that for certain but there was one thing that you were sure of. The odds had been stacked against you from the very beginning. In reality, it didn’t matter what you had done because there was no going back and changing it. 

You were the female tribute from District 4 for the 94th annual Hunger Games.