#idk if this is permanent i just wanted to get this out there woops

[bi-writes]

i'll fix it for you

he rarely means what he says.

type: one-shot pairing: joel miller x fem!reader word count: 4.4k warnings: some violence and suggestive content, mature language, implied age gap summary: boston. let your imagination do the rest.

complete masterlist author's note: been awhile since i've written anything. hope i haven't lost my touch.

There wasn’t much your hands couldn’t do. Your fingertips were tender and meticulous enough to fit into small places, making them perfect for something most desirable now—fixing things.

You had your hands around the small radio, a marker behind your ear and a screwdriver in your dominant hand. You spun the flathead into the screw, unwinding it until it was wobbling loosely and fell onto the table. You moved the screw to the little dish you had holding the others, taking a hold of the face of the device and lifting the worn plastic up.

You went slow, seeing that wires and electronic components were fitted to both sides of it. There were in familiar colors that you had memorized. Red diverted power, black grounded it, and the other colors were reserved for digital and analog readings. Your eyes went to the board that the wires were connected to, and your heart sank a bit. Around the soldered pins, you could see the discoloration of the green board, a bit of ash and black coloring seeping into the bright color.

“Fuck,” you whispered, putting the radio down. It was fried, and the only fix was to replace it.

Your comment didn’t go unnoticed. A towering figure sat down in front of you, and you didn’t have to look up to know he was staring right into your figure, a glare of curiosity and knowing disappointment. He never said much, so you knew he was waiting for you to elaborate on your sudden glowering mood.

“The component’s fried,” you said softly, putting the screwdriver down. You picked up a screw and played with it in your free hand, anything to keep yourself from looking up at him. “I…I need a new one.”

Silence remained. You knew what that meant.

No.

If he had a suggestion or an idea, he would’ve said it by now. You chewed on your bottom lip nervously, closing your eyes. It was your job to fix things; but you couldn’t fix things if you didn’t have what you needed.

You opened your eyes again, your head raised enough that you finally met his gaze. He wasn’t smiling, but that didn’t surprise you. What surprised you was that he seemed just as disappointed. Not angry, not frustrated, just disappointed. His gaze was accusing, even though he usually would have commented by now, in a tone most condescending.

“I don’t tell you how to do it, I just tell you to do it.”

You didn’t have his wisdom nor his years of experience. You didn’t have a hunter’s aim, you didn’t have killer instinct, but what you did have was books and time. Books to teach you, and time to learn. You were valuable enough to be worth enough ration cards to last a lifetime, and you knew it was why he kept you around. If he was good at anything, it was evening the odds, it was surviving. You made those chances much better when whatever you fixed was worth a basketful of goods.

You only agreed because it wasn’t so bad to be associated with him. As soon as you had been seen walking beside him at the market stalls, there was no more bargaining. Whatever you wanted, you paid less than what they were asking. Any soldier that had been looking you over soon pretended you weren’t there. If you asked for a favor, it was done. He was not your bodyguard, but his name beside yours was enough to keep the tide at bay.

So, you did whatever he wanted whenever he needed it. Neither of you had ever talked about this deal, but as soon as your days were calm with not so much as a frustrating touch or a wrong encounter, you never stopped showing up at his door. Words unspoken, a deal established, a life unbothered.

There wasn’t much else you could ask for.

You put the screw down, leaning back in the worn dining table chair. It creaked a bit, biting through the disappointing silence. You pursed your lips, sighing deeply, your mind wandering.

“I can ask around,” you said softly. “Someone has what I need. I’ll fix this for you.”

That phrase, the words that fell from your lips, it was sweet to his ears. You meant them well, and he knew the words were true. The promise you always made, “I’ll fix it for you,” you never fell through.

When he didn’t respond, you stood up. You went to the couch, where your bag was sitting, and you started gathering your things. The chair he was sitting in slid across the floor as he stood up.

“Where are you going?” He asked lowly. You lifted the bag over your shoulders, zipping up the end of your jacket. You shook your head, knowing this conversation was coming.

“I’m going to get what I need,” you said simply. He stepped closer.

“You know that isn’t how this works,” he countered. “I’ll go.”

“You’ll just scare them off,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes a bit. “You don’t know how to ask nicely.”

“How many close calls have you had? We both know—”

You stepped closer to him, putting a cautious hand on his chest. It stopped him mid-sentence. You had never touched him before, not really.

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “I just need a few hours. He won’t give me what I need if you’re with me, I know it. You scare him.”

He tilted his head to the side, angrily. He knew who you were talking about now. This wasn’t someone, it was somebody.

“I can handle him,” you said finally, after a few tense moments. You sighed, looking at the radio on the table. “How many ration cards is that worth?”

“Not just cards,” was all he replied, and you looked up at him with a raised brow.

“Then let me do this. We need this.”

We.

You took a deep breath, a smile finally gracing your face. You could feel his heartbeat slow almost at the sight, a reassuring smile that made his face fall a bit. You dropped your hand slowly from its place on his chest, and he almost flinched, almost lifted his own hand to keep you there.

But he didn’t.

“How about this?” You suggested, looking towards the window. It was about noon. “If I’m not back by sunset, then…by all means, wreak havoc. But I’m a big girl. It’s gonna be fine.”

You turned back to look at him, and he had turned his head to look at the window, too. Your eyes scanned his face, deep in thought. There was nothing more comforting than his thoughtful presence. He always knew what to do.

“Just don’t be stupid,” he said finally. His tone was back to normal; condescending, authoritative, as if he was scolding you. “I don’t wanna have to come get you.”

The quiet and calm moment was broken. You tried to not let his words show their effect on your face. You swallowed the sour taste in your mouth, turning to leave. You only were able to take a few steps before you were yanked backwards by the straps of your backpack. You opened your mouth to protest, but then you heard the zipper of your bag opening. He shuffled around inside, and you flinched a bit when you heard a disappointing grunt come from him. He roughly zipped your bag back closed, and then you felt his hand in yours. He handed you your switchblade, his touch leaving you once he was sure you were holding onto it.

“This oughtta be on your person,” he said lowly. “Can’t reach into your pack if you get into trouble.”

You gave him a small smile over your shoulder before you bent down and slipped the blade into your boot. You stood up again.

“I won’t get into trouble.”

When the door finally closed behind him, he finally let himself breathe. It was a shaky breath that came out rougher than he intended. He made his way over to the window, waiting there until he saw you come out the front, making your way down the steps. He watched as you walked down the street, his eyes on you until you turned the corner and disappeared from view.

The strain in his throat only got worse. He didn’t think twice before grabbing his bag, tossing it over his shoulders and making his way out.

—

“I got a few in the back.”

You sighed a bit with relief, tapping your fingers against his desk. You reached into your back pocket, pulling out a stash of cards.

“I could give you these,” you said, “unless you got something you want me to fix.”

You didn’t want to give the cards. In fact, most of your transactions here were remedied with your skill. People always needed something fixed, and you were more than happy to oblige.

“Yeah, I got something for you to fix,” was the response, along with a sly smile and a gaze that didn’t go unnoticed. You stiffened a bit, rolling your eyes.

“Don’t be an asshole,” you mumbled. “Give me what I need, and I’ll agree to forget what you just said.”

“I don’t want you to forget.”

He stood, and you straightened your posture. You narrowed your eyes, tilting your head to the side, shaking your head in a silent warning. The kind of trouble that followed exchanges like this weren’t pretty. You knew it, and you hoped he would remember that.

“Get me my parts,” you said again. “It’s the last time I’ll ask.”

You weren’t unfamiliar with situations like this. You might not have been the best sharpshooter in the city, but you could handle yourself. You silently thanked something above for the reminder to put your blade in your boot.

Can’t reach into your pack if you get into trouble.

You were quicker. His hand reached towards you, and you lifted your foot behind you, swiping the blade and flicking it out. You put a fist to his chest, knocking him off balance enough that he grabbed the table for support. You did not think twice before letting the tip of the blade go through the back of his hand, pinning him to the table.

The scream he let out echoed around the room, and you shoved the table backwards, forcing him to sit back into his chair.

“I fucking warned you,” you said before going around the table into the room in the back. He kept things organized. Everything was stored neatly in boxes, labeled with marker on fading painter’s tape. You opened your bag, grabbing a handful of the components you needed. You grabbed yourself a few extra things, some batteries and screws and other electrical parts that you were short on.

For my trouble, you told yourself.

You came out of the room, standing in front of the table where he was wheezing, hot tears rolling down his reddening face. His blood was dark as it ran down the skin of his arm.

You reached for the end of your blade, wrenching it out of his hand and splattering his blood across the table. His scream again crackled in your ears.

“I took a few extra things for the trouble,” you said to him, licking your dry lips. They stung.

“You bitch, I-I swear—”

Your laugh stopped him, and you put your hands on his desk, leaning forward.

“I dare you,” you said softly, almost sweetly. “To come after me. You know where I’ll be. And who I’ll be with. Let’s just agree to forget this ever happened, and then I won’t have to tell him how close you got to me today.”

His eyes burned with anger. They were dark and flooded with frustration. Your frame, smaller and younger than him, but so untouchable even though nothing separated you. You had too much baggage, too much protection, too many friends. He was not popular; he would not win.

“So when I need favors,” you continued, “and when I need things, you’re gonna give them to me.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you shook your head.

“I’m not unreasonable,” you said. “I know you have a business to run. I won’t ask for much. But when I need something, you’re gonna be there for me. You’re gonna give it to me. Because you know what’ll happen if you don’t.”

The name hung in the air. Unspoken, but even just a whiff of him was enough to shut the man up. You didn’t have to say his name for the threat to sting, to permeate the air and stick like gum on the wall. His name was sacred, and you spoke it as little as possible.

Anyone smart enough made sure they knew his name, anyways.

You grabbed a rag off the chair beside you, tossing it at him.

“You should wrap that hand,” you finished before turning on your heels and leaving. The slam of the door behind you echoed through the hall. There were a few patrons shuffling around that just stared at you, but you didn’t pay them any mind. You simply made your way down the steps of the apartment building, shoving past anyone in your way.

When you were on the street again, you looked up at the sky, realizing the time. You needed to get back before he noticed.

To get home.

You kept up a steady pace as you made your way through the city. It was busy at this time. People were trying to get home before curfew, and they appeared tired and sluggish as they went through the motions. The sun was heavy today, warm and uninviting, and the sweat was in the air.

You noticed your shadow once you were closer to his street. A dip between the sunshine that came and went, a figure in your peripheral vision that followed you slowly. The hairs on the back of your neck stood tall, but then you realized the intense gaze was familiar. The curls, the ragged, figure-hugging shirt he wore, the stoic expression that nobody could really read.

You slowed your pace, letting him catch up. You turned finally, stopping, your eyes meeting his. You didn’t know whether to be angry or relieved that he had followed you. Once he realized he was caught, he slowed his walk. He made his way towards where you were standing, and you looked up at him with a neutral face.

“I told you I could handle it,” you said to him. Your voice was gentle. People were beginning to notice the two of you, standing close, and he started to walk again. You sighed in defeat, following him now. You felt like a child. Like you had just been found out, caught breaking the rules, and you were just walking towards the room where you’d never hear the end of it, of the lecture.

You shut the apartment door behind you, gently, locking it. He was already seated on the couch, his elbows on his knees and his hands folded together. You put your things down, slowly making your way towards him. You took a seat beside him, the cushions bending under you, your knee touching his. You were awfully close.

You opened your backpack, taking out the components and other parts you had procured. You set them down on the coffee table, smiling to yourself. You showed it to him like it was your prize. It was your trophy; you had done a job without him, handled the trouble, and came out with more than you planned.

You sat back on the couch, but he was still leaning forward. You looked down at your hands, still stained red. The blood wasn’t yours, but it didn’t stop you from swallowing hard.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you saw the blue of your jeans wet with small drops. You took a shaky breath, rubbing your hands on the couch for comfort. You weren’t a fighter, not really. Nothing was ever truly easy.

The blood never truly came out. The scars never faded. The words never stopped repeating themselves in your head. The stares never left your memory. The bruises never got better, not truly, when their touches were so rough.

You went to stand, but a grunt from him stopped you from moving too far. He put a hand on your thigh to keep you beside him, and you relaxed back against the couch. You stared down at his hand on your leg, his fingers curled around you firmly to keep you close. He was wearing his watch still, like always.

His touch was warm. His touch was comfort and safety and security, and if you thought his presence was comfort and security, it was nothing compared to the blanket of it you were wrapped in now. You wanted to feel it everywhere. You wanted to feel it around you, in you, everywhere and all the time.

You sniffled a bit. You couldn’t keep the tears a secret, and he didn’t need to turn to look at you to know that you had cried. You drank in the silence, feeling comfortable in it. You let your head lull to the side, your cheek resting against his shoulder. You closed your eyes, letting yourself breathe him in. You had never been this close to him. He smelled good, smelled so earthy and calm, and you nuzzled your face into his shoulder more to consume the feeling of him.

You did not know what love was. You did not know if you had ever felt it before, but if you had, you were sure it was not as intense as this. Nothing would ever be, nothing could ever be.

You let your hand curl around his bicep, holding yourself closer. Your entire body was against his now, your fingers squeezing the muscle that you had ahold of. You lifted your head a bit, pressing your mouth to his shoulder. You didn’t dare press a kiss there; there was no way you wanted to break this moment.

His head turned a bit, his eyes finding yours. His dark eyes were on yours now, and you let the rest of your silent tears fall. His gaze flickered down, watching the tears curl around your jaw before wetting his hand that still wrapped around your leg.

He lifted his other hand, reaching around and using the rough pad of his thumb to wipe your face. You kept your eyes on his as you leaned into his touch. It was clear to him now the effect his touch had on you. You followed it if he let you, searching for it to keep you grounded.

“Joel…”

The name slipped past you finally. You spoke it, gently, barely audible above a whisper, but you said it. It felt alright to say it between the walls of your shared apartment. For all intents and purposes, this place was safe. Safer than outside, safer than on the street, safer than the apartment next door. He lived here. He felt comfortable enough to rest his head on a pillow here and close his eyes until next morning. If he could do it here, so could you. If he could relax his shoulders just slightly here, you could say his name at ease. There were no barriers here.

Not at home.

He had tried hard to keep you at arm’s length. He had tried so hard to let his demeanor push you away, keep you at a distance, detest you in a way that made you unable to stand him for anything other than survival. He was stupid to think that was possible; there were stars in your eyes that never faded. He was almost certain you had the ability to ignore his words and find the meaning behind their roughness.

Don’t be stupid could be translated to be careful. Don’t make me come after you meant you know I’ll come if you need me. I’ll go really was just another saying for I don’t want anything to happen to you.

As your eyes held onto his, there was so much said that fell short. His gaze was soft, and your eyes were wet with love. You scooted even closer to him on the couch. You lifted your head off his shoulder, leaning even closer, close enough to touch your forehead to side of his head. He didn’t move away, not even a little. If anything, he pressed against you, too, his eyes lowering to look at where his hand still rested on top of your thigh. His thumb moved in circles there, feeling the denim beneath his touch. There was little else he could think about.

“I’ll…” He was first to speak again. “I’ll fix this for you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. This had to be love. There was no other explanation. There was no other way to decipher the heat in your chest, the throb in your heart, the swimming of the thoughts in your head. There was no other reason your skin burned and pulsed and ached to be closer and closer and closer to him.

You nodded in response finally, pressing your cheek to his. You closed your eyes, letting out a gentle breath of relief.

“Okay,” you whispered, and you could have sworn you felt his lips brush against the side of your face. It could’ve been a kiss. The way they pressed just enough against your skin, feeling the slight dampness from the way he licked his dry lips, the tenderness that only his mouth could hold because no other part of him was really capable of being that gentle.

There it was again, just beside your eye. Careful, calculated, secret, as if someone would catch him if he made too much noise or captured too much of your attention. You thought perhaps maybe he knew that if he gave any more than the ghost of his touch, you would make a sound.

It was true. You would cry. Maybe even scream. Perhaps you would say something and give this moment away, but how could you not? Joel Miller did not give affection. He did not receive it, and he certainly did not let his guard down enough to sit this close to someone other than his own shadow.

Oh, again, and this time you heard it. In the silence of the room you sat in, it was the faintest sound, but so sweet, you could taste it. A kiss, the sound of lips pressing against skin, a short peck that made your head spin. You didn’t cry nor scream. No, you whimpered, a soft whine that echoed in his ear. He squeezed your thigh in response as if to tell you that it was okay. Maybe it was to tell you that it actually happened, and that you weren’t dreaming. He was so rough around the edges. He was so hard to read. He rarely spoke, he rarely had any other expression on his face other than bitterness and annoyance. He rarely said anything except an insult or a command or a short, barking response that was meant to silence you.

This was peace and calm and serenity, and if this really was a dream, you wished on something above to never wake you up. You could die now, and it would be the most welcome end to whatever sick fantasy you had created; anything to keep this vision from stopping, anything to keep Joel Miller’s hand on you and his mouth on your skin and his gentle words in your ear.

Again, something new. The scratch of his beard as you turned your head slightly, your eyes meeting his for the hundredth time again. Another tear fell, but it was broken by the smile that grew on you. Sunshine in your eyes, not stars this time, he observed. He stiffened slightly as your free hand laid on top of his on your thigh, but he didn’t pull away. He was touch starved, and every lick of your warmth was a terribly beautiful relief. You smiled wider, suppressing a soft laugh. It was awfully funny to you the way he behaved. The brooding, dark man you had come to know was as stiff as a board, but he never pulled away from you. He didn’t pull away from your smile or your laughter or the soft touch of your meticulous hands, the hands that could fix anything.

The hands that could fix anything. The hands that could fix me.

He stared down at you as you continued to relax. The fear and tension in your body was gone, and while you explored this new territory, he never moved or relaxed. He was letting you explore on your own. He was too afraid to do anything more than he had already done. It was bliss when your hand left his bicep to touch the nape of his neck, playing with the ends of his hair. Greying and curly, but you admired him from this close. Now that you knew what it was like to be this close, you feared you would never move away again. There was something in your gut and on the tip of your tongue that told you that while he would never say it, you would be allowed to come this close whenever you wanted now.

He was gentle with you when he stood up finally. He didn’t push you away. He just let your hands fall into your lap again. It was dark out by now, and the both of you needed sleep for the day tomorrow. It would be a long day, full of laborious work and unforgiving heaviness. You reached up now, taking his hand in yours, stopping him from moving away.

“Joel…”

There was his name again. It felt good to be called by his name again by someone like you.

“Just a little longer?” You begged. He was touch starved; but so were you. He sat again on the couch, unable to deny your request. Perhaps he was unable to deny any of your requests, and you had just never known until now.

I’ll fix this for you had to mean I love you.

Didn’t it?

[zwolfgames]

Idk, but I think bg3 reader would try to leave the group, if they know about their yandere personalities, lol. Please, your bg3 works are so good. I expect the new one

(So, not a continuation of the last drabble. This is hypothetical for now. Also it deleted my answer the first time :( so this is try two, it may seem a bit rushed. And I got a bit off track, woops.)

Warnings: mentions of yandere stuff I suppose.

Y/N in this au (aka teen tav) really isn't stupid, sure they grew up in a village with just their mother and pulled random spells out of their ass like a true sorcerer, but they're not stupid.

The party started with variable reactions to a minor in the group. Act 1 doesn't showcase a lot of Yan tendencies due to everything still going kind of fine and everyone getting to know each other.

The yandere part really starts in act 2 when they enter the Shadow cursed lands. Unlike the normal region of act 1 are the Shadowlands riddled with danger.

The party quickly gets their wake-up call after things like Kar'niss (who gets his little momemt) and the other bosses and dangers. Katherine Thorm, being a threat, also doesn't help ease the party's feelings.

The group would go from silly to way more protective in act 2. But Y/N can't do anything about that yet. The shadows would eat them alive, or someone else could get them. Better left with unease rather than dead, right?

I've purposefully mentioned Y/N's mother in the drabbles to show the main goal of the reader, which is to return to their mother. This goal is being held back by a party of people who no longer seem intent to part ways with you once this is over.

Sure, Y/N wanted their cool adventure with heroes like Wyll Ravenguard, but staying with them permanently? Haha... no.

So after the wake-up call of act 2, Y/N would take their chances at escape in Baldur Gate. The thing is, though, Y/N isn't from Baldurs Gate. They don't know the alleys like the back of their hand in the same manner that Astarion does. They didn't grow up playing in the secret passageways like Karlach...

This is a dangerous game you're playing. The more you wiggle, the tighter their hold. It's just how it goes with people who have faced enough to lose it.

They handle you in different ways, of course.

Wyll, Gale, and Halsin strike me as the type to have wanted to protect this poor kid from the start, so their resolve just strengthens to unnecessary levels. You wouldn't mind just being carried to bed by a bear man, would you? He knows some good elvish lullabies.

Lae'zel is her own separate category, she's a githyanki, they have very diffrent ways then most folk on faerun. I'm basing her motherly ability on the prologue where she raises the gith egg. She may not be affectionate, but she does not want you out of sight. Expect training.

Karlach and Astarion surprisingly go together here. They don't seem like the parental type. More of an aunt/uncle. Would try and stay your friend. Guiltripping from Karlach that she may or not be aware of herself, and straight up manipulation from Astarion. They both had a bad past. You can stay, right? As a little gift from the gods?

Shadowheart didn't like you from the start, not a fan of kids. Her yandere strikes a lot later. First, she had only been worried about your health as a cleric. After her arc at the end of the shadow cursed lands (freeing Dame Aylin etc) she gets a bit of that parental feeling nonsense too. Though I'd say she shows it the least. You'd be tricked easily into thinking she's the only normal one in the party.

Minthara, I'm unsure if I can find a good way to let her join, but she'd be similar to Lae'zel, just crueler and definitely bot secretive about her want for your stay. If you ask her directly, she'd just plain out and say that if she catches you, you're getting bound.

Jaheira, natural mom, she's got kids, protected the kids. Don't expect her to be sweet, but you're definitely not going out of sight.

Minsc joins in Act 3, so really, he doesn't have the time to get to know you, he's funny, you're funny. Friends. Not that the rest appreciates the time you spent with him. They're scared you're gonna make up a talking animal next.

All in all, Y/N would try and escape. It just isn't very likely to succeed. If you get far... well, there are other beings out there still after you, you know?

Just forget your mom. Aren't they better family now? Your mom didn't teach you spells, did she? Or swordplay? Maybe how to make balms?

Cmon, they're the best option. Stay.

Just an answer lol, hope i didn't make anyone too OOC with just this. Xd.

[machiroads]

Fic Writer Interview

Thank u @plusultraetc for the tag wheeeeee

How many works do you have on AO3?

8️⃣

What's your total AO3 word count?

251,850, 150k of which is one fic lmao

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Nine Lives, by an order of magnitude over 2nd place

Naruhata Noir

A Tumultuous Sea, You and Me (the mer-pirates fic)

Being No One, Going Nowhere (the 2 broken arms fic)

waiting on the seasons to change, waiting for the curtain to fall (the fortuneteller fic)

I am surprised to see the 2 broken arms fic in the top 5 tbh!

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I like to get responses to my own comments, so I try to reply to everyone's comments :]

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Uhhhhh PROBABLY 9L since it ends with everyone going off to war haha oopsie

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Uhhhhhh probably merpirates? It's really gross and sappy. Dive into the ocean and kiss a mermaid in front of your entire crew. The 2 broken arms fic also got a pretty happy ending (Aizawa goes to bed and also maybe jerks it a little)

Do you write crossovers?

Not crossovers per se but I do enjoy a deep in the weeds AU

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I don't think so? The worst I get is people saying "wow almost no typos" which is very tame lmao

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not yet! Kintsugi (the epilogue to 9L) will have some mild spice but I'm at a point in my life where I just couldn't be jazzed to write folks doing it sloppy style

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so except for that website that's scraped like a ton of fics a few months back

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I had one person request to translate 9L into Ukranian, though I never saw if they ended up doing it. Recently I've also had a couple people leave comments in Spanish so I assume they translated the story into Spanish somehow!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

The unpublished FFXII AU is partially co-written by Robbirdthe8th, but it's been parked for like a year and a half. Also I would be remiss to omit @kyurilin who might as well get bonus credits for the Nutstang

What's your all-time favorite ship?

I have been in fandom spaces for over a decade YOU CAN'T JUST MAKE ME CHOOSE A SINGLE ALL-TIME FAVORITE IT'S IMPOSSIBLE. Perhaps a low-commitment list of OTPs from across the years:

Erasermic (obviously)

Edwin (FMA)

Netteflix (FE3H)

Asanoya (HQ!!)

Kanej (6 of Crows)

Yuchi (FB)

Asucaga (MSGS)

Soukana (FMP)

Maiko (ATLA)

Hanvi (DB)

Nejiten (Naruto)

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

Probably any of the Fire Emblem or Fruits Basket fics I started drafting in 2020/2021 before I figured out how to write fic lol

What are your writing strengths?

People tell me I am good at characterization! I think I'm also good at describing a setting, a skill that I exercise often in my technical writing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Exposition, my nemesis. A necessary evil, but it's like pulling teeth, every time.

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

Short answer: I just. Don't.

Longer answer: I think there's a time and place for it, and I've seen both well-executed and clunky ways of doing it. I've never seen a need for it yet in anything I've written.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

BNHA was the first fandom I published anything for, though honourable mention goes to Fruits Basket and FE3H for convincing me that I can tell my own stories (and then get stuck trying to figure out how to write fiction woops).

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

Idk man I'm just vibing in my lane of erasermic et al right now

What's your favorite fic you've written?

Listen it's gotta be 9L. This fic is the reason I have made so many friends in this community. People have drawn fanart for it (one of which now lives permanently on my desk in the form of a mousepad, thank u Dragon). It is the story that got me into writing fic because it was a story that nobody else was telling, so I wrote the story that I wanted to read.

People still get to the endnotes on 9L and are like THIS IS YOUR FIRST FIC???? and yeah. I started writing fanfiction at the tender age of 28 and the first thing I decided was worth sharing is still my magnum opus. Anyone can write fic! Find a writer whose style you like, emulate it, and write the story you want to read. It's that simple.

[watermelonsugawara]

Leave Your Mark

❥ warnings: nsfw; needles (tattooing), pain kink is that what u call it? LMFAO IDK, semi public sex???, handjob, fellatio, slight edging, face sitting, fingering, mild dacryphilia woops, unprotected sex, creampie

❥ characters: iwaizumi x tattoo artist!fem!reader

❥ a/n: so i had this idea and it was originally meant to be ukai x reader ,,,, BUT ive never written about iwa yet SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO i thought it was his time to fuckin SHINE

ALSO i half assed my editing so dont bully me <///3

❥ summary: you’ve given countless thigh tattoos to clients before, but this specific client had a particular liking towards pain.

wc: dude idek like 3k+ ?? JFJSJDJDH

...

The familiar chime of the tattoo parlor doorbell caught your attention as you finished cleaning your needles. You were the one closing up shop, so you knew that there’s only one reason for the ringing of the door, your last client of the day.

You’d seen him in the shop before, but he had gotten a tattoo from one of your coworkers. Nevertheless, he caught your eye even for the short moments you saw him passing through the shop. He was undeniably attractive, so it was even better to see him up close when he discussed tattoo details with you in previous meetings.

“Nice to see you again, Iwaizumi,” you said as you sauntered behind the counter. He nodded in greeting as you shuffled through a binder to find the tattoo you designed for him. A dragon, surrounded by cherry blossom flowers. It was a pain in the ass to draw but you were enthralled to put the art somewhere permanently.

Iwaizumi leaned forward against the glass counter to get a better admire your work. His shirt wrapped tightly around his biceps just right, the thin material giving subtle hints to his toned shoulders and chest underneath. Always so handsome upclose.

“You ready?” You smiled at him, motioning him towards the tiny nook of your tattooing station.

“Yep, I’m very excited,” Iwaizumi grinned back. Unbeknownst to you, the actual tattoo was only half the fun for him.

As you finished gathering your supplies, Iwaizumi stepped out of his jeans and lied down on the leather bench. You kept your routine speech short as the dark-haired man relaxed into the cool black material, knowing you’d have to review aftercare with him at the end of the session anyways.

Everything went like clockwork— shaving, sanitizing, tracing. The tattoo was centered on his right thigh, and you couldn’t help but notice how thick his thighs were as you traced the image. The occasional flex of his muscles under your touches only added to the curiosity swirling in your mind. Probably a strict workout regime, played a sport or two in high school.

Your silent admiration for his body was short-lived as you zeroed your focus towards what would be the next few hours of work. Your foot prodded at the pedal, the subtle buzz of the machine overlapping with the music playing through the shop, with the occasional small talk sprinkled in.

It’s fine. Slight fidgeting is fine; you learned how to adjust to it after your years in the tattooing business. After all, it is a bunch of needles repeatedly piercing into the skin, what other reaction would you expect? However, Iwaizumi’s restlessness was constant, his breathing erractic, even when you’d pause to wipe the excess ink trailing on his skin. Every touch seemed to make his breath hitch and the muscle of his thigh become rigid. Occasional flexing became frequent fidgeting, to the point where even at your skill level, you didn’t want your work ruined by a slip of the hand.

“Are you sure you’re doin’ okay?” You asked as you lifted the tattooing gun off of his skin. You looked up at him, your concerned voice laced with a hint of frustration. “We can take a break if it’s hurting you too m-”

“No it’s fine, you can keep going,” Iwaizumi cut off your thoughts, his slightly choked out response catching you by surprise. He sounded out of breath, and his cheeks were flushed a deep shade.

Throughout the entire session up to this point, you had been mentally racking through the rolodex in your brain of common reactions to getting a tattoo — general nervousness, fear of needles, fear of pain. But this... seemed different. Could it be arousal? You couldn’t even be sure. And even if it was that, this surely is new territory for you.

Iwaizumi looked back at you for just a moment, but there was a dark glimmer in his eyes that was impossible to miss. Mixed with the blushing cheeks and shallow breathing, the gears finally began to move in your brain, and he knew it. His eyes screwed shut, hoping you’d hear his silent pleas to just continue with the session.

It felt so wrong to be right. There’s still a chance, though, that you jumped to conclusions too quickly, overanalyzed the look in his eyes. Yet you couldn’t even stop tourself as your eyes trailed down to the tent straining against his underwear. Your eyes widened at the sight, the heather gray fabric outlining his cock deliciously.

You definitely shouldn’t have stared for as long as you did.

What the fuck has gotten into you? You knew this was wrong, that you were a professional, and most importantly, you sure as hell weren’t proud of the feeling this was giving you. Your brain was telling you to stop, but the growing wet spot in your panties brought along a much more exciting version of how this night would end. You lifted your foot off the pedal, the buzzing of your machine coming to an abrupt stop and placing on the rolling tray beside you.

“I think you do need a break,” you said nonchalantly, peeling your black latex gloves off of your hands. You waited for a response, a sign of life in the man laid on the bench in front of you, keen on getting an answer from him even though you knew you’d never get it. All you got in return was a dumbfounded expression painted across Iwaizumi’s face.

The piercing of the needles that would otherwise make people nervous actually excited Iwaizumi, the adrenaline coursing through his veins from the pressure. It was something about the controlled pain, the sharp stung along his sensitive skin that had his blood rushing straight to his cock. But he was usually pretty good about keeping his composure while getting tattoos from other artists. This time was different though— a shoulder or back tattoo was much less intimate than this one, your pretty face just mere inches away from his dick. 

“[Y/N],” he whispered, slightly surprised that he was even able to utter your name. He held his breath, partially to preserve whatever air you didn’t knock out of his lungs from your previous words, partially out of anticipation for your next ones.

“Let me help you. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” you smirked, your eyes flickering briefly at his unfinished tattoo on his thigh and back up to his face. “Do you want me to help you?”

You looked up at him with such soft eyes, while you both knew damn well that innocence was not in the cards tonight. 

He nodded as he propped himself up on his forearms, and watching your hands ghosted over his cock. You lightly squeezed as you ran your hand up and down his length, smirking as Iwaizumi’s precum created a dark spot on his underwear.

He lifted his hips and you obliged to his request without even needing to hear it. You hooked your fingers on the elastic of his underwear, pulling down to free his throbbing cock.

Fuck, he was big.

You climbed onto the bench with him, straddling his legs. His cock was heavy in your hand, your fingertips barely touching as you wrapped your small hand around the base. You licked a long stripe up from Iwaizumi’s balls to the tip of his cock, your hot tongue making him clench his jaw, biting back a groan. You flicked your wrist, letting Iwaizumi’s cock hit your tongue, the lewd slapping noises making him whimper. You swirled your tongue along the head of his cock before taking his length into your mouth, stroking what you couldn’t fit in your hands. It felt like your jaw was going to snap from trying to fit his fat cock into your mouth.

Your hands were so small, your mouth was so soft and wet; it was such a stark difference from the intense prick of the needles on his skin just moments ago. It made Iwaizumi’s cock twitch knowing you could bring him so much pain and pleasure simultaneously. 

“Fuck yes, just like that, [Y/N], fuck,” Iwaizumi groaned, watching your pretty plump lips wrap around his shaft. 

You shallowly bobbed your head before coming all the way down to try and take his entire cock into your mouth. The sudden jolt of pleasure of you gagging made Iwaizumi buck his hips, pushing his cock farther down your throat than you thought you could even take it. Your lips reached the base of his cock, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. 

Iwaizumi repeatedly rammed his hips upwards, eager to feel you gag around his cock again. Tears were falling freely down your face, blurring your vision as you desparately gasped for air. Fuck, he was already so close.

However, as much as Iwaizumi wanted to shoot his hot load down your throat, he knew he wanted you to come all over his face even more. A soft tap on your shoulder had you quickly pulling away from Iwaizumi, coughing and catching your breath as you sat upright. You got up to remove your jeans and underwear as he removed his own shirt. Iwaizumi’s large hands immediately found purchase on your ass when you straddled him again.

“Sit on my face, please pretty girl,” Iwaizumi groaned, his hands still kneading the soft flesh of your hips and ass. He laid back against the bench once more, his eyes fixated on your pussy above him. You sat down, his tongue immediately flat against your folds to taste your juices. He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking and drawing circles with his tongue, before pushing his tongue into your tight hole.

It was damn near impossible to keep yourself upright, Iwaizumi’s hot tongue pushing into you, his hands roaming all over your body, pushing your bra and shirt away to grab your breasts. You ripped off the remainder of your clothes as he rolled your sensitive nipples between his fingertips.

“Yes yes yes, Iwa, fuuuuck,” you whined, carding your fingers through his hair. The apex of his nose brushed against your clit and you rolled your hips against him, the vibrations of his moans against your cunt sending you over the edge.

Your thighs clamped around Iwaizumi’s head as you let out one last choked out moan, your spongy walls clenching around his tongue as you came.

You moved back to kneel above Iwaizumi’s hips, the fluorescent lights of the shop highlighting your juices all over his face.

“You still haven’t helped me out yet, [Y/N],” Iwaizumi smirked, stroking his cock. His other hand reached down to your cunt, pushing a finger into your sensitive hole. You sucked in a sharp breath as you barely came down from your first high, but before you could retort, Iwaizumi cut you off.

“You’re gonna need the prep, baby.” Although his voice was playful, you knew he meant it wholeheartedly, as you were reminded of the thick girth of his cock by the subtle ache of your jaw. Iwaizumi plunged another finger into you, making your thighs tremble.

You looked so fucking beautiful above him. Mascara running down your cheeks, mouth hanging open, moans echoing through the empty shop. He just couldn’t wait to stuff your tight little cunt full of his fat cock.

Iwaizumi pulled his fingers out of you with a loud squelch, spitting on his hand and pumping his length a few times as you caught your breath. He teased the swollen tip of his cock at your hole, groaning at how tight you were as you began to sink down around him.

You’ve never been stretched out like this before, hot tears resurfacing at the corners of your eyes. You gripped his broad shoulders to steady yourself, your nails digging into his soft skin. You let out a shaky sigh as your ass met his hips, nearly coming already from how his huge cock filled up every inch of your pussy.

He sat up, steadying himself with one hand behind him and the other at the back of your head, pulling you in to mold his lips to yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. He moaned into the kiss as he felt you move your hips, slowly bouncing on his cock.

“[Y/N], baby, you’re so fucking-hnggg- tight,” Iwaizumi groaned against your mouth, his hot breath fanning across your face. You started to bounce on his cock at a faster pace, and with every loud slap of skin on skin, his cock brushed against the spongy spot inside of you, making you clench even more around his hard shaft.

You couldn’t even control all the moans falling from your lips, Iwaizumi’s cock now relentlessly hitting your g-spot as he rutted his hips up into you. Your cunt was sucking him in, feeling every vein on his cock drag along your tight walls.

As your mouth hung open, Iwaizumi pushed two fingers in and you wrapped your lips around them, eliciting another groan from him. He pulled his fingers out to bring them down to your aching clit, his rough fingertips rubbing tight circles on the bundle of nerves. Iwaizumi thought you couldn’t get any fucking tighter but as he toyed with your clit, your cunt spasmed around him even more.

“Iwa please-” you cried out, feeling another orgasm creep up in the pit of your stomach.

“Milk my cock while you cum for me baby, c’mon,” Iwaizumi groaned, your erratic clenching bringing him closer to his own release.

With one final thrust into you, you came with Iwaizumi’s cock bottomed out inside of you, thick ropes of cum painting your cunt white. You both cried out for the other as you rode out your highs, your hands scratching red lines into his back.

You crawled off of Iwaizumi’s lap, his cum still leaking out of your pussy and onto the black leather of the bench.

“So,” Iwaizumi sighed, catching his breath but eager enough to not miss a beat, “When’s our next session?”

...

spicy taglist: @wakatshi @heyhinata @murdereddaydreams @msbyslut @dearkags @saetyrn9 @todoroki-vivian

[send in an ask or message me to be added/removed]

[iknikblackstonevarrick]

TYE/Descendants AU

I recently pirated Descendants three like Uma would have wanted and it very much solidified in my mind the headcanons for a Young Elites AU that i’ve had since the second movie. Now I’ll preface the rest of this with the fact that you could make a very decent Enzolina AU with Adelina as Mal and Enzo as Ben, but I ask you this: does anyone still stan Enzolina in the year 2019?

Raffaele<->Mal (stay with me)

Enzo<->Ben

Violetta<->Evie

Gemma<->Carlos

Lucent<->Jay

Maeve<->Lonnie

Michel<->Jane

Daphne<->Audrey

Dante<-> Chad Charming

You might think it’s unfair to peg Daphne as Audrey but we know literally nothing about Daphne so everything’s fair, also I like Audrey and I like Daphne(as a concept) it’s not meant as a slight

SO here’s the gist of the AU cause I always have to justify my AUs: 

Giulietta caught the fever instead of Enzo and she was too old to survive, so she’s dead and Enzo isn’t an Elite

Instead Enzo’s father remained King

So this king, another character we know nothing about, decides that the Young Elites are a potential public danger and judges them based on their power. The ones he deems relatively benign (Michel, Dante) are allowed to remain unhindered while the dangerous ones (Gemma, Lucent, Adelina, Raffaele [The power to make most people fall head-over-heels in love with you is very dangerous on all levels except for physical, and even then a little bit]) and their families are moved to a Isle of the Lost-style penal colony to live in isolation

fast forward five years, Enzo comes of age and it’s time for him to become king. He was never a fan of this system and decides he’s going to bring four of these ‘dangerous’ Elites at a time to live with him in the palace so he can judge them himself

There aren’t really evil parents in this one (except for Adelina and Violetta but we’ll get there), the plan on the Dagger/VKs part was for Raffaele to spell Enzo with his powers and make him release everyone. There’s gotta be some kind of wand-object that can release all the Young Elites for plot’s sake, maybe Michel made something magic for the king?

Anyway the problem with that plan is woops Raffaele actually falls for Enzo! And starts to feel really bad about using his powers on him!

He asks Violetta to use her power on Enzo which I’m deciding once again for plot contrivance would destroy the effect of his power; this takes the place of the anti-love potion brownie

Violetta accidentally deploys her power too early (in the carriage like in the movie) but Enzo’s like lol I figured but I genuinely like you? I can say that for a fact now that the magic’s gone

Idk how we’d manage to have a dragon fight in this one I think Jane!Michel still grabs the wand because of low self-esteem and Raffaele grabs it away from him and everyone gasps in panic like they do in the movie, he ALMOST DOES IT but the other three convene together and they have a Moment like the VKs do at the end of D1 before they decide to give the wand back

And then, y’know, they have a dance party

SO that’s the first movie I know what you’re thinking “Why isn’t Adelina Mal?” Because: the Roses are the pirates

Adelina<->Uma

Magiano<->Harry Hook

Sergio<->Gil

I was really tempted to make Magiano Uma and Adelina Harry because their personalities line up so much better, but role-wise this works a lot better

Watch the boat scene at the end of Descendants 2 and tell me it could not be a g-rated version of the boat scene at the end of The Rose Society, with Adelina/Uma controlling Enzo/Ben for her own gain and Raffaele/Mal snapping him out of it

That said in It’s Goin’ Down (a different boat scene from the boat scene i just mentioned) Magiano sings Uma’s part and Adelina sing’s Harry’s part because the part where Harry goes on about how he CAN and WILL kill Ben is very Adelina and not Magiano at all. Also the rest of the song i think just fits better that way. this song was one of my biggest points of contention for almost making Magiano Uma and Adelina Harry 

You KNOW pirate Adelina has a cool eyepatch too no question

Now you might be thinking ‘Raffaele is very good at fitting in and being polite in court where does the insecurity about not being right for Enzo and dragging him down politically and socially that Mal gets at the beginning of D2 come from?” Homosexuality 

Raffaele thinks he’s gonna jeopardize Enzo’s claim to the throne if they stay together so he runs back to the Isle and Enzo and the gang go get him, y’know, like the plot of Descendants 2

So some Rose Pirate backstory: Adelina ran away from her father in the chaos of their relocation to the Isle. Violetta didn’t follow her in order to quell their father’s wrath and try and stop him from going after Adelina, but Adelina sees it as her choosing him over her

Adelina makes it on her own for a while until she meets Magiano, recently trapped here by the Inquisition and VERY chagrined about it

They try to use their powers to escape several times to no avail, but they bond during the experience and decide to go it together

Shortly afterward they meet Sergio, who owns the fish-and-chip shop that becomes their base of operations. at this point theyre like 14 and he’s seventeen, he grows fond of these kids who keep making a ruckus in his dumb shop and offers to let them stay there for permanents if they’ll help out around the place

Martino Amouteru locates Adelina after she sets down roots and tries to drag her ‘home’. When Sergio sees him try to lay hands on her he pins him to a wall, gives him a gash on his arm, and threatens to cut his whole hand off if he ever tries to touch her again. Martino turns and runs and Adelina never encounters him again

Magiano and Adelina do similar light teasing on Sergio to how Uma and Harry tease Gil but Sergio’s not dumb he knows theyre just like that sometimes

so the roses start gaining ‘territory’ on the Isle and eventually butt heads with Raffaele and the Daggers, especially when they see he’s recruited Violetta

she wants them all to be friends but no one else does, so the two societies become rivals instead. Violetta sticks with the Daggers, if only because Adelina doesn’t make it seem like she’s very welcome in the Roses (she’s still mad)

so flash forward back to the second movie, Sergio sees Enzo there with Violetta Gemma and Lucent and reports back to Adelina immediately

the Roses kidnap Enzo and Magiano taunts the Daggers about it. If Magiano’s a little more willing to get his hands dirty in this AU it’s because he is VERY stir crazy in here on this island for four years

Adelina strikes the deal with Raffaele that Enzo gets to live if Raffaele brings her the wand so she can get everyone off this island

Raffaele reluctantly agrees with no real choice in the matter. All the Daggers go back to Estenzia and get Michel to make them a fake wand so they can get Enzo back without handing the Roses all that power

Meanwhile the Roses expect foul play. Adelina and Enzo have the same kinda conversation Uma and Ben have in the movie, but it ends when Magiano can sense the Daggers powers in range again. He copies Raffaele's power and makes Enzo fall in love with Adelina as a contingency plan

We already discussed the it’s goin’ down scene, I love it

They basically just have to grab Enzo and run after they bring him over cause they realize the wand’s fake pretty quick. There’s no talking dog scene

When we get to the boat scene, Violetta figures out that Magiano and Adelina spelled Enzo pretty soon after Adelina comes out, and she has to hard reset Raffaele’s power to free Enzo again but they do the true love’s kiss thing too and it’s great and gay

Oh and y’know how Lumiere’s there at the end? Like just hanging out? That’s Teren. In case you were wondering about him he’s not important in this one he’s just hanging around not being awful because Giulietta doesn’t exist anymore

Adelina still gets away and teases the third movie while the Daggers have another dance party

I’ve spent far too much time on this tonight but I can and will come back with the AU summary of D3. I’ll tell you this right now Magiano and Adelina DO kiss and the D3 writers are cowards for not letting Huma do so

[nebraska-doesnt-exist]

(1/2) hey i have a question that idk if you can answer but maybe one of your followers can? i'm trans (nonbinary specifically) and i'm gonna be going to UNL in the fall, but when i applied i didn't include my preferred name or anything for a couple different reasons. dyou know if theres a way for me to contact someone and get that info to like. advisors/administrators/whoever needs it if i wanna go by dif name/pronouns than on my app? (i think there was but i can't find it anymore woops.)

(2/2) also i'm not out to family and i'm worried about it getting back to them somehow, esp my mom, dyou (or anyone else) know if that's likely, like them bringing it up to her or mailing her anything about it (idek what they would want to mail her but i'm a bit paranoid about being outed lol). ty to u or anyone else that can help & its ok if u cant

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

so. as a disclaimer, i don’t know a ton of specifics on this. i would 100% suggest reaching out to the lgbtq+ center. they can help you navigate all of that and answer your questions, especially in regards to how privacy will work and what information will be visible since you aren’t out to your mom. hopefully i’m giving correct info, but please check! they’re really friendly and they really do want to help.

if your myred already (the main unl student site), you can update your name in the profile section. there’s also some way to change your gender, although i’m not sure if that’s on myred or if you need to contact someone about that -- but it’s definitely possible! again, the lgbtq+ center should be able to guide you through that.

as far as accidentally being outed goes... that’s tricky. for one, they’ll send some things to your permanent address, and generally it’ll be addressed with your name as it appears in the system. i don’t know if they’ll pull your full name or preferred name (depending on which you change), but it probably depends on who is sending the mail.

things get a bit more tricky if your mom calls unl offices for anything (like billing, or... well, mostly it’s financial stuff). legally, they can’t give out any private information about your account unless you give permission. however (and i’m speaking as someone who works on campus), it can get a little tricky to figure out what information we can give out and what should be concealed. and names are something people really don’t consider. if your mom calls asking about something, the staff member might accidentally give out your name when they’re trying to clarify who she’s looking for, or just because they’re trying to honor your preferred name.

i do know that i’ve seen some profiles flagged with some sort of special privacy tag? idk. also, that stuff is really more relevant for people whose parents help pay their fees. i don’t know your particular circumstances.

i don’t want this to deter you from changing your name -- again, this is from my experience as a student worker in a periphery department, so i don’t actually see the whole process. please, reach out to the lgbtq+ center. they’ll help you figure out what the best options for you are (just a note? certain privacy restrictions? preferred name or system change?) and help you navigate the process.

[the-casbah-way]

Here’s a Tag :3

I was tagged by @donttalktomewhenimreading thank u!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ik this is so long but cba putting a read more in soz

rules: answer these 85 statements and tag 20 people

im not tagging twenty bc fuck the police but i always tag the same ppl so just do it

THE LAST

1. drink: idk im in my room but i cant leave bc i have so much work to do and if i do i’ll get distracted pls send help ive forgotten what liquid is 


2. phone call: my pal big daddy dave 


3. text message: i think the same person 


4. song you listened to: no clue lmao 


5. time you cried: yesterday but a guy gave me a permanent marker to do eyeliner with so it didnt smudge but i only did a little bit bc i was scared but its all good bc it came off 


6. dated someone twice: i guess but idk what my life is


7. kissed someone and regretted it: YES lmaoooo

8. been cheated on: not that i know of lmao but probs

9. lost someone special: it’s my entire villain origin story so yes ?


10. been depressed: have you met me

11. gotten drunk and thrown up: who do you think i am  3 FAVOURITE COLOURS

12. PINK 13. yellow 14. idk man

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU

15. made new friends: yea! fuck knows how tho!

16. fallen out of love: u avin a giggle

17. laughed until you cried: yea like every five seconds

18. found out someone was talking about you: yea but not in a bad way..im sure they have been tho lmao


19. met someone who changed you: big daddy pollitt

20. found out who your friends are: i already knew bc im woke

21. kissed someone on your facebook list: yea tryna work my way thru the lot feel

GENERAL

22. how many of your facebook friends do you know in real life: like almost all of them

23. do you have any pets: i used to :(((((


24. do you want to change your name: kinda but i dont use it as much now so idm


25. what did you do for your last birthday: i genuinely cant remember but im sure it was wild

26. what time did you wake up: no clue probs bout 7/8 


27. what were you doing at midnight last night: praying of course


28. name something you can’t wait for: i could use this opportunity to make a really edgy joke but im not going 2 be that gal 

29. when was the last time you saw your mom: like five seconds ago she threw a melon at me

31. what are you listening to right now: the sound of time running out god i will die in this place

32. have you ever talked to a person named tom: i had a dream i was on a train w tom jones can i count that thks

33. something that is getting on your nerves: literally everything woops


34. most visited website: idk 

35. hair colour: blonde boyz rule the world

36. long or short hair: BOY she long (i need 2 get it cut urgently its becoming an issue)

37. do you have a crush on someone: cringe lol

38. what do you like about yourself: next question lol

39. want any piercings: i was gonna get my seconds done but our school r being right crazy about it and sending ppl home who have more than one piercing lmaooo.....i also kinda want to get an eyebrow piercing bc my cousin has one and it looks killer but my doctor said i shouldnt get piercings bc of my skin/allergies and i ignored her and my ears were infected for a year lmaoo

40. blood type: idk i asked mabel but she didnt say

41. nickname: big bopper how many times do i have to tell you

42. relationship status: mentally dating james spader, irl repulsed by everyone

43. zodiac: aries

44. pronouns: big/bopper

45. favourite tv show: all of them! :) 

46. tattoos: none but i want one....but like....a rlly small one...a little star or anchor or sth cute...no biggie....but i wanted it on my ankle and we wear tights 2 school so they’lll see and kick me out and i need ma grades lmao

47. right or left handed: right bc im mainstream


48. surgery: WHAT ABOUT IT

49. piercings you have: just earrings

50. sport: im rlly sad bc the only sports im actually good at are tennis and badminton and kinda golf and football and the weather is too shit for most of that


51. vacation:what

52. pair of trainers: why do ppl call them trainers theyvee not trained you in anything don t give them credit for sth they havent done

MORE GENERAL 53. eating: pussy (insert laugh track)

54. drinking: i drink 2 forget but i always remember

55. i’m about to: nut

56. waiting for: a reason2 be ablive

57. want: A REASONT O BNE ABLIVE


58. get married: i love weddings and dresses and pretty things but like getting married?? no lmaoo fuck outta here 


59. career: i literally want to do everything

WHICH IS BETTER

60. hugs or kisses: please do not touch me girl

61. lips or eyes: eyes but when u like someone then u look @ their lips youre like hey there

62. shorter or taller: taller
 i guess

63. older or younger: depends what we talking bout


64. nice arms or nice stomach: personality am i right ladies

65. hook up or relationship: nothing fills the void


66. troublemaker or hesitant: dont b hesitant its boring


HAVE YOU EVER

67. kissed a stranger: dk


68. drank hard liquor: NEVER GAIN


69. lost glasses/contact lenses: i lose them every day lmao


70. turned someone down: turn down for what

71. sex on the first date: ive only been on a date once i think...like a proper date...and no

72. broken someone’s heart: yes but its the price you got to pay for looking this fly


73. had your heart broken: i break it myself. in lots of mundane little ways. my dad taught me if you want something done right do it yourself 


74. been arrested: talk to my lawyer bitch

75. cried when someone died: yeaboy

76. fallen for a friend: idk i dont understand feelings at all and it scares me

DO YOU BELIEVE IN

77. yourself: who he 


78. miracles: you sexy thang

79. love at first sight: no 

80. santa claus: why would u ask that he real

81. kiss on the first date: u do you


82. angels: i didnt til i saw steve buscemi

OTHER

83. current best friend’s name: idk i dont categorise my friends

84. eye colour: like bluey grey i think but idk i dont look into my own eyes

85. favourite movie: dont ask i’ll die

[katrinapavela]

Rowan is connected to Liv’s Kidnapping and Fitz’s Attempted Assassination?: A Theory

NB: I just wanted to post two excerpts from things I’ve written in the past. I have been holding on to the belief that Rowan is connected to both Olivia’s kidnapping and Fitz’s attempted assassination. Since S4.  With the new Mystery Woman, it seems like some of this may be relevant again. IDK.

Anyway, the  excerpts after the jump are taken from 

Scandal Season 4 Theory that’s Probably Wrong, but Still Entertaining to Me… (30th April, 2015)

The Madness of Queen Liv: #Scandal 517 Reflections (13th April, 2016)

S4:

“I’ve discussed some of these ideas with a few people and thought I’d just write them down. Yes, I’m well aware that this is written with Olitz lenses. It’s just me thinking, and most of it is probably wrong (which I’m used to), but here goes…

If Rowan is connected to Liv’s kidnapping, then… my dissatisfaction begin to make sense.

The Logistics:

How could Andrew, the VP, have the entire Secret Service replaced? How does he know ex-Special OPs guys like Ian? Sure, Andrew had motive to have Fitz trussed up by the proverbial balls for the tenure of his presidency, but why was he so adamant that Olivia remain unharmed (411)? Andrew has absolutely no investment in her physical well-being, nor do I think he was just being kind-hearted all of a sudden. How could Rowan, a man that has claimed to have done everything in his life for Olivia (407), refuse to lift a finger when Jake came to him for help(413)? He said he had no daughter. Six episodes later, he’s a papa who’s proud of his “girl” because she stopped “shining” Fitz’s shoes and is “standing on [her] own” (419)?

But then I remember that Rowan knows Special Ops and Black Ops guys. After all, he ordered Fitz to shoot down a commercial airplane in a Black Ops mission (307). Rowan had already infiltrated Secret Service with B6-13 agents (Tom) in order to keep abreast of White House goings-ons (312). So, replacing the entire team: easy.  And the only person who has ever proffered Olivia’s physical safety to the detriment of her psychological, and emotional well-being, is Rowan. But why? How could he do that to his daughter?

Actually, this is exactly the kind of thing he’s perpetrated against Olivia for years. All done to toughen her up into some kind of steely, strong black woman archetype, that is only ever subservient one thing: his black patriarchal authority. This authority, she is told over and over again, is for her protection. This is the man who let his 12 year old believe her mother was dead, while he locked that mother away in isolation for her crime, and never let her see any evidence of her daughter’s development. Not even a fucking news clipping (not until she chewed through her own wrists (308)).  He never let that daughter come back home; he sent her away (301). Sure, she received the finest education and learned a bunch of languages that have come in handy, but she is not OK. Rowan is the guy who, when Olivia was set to see Fitz again after a painful 10 month breakup (post-defiance), had his double agent, Jake Ballard, conveniently intervene in his daughter’s life. Why? To occupy her mind before she was set to see Fitz as Ella’s christening. I guess he didn’t plan on them fucking in a server closet. Woops. He sent his guy in to sleep with Olivia (405 admission), then had that evidence presented to Fitz. The purpose? A misogynistic belief that Fitz sees Olivia as his property, and since the property has been “defiled” (310) by another man, Fitz would no longer care for that property. Russell is yet another toy for Olivia to play with, and another means for extracting information in order to stay ahead of her. Rowan is also the guy who allowed his daughter’s name to be leaked by his own B6-13 agent, Tom, (301), when he obviously had the power to quash it. Why? Because it would conveniently allow him to get Olivia away from that “disappointing” (310) Fitzgerald Grant. He insisted that she would get on that plane “come hell or high water” (301). Seventeen episodes later, Olivia was checkmated into doing so (318). Bonus points for allowing her to think it was of her own volition. Lastly, Rowan is the guy who killed Fitz’s son for a dual purpose. Doing so gave his daughter another achievement under her belt because Fitz won; and it drove–what he hoped would be–a permanent wedge between them. “What love could survive that” (405), he said, as he built a rationale for the framing of Jake Ballard for his (Rowan’s) own crime.

In light of all of that, kidnapping and war actually fit perfectly with Rowan’s MO.”

I wouldn’t be surprised if the kidnapping plan was  put in place the moment Liv returned to DC. Rowan told her he didn’t tell her she could leave (401)). This return to B6-13 and Rowan would make sense to me if Rowan is tied into the kidnapping. Otherwise, episodes 410-413 feel like a bizarre sweeps attempt. 

Olivia is not a woman who reaches for personal help. For her career, sure. In some ways, Olivia can’t make a full emotional recovery while instituting a Cold War with Fitz. That coldness and anger are taxing on the body and mind because they take work to maintain. But it’s a sacrifice to freedom and justice. Olivia cannot be the woman she wants to be, or command control of her life while Rowan remains free to inflict all manner of violence and abuse in her name.  She cannot fully recover, or have anything with Fitz (the person who knows her best on an emotional level), while Rowan remains unpunished. He will destroy it.  If the kidnapping is any indication, he will truly stop at nothing to make Olivia into the woman he thinks she should be. Whoever that woman is supposed to be, she isn’t to be with someone Rowan finds threatening. And Fitz is threatening because he represents actual love. Something Olivia wants, yet fears. She fears it more than the actual fear and terror her father inflicts. 

From 517:

“Lastly, the killing of Andrew has an obvious parallel with the attempted assassination of Fitz. The promo for the episode shows clips from 207/208 and 409/410 to explicitly link the two. Fitz took three bullets on Verna’s orders, but managed to survive. Verna then had the unmitigated gall to blame Fitz for the fact that she and others were “made” to love him, and therefore commit crimes in his name. It had nothing whatsoever to do with their own ambitions, which depended on Fitz’s office. Besides being an unsatisfactory answer, Verna’s reason sounds awfully reminiscent of the shit Cyrus, Mellie, and now Olivia (with Abby) have used to justify their actions. Fitz is to blame for everything they do behind his back, despite the fact that they would likely do it for anyone holding that office. Anyone who trusted them enough.  

Verna tries to upend who Fitz had imagined he was, playing on the insecurities his abusive father drilled in his head—he’ll never be good enough (213). Andrew, too, used very similar trigger buttons we’ve heard Rowan use in the past toward Olivia (301, 305, 409, 419). Discovering that the cabal of Defiance included Olivia, Fitz quickens Verna’s descent to hell. The act protects his legacy as well as the DC5 from jail, with Olivia’s being the most important freedom to protect from among the five collaborators. Here, too, Andrew blames Olivia for destroying his life though he was the one coordinating her attempted destruction through Special Ops forces (very similar to Verna with ex-B613 member, “Becky”). What is different in Olivia’s case with Andrew is that his destruction had everything to do with Olivia and no one else, not even her candidate, Mellie—though I bet she would like to imagine otherwise. By going to war, Fitz asserted that Olivia’s black life mattered to him. Now Olivia, with a metal chair that recalls the chair laid over the body of Brandon Parker by his father (414, h/t @Janekas, Twitter), asserts for herself that her black life does matter, contrary to Andrew’s words.

The Rowan Factor

I have talked around what, to me, has seemed obvious since the second half of season 4: Rowan must be connected to Olivia’s kidnapping; Andrew’s resurgence; and the attempted assassination on Fitz. There are clues in this episode that intimate Rowan’s connection, and we see symbolic representations manifested in Olivia’s memory and PTSD episodes. Those things are: the color red (pyjamas and red doors—kidnapping and Rowan’s door); the record player and records Rowan brought to her in an attempt to recall happy childhood memories (when he still believed she was his progeny?); the song playing as she attempted to shrug her father off through dance; and the spilling of the red wine (his influence on her (302). Rowan, a unisex name, means “little red one” (h/t @teawaldo​). The record player is nostalgia, but also spins ‘round and round in circles (Olivia’s direction since Rowan re-appeared in her life). And the spilling of wine indicates both blood and sacrifice (h/t @vvhallom​). Rowan is her blood and her kidnapping is a sacrifice for her greatness. You see, the kidnapping was meant to break Olivia, cause irrevocable strife between her and Fitz (who wants to be used as a pawn in a dick swinging contest?). Moreover, she was to turn cold, angry, selfish, and replace the power of love with the power of …power, one that served her instead of  “shined [Fitz’s] shoes” (419). When she couldn’t make it work in an honest way with Fitz (how could she, having paid no attention to her mental health), she defaulted right back to this position.

I know what you’re thinking: Kat, this is a bit much. You’re biased because you have never appreciated Rowan, so you want to blame him for everything. Besides, the writers aren’t smart enough to link all these things. This theory is a little out there. I also admit that, though I love Joe Morton and think Rowan is actually a great character because he stirs so much emotion in me, I cannot stand Rowan as Olivia’s father. He does not behave toward her as a father should, and never has. It  has pained me so much that outfits like Afterbuzz, other outlets, and otherwise ‘woke’ people on  Twitter have praised this man as some ‘strong black father’ figure whose abuse is seen as ‘tough love’. Get the entire fuck out of here. That kind of thinking comes from people who have justified abuse from family members in their own lives because of the shame associated with victims of abuse in our society. This is especially the case for those who don’t have physical scars to show for it. As someone who has been through emotional manipulation by a parent at various points in her life; early abandonment by her father; physical abandonment by her mother at the age of 12 due to prison, and had to eventually seek therapy years later for suppressing the effects of all of that, I know what the fuck I am talking about, even if I am biased.

Furthermore, we see Olivia doing the exact same justifications as a victim of abuse, including her repeated association with the dirty bathroom that is Jake Ballard, when she is lost. They are siblings of Rowan’s abuse, who have repeated those patterns with each other in addiction. This is why Jake is both terrible for her and also the reason why she keeps going back to him. A healthy Olivia Pope wouldn’t’ give this man the time of day. If you don’t believe our society’s penchant for blaming victims and defining them as “dumb”, look no further than to some of Scandal’s fans. Don’t say but, but, it’s the show runner who is writing Olivia as dumb because she doesn’t respect her own character enough. That’s not what my eyes see. I see a show-runner using the novelistic tradition of show-don’t-tell to portray a story about a woman trying to define herself against the struggles of various forces of patriarchy (including racism and misogynoir—all descendants of white patriarchal supremacy) wielded against her, and the influences of her own emotionally deprived upbringing.  Olivia may be brilliant, bold and beautiful, but she is still a Mis-educated Negress in America trying to find her way.  

Back to the Rowan factor. As I have mentioned before, the people who supposedly coordinated Olivia’s kidnapping (Andrew) and Fitz’s assassination (Verna) both used either Special Ops forces or ex-B6-13 members. Neither Andrew, nor Verna have cause to be associated with such people, but Rowan does. The level of coordination it took behind the scenes for both these events far-outweighed the capabilities of Andrew (a second rate politician) and Verna (the old lady judge). They didn’t have the pull. And if Rowan is as omnipotent and omniscient as he portrays himself to be, none of this could have taken place without his knowledge. Never forget that he allowed his own agent (Tom) to out Olivia’s name as Fitz’s mistress when he had the power to stop it. But he didn’t because letting Fitz out her, via, Tom (301) served Rowan’s agenda. Underneath it all, the aim of both these events was to break the emotional connection Olivia formed with Fitz.

“No family. That’s the first rule… No families, no connections. No sun on the horizon. Nothing to wish for. You’re now the property of the United States government, division B6-13… You come to work at acme limited. You fake-sell fake paper, and you run the world in a way that no one even imagines exists in real life, and then, little by little, you’ve been places… And you’ve done things, and there’s been so much blood. This becomes your home. This becomes your family. And you can’t imagine any other life” (Jake, 313).

Does the above not sound pretty much like the path Olivia has been on for the last three seasons, courtesy of the man who developed that ethos? Rowan essentially sees himself as power; the one who makes democracy possible (301). Three ex-B6-13 guys, over three seasons, have told Olivia, more or less, that she’s been treated by Rowan as a B6-13 agent: Jake (317), Tom (407), and Huck (512). She’s been in denial every time that Rowan was a father who would always love his ‘baby girl’, no matter what she did, no matter how many times she tried to shut him down, or walk away from him (304, 317, 405, 512). Contrast that with someone else to whom she’s done similar things, but, perhaps, lost hope that he could possibly still love her. Right.

With this justified homicide of Andrew on top of killing one of her previous kidnappers, letting the murderer of her lover’s son out of jail (506), aborting the only real shot at family she’s ever had (509), compelling the suicide of an innocent man (516), Olivia has now “done things” from which she, perhaps, doubts she can’t turn back. And to which “family” does she turn in the end, once she’s become a monster? Think about who encouraged her it was the only answer. And why would Andrew have any incentive right now to raise Fitz’s going to war for Olivia? Could it have anything to do with Fitz’s recent tentative involvement in Olivia’s life? Think about it. Andrew already blamed Olivia for his demise (it was her goon (Huck) who injected him with stroke medication (413)), and he’s wanted to tank Mellie’s political run since 412. He could have achieved that with the story Abby came up with—“Mellie Grant: One Affair, Many Lies” (lol). That leads me to Lillian. Why her? Recall that in 512 there was a leaked photo of Lillian in the WH parking lot after a tryst. Who has the incentive and the planted eyes (::cough:: Jake as NSA head ::cough) to get that photo? But Lillian is not just an ambitious, Pulitzer-winning journalist (511), she’s also thirsty in more ways than one, and has the connection to Fitzgerald to exploit. I’m just saying, this is all a little too convenient and smells of Rowan. He uses people who have grudges. All of this allows him to let the Republicans destroy themselves while he and his black Democrat, Edison, pop their collars.

I’ve worked hard to repair my relationship with both parents, but they put in work, too, and actually had real love for me. Because I think Rowan wears a parental mask and is not actually Olivia’s father (how could he treat her as he does?), I think he’s incapable of having an equitable relationship with Olivia wherein he can’t play Zeus with her puppet strings. That’s not a father. Rowan has always been more invested in the idea of “the formidable Olivia Pope” (310), than he has been in the actual woman. Hopefully, somewhere inside Olivia she can still imagine another life that bridges the gap between her current reality and her indulgent Vermont fantasy (410).

[grifalinas]

YO it's portal cc anon back at it again bc i had a shower revelation vis a vis What If David Was Glados; i propose to you that back in the Great Days of campbell corp david was a secretary, pa, lower ranked scientist, whatever (idk whether he'd be high ranking bc he's pretty young but fiction is for fun) that idolises the HELL out of the company founder, cameron campbell, and kind of has no composure when working with him ahaha anyway campbell corp's latest massive project is ai systems [1/2]

[2/2] specifically uploading human brains into computers and campbell needs a test subject. no one else wants to bc would you trust this man to keep your brain safe, and preferably put it back in your body? i would not, but david does (and mostly bc he wants to work more closely with his idol. i feel the need to say no shipping but hopefully thats a given) and volunteers for the project. the idea was to scan the brain, but something goes wrong and david ends up permanently in an ai body WOOP

This is all great and heartwrenching, but I actually already know how David becomes the facility ai in the Portal au and if I ever finish writing it (there’s a reason I haven’t talked about any details whatsoever) it’s going to make people yell at me.

For the sake of an au I can talk about, though, like. What if the campers are the personality cores? And instead of hating them David is super protective of them? They’re like his babies. DON’T TOUCH THAT WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? They try to control him by threatening the cores as a last resort but instead he just finds a way to kill them before they’re able to turn him off or get to them.