#if you do make a fic send it to or post it

[delilahsturniolo]

— ♡ 34+35 . . . m.s & c.s

in which . . . chris and matt make you take them at the same time

warnings . . . threesome, (obv no incest or interaction between matt and chris) dirty talk, unprotected sex, kissing, degradation, teasing, boob play, blowjob and oral, (fem!recieving) use of pet names.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

POSITIONS WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #2

you find yourself sandwiched between matt and chris, their naked bodies pressing against you on either side. the heat of their skin, the hardness of their muscles, and the thick, throbbing cocks pressing against your hips are almost too much to bear. you shiver with anticipation, your body already aching for their touch. matt leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. "we're going to make you feel so good," he whispers, his voice low and seductive. "we're going to fuck you until you can't remember your own name, until you're begging us for more."

chris presses against you from behind, his cock nestling between your ass cheeks. "you gonna take both of us baby?" he growls, his hands running over your body, squeezing your breasts, your hips, your ass. "gonna let us fill you up fill you up and make you scream, use you like the little slut you are?" you moan at their words, your body trembling with need. you reach out, grasping their cocks in your hands, feeling the weight and heat of them. you stroke them slowly, teasingly, enjoying the way they moan and buck into your touch.

matt pulls you in for a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you. chris trails kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine. you moan into matt's mouth, your hands working their cocks, feeling them twitch and pulse in your grip. "enough teasing," chris growls, his hands gripping your hips, lifting you up. "i need to be inside you." you moan as he positions you over his cock, the head nudging against your entrance. with a hard thrust, he buries himself inside you, filling you completely.

you cry out at the sensation, your pussy clenching around him, trying to adjust to his size. matt leans in, his cock pressing against your lips. "open up," he commands, his voice rough with need. "i want to feel your mouth on me while chris fucks your pussy." you obey, opening your mouth and letting him slide in. you moan around him, the vibrations making him shudder with pleasure. he starts to thrust, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth as chris fucks you from below.

the two of them set a punishing pace, their cocks pounding into you relentlessly. you moan and writhe between them, your body overwhelmed with pleasure. the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, the scent of sex, and the feel of their bodies against yours are driving you wild. chris's hands roam your body, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples. "you like that, don't you?" he growls, his hips snapping against yours. "you like being our little fuck toy, being used by us."

matt pulls out of your mouth, his cock twitching and pulsing. "i want to taste you," he pants, his hand stroking himself fast and hard. "want to feel your pussy on my tongue." they switch places smoothly, matt laying down beneath you. you sink down onto his face, his tongue delving into your pussy, lapping at your juices. chris stands in front of you, his cock bobbing in front of your face, glistening with your juices.

you lean forward, taking him into your mouth once more. the taste of yourself on his cock is intoxicating, and you moan around him. they start to move again, fucking you in tandem, their cocks sliding in and out of your holes in perfect sync. matt's tongue works your clit, flicking and circling the sensitive bud. chris's hands tangle in your hair, guiding your movements as you suck him off. the sensations are overwhelming, the feel of them inside you, the taste of them on your tongue.

"fuck, your mouth feels so good," chris groans, his hips bucking into your face. "i'm gonna..cum down your throat, make you swallow every drop." matt's fingers dig into your hips, pulling you down harder onto his face. you can feel his moans vibrating through your pussy, adding to the sensations. you can feel your climax building, your body coiling tighter and tighter. with a scream, you come undone, your pussy clenching around matt's tongue, your mouth working chris's frantically. your orgasm triggers theirs, and they come with shouts of their own. you feel matt's tongue lap at your juices, drinking down your pleasure. chris's cock spurts in your mouth, his seed coating your tongue, and you swallow it down greedily.

you collapse onto the bed between them, your body spent and sated. they curl around you, their hands stroking your skin, soothing you. "that was incredible," matt whispers, his voice rough with emotion. "you were amazing," chris adds, his lips pressing against your shoulder. you smile, your heart swelling with love and happiness.

© delilahsturniolo

💌: hehee my oh my i’m excited for tomorrow’s fic :) anyway i rlly hope you guys are enjoying this so far!!

[911pride]

Welcome to 911 Pride Week!

An eight-day celebration of our favorite weewoo show and queerness!

When is this taking place?

June 23-30 are the official dates, to give people time to create, though we'll be posting things like memes and such all through the month of June to celebrate Pride!

What kind of content is allowed?

All kinds! Fic, art, gifsets, edits, playlists, fibercraft, interpretive dance... if you can make it about 911 and queerness, it can be part of this event!

Do I have to focus on canonically queer characters?

Nope! Though we're absolutely going to celebrate the fact that we have a show with so many rich and developed canonically queer characters, we don't want to curb any creativity or expression. There are plenty of identities that aren't represented canonically that people might want to explore. Give us your enbies, your aces, your queer headcanons yearning to be put to page.

Also, there are other Pride events that are purely focused on canonical characters so we feel like that niche is sufficiently filled.

Do I have to follow the prompts exactly?

Absolutely not! The prompts are like guidelines--they're there for the people who want a jumping off point for something to create. You don't have to follow them if you don't want to. So long as your creation is about 911 and is queer, it's welcome here.

Is there anything I can't create for this?

We would prefer not to have any bashing in this event. There's a lot of division in the fandom, but this is a celebration.

This is not to say that all fanworks need to be positive--we're more than aware that a lot of the queer experience involves struggle and people may want to explore that. Dark thing, dead dove, etc. is absolutely allowed here, we just ask that you tag everything properly and we'll do the same.

Can I make something for both this event and another one that's running?

Sure!! We know we're not the only Pride event running, and we'd hate to douse anyone's creativity by saying you can only participate in one.

This also applies to events that aren't Pride-themed. If something you make for this event also checks off a bingo square or something similar? Great! That just gives us more to check out when we're done admiring what you've made.

How will you guys find my stuff?

If you want to create for this event, please tag us using #911pride25 and @911pride!! We'll do our best to reblog everything in a timely manner. If we miss a post, don't hesitate to send us an ask or ping us again in replies so we can correct our mistake.

[perotovar]

from May to August (or later)

hello friends! i really liked doing my Offering of Frith challenge last summer and have been wanting to do another one ever since. and well, if you've been following me for a minute, you know that Sleep Token is my favorite band. so i figured with their latest album having just released, this was the perfect time to do another one!

this one is going to go a little differently, and hopefully more people can join in on the fun this time around!

disclaimer: you do not need to listen to Sleep Token to participate, or even know who they are.

i'm hoping people will be open minded at the idea of having a song and its lyrics inspire them to write something!

let's get started!

shout out to @scenaaario @kedsandtubesocks and my mom for the help on this ♥

so, the way this will work is like this: i have 4 groups of pedro characters. one group per album. i'll list out those groups and you tell me which boy you'd like to write for and i'll assign you to a group.

for example: say you wanna write for Dave York.

calm down, grumpy pants, sheesh.

anyway, say you wanna write for dave. you'd send me a message saying so and i'll respond with what group you're a part of and most importantly, what your song is!

this way, if someone else wanted to write for dave, they could be assigned to a different group. this makes it a little easier for me to keep track of and hopefully more people happy!

if you have any further questions, don't hesitate to dm me!

now, what do each of these groups look like? here are your options!

GROUP 1

1. Max Phillips -> taken by @noxturnalnymph 2. General Acacius -> taken by @grogusmum 3. Marcus Pike 4. Dave York -> taken by @ghoulettesinspace 5. Pero Tovar -> taken by @clubsoft 6. Joel Miller -> taken by @evolnoomym 7. Lucien De Leon 8. Clint Flood -> taken by @mandaloriankait 9. Javier Peña -> taken by @stitch-away 10. Frankie Morales -> taken by @romanarose 11. Ezra -> taken by @cas-readsandwrites 12. Din Djarin -> taken by @probablyreadinsmut

GROUP 2

1. Joel Miller -> taken by @beardedjoel 2. Lucien De Leon 3. Marcus Pike 4. Comandante Veracruz 5. Silva -> taken by @javier-pena 6. Dieter Bravo -> taken by @jessthebaker 7. Reed Richards -> taken by @obsessedwithpedritoofc 8. Jack Daniels/Agent Whiskey -> taken by @beelzebeth87 9. Dave York 10. Javi Gutierrez -> taken by @qveerthe0ry 11. Frankie Morales -> taken by @quinnnfabrgay-writes 12. Din Djarin -> taken by @dilf-din

GROUP 3

1. Ezra -> taken by @kedsandtubesocks 2. Javier Peña -> taken by @almostfoxglove 3. Lucien De Leon 4. Clint Flood -> taken by @sp00kymulderr 5. Pero Tovar 6. Maxwell Lord 7. Frankie Morales -> taken by @jolapeno 8. Joel Miller 9. Marcus Moreno 10. Oberyn Martell -> taken by @oonajaeadira 11. Dave York -> taken by @goodwithcheese 12. General Acacius -> taken by @ak-vintage

GROUP 4

1. Joel Miller 2. Frankie Morales -> taken by @nonbinairyboi 3. Dave York 4. Max Phillips -> taken by @pedritofics 5. Dieter Bravo taken by @rulexofxnines 6. General Acacius -> taken by @cuppajoel 7. Javier Peña -> taken by @grayandthyme 8. Din Djarin -> taken by @5oh5 9. Lucien De leon -> taken by @whocaresstillthelouvre 10. Ezra -> taken by @beefrobeefcal

considering how my last challenge went, this tends to be on a first come first serve basis, but ST have a few singles/extra songs so if someone really wants to participate, i have a few more songs to hand out!

now, what are the parameters of this challenge?

i don't really mind how long your fic is. whatever the lyrics bring out of you makes me happy, so go nuts!

i'm also not super stressed about deadlines, but my little selfish self wants to read these fics super bad LOL and i'd love to see how creative y'all get! i'm going to have this go for the whole summer and you're free to post them whenever during that time. but if writer's block or life happens, there's no rush ♥

have fun!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

butterflygirl738 (6)

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, sickness, medical bills, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You love butterflies and your mother, but life isn’t that simple. As life gets complicated, and expensive, you find yourself in need and an unexpected miracle presents itself.

Characters: Steve Rogers (CEO/Sugar Daddy)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"It was a nice day," S says as he checks the rear view mirror.

You twitch out of your trance. Your eyes are itchy, the way they get after a double shift. You suppress a yawn and nod.

"Very nice, thank you," you agree and twiddle your fingers in your palm.

"But you're anxious to get home..." he says.

"Well....my mom..." you begin. "I'm not trying to ditch you--"

"Ha, I know. I'm selfish. I've had you all day." He keeps his eyes on the road. "Should we stop and get her something?"

"Um, that's. Mm. I'd love to but..."

"Might be suspicious. Got it." He clucks. "Well, what about tomorrow? You got plans?"

"She has an appointment," you say. "Check-up."

"Ah, makes sense," he says. "When is it? Maybe after..."

"Yeah, er maybe. But... how long are you here? What about New York?" You wonder. The big city, his company, all that is still a mystery to you.

"It can wait. Besides, the hotel has wifi. I got all night to catch up emails."

"Oh, right." You stare at the street ahead.

"Tomorrow?" He prompts before the silence drags.

"Tomorrow. After noon? Should be done by then," you assure him, twisting your fist around your finger.

"Can I ask you a favour?" He slows as he gets to your street.

"A favour?"

"Yeah. Nothing big. Promise." He turns the corner and keeps a snail's pace.

"Alright," you utter.

"Will you bring a few bills tomorrow? We can go through them. Sort that out--"

"S. No. I can't--" 

"But that's the deal," he insists. "How can I help if I don't know the situation?"

"I... I don't know. It's a lot."

"A lot you shouldn't be worried about. You should be focused on your mom. Not money." He stops in front of your building. He angles in his seat and puts his hand on the back of yours. "This is what I'm here for. To take all that off your shoulders."

You exhale and swallow dryly. "It feels like too much."

"Not to me." His thumb rubs the seat, close to your shoulder. "Look, I'm just me. I got more than enough for that. I want to do this. I want someone to share this with. To spoil, if I can."

You look at him. He's too good to be true. After all the bad days, all the set backs, all the red numbers, you just can't believe it's what he says it it.

"I'll bring one," you offer.

"One?" He echoes.

"Mhmm," you nod.

"The highest one then," he says. His tone is even but demanding. 

"Okay."

"Okay," he repeats and clears his throat. "Look, sweetheart, let's not ruin the day. Go inside, spend some time with mom. I'll text you."

You chew your lip. You should tell him. It won't help if he thinks you're ignoring him.

"Maybe not." You fidget. "I'm... I'm almost out of... I uh, the internet is down and I pay per message."

"Hm, why didn't you mention it before?" He challenges.

You sink down, pushing your shoulders high. "It's embarrassing."

He sighs. 

"No problem. Tomorrow. After noon," he pats the seat and rescinds his hand. "Hope the appointment goes well."

"Me too," you murmur in dread.

You undo your seat belt and grab your purse. You sit up and glance at him. He watches you expectantly but you're not sure what he's waiting for.

"Good night," you say.

His jaw ticks, "good night, sweetheart."

You smile weakly and get out. You shut the door gently and turn to step over the curb. You march up to the front doors and peek back. You wave then go inside.

You feel bad now. Like you're abandoning him. After such a nice day, you're just strutting off without giving him anything...

Your chest knots up as you climb the stairs. It isn't just him, it's the lies. You're not sure you can keep this up but if you don't, what are you going to do? You can't pay him back and the missed hours at work won't do much to help that. And if you keep calling in, well, you might not have time to make up for what you missed.

You're confused. This was supposed to make it all easier but it all feels so much more complicated. Why can't life be as simple as the chrysalis in the hamper? 

🦋

"Will you come in with me?" Your mom asks as they call her name.

You nod and stand with her. It's not like the early days. When she went on her own. She didn't tell you the diagnoses right away. Not until the first treatment. That was a horrible day and there's been many of those since.

You follow the nurse to the sterile room. You sit in the chair in the corner and your mother sits in the chair by the small counter top. You're silent. Both anxious.

Dr. Vincent enters. You almost feel like you should stand. You cross your legs and return his greeting. It's not a very good morning but you won't say so.

"So, Noreen," he says to your mother. "I have some news."

Your mother looks at him from her chair. She looks small like a child. You've never seen her afraid but in that moment, you see her eyes gleam.

"You're a candidate for stem cell transplant." He says.

Your mom looks at you and back to him. You don't know what that means either. You remember they mentioned it early on but it never came back up.

"No more chemo. At least for now. We think this is the opportune time and it could help with recovery in the long run," he explains.

"Oh, right," she breathes. 

"We'll send you for a few scans to see how things are looking but your last images were positive."

"Uh huh, okay," she blinks. "Is it very expensive?"

He hums. "It can be. Depending on insurance. Of course, it would be my recommendation for you to go with it. Chemo is showing results but in my experience, this is the best course of action. If you wish to continue as you are, it's entirely within your discretion."

You're both quiet.

"I'll provide you some information on it before you go. How about that? Give you some time to think." He says.

"That's good," you say as your mom stays silent.

"Alright, then, we'll do the usual," Vincent diverts. "Let's get you on the bed."

You sit patiently as he checks your mother over. He's quick and efficient. He has a full waiting room, even this early in the morning. You thank him after your mother does and he leaves the room.

She steps onto the stool and down to the floor. As you approach her, she sighs. She doesn't say anything as she leads you out of the room.

As she stops at the admin desk to get the folder of pamphlets, she bids them a good day. As you come out into the gloomy of the rainy day, you take her hand. She stops and stands at the curb, looking out into the distance.

"I'm tired, pie."

"I know, mom," you say.

"What do you think?" She asks.

"I don't know. Maybe... we should read the stuff."

"It'll be expensive."

"It's all expensive," you mutter.

She drops her head. "My last days and I have to watch my daughter work herself half to death just to suffer more and more."

"Mom, please, he said things are looking good--"

"Maybe but I don't know how much longer I can keep this up."

You swallow as your eyes burn. "It's... it's your choice. Always your choice." You look away, trying not to cry.

"Honey," she squeezes your hand. "I don't want to give up. I know you won't, either, but you're tired too. It hurts me to see you like this."

"Mom," is all you can eke out.

She lets go of you and looks at the folder. She exhales. "I'll read it over."

"We'll read it together," you offer. 

"When's work?" She wonders.

"Noon," you answer. Not work, per se. Just an obligation.

"Enough time for breakfast," she says. "My treat."

"Mom," you say.

"I know, I know. But I just want one last cinnamon bun before I go," she insists.

🦋

You're trembling. You haven't been able to stop since you left the apartment. You couldn't let your mom see the panic. She's already having a rough day.

You stand under the awning of the building, waiting. S drives up and you run out without pulling up your jacket hood. You feel in your pocket for the pamphlet.

You get in the car and flick the moisture from your cheeks. You gasp. "It's really coming down."

"You don't have an umbrella?" S says.

"Forgot," you shrug.

"Mm, well, looks like a day best spent inside. I was thinking, they got pretty good food at my hotel. We could have lunch."

You hesitate. The thought of his hotel room makes your stomach stir. You remember what he said. 'We'll see where it goes'. It's feeling more and more like there's only one way this goes.

"Sure, whatever you like." You sniff.

You buckle up and sit back. You tilt your head up.

"Long morning?" He asks as he pulls into the street.

"Yeah... a little."

"Bad news?" He asks cautiously.

"Mm, news... stuff to think about."

"Right," he steers on as the wipers swing back and forth. "Well, just relax. Once we get to the hotel, you can get dry and clear your head."

"Yeah. Thanks."

You close your eyes, content to let the rain and the motion soothe you. It's a moment to prepare yourself.. Maybe once you tell him, he'll change his mind.

When the car stops, you snap up as if you were sleeping. Your mind slows as the world does the same. S smiles at you and reaches behind your seat. He grabs an umbrella out of the back.

He gets out, shielding himself from the downpour, and comes around to open your door. He walks you up to the hotel doors and folds up the umbrella before he enters the lobby. He points you to the elevators.

"Got some work done this morning," he proclaims as you get on. "You were asking about my company."

"Oh, right. I was. Curious, I guess. I don't know anyone who owns one."

"You do now," he chuckles. "It's not as glamourous as it seems. This is as much time as I've had to myself in... a decade?"

"Really?"

"Not to complain. I mean, certain things I don't have to worry about. It's not a bad life. Solitary," he shrugs and the doors open.

He guides you along the hallway to his suite door. He lets you in ahead of him. He puts the umbrella in the tall vase by the door.

You unzip your jacket and hang it. You look down at your jeans. They're soaked. You rub the damp fabric.

"I got a spare robe in here, if you want to let those dry," he says.

"Sure, uh, probably," you agree.

He takes off his shoes and you step out of your boots. You linger by the door, shyly glancing into the suite. He stands up and combs his fingers through his hair.

"I'll get the room service menu," he grins and struts away. "Make yourself at home."

As he looks around, you reach into your jacket pocket. You hide the pamphlet behind your back, clasping your wrist tight, and tiptoe further inside. He waves the laminated menu at you.

"Right here," he puts it on the small round table between two chairs. "I'll get that robe."

"Sure."

You wait, reluctant at the edge of the sitting room. A couch and a clamshell chair in velvet. It's all so nice.

He comes back in.

"If you want to change before you make up your mind--"

"Uh huh, yeah."

You keep the pamphlet behind you and take the robe. He points you to the bathroom and you scurry into it. You lock yourself inside and strip off the wet jeans. The texture leaves your skin itchy. Ugh.

You hang them on the bar meant for towels and pull on the robe. It's soft and roomy. You tuck the pamphlet into the pocket and face the door.

You emerge as S sits at the table. You walk carefully, paranoid that the robe might fall open despite the tight knot around the middle. You sit down and lean over to read the menu. It's a good distraction.

"I recommend the mac and cheese, as simple as it sounds," he taps with his finger.

"Oh, I like mac and cheese," you say.

You continue your perusal. You'll probably just go with what he says. Your appetite is lost in the storm of your inside.

"So, uh, did you bring that bill?"

You sit up stiffly and blink at him. Your hand goes to the pocket of the robe. You gape at him. How do you do this?

"We can wait--"

"No, I can't. Not-- no. Because..." you stammer as your heart races. "Because it's... it's too much and... you can say no and... I'll be okay. My mom will be okay. I'll figure it out. I will."

"Woah, woah, sweetheart," he gets up and comes around the table. He gets down to his knees as he puts his hands on your arms, his thumbs caressing you. "It's alright. I asked you to--"

"No, no," you jitter as you reach in the pocket and slide out the pamphlet, slightly damp from the rain. "It's... it's more... it's..." you look down at the paper as you clutch it in your hands. "The doctor said it will be good but..."

He drags his hands down your arms to your hands. He eases the pamphlet free. He sits back on his heels and opens it. He reads it over as you cover your face.

"I think I should go--"

"I can do it," he says calmly. "One hundred? Easy."

"One hundred thousand!" You drop your hands. "S!"

"It's just money. This isn't about that. It's about your mom, isn't it?"

You stare at him. You don't understand how he can be so generous. It's just take, take, take, and you have nothing to give. And the more he gives, the more you depend on it. The hole only gets deeper and deeper.

[gayspacepiratesss]

Hiiii friends I made a thing!!! 💕 An illustrated mini-fic, to be precise.

The art part isn't quite finished but I think the last three illustrations might take me longer and I wanted to share what I have so far. There are six color plates now and eventually I hope I'll have nine. I'll do a separate art post when they're all finished for folks who aren't as interested in the story!

I wrote this because I was thinking about trauma, and Neve's love for Docktown, and how two people who take too much responsibility for things might try and fail to help each other. About how breaking out of regret prisons isn't something most of us get to do just once, but over and over again: new chapters in the same old story. Plot twists that get a little better each time, if we're lucky.

I think Neve and Rook are lucky, but you be the judge of that. 💕

***

Red-eye

In which Neve gives new meaning to the phrase "Cry it out" and Rook fights gravity with exactly the amount of success you might expect.

Content note: Some mild hurt/comfort, references to blood, angst, and many feelingsy illustrations.

-~-

The veins are starting to fade, but her eyes are still red. Staring herself down in the mirror, Neve Gallus can't honestly tell if it's the Blight or sheer exhaustion that makes it impossible to recognize her own face.

The days since Elgar'nan's fall have been hard for a happy ending: the work of digging friends from the rubble, patching injuries and broken bridges, burying or burning the dead.

Neve's gaze flickers past her reflection towards the slight, sleeping figure on the sofa behind her.

Rook has been there for all of it. Minrathous, Treviso, Arlathan. First to volunteer, last to leave at night. She's never been afraid of heavy lifting.

You showed up. You always do.

...but where am I?

In Dock Town, the ocean always made her feel like she could breathe. Here, the blue light of the aquarium is drowning her again. Cold shadows run restless across her face, almost dancing with the black traces etched into her skin.

She slips out the door alone. Again.

-~-

"Again?"

Rook sags against the wooden railing opposite Hal's fish stall, her shoulders tight even as her face falls.

The older man squints sympathetically. His hands scale the day's catch with expert automatic movements, but his eyes stay with her. "Earlier this morning," he confirms. "Same time, same story."

Every day for the past month. Early, late, in between. As soon as there was a moment they might talk, Neve disappeared. If Eann "Rook" Aldwir had ever been the praying kind, now—not the fall of Minrathous or the rise of the Evanuris—would have been the moment she was on her knees.

I would burn worlds for you, but I couldn't pull you back when it mattered.

What have I saved if I didn't save Neve Gallus?

She runs a hand through her hair, putting on a rosy face to match, and forces a grin she doesn't quite feel. "Ah, well. It's been hard for everyone, but..."

"... mmhm." Hal nods. "Time is what the city needs, maybe. Time, and they'll remember..." his voice fades. Suddenly he is very busy with the mackerel.

... that she loves them. That she always loved them. That she never—she didn't—

"It was Elgar'nan and Ghilan'ain—" Rook can't quite hide her frustration.

"I know." Hal chops a fishhead slightly too aggressively. "They'll know."

But does she know?

From the street, a shout as ropes go up to raise new scaffolding—there's work to do on some of the dockside apartments, newly in danger of tumbling into the sea.

Eann buys a fresh skewer and sinks her teeth in. "If oo fee er--" she ventures, mouth full, eyes already on the next task.

"I'll send her your way," Hal finishes.

But he won't. They both know.

-~-

They both know. Everyone knows. Neve Gallus, protector of Docktown—until she destroyed it.

She takes a long drag from her pipe, staring across the city from her perch above the Lamplighter—one of the only buildings to go unscathed by the massive tentacles of Blight that she, personally, had directed. The elegant cruelty of Elgar'nan's choice wasn't lost on her—if anybody knew how to target Minrathous' weak points. If anybody knew the city's secrets. Set her against the place she loved best and watch it fall.

In the moment, it had been a pleasure.

How do you come back from that?

When Treviso had been ravaged by the Blight, her heart broke for Lucanis—but her relief for her own people had blunted the pain. She remembers the moment Rook showed up on the field, one step behind Neve and Tarquin, one step ahead of the dragon. She remembers her own disbelief: "You came."

Eann had never looked smaller than she did against that burning-black sky, her skin—so pale it was almost blue in a certain light—flushed and uneven, jaw set against her fear. And Neve had never loved her more—a thought she had shoved down immediately, fiercely, completely, as she skewered a nearby Venatori with ice.

They won that day. Parts of it, anyway.

And when Minrathous did fall, it was Neve's fault. Not Rook's.

-~-

"Not Rook's!" Elek Tavor has brought his Threads. He shoos Eann away from the complex dance of ladders and platforms they're erecting to shore up the dockfront. "That's your job, nughead! I need her here!"

Gang members and locals set shoulders together against the weight of newly-cut stone and crumbling Blight, clearing the one from the ruined apartments and storefronts to make room for the other. They look like a training montage or an inspirational poster—if training smelled like clotted blood, and inspiration felt like vertigo.

He winks at her from over a pulley, tossing her a safety harness and a length of rope. "You're too good for us gutter rats."

She straps in, eyeing the higher floors. The corruption still needs clearing before they can fully assess the damage. It's not especially stable, but she'd rather risk her skin than someone else's. "Better a rat with wings, huh?"

"Better you than me."

She doesn't argue. Instead, she climbs -- reaching hand over hand for a better view. The city shrinks and shifts as she pulls herself above it. The Cobbled Swan blends into the paper seller stalls and merchant alleys, already in business again with whatever scraps they each could scavenge. The sea's slate mood gives way to a smudge of sky and stone, reflecting up the cliffs across the channel.

I know you're there.

Tucked somewhere among those caves and crawlspaces is a detective with a shattered heart, blowing smoke rings and tearing herself to shreds. Rook has watched her disappear, slowly but surely, with every day of "recovery." To rebuild something is to see what was broken, to go over the damage in fine detail. To catalogue every blow. But for Neve, it is cataloging her own sins, her own failures, in a neat series of boxes to be checked and confirmed with evidence. For Rook, it has been watching that soft face flinch and flatten with each victory, each moment of hope, as though it were a nail in her heart's coffin.

But Neve still comes to the city for solace. She can't help herself. And so Eann haunts Minrathous, signing up for tasks that don't really need her, checking in on the people she knows Neve loves. Looking for answers in The Case of the Blighted Dream. The Broken Detective. Docktown's Ghost.

She has tried to be patient. So. Patient. But sometimes the most ungenerous part of her thinks, I broke out of my prison. To find you. To have this.

Now I'm losing you to yours.

Distracted by the weight of her thoughts, Rook barely notices when the stone she reaches for crumbles in her hand—until it pulls the harness anchor with it, the whole wall of the second story giving way. There is a sharp jerk, and she is falling—

Falling?

Falling.

But even as her heart freezes in her throat, it is still pulling her across the water. Even as she braces for the impact, her eyes are still half-scanning the cliffside for a tell-tale flash of teal, a smudge of smoke.

-~-

Smoke.

Neve squints suddenly, her pipe drooping between slack fingers. Smoke? By the docks?

No. Dust.

Something is falling.

But the channel is not wide, and she realizes with growing horror that she can hear the sound not just of stone, blight, beams crumbling, but also voices. Shrieking, wavering. "Look out!" "Back up!" "Clear it OUT—"

And then: "Rook!"

Someone is falling.

Rook.

A blinding, burning fear bites into her chest. The pipe clatters to the ground. If she was drowning before, she is choking now, clawing her way to the surface of a dream she has been walking in for weeks. Trading pains of the past for a present that sears her lungs and surges down her spine.

Mages cannot fly, but all that is left of Neve in that alcove as she bolts through passageways and across rooftops is a pipe's worth of tobacco and the shadow of a thought, echoing like a stone dropped in a dry well.

Wait for me. Wait.

-~-

“Wait.” Eann coughs wetly, throat clogging with dust and something unpleasantly, unexpectedly—oh. Blood. Well. She drags herself up on one elbow, waving Elek and the others back slightly, hissing as the movement sends a shock of pain through her body. “Wait, dammit! I’m not—”

“You’re not what?”

Time turns to sludge as familiar brown eyes meet hers, topped by brows knitted together in fury and fear. “Not hurt? Not climbing walls alone?”

Neve kneels beside the shaking elf, hands already moving, telling Eann’s blood to stay inside her body, her bones to know themselves under the weight of stone for seconds rather than minutes. It’s no small feat, and she is immediately sweating. They both are. “Not the Maker's own damned idiot?”

In spite of herself, Rook laughs. Weakly, painfully. “No,” she wheezes. “I am that.”

Neve’s eyes flash and then flood, tears of rage meeting her perspiration as she gingerly eases one hand under Eann’s head, using the other to clear what stone she can. “What were you thinking?”

It hurts to think. It hurts to breathe. But to Rook’s surprise, it hurts more to look up into eyes that are actually seeing her for the first time since the fight for Minrathous. A face that is furious but not masked. She coughs again, her own eyes burning, unsure if her chest is seizing from the weight of stone or just the love of Neve Gallus. “I—”

You look for lost things. Well, I look for you.

“They need you,” she finds herself choking furiously. “I was thinking they need you, and you’re not here, and I—am—so until you come back from your fucking pity party—ow—”

Neve is already on her knees. She can’t fall further. But the red spilling across the stones is more than time can stop, and she knows she needs to do something—quickly.

Eyes on me, Rook. Stay with me.

“Me?” Her rage is half for show, until it isn’t. And her heart is beating half a step too fast, and half too slow. “You think they need me? Look at me! Look at this.”

If it wasn’t for Neve, the stone would be as sturdy as it ever was in Minrathous. Hal’s fish would come out of the water in nets, not dredged from the surface with glassy eyes. She ripped through the Cobbled Swan, she crushed the lean-tos and shacks of the alleyways to little more than crumbs. She is the reason her tiny, tidy apartment stands in ruins and the cats go hungry. Docktown would be better off if it had never known Neve Gallus to begin with.

Rook screams. It is partly words. “I need you!”

And Neve is ripping her best coat into ribbons because she can’t slow time and send people for bandages, for medics—and there is.

No.

Time.

But she feels her face go numb, and her hands are shaking, and her burning red eyes fly up to meet that fierce, clear gaze. She wants to answer, but she has no answer.

Stay with me.

“What was the point—of all that—if—” Rook’s face is flushed, but Neve thinks flushed is better than pale, better than empty, better than gone. She uses the tiniest push of frost magic to calm the angry red of bones and flesh forced out of place. To stop the swelling before it starts. Almost mechanically, she wraps strips of her dragon coat around Rook’s arm and chest, shattering rocks with one hand as her other shields that stupidly precious rose-crowned skull from further damage.

“—if it didn't bring you back?” Eann rasps.

Neve is shaking so hard now that she can’t bind the fabric properly. She’s not sure it matters. “Bring me back for what?! So that I could—I would—” What can she do, anyway? She’s no healer. If Emmrich were here—or Harding—but they aren’t. And I am going to lose you, and I am going to deserve it. “So I could watch you die?”

Sharp, ragged sobs. “So you could be here—with us—” It’s not easy to cry and suffocate all at once, but Eann is making it work. “Not alone—with everything—”

The black traces of Blight on Neve’s skin mingle with sweat and stone, forming a filigree mask across her face. She feels her grip on the air, on the time around her start to slide.

Not yet. “Rook—”

Eann reaches up with her one free hand. Presses Neve’s forehead to her own, Blight and all. Her body is looser now, heavier—she, too, is struggling to keep control. Sound leaks through the barrier around them. Is someone… shouting?

Her eyes are closed. Her energy directed only towards the point where her skin touches Neve’s.

“Stay. With me,” she whispers. Please.

And Neve Gallus, despite her best efforts, is out of time. She winds her fingers through that rosy hair, and lets a deep, heavy sound tear through her throat. Not knowing, not caring what it is.

I’m here.

Around them, into sound and color and light, the city explodes.

-~-

The city explodes. Scraps of sound and light fracture through Rook’s mind, almost artful—a pastiche of pain and motion with occasional splatters of blessed black unconsciousness. Emmrich is there, then Maevaris. The Lighthouse might feature at some point. Definitely there is blood. So much blood. Then black again. And then—

Ow.

Teal-tipped fingers are laced around her hand. The bedspread beneath them is clean. The hands are not.

“There you are.” Neve has not slept in a long time. Her voice catches. “Oh. I—”

I almost missed you. Missed this.

Where was I?

Rook reaches to cup her fingers around the detective’s cheek. Instinctively, Neve presses closer, lifting her shoulder to cradle the gesture.

“You showed up.” Eann finds that smiling hurts more than she expected. She doesn’t care. “You always do.”

Neve lets out a half-laugh, half-sob. “I could have made better time.”

The light plays across her face, still silt-stained and shadowed. Eann rubs some of the dirt away with her thumb, wincing at the not-yet-mended motion of various body parts, ignoring them in favor of something far more pressing. Then she stops. “Your eyes. Neve…”

A flash of something like fear. “Oh, they must be awful—”

“No.” Eann pulls the detective closer. She kisses the eyelids, the cheekbones, the saltworn freckles. The dusted brows. Beneath the dirt, there is only the warm brown of these features she knows so well. Beneath the exhaustion, there are only shades of caramel and acorn and leather in those bright, faltering eyes.

Holding the other woman's rueful, aching, anxious face between her palms, she inspects it with great seriousness. Her own blue gaze holds steady beneath a vaguely crinkled brow.

“Neve, the Blight—it’s… gone.”

And this time Neve doesn’t need a mirror to look for her own face. To recognize herself. Something more like a laugh than like a sob curls through her throat and hangs in the air between them, weightless. “Is that so? Maybe you knocked it out of me.”

“Knocked it out of you!” Rook’s wheeze is its own commentary. “Remind me not to pick a fight with a pile of rocks anytime soon.”

“Maybe just pick fights with me, for a while.”

“Mm.” Rook still hasn’t let Neve go. Their noses bump together. “I don’t only want to fight with you…”

“Later.” Neve pushes back, smirking gently. A promise, not a refusal. “You did very nearly lose that last one. But I’ll be here.”

“What happened—” Eann is serious now, her hair falling earnestly into her eyes. “Neve. It happened to everyone. And I know—it was awful. But we can’t—I can’t—”

Not without you.

Neve pushes the hair out of Rook’s face. “I’ll be here.”

This time, when she shuts the door, it isn’t on her way out.

[zepskies]

hiii lovely happy wednesday 🫶🏽:) random question while i’m on my 10 :D this kind of goes hand in hand with your coffee shop headcanons if you squint, but in your opinion what coffee shop pastry would the boys (your favorite jackles characters) choose? 🤎

if that makes sense, like I think beau would really like our dulce de leche cheese danish :p or like ben might like a jalapeño cheese bagel lmao

again I loveee your insights <3 it makes work more entertaining for sure cause then i’m thinking of your responses at random times lol 💗 + I hope you’re having a wonderful week !!🫂

Happy Wednesday, friend! 😘 Oh yay! I love your random questions, and I love coffee shop pastries. 🥐 ☕

Dulce de leche Danish sounds amaziiiiing. 😩 And thank you!! I'm flattered that you love my insights - and that my little rambles infiltrate your brain! lolol 🥰💜 Hope you're having a great week too, hun! Mine is ok so far. I have a lot coming up tomorrow, so this is a fun distraction until then! 😂

HEADCANON: Coffee Shop Pastry Orders

Dean Winchester

*snorts* You mean the human garbage disposal?

We all know Dean's not picky about food. Though since he's drinking an espresso in his coffee order headcanon, I think he'd go for something indulgent to fill his stomach, like a cheese Danish, a couple of donuts, or if they have it, a brookie. 😂

He's very happy to show it to you and Sam when he brings it over to your table, strolling over on those bowed legs. Sam, of course, wears that half amused, half judgy look of his.

"It's a cookie mashed up with a brownie, Sam. Best of both worlds."

Beau Arlen

Beau the basic latte guy needs a basic (but delicious) coffee shop confection to go with it, so I'm going to say he's into coffee cake.

He likes them crumblies on top and a nice, warm cinnamon swirl in his cake. 👌🏽

Just be warned. He's probably going to have you order him another slice of cake while he's still working on the first one.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Like Dean, this guy's not all that picky about food post-captivity. Of course he likes good food, but he's also highly indulgent in most respects.

"I like what I fucking like," as he often tells you with a smirk. That goes for food, drugs, and frisky women (of almost all ages).

That being said, since we paired him with a cold brew, he'll probably want something classic, like himself: a glazed donut or a slice of marble pound cake with that thin strip of icing on top.

However, I think he could be persuaded (by you) to order something a little adventurous. He'd be game enough to try a jalapeño cheese bagel, with hash browns, and that donut and/or slice of pound cake on the side...

And he'll probably tell them to pack him up an extra bagel for the road. 😂 🥯

Russell Shaw

Russell's another one who's highly self-indulgent lol. He ain't picky about food, that's for sure. He'll eat junk food just as easily as a five-course meal from a Michelin star restaurant.

But since he got paired with a flat white, I think he'd get the biggest cinnamon roll he can find. He'd ask if they could warm it up for him, get that icing all warm and running down the sides, sticky and sweet.

And he looks at you mischievously while he licks his fingers afterward. ✌🏼

(He's only satisfied when he makes you blush.)

AN: Do you agree with these? Got other pastry orders for these guys? 💜

I love working on these HCs every time, no matter how simple or complex the prompt is. 😂

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Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Beau Arlen Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist 

Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy + Russell Tag List (Part 1)

@kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @waynes-multiverse

@mostlymarvelgirl @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester

@deans-spinster-witch @sanscas @hobby27 @kaleldobrev @spnwoman

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @pieandmonsters @globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean

@lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @spnfamily-j2 @deansbbyx @chernayawidow

@mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @twinkleinadiamondsky

@my-stories-vault @0ccvltism @rizlowwritessortof @cookiechipdough @mrsjenniferwinchester

@fromcaintodean @k-slla @jackles010378 @deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused

@mrlonelycat @deans-daydream @leigh70 @aylacavebear @kmc1989

@siampie @rubyvhs @winchestergirl2 @winchester-whiskey

[lair-of-the-white-worm]

Hi! I know you've been asked this before so I apologize, but will you be continuing EOTY with a new chapter soon? I'm very curious! It's one of the most well written dark stories I've seen for OW

Thanks for the compliments, I really do appreciate it. I wish I was in a good enough mood to return to you but. This ask has been sitting in my inbox for a bit now, because I have a lot of anons asking similar questions about my fics and they get overwhelming, but I just wanted to answer this one frankly; most likely No. I will NOT be posting a new Employee of the Year chapter anytime soon. I don't know if I'm ever going to post another chapter period. I want to apologize in advance for how long this response is going to be. But I've been accused of some pretty heinous things lately and I feel beyond sick. A sour taste has been left in my mouth about my writing. Writing was my outlet and I feel horrid about this.

I didn't want to post anything about this publicly. I didn't want to post anything about this to my friends, be it here or in private conversations. I have been trying and trying and trying to let it go, and move on, because I hate arguing on the internet, but I'm at my tipping point. An Oddtumblr user named sei/the/zordokon, as well as a user going by glenglam/324 have been saying and doing some insanely sick shit to my friends. (please, for the love of all that is sacred, do NOT sent them any cruel messages to these two. I know I'm talking to a wall when I say this, but I do not condone or endorse any anonymous harassment or hate mail whatsoever. I am too old for this. Do not send them anything. I want them to leave me alone and this is why I am angry. They cannot keep me and my friends' names out of their mouths, and it's made it's way to people I trust now, so I can't take it anymore).

They have accused me, my beloved partner Roman (this-game-has-themes), as well as my mutuals and dear friends including ghostmoor and several other individuals of condoning and fetishizing rape and incest in the art and fanfictions I create. I already have immense posting apathy. This has put the nail in the coffin for me. I try to post for myself and nobody else, but this has left me sick. I cannot stand rape kinks. I struggle to write the explicit scenes in Employee of the Year because it was mentally taxing. The story is not supposed to be "kinky", and if anyone reading it thought that was what it was then I have to say you've come to the wrong place. The story is meant to be traumatizing. It is meant to be disgusting. It is meant to make you want to toss Molluck down several flights of stairs. The reader is supposed to be made sick by it because I don't want people to like what Molluck is doing in the story. Writing that story had been immensely therapeutic for me for coping with My Own Baggage about Things that aren't much anybody's business but my own. But I didn't make that clear enough it would seem. So now the entire story leaves the sourest taste in my mouth and I can't stand to look at it, knowing that what people have been taking from it is that "I get off to rape".

I cannot stand incest. It makes me sick. It makes me vomit. It is one of the most sensitive subjects for me and I can only stomach it when it's being depicted in a way that demonizes it. However, what Glenglam and Sei have been doing lately is accusing my Abe & Alf content of being incestuous. Which makes me feel rotten to my core, that anyone under the sun could look at my works of Abe and Alf and think that was what I was trying to do. They have been telling strangers I support incest. My art was so kindly shared by OWI themselves on Twitter and other socials, and they were genuinley telling people it was fucking incest.

I don't have the energy to post all the horrid, vile, insulting, sickening shit that Sei and Glenglam have said about me and my friends to others. I realize now that a lot of the cruel messages I was receiving a bit ago may have been coming from them. It makes me sad. It makes me sick. I haven't even gotten into all the transphobia coming from them, but I don't want to post about it because talking about it makes me find my own body disgusting. I should have gotten the hint when I first shared my trans headcanons in front of Sei's mun, and she instantly shut them down. But that's old hat.

I don't want to post anything anymore. Because I considered them good acquaintances. Even though we were not friends. I would have never posted anything about them, to anyone, had they just left it all alone. They don't like me, they don't like my friends and they don't have to like me. Or my friends. But spewing this vitriol about me to other people in the fandom, making posts about me and my friends and then deleting them when word gets to us, ACCUSING ME AND MY FRIENDS OF CONDONING INCEST AND RAPE BECAUSE THEY WANT PEOPLE TO SHUN US, I can't stand it.

I haven't shared this much fanfiction and artwork in ages. Oddworld was such a wonderful outlet for me and it still is. But if these are the sorts of horrid things people in this fandom are going to accuse me of, I hesitate to share content further. I had no desire to post anything about Glen or talk about her to anyone else until now. I had known of Sei for years. I thought her a wonderful, wonderful artist. Just because we were not friends and she made me uncomfortable on many occasions did not mean that I wanted to fight her, insult her, or anything of the sort. I only gave her criticism when it was asked of me. I was direct with her when I needed to be. We did not click as friends. It did not bother me that we did not click as friends. But this is BEYOND the last straw.

Since this is quite literally the only post I will be making on this matter;

Sei and Glen, if you're reading this, fuck you both to hell. I am done holding my tongue. I am done giving you both the benefit of the doubt. Fuck you for the disgusting shit you've accused me and my friends of. Keep my name out of your fucking mouthes, keep my friends names out of your fucking mouthes. You don't know anything about me, who I am, why I write, you don't know anything about it. You both had no respect for me as a trans person, you currently have no respect for me or my friends as individuals, and you have absolutely fucking destroyed the last shred of respect I had for either of you, as well as any motivation I had to post my content, because I will forever feel sick to my stomach every time I see you in the tags, every time I see you interact with my friends acting like you're innocent, every time I hear your name or see your art I will be reminded of the ROTTEN shit you have done and said to me and about me and my dear friends. When I met you, you were artists I looked up to and respected. After getting to know you, I wish I never fucking did.

This fandom is small. So it's hard to keep these things contained. It's hard for me to avoid these things. I'm still fairly new here, and I am so upset that my welcome into this fandom has been turned on it's backside by the last persons I thought would do such a thing. And I feel horrible even posting this because I know they have friends who are none the wiser to this situation who are following me and I am so, so so incredibly sorry. But I am at my boiling point.

Anyways. Posting will be slow from now on. This whole debacle has made me feel disgusted to my core. I want to privatize all of my Abe and Alf art as well as all of my fanfiction, knowing that people are running around telling people these soul crushing fibs.

[sleepychenle]

wc: 643. genre: fluff, crack. tags: platonic!!!!!!, chenle is 15 yo and has a cute little crush. ft hyuck. [a/n]: this is clearly not the freaky fic i said i was going to post‼️ this has been sitting in my drafts since before i even thought about making a writing blog. idk, i thought it was cute. masterlist

this was the first day of your trip to the beach.

you finally found a good position to start reading: chest flat against the blanket you put over the warm sand, arms propping you up and next to you, a little tent covering your belongings from the sun.

everything was peaceful until you feel a ball hit your back. you turn around to see a boy smiling sheepishly. his smile drops as he notices you look older than him, and almost stuttering he says: “i am so sorry”

you suppress a chuckle, trying to appear intimidating. he looks like he’s barely 15 years old. how cute. you sit up while the ball bounces away. “were you playing basketball?” you say a little confused. “well, yeah” he says ponting to his curry jersey with a proud grin. “where do you score though?” “you don’t want to know, really…” he looks away from your narrowed eyes as he scratches the back of his head, hoping he wouldn’t have to explain.

another boy approaches you two, with the ball in his hands. “hey, you almost did it this time!” he says excitedly. “shut up, haechan” the first boy replies clenching his teeth and sending him glares. “what are you talking about, haechan?” you say smiling.

he now looked scared, but he knew he couldn’t lie. “we were trying to score… on your tent” he says lowly, praying for you not to hear him. “oh thank you, haechan, for telling me” you don’t stop smiling… as if you were going to kill him, he would say. but he couldn’t care less… every time he heard your name go through your lips, he shivered.

meanwhile chenle just stood there, wanting for you to call his name too. “my- my name is chenle… by the way” he speaks up. you look at him for the first time in a while. “oh, we are saying our names now…” you say amused. “i’m yn. i hope you find another place to score from now on… chenle” and just like that, his eyes opened widely.

he wasn’t expecting you to actually say his name. he didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling, but he sure knew he wanted to experience it a thousand times more.

for the rest of the summer, he purposely suggested to play basketball near your usual spot. he didn’t want to throw the ball directly at you like the first time, but he definitely wanted it to fall near you.

and when that happened, he shouted “i’ll go get it!”. he never really bothered to see if anyone else was going to catch it, no one ever wants to.

whenever it was time to get it, his eyes would go straight to you, gaze lingering for a moment before running back to his friends.

it didn’t take long for the other boys to realize it wasn’t the ball chenle wanted to catch every time it bounced away—it was your attention.

🏷️: @lyvhie

[satellitespinner]

hello, all!

i’m making the post to not only apologize for my actions, but also make a few things clear - i hope you stay and listen <3

If you dont know this already, a few months back i made a few posts regarding the influx of g!p fics flowing through the fandom tags, these posts were worder VERY poorly - as i had written them in the middle of the night while not thinking. i have already clarified thay my posts and account will never be a place for transphobia, ever. because as a queer person, trans people are a very important part of my lofe and even my own identity. i have apologized for the wording of my comments already and am doing so once again.

what i will not apologize for is my own opinions. after my post i found that many people agreed with me on the fact that the random uptick in g!p fics seemed fetishy and strange, and i still stand by that opinion.

Another point i would like to bring up is that my account is 16+ from now on. I started this account a few years ago when i was infact under 18. and i was publishing fics in that time,

but now i am requesting that those under 16 OR accounts with ageless bios to not interact with me personally. if you want to read my work BY ALL MEANS. because i do remember being annoyed with not being allowed to read fics as someone who was almost 18. but all im asking is that you dont interact with me personally. i hope you understand.

after all this, im hoping to re-enter the community and start posting my work once again ! if you have any questions feel free to dm me or send an ask :)

ily always, izzie :p

(written and posted as of may 11th, 2025)

[luciaintheskyainthi]

You absolutely need to know something. I already send you one ask some weeks ago, so I hope you are not bothered by this or something...

You, and ECM, ruined my already fully planned fanfic.

It was supposed to be a Peter Parker x Dick Grayson story. I had the plot planned, chapters already written...

And then you came along (accusingly)!

After reading your terrible (again, I am absolutely in love) story, I can't write Dick and Peter anymore.

Jason was supposed to be a good friend of Peter's and Dick's grumpy brother, but nothing more. But now. Now I write scenes between these two idiots and like I have no selfcontrol they start flirting with each other, have moments together and argghh, are way too cute. And then Dick comes in and I try it, I really try, but the whole time I just want to press Jason and Peter together like two Barbies and have them kiss.

You just have to know how I make a fool of myself and completely throw this basically finished story out the window because I can't help but write these two as flirty, emotional catastrophes since EMC.

I love your story for that and I think you should know the impact it has

(Also, the last chapters are messing with my fragile, little heart. It crumpled up like paper and got put in a blender. The breakup arc is hurting me, ma'am)

HI! Really sorry if I've not responded to an ask! I hoard them like dragons and appreciate all asks, so never fear! I actually could have sworn I responded (because I recognise your name! But it's not in my inbox ) but just spent ten minutes hunting and couldn't find it as a post, so sorry! 😭

Genuinely it PAINS me to hear that ECM has ruined your SpideyWing fic!!!! All you've got me thinking/feeling is thissssss

Just that soundclip on loop 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Brothers in Spideyhood, let us hang our heads for a moment of silence at the havoc we've caused 😭

OF COURSE you know what you SHOULD do is post those lovely chapters ANYWAY and forcibly delete Jason from the narrative (my shaylaaaaaa) so Peter can't be tempted away 🫣🫣🫣 Send him to Hong Kong instead of Cass lol

[presidenthades]

Fandom PSA: Fanworks Permission Statements and why you should make one if you’re a fic writer!

At some point, most of us fanfic writers have probably thought, “I wish someone would make fanart/podfic/fanvid/translation/etc. about my fanfic.”

For this to happen, first there must be a reader who enjoys the fic enough that they feel compelled to make a derivative fanwork. This is a necessary condition—but not a sufficient one!

Most of the time, this potential podficcer or translator will also seek permission from the fic writer to make their derivative fanwork. As a writer, you might think, “Of course I’ll give permission! Why wouldn’t I? I would LOVE to have a podfic/translation/whatever.”

However, this fact is not actually obvious to others. Some writers don’t want people to make derivative works based on their writing. Some writers have certain conditions that they require. The podficcer/translator/whoever has no idea of knowing what these conditions are unless they:

ask the writer for permission, or

can find the writer’s permission statement.

You might think, “Option A sounds simple. If someone is interested, they can just ask me for permission, and I’ll tell them any conditions I might have.”

Well…that might be simple for you, but it isn’t as simple for the person approaching you.

Consider the POV of a hypothetical podficcer. They read your fic. They love it! They want to make a podfic of it! But when they check the notes on your fic and your AO3 profile, they find nothing indicating whether you would even be receptive to a podfic.

They have several options, depending on what means of communication you have made available:

Comment directly on the fic asking for permission to make a podfic. Wait and hope that you respond quickly enough that the podficcer still has the requisite enthusiasm to record the podfic. (Enthusiasm can wane the longer they wait.)

Send you a message on another website, like Tumblr or Reddit, assuming that you’ve shared your username somewhere easily accessible on AO3/the fanfic website. Again, wait and hope that you respond quickly enough.

Decide they would rather not bother with the hassle of waiting and hoping, so they move on to another fanfic whose writer DOES have a permission statement.

If the podficcer had known upfront that you would be OK with a podfic, they could have just recorded the podfic ASAP while they were at the height of their enthusiasm. If the podficcer reallyyyy loves your fic, they might be willing to do Option A/B and wait anyway. But sometimes, Option C is just simpler, especially if there are other fics that the podficcer is interested in recording.

Hopefully you are now thinking, “A permission statement makes sense, so I can maximize the odds that someone will make a podfic/translation/etc. But how do I write a permission statement? What do I include? Does it have to be a blanket permission statement, or can I add conditions?”

There are resources that can help you! One that I’ve seen recommended is this Fanworks Permission Statement Builder, which helps you create a personalized permission statement in just a few steps. You can edit the output with whatever additional conditions you might have. There is also a Directory of Fanwork Creators with Permission Statements if you want to consult it for examples or other resources. I have a permission statement on my AO3 profile.

You should, of course, be comfortable with your permission statement. If you would not be comfortable with a blanket permission statement, then include the conditions that you would like to request/require.

Keep in mind that more conditions/obstacles might lower someone’s enthusiasm to make a derivative work. For example, let’s say a podficcer is deliberating which of two fics they want to record.

Fic 1: The writer has a blanket permission statement on their AO3 profile allowing fanworks like podfics. They just ask that the podficcer use the “Inspired By” feature upon posting on AO3. The podfic can be posted elsewhere, but the writer would like for it to also be posted on AO3.

Fic 2: The writer has a permission statement on their AO3 profile which requires that the podficcer reach out beforehand to explicitly confirm permission to record whatever fic the podficcer is interested in. The podfic can ONLY be posted on AO3 and cannot be posted anywhere else.

Based on what I’ve heard from several podficcers, if all other things are equal, they would prefer Fic 1 over Fic 2. Fic 1’s permission statement is straightforward: just make sure to appropriately credit the original writer, and post the podfic on AO3.

Fic 2 is more complicated. The podficcer has to take the extra step of reaching out to the writer, with no guarantee that the writer will respond promptly. The waiting time means that the podficcer might lose the spark of inspiration for “spontaneous podding,” as one person called it.

Also, the requirement to only post on AO3 can be confusing. AO3 cannot host audio files. The podficcer must host the audio file elsewhere, and then they link to that file when they publish on AO3. Does the writer understand the difference between hosting and posting? Will the podficcer need to clarify what the writer intends? This also means that if the podficcer wants to post on another website, they no longer have that option.

If the podficcer has to jump through several hoops to record Fic 2, they might just move on to a simpler option, like Fic 1.

This does not mean that you, the writer, must write a blanket permission statement! As stated above, you should make sure you’re comfortable with your own permission statement. Include all the conditions that you would be satisfied with. Just keep in mind what the potential artist/podficcer/translator/etc. might be considering on their end.

As an example of a multivoice collaborative podfic, check out MG101: Intro to Other Magics, a Merlin x HOTD crossover that I helped create!

If this post inspires you to make your own permission statement, please let me know! I am participating in a podfic event called Voiceteam 2025, and I get bonus points for every person whom I inspire to make a permission statement. 😊 You can just let me know in a reblog, comment, or DM whether you’ve made a permission statement.

[ultravi0lence14]

i woke up this morning to 1k followers and honestly, i don’t know what to say.

if anyone told me in september that when i wrote my first dean fic in my bedroom, possibly in the worst place i’ve ever been, that i would reach 1k followers, i wouldn’t have believed you. this platform has given me so much creative fluidity and allowed me to have an outlet to express my writing and let me do what i love; creating stories.

i’ve also met some of my best friends on here, and i want to individually thank each and everyone of you!

my lovely bree ( @titsout4jackles ) is possibly my favourite person on the planet. my absolute rock, we’ve created such an amazing friendship that means the absolute world to me. through creating an entire universe together ( i love our little monster so much ) to expanding on it to create so much more, i love talking with you every single day. it really means so much to me and i love you so so much bree🥹

my sweet cass ( @starzify ) words cannot describe how much you mean to me. my freakzify to my ultrafreak14, you are always there for me in ways i can never fully thank you for. this is also my canadian twin so we’ve got that bond no one understands🙂‍↕️ i love you so much cassie, please never change!!

the amazing isa ( @sacr1ficialang3l ) my actual twin who i love talking about vampires and yellowjackets with. idc that we just started chatting a couple weeks ago bc i already feel such a connection with you that makes me feel so safe. i love talking with you and sharing all the things i’ve done that day bc i know you will listen. i love you so much my sweet girl!!

oh my darling lucy ( @haunteres ) possibly my biggest supporter and the coolest girl i’ve ever come across. i’m not kidding. your aesthetic and account actually makes tears come to my eyes bc it is so so amazing. i love you so much and pls i am going to reach out to you more bc i love conversations with you!!!

the radiant oct ( @beausling ) oh all the amazing things i can say about you but i don’t have the space. although we’ve also just started chatting, i love our messages so much ( especially all the crying pics we send ) your resilience and strength inspires me everyday, and i love you so much for it!!

my girl mera ( @bluemerakis ) the absolute sweetest girl ever i love you in ways words cannot describe. your writing inspires me so much you wouldn’t even believe me. i love our chats and you mean the absolute world to me i love you!!

also, a shoutout to every single follower and person who has been with me through this journey of mine. you all mean so much and i am crying in my car writing this bc i am so grateful. summer is coming up which means i will be posting more!! ( i graduate high school june 10th pls bare with me ) but until then, i will post as much as i can!!!

love every single one of you!!!

natasha🫶

[foggieststars]

Tbh if you’re that sensitive you should turn off your asks bc I was just explaining a similar situation in a fic and my interpretation? How is me deciding not to forgive an action in a fic me saying the writer sucks? I liked still loved the fic and the characterization I’m just saying the redemption didn’t make me personally forgive the action which is my right??? Why are you posting fics publicly at all if ppl can’t interpret it their way?

it’s absolutely your right to have your own personal feelings about the resolution of a fic, just like it’s my right to request people not send me asks speculating that the conclusions of my fics will be emotionally unsatisfying…

you are welcome to interpret my fic however you want and i don’t think i’m being particularly sensitive about it 😭 i’m not gonna turn off my asks when the majority of people who use them to talk to me do so in good faith

[sense8week]

June 2025 is Sense8's 10th anniversary

To mark this momentous occasion, we'll be having our first Sense8 Week! An annual event to celebrate our beloved show.

This event will run from June 9th to June 15th. To be featured in the blog just make sure to use the tag #sense8week. We also have an AO3 collection for fic and podfic.

Prompts

The following prompts were chosen so people can create in different mediums. Feel free to pick one or to mix and match. Get creative!

June 9th — Connection | Favorite character | Blue

June 10th — Visiting | Favorite scene | Green

June 11th — Sharing | Favorite relationship | Yellow

June 12th — Separation | Favorite antagonist | Orange

June 13th — Sex | Favorite sex scene | Red

June 14th — Cluster | Favorite cluster moment | Violet

June 15th — Free Space | Rainbow

—

FAQ under the cut

Q: What can I make for #sense8week?

A: Anything! Fics, gifsets, art, video edits, meta, any form of fanwork is allowed and encouraged.

Q: Is NSFW allowed?

A: Pal, we've all seen the show, of course it is (just add somewhere on your post that your work is NSFW and we'll share it)

Q: Is there a minimum or maximum?

A: Nope! You can create without limitations.

Q: Do I have to submit something everyday?

A: No, you can submit as many or as few works as you like.

Q: Do I have to focus on a ship?

A: No, this event is open to all types of work Gen or otherwise.

Q: Is this event poly friendly?

A: Yes, all ships are allowed.

Q: I have a question that's not listed here.

A: Send us a message and we'll try to reply as soon as possible.

[oopsgracie]

New Fic!! (and a teaser love confession)

After more than a year without posting something meaningful due to uni work, I present to you the fic I’ve been working on for months— currently standing at about 50,000 words. I’m planning to upload the first chapters to AO3 in a few weeks time.

It’s titled Yours, In Friendship and is the Persuasion-ification of Eloise Bridgerton and Theo Sharpe— complete with yearning, second-chance romance and social backlash.

They reunite in her third season out, (aka. I’m switching the season four lead to Eloise, simply because I cannot wait any longer to watch her fall in love, and she needs a lot of Benedict’s help. Also, as a fan of the books— consider this my formal application to have them change her love interest). Having said that, I liked and included the letter writing trope, the chaos of her siblings and a certain competitor for Eloise’s hand in marriage *cough* Phillip *heave*, but only for the purpose of drama. Let it be known that I’m not his biggest fan.

So, without further delay, here is my best attempt at writing a Bridgerton love confession, one that would send even Eloise reeling and makes you excited to read!!

“You may be in possession of the brightest mind I have ever encountered— besides my own of course. And yet… you are truly quite daft at times.” She laughed brightly. It fell on his ears like summer rain— warm, clear and sweet. That kind of laughter held power; enough to revive wilting hearts, to coax them into bloom.

“Eloise—”

Her heart stuttered, thudded, sung—a bird flung against the cage of her ribs.

And here she was, finally brave enough to set it free.

"I am ruined." She whispered with a wicked smile, "You have ruined me. The least you can do now is kiss me too."

He didn’t move. Only his fingers flexed at his side as though hesitating to reach for something forbidden. He stared at her, stricken and still, caught between impulse and honour, the war of want and restraint writ silent across his frame. In this light— the shifting, slanting city light that danced off rain-slick roads and streamed through window panes, dusted thick as her velvet ribbons, Theo Sharpe’s face was carved by shadows into something stoic, cautious.

“Unless… unless, you do not want—” She began hurriedly, the words spilling out of her like ink on paper.

“I want whatever you’ll give me.” He interrupted, voice low and measured, “Anything. I would never dare to ask for more than you’re willing to offer. Even if that extends only so far as your friendship.”

Her breath caught and sputtered in her chest, “... And if… if I gave you everything I am? That doesn’t…” She faltered, struggling against the gravity of her own desire, “That doesn’t terrify you? Because it— it terrifies me.”

He stepped forward, so gently that not even the old floorboards shrieked in protest beneath his careful feet. “Eloise, I would worship every inch, and honour every thought. Nothing is too much, or too little— nothing is unworthy of devotion.”

She nodded slowly, eyes lowered, picking nervously at her fingers, “Good.” She mumbled, “That’s good.” When she gathered the strength to look at him again, her eyes were full of something fierce and fragile like a guttering flame, “Then I am yours.”

She said it with such relief, with a deep, shuddering breath, “I cannot be in marriage, not even in friendship, but in every way that truly matters I am yours. Make of me what you wish— a beggar, a poet, a queen. Just… please. Please, I beg you to be wary of my heart. It is too full of love to see reason, so full that it's sending me quite mad.” She swallowed thickly, her voice dropped to a ragged whisper, “So full that I worry what ruins would be left of it if this were to fail.”

He took both of her trembling hands in his, grazed her knuckles with his calloused thumb, “I promise to make you nothing less than the keeper of my heart and the captain of my thoughts.” He implored, “I want to make you happy, I want to make you understand that I have been yours from the very moment we met. That I have been hoping, aching you might one day return my feelings just as you returned my letters. With earnestness.

That is the reason I have not made advances. Not because I don’t esteem you, but because I could not be sure you’d welcome them. Because I could not be sure that they wouldn’t send you running, just as they did before. Because I would rather…” He cleared his throat, not in hesitation, but to make sure every word reached her without distortion, without an inch of room for doubt or misunderstanding. “I would spend a lifetime surviving on the crumbs of your friendship if it meant I would never have to starve in your absence again. And if you were to leave because I was too forward, too eager… well, I… I—“

She looked up at him, starry-eyed. Then she took a daring step closer, a test of his noble restraint. “I have done nothing but wait by the door since the night you left,” A tentative smile tugging on the corners of her lips, “Figuratively, of course— wishing for you to walk through it again and let in the light… That is to say, maybe I have not always been bold in my affections, but I have always been sure of them.”

“But Eloise, are you certain?” He groaned, almost pained. There was barely a breath of air left between them; it had all been burned up by the heat beating in her cheeks, flushed with something wilder than the shyness of a debutante— desire, devotion, defiance. She could feel his breath on her lips, hot and heavy as a kiss. “If we were to… I would not know how to begin unloving you. In truth, I don't even think I’m able. You have pierced my soul— half with agony, and half with hope, and—”

“Please?” She keened, “Please Theo, I am more certain of this, of you than—”

Granted, Eloise Bridgerton had spent many days in her room mocking notions of courtship, of flowery words and foolish sentiment, but when his mouth slid against hers– slow, reverent, tender– she cannot remember for all the sharp wit in the world, why? Why had she bristled at love? Why had she been so afraid of softness, of surrender, of this?

Perhaps she had been right to think of other things— for even her wildest theories, her dog-eared novels, would have fallen short of the truth. She could not have accounted for the shiver of longing for more, or the quickening coil of want that was winding, ever-tighter in her stomach, like a spool.

They broke apart, breathless, reluctant.

She nodded against him, fervent, hands clutching the folds of his shirt like a vice. “‘You have pierced my soul…’” She repeated, the words tasting different now– sweeter, true, “Why, that is almost Austenian, is it not?”

He rested his forehead against hers and a short laugh tumbled out from between parted lips, lips that she knew would never again be distant, “You are like nothing and nobody I have ever met before— only you would think to compare the likes of me to your books and writers now… But yes,” He added with a lop-sided grin, “As you’ve so astutely observed, it is almost a quote from Persuasion.” After a long pause, he pressed another kiss to the corner of her mouth, slow and lingering, “Even so, those words are not Austen’s, Eloise, nor are they even mine. They are yours to keep, as am I. For as long as you'll have me.”

She laughed! She laughed and she laid her head against his chest, listening to the heart she had longed for in silence, in agony and hope, beating unabashed and unafraid to love her.

As always, sound off your thoughts in the comments. I’m aware this is not the most popular pairing but please be kind regardless!! xx

[cressidagrey]

KIMI AND CHIARA?! MAX AND BELLE?! OSCAR AND FELICITY?! LANDO AND LIZZIE?! MAX AND COLETTE?! OSCAR AND NESSIE?! DO YOU EVER MISS HOLY SHIT!

i’m actually hooked immediately every single time, it’s crazy. i don’t even like max and lando like that but every time i read your fics im close to converting! if you do a lewis fic i’ll have to name my first kid after you, this is nuts! i’m ashamed of the way i smile at my screen when i see you posted, it’s actually embarrassing!

do you need anything? i’ll actually give you my kidney, just say the word! i’m a loyal soldier now, idk why you’d ever need one but know that i’m ready to ride or die at any hour of the day! my dopamine levels have never been higher

OH MY GOD, this made my day in the best possible way! 😂 Your excitement is infectious, and I’m so glad you’re hooked on all these pairings. Honestly, I’m flattered that even though you weren’t super into Max and Lando, you’re almost converted after reading my fics. That’s honestly an accomplishment in itself! 😄

I can't even explain how much I appreciate your loyalty and enthusiasm—you're a true soldier. I’m over here laughing and smiling at the thought of you being so ready to ride or die for the stories. Seriously, I’m honored by your excitement, and I have to admit, I love that you smile at your screen when you see my posts! No shame in that whatsoever. 😆

And as for the kidney... I mean, I don’t need one, but the fact that you’re willing to offer it just makes me feel soappreciated. You’re truly the best, and I can’t wait to keep writing for you (and keep feeding your dopamine levels)! 💖

Thank you for being so amazing, and I’m sending you all the love! You are seriously too awesome!