#like i need to have characterization down pat before i write

[bigbrotherlouis]

i need to put FIRST DRAFTS ARE FOR GETTING WORDS ON THE PAPER somewhere prominent while i'm writing

[mezzy303]

So I've been rereading skip beat from the beginning for the first time in uhhhhh almost 10 years and I'm going inSaNE over characterizations and development that I have to write it down

At this point I'm only at the Heel siblings arc so I haven't gotten to the Guam or Saena arcs which are very big for Kyoko and Ren's character development and healing which I haven't reread since those chapters came out

Can we just take a moment to appreciate Nakamura for basing Kyoko and Ren's childhood struggles and trauma on very real things that aren't often, if at all, dealt with in anime/manga and also writing them with utmost care (Not only do the traumas inform their personalities, but their healing arcs aren't just a one and done thing!! It's a very slow process) Like starting with Kyoko, her single mother neglected her so much that she was raised by a family friend. On top of that, nothing Kyoko did was ever good enough for her mother, and both of these things are so apparent in Kyoko's character. She attaches herself to fairytales and magic as an escapism and because she relates to stories like Cinderella. She literally cannot function if she messes up and no one criticizes her. She can't properly acknowledge her own talents and beauty without it being attached somehow to fairytales; she never quite believes shes good enough. Similarly, she didn't want to bother anyone with her troubles, so she always dealt with them alone/in private spaces. Pretty sure she also has lowkey abandonment issues. And this is all parental trauma!! Things she already has before the series starts and she gets so utterly heartbroken she swears off romantic love entirely so she can never get hurt the same way again.

(I don't think I'll ever get over how Kyoko told all this to Kuu and he was literally like I'm adopting you. Your mine now. Sorry I don't make the rules ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ And Kuu going home to his wife like hey we got a new kid 😂 Like Kyoko freezing up when she made mistakes and then Kuu showing her love instead of reprimanding her makes me go 🥹😩💖✨😭💝 Kyoko getting all fluffy from head pats🥹🥹 But on the downside she literally can't bring herself to call him dad unless she's in acting mode sjdfhsf)

When I really consider it, I wonder if Kyoko really loved Sho as a person or like.... the idea of him. Like he was just a convenient guy via proximity bc Kyoko needed someone to be her "prince". We haven't been shown exactly why she fell in love, but it would explain why she stuck with dedicating herself to him despite his terrible personality and knowing he never saw her the same way. It's portrayed like the concept of hatsukoi in anime where its ✨pure✨and innocent✨It seems very idealistic. Whereas Kyoko's love for Ren is more mature. She sees every aspect of Ren and doesn't sugarcoat it, she sees him as he is (she does him up on a pedestal but partially bc she admires him but also as an extreme measure to protect her heart and hide her feelings imo)

And REN. trauma to the max. He had to deal with the hardships of making a name for himself when his parents are already famous, extreme racism from being biracial, his friend/mentor dying from an accident he unintentionally caused???? Like boy hates himself so much he's literally disassociating 24/7 he needs a fucking therapist. I get how being Ren has helped him in some capacity but he needs a professional asap. Though deep diving into this is so interesting because Ren/Kuon compartmentalized his issues and the parts that he hates about himself so much he created its own persona ("Dark Kuon"), to the point he's rarely ever just himself. And he buried it so deep that as soon as he cracked the lid open, those emotions just spilled out. He can't even allow himself to be happy, and when he does feel truly happy, his automatic response is acting nonchalant,,,,,,,,,,,, he didn't even realize he was doing it at first 😢

Also the symbolism with Ren's watch makes me go a little feral. I don't remember if it's originally his or Rick's but it obviously stopped when the latter died and Ren keeps it as a reminder of what happened and why he went to Japan. It's a weird item since it grounds him but also represents his heavy trauma, and I think having those two things in one kinda showcases Ren's unhealthy coping mechanisms (like grounding himself to something traumatic isn't... great...). But that scene where he realizes he took it off and he has a moment of whether it to keep it on as Cain Heel or not??? *clenches fist* it was so good. (To recap it, he had his watch so he wouldn't lose himself in the role of BJ and then forgot it in the bathroom after an unexpected trauma response) Ren narrates his thoughts as choosing between Rick or Kyoko but interpreting this, he's choosing whether to keep himself stuck in his past trauma or move forward and let himself be happy AKA stick with unhealthy coping mechanisms vs try something healthy and rely on people he trusts. Kyoko essentially becomes someone Ren grounds himself to 🥺 He still needs therapy though lmao. He's so mentally unstable in this arc,,,

As I'm writing this I'm seeing a parallel between Kyoko and Ren and how they both had an experience that completely and utterly broke them, and it was this that pushed them onto their current paths in showbiz. And they likely would never have met each other again if those things never happened (they had to lose themselves to find each other?? 😭). It's so funny to me that Ren is all like ThEiR fAtEs ArE iNtErTwInEd with Kyoko and Sho when you have to consider the fact that him and Kyoko meeting again was like. a chance in a billion. It was fate 😂

KyoRen is such a poetic ship to me. The fact that they're different people when they meet and don't recognize the other. How Ren starts falling in love AS SOON AS HE REALIZES KYOKO IS THE SAME GIRL HE MET (Ren being gray/demiromantic.... more at 5). Kyoko lowkey starting to crush on Ren when she witnesses a bit of his real personality. These two things happening around the same time??????? And Ren being SO afraid of being Kuon, his true self, because of his bad qualities, but Kyoko pulling out the good qualities without him fully realizing it?? (I'm 100% referring to Kuon being a mischievous little shit and I live for how he teases Kyoko) tbh they treat each other differently from other people without even realizing it lol. And Kyoko being surrounded by toxic and possessive men pursuing her, and Ren being anything BUT. Like my man is a gigantic green flag. He recognizes that he can't seriously pursue Kyoko bc she's a minor and he really tries his best to only be a friend and mentor in her life and keeping her trust and never crossing her boundaries despite the stereotypes of men being "unable to control themselves." Y'all take point this should be the standard at minimum☝️

I have to talk about Sho bc this boy is so fucking toxic but he makes such a fascinating character. As much as I hate how Kyoko got heartbroken in the way she did, I think it was necessary so that she could leave Sho's sorry ass and cut him out of her life. Seriously,,,, he took advantage of her and used her as a servant. she literally dropped out of school, moved to a different city, and took on two jobs for the sole purpose of helping his career and then he threw her away like a used rag (JUST THROW THE WHOLE MAN AWAY). And then he has the audacity to fall in love with her smh. Anyway the fascinating part about him to analyze is how he's so possessive of Kyoko. Like she was a mere fly in his life, but she was always his. Until she wasn't. And I think those twisted thoughts kinda morphed into feelings for Kyoko. Ig in a way he still cares about her, but it could never hide how toxic he is. Anyone who's like I don't care how this person thinks of me as long as I take up the biggest space in their heart is egotistical and narcissistic. BUT he and Kyoko bickering like siblings will always be funny. Like epitome of two people who've lived with each other for way too long so they know how the other ticks and also get on each other's nerves 😂😂Sho does makes a good foil for Ren though. Like he's basically everything Ren is not: immature, temperamental, possessive, vain, the list goes on. His only redeeming qualities as a character is providing good drama and humor and being an example of what Ren isn't.

Skip Beat is really a story about healing and learning to love yourself and letting others love you and Nakamura is such a good story teller 🥺

[murmeloni]

I have read and re read your Brujay fics at least 4 times and have them pinned in my phone browser to read any time I need a pick me up!!!!! Your writing style is wonderful and your characterizations are delicious!!!!! I wonder If you ever plan on writing more for them because you truly have the pining and push and pull of them down pat. The way they know each other and fight alongside each other so well. The way they’re both stubborn idiots. Also I love that line you threw in about how the idea of Jason dating anyone else makes Bruce go slightly homicidal. I know id kill for a continuation or even a snippet of how date nights go. Also I hope you have a wonderful day!!!!!

Thank you so much! I'm so glad you're still enjoying my stories of them 🥰 There will definitely be more. I am still obsessed with them and especially with Bruce being so jealous he loses it. Like, he can control himself the majority of the time but then someone hits on Jason and it's just over. My favorite thing. I do have a few ideas but I also have a few things I want to get done before I start on them. The ones I'm working on next are:

I've got plans for an animal transformation fic where one of them gets turned into a cat/dog and the other takes them in. Probably Jason gets turned and that's how he finds out Bruce actually cares for him and that his feelings might not be that pure.

Then I've got an idea for a drugged up Bruce wandering into Red Hood's territory, close to tears as he searches for his boy. Red Hood's men being Bruce to their boss where Bruce kisses Jason on the lips and confessing his love before promptly passing out.

I also have an idea for a superbat/Jason fic where Clark and Jason get together first, because after the batarang incident Jason moves to Metropolis while he recovers where he's neighbors with Clark, who didn't recognize him. They get together but then obviously Bruce (who is on both of their shit lists at the beginning) goes feral with jealousy. Not sure how they'll mend things but I want them to end up together

But I'm also always open to suggestions! So if you've got a particular story you want a date night for just let me know ♥️

[sugurugetofavoritemonkey]

𝕍𝕠𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕊𝕞𝕠𝕠𝕥𝕙 𝕃𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕊𝕪𝕣𝕦𝕡

Alhaitham x female reader

Even though you wake up sick with a sore throat, Alhaitham is here to make you feel better.

Fluff : No warnings

680 words

Seeing that I just got Alhaitham (🥰), and also got sick at the same time, I decided to write a little something about this fine man. I hope his characterization is good enough, nevertheless I enjoyed a lot writing about him, it made me really happy 💚

Feedback is greatly appreciated <3

Today, Alhaitham woke up with coughing noises as well as sneezes coming from the other side of his bed.

When the man turned around to see what was happening to you, he didn't need to look at you twice to understand you had gotten really sick during the night.

"Oh my dear, are you okay?", he asks, a little worried, while lightly caressing your cheek with the back of his hand.

The only answer Alhaitham gets from you are some grumbles coming from your sore throat, as you begin to wake up from your horrible night, full of headaches, a running nose and your body freezing to death.

"Hmm I see, don't you worry, I'll get what you need in the bathroom."

But Alhaitham don't have time to move away from the bed that your hand is tightly holding the hem of his white top.

"Please don't go", you whine with difficulty due to your aching throat.

Alhaitham can't help but shoot a tender smile at your cuteness, "Hey, I promise I'll be quick. If I don’t, then who's going to take care of my beloved humm?".

And just before exiting the room, he puts a kiss on your forehead, while his left thumb caresses your cheekbone.

You’re relieved to see that Alhaitham is always true to his word, when he comes back to you in less than 5 minutes.

You smile tenderly at him when your lover sits beside you on the bed. Albeit your smile soon fades when you see him prepare a spoonful of cough syrup.

When Alhaitham sees you staring at the medical bottle with disgust, and then at him, he stops you in your tracks, “Come on baby, don’t make me your puppy eyes”.

“But Alhaitham…You know I don’t like this one, it really tastes awful, please can’t we just…”

He cuts you off quickly, “Good girls take their medicine, don't you think?"

And you swear that you can’t say no to his serious face ; his little smile is encouraging you to open your mouth when he brings the spoon of medicine closer to you.

When you finally swallow the syrup, not without a disgusted face, Alhaitham shows how proud he is of you by giving you head-pats, your cheeks heating up at the sweet gesture that always makes you happy.

Soon after, the deep voice of your lover shakes you out of your daydream, “How about, for now, I read your favorite book to you ? My darling needs something to distract herself from her actual state as well as getting some deserved rest after all.”

You don’t need to be told twice to show him your biggest smile as a yes. Loving greatly when Alhaitham would read anything to you, always calming you down with his voice and affectionate gestures.

You both settle down as usual. Alhaitham is laying on the bed, with your body half curled up on him, your hand grabbing his clothes to feel his presence by your side.

“Now close your eyes, empty your mind, and let my voice accompany you through your dreams”.

While Alhaitham begins to read your book out loud, his voice soft but deep at the same time, his fingers find their way to your head, caressing it gently to soothe you even more.

And it doesn’t take you long to feel your body relax under the spell of his charming voice, melting into his warm embrace.

Your head on his chest allows you to feel the vibrations of his voice and hear the soft beats of his heart,

And just before feeling yourself drift off, you can’t help but speak your mind to your lover,

“Your voice really is my favorite sound.”

Your little confession makes Alhaitham stop for a few seconds out of surprise. His eyes locked on your sleeping figure, where little snores began to already escape from your open mouth.

A kiss is placed on your temple, symbol of the never ending love Alhaitham has for you.

“I wonder, dearest, who blessed me to have you mine in this life.”

[extravagantrook]

(extravagantliar)

Part of him sees himself twenty some odd years ago, somehow that is a fright and a comfort all in the same breath. Somehow he's outside of Kirkwall, even though it is days away and he is pretty sure he hasn't been Viscount in ages. There is the need to roll his eyes - yet he doesn't not yet, he's saving that flourish for something greater, something that he must write home over, something he must write all of them over. "Kid." It's firm in a way that reminds him of Aveline from ages ago, of himself, of Bartand, of Anders, and he shakes it all aside, as the excitement overshadows anything he musters. Then there is that groan, the implicit one, met with a hand running down his face, "How - Where did you find a Ferelden Forder..." A Kirkwall variant, meaning it was out of his select circle, meaning it was even more dubious - at best. "No." The answer is and will always be, "No."

"But what if--" They know its a losing battle before the battle has even begun. Hell, there wasn't even a fight, so could it be called a battle? Did he wear white underthings today? He may have to use them to wave their flag of defeat. Well, if they don't soil them from the potentially disapproving groan their favorite dwarf is giving them. Doesn't stop them from flashing a brilliant grin and patting the lovely, most definitely stolen, horse at their side.

"Okay, so I know you have this thing with horses." It's more than a thing, they know. They've seen what happens between Varric and horses. It's worse than Hard in Hightown Three -- typos and crapshitbull characterization aside. Still, when innocents cry for help (or in this case knicker at them all cute like when they unhitch them from a Venatori sympathizers wagon and nudge said wagon down a steep hill) how can they turn a blind eye? Well -- there needs to be a better turn of phrase. "But I think we should keep her. Where would she go? She's--" There's a pause, the patting stops as Asha suddenly stoops to look under their new steed's barrel. "yeah, she -- She's a peach!"

[the-apocrypha]

Dude, I gotta tell you how much I appreciated your cottagecore update. Honestly, it was just what I needed today. Any time I see an update from you, instantly i'm just ~~~my crops are watered, my skin is clear, my headache is evaporated~~~ Instant balm, Aquaphor for the soul.

I also love how you're blending the lovey aesthetic ~cottage~ material with the -they live in a shack in the woods and nature has a hit out on their lives- material. That's why hurt and comfort go so well together; you really need one for the other to make its fullest impact, and you've got that down pat. Mmmpf, it's the endurance, and the grit, and the perseverance- so inspiring!

(Also, as an additional aside, your style of writing to me is proof that you can be both poetic and characterized and elegant- and succinct. Important stuff for an overly wordy bug like myself.)

I pray for good news about the life of Cat as well, I hold out hope that she survived Eskham, if just to terrorize Dream and Hob more.

Oh my goodness, this message totally made my day. Wow. Thank you so much! I absolutely have my own authors whose writing is also an InstaCure for That Which Ails You, and it's an honor to be that for another person.

The cottagecore setting is actually pretty convenient, as writing goes, because it's historical + magic, which means I can make things exactly as easy or as difficult as I need to depending on what the narrative calls for. We get a little bit of sitting cozily before the fire with your embroidery and your whittling, and we also get bedpans and moldy hay.

I especially appreciate your comment about my writing style, because I honestly feel like I don't have much of one! I am not very poetic, by nature, and most of what I write feels very functional. Brevity it always something that I am striving for, though. A lot of my writing process is typing things out, reading it, and then finding a shorter way to say it.

(Cat is the dark horse of this series, I swear to god, you are one of many demanding for her rescue. A GENTLE REMINDER THAT TRANSFORMATIVE WORKS ARE WELCOME, FOLKS.)

[ssruis]

Recommending this again bc its got updates. & also because I’m obsessed. It’s so good… go read…

Leaving my full comment here as well bc ao3 called me out for my immensely wordy method of commenting so. Y’know. Spoilers. Go read first.

Nene tucks her bag and coat under one of the seats in the stalls, then tries to find a person who doesn’t look terrifying to speak to so she can ask what they need help with. She barely recognises most of them, having not properly met with any other tech crew since the first rehearsal. Well- maybe if she just…stands here, someone will ask-

HELP… I love her so much. Nene Kusanagi. the most girl of all time.

“It’s so interesting learning about how much there is going on backstage! I guess I never really thought about it before…” Minori leans back to grab more paint, leaving another handprint on her leggings as she does. Should Nene say something…? “I bet the cast work really hard too! Having to sing and dance whilst smiling and acting the whole time too…that’s something I really want to learn!”

yayyy minori she’s so cute :) meeting of the fail girls. I love how you’ve worked in so many of the other pjsk characters in a way that feels very organic (instead of just random roles) and gives them a little spotlight even if they’re not the focus. You can tell there’s so much love and care put into everyone’s characterization.

I…have to be proud of the person I am now, if I want to be proud of the person I’m going to be.”

Wait, what is she saying? That’s not- that’s not something she came up with-

Somewhere tsukasa just got a huge ego boost. Thank god he’s not here he would be so insufferable.

He always speaks to her like a worried parent…the message might as well read ‘did you make lots of friends at your first day of school?’.

So real… he’s so annoying… Rui acting like that despite being like one year older than nene will never not be funny.

“I am about to fall over!” Tsukasa yells back breathlessly, hunching over once the piano stops.

“If you have the air to complain, you have the air to hold that last note!”

Insert the “I’ve hired a tyrannical director” tsukasa quote.

“Right? You’ll be fine.” Rui watches as A bends down to check on Tsukasa, lightly patting his shoulder. “We’re almost there.”

Tsukasa has died (cheering) (end story)

“Maybe!” Rui shrugs. “Honestly, I wasn’t completely sure at first, but I’m glad my intuition was correct. Seems like the star quality runs in the family, after all.”

“...I think you’re right,” Nene says quietly.

Nene and tsukasa relationship progression… smiles…

“N-no…” No, don’t remember me from auditions. Actually, please just forget my entire existence-

“Hopefully you make it next time, if that’s what you wanna do!” An says. “A little bit of confidence goes a long way, y’know? And you can always fake it if you’re not sure!”

she’s so funny I loved this part. The nene & an dynamic of girl with horrible social anxiety and girl who is so so cool but also so so excited to get to know everyone will never not be funny.

“Nene, your outfit looks so cute!”

But apparently there’s always one person who manages to find her. Nene looks up from her phone, Emu already barreling over to her. So long as she keeps away from the very heavy, very expensive lighting equipment, they’re fine.

The return of the pink thing… (The crowd goes wild)

Probably because you never sit still, Nene thinks. Especially right now. If Nene is rattling from nerves, Emu looks about to burst with excitement. It must be nice to be immune to any and all fear.

“I hope everyone is gonna enjoy the show tonight!” she says, smile bright even in the dark. “I bet it’s gonna be super wow wow yay yay woo woo!”

1 so true getting that thing to sit still is a losing battle 2 I love how you write her dialogue so much… perfectly straddles the line between her very silly onomatopoeia laden moments and her more serious moments.

“Every time I see the light I’m gonna know it’s you and get super super smiley!”

:) I care them

Nene repositions the light towards the stage, casting the bright circle over Tsukasa. He instantly looks up then recoils at the light, squinting up at them.

“Oi, what’re you doing! That’s bright!”

“Hi Tsukasa!” Emu calls back, waving. “You look super shiny shiny sparkly bright!”

“Oh, really?” His angry face quickly swaps to flattery, and he poses accordingly. Nene turns the light off. “Hey, put it back on!”

I laughed he’s so funny. Anytime Tsukasa gets irritated or upset (or completely unreasonably hesitant about a perfectly safe sane and normal stunt that is definitely necessary for the show) you can just redirect him with flattery. Works every time.

“Are you curious about the hair ties?” she asks. “We’re wearing them in mutual support with Saki, since she can’t be here tonight. She has one too! It’s cute, isn’t it?”

“Y-yeah,” Nene says. “Is she, um…recovering okay…?”

“I believe so! According to Tsukasa, she should be out in a few days.” Honami laughs. “She really wants to attend closing night…she keeps talking about it non-stop.”

“I was worried talking about it would make her sad, but she seems more excited than anyone else,” Ichika adds. “It’s a really great thing we didn’t have to cancel the show. It would make her really happy to be able to catch our last performance.”

“She should focus on getting better first,” Shiho says, not taking her eyes off her bass. The other two just smile and shrug. 

"Let's hope Saki can join us soon," the tall pianist says. Crap, Nene can't remember his name- Aoyagi? Nene isn’t sure what their relationship is, though he has a scrunchie tucked into his shirt pocket too. "She cares about this performance very much."

THATS SO CUTE… I love how well the L/N interactions are written. Shiho & her concern that comes off as uncaring when it’s anything but… also toya with the scrunchie too awww…

Nene stares. “What part of this is fun…?” 

“You’re all part of the team, so you all have to join in,” Rui says, and Nene groans, trudging out the pit with the others. It’s fine, if she just hides at the back, maybe she can get away with half-effort… “Here, Nene. You can stand next to me!”

Bastard. Nene jogs alongside Rui, ignoring his pleased expression.

Making a gamer exercise. Rui truly is a bastard.

“So this is what the life of a stage actor is like…” Aoyagi muses from up in front, hands barely stretching past his knees.

I giggled. Truly built like a wet paper bag, that one.

“Something like this is easy for me!” Tsukasa says, still looking strong with his hands planted on his hips. If Nene had more energy, she would stab him right now. “I’m not tired at all!”

And so he lives another day. It’s ok nene. there will be other opportunities.

“Um, no, I think you need to stay with the rest of the cast…” Nene says, aware that the company is mostly split into their separate groups. Surely she’s not supposed to stand alongside the actual important people, like the director, the lead, the important actors���even if it seems like they…want her there?

OUUGH you get it… You Get It… nene is so so loved but her anxiety ridden saw trap of a mind makes that so difficult for her to see.

“Absolutely…”

“Huh?” That’s not what she’d…

“Not!” Tsukasa finishes, holding his head up high. Nene quickly hides any and all concern.

“Makes sense an idiot like you would be stupid to get nervous. I didn’t care anyway.”

HELP…. ‘I didn’t care anyway. Idiot.’ I love how you write them so much.

It’s too soon…she needs Emu to cling to her arm and say stupid stuff so that it doesn’t feel so real-

Obsessed. I know what you are nene.

nene & tsukasa scene

I’m so happy this fic exists all the time but esp during the nene & tsukasa interactions they are so fascinating to me and you write them so well… nene telling tsukasa he’s overthinking it is so funny. I liked the little moment of him having a moment abt whether or not to send saki the pictures it reflects their whole dynamic so well. And him getting the text from saki and going SAKIII 🥺😭 was so cute.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you down here, Nene,” Rui says, and the way his eyes glint with just a little pride make her want to curl up and avoid everyone ever for the next ten hours. She settles for just crossing her arms.

Hes so annoying… I love how you’ve written their dynamic…

“But wow, the others really did a good job with you, Tsukasa,” Rui says, studying Tsukasa appreciatively. “You really look professional. And the hairstyle is very cute.”

“Cute?” Tsukasa narrows his eyes. “I’m not cute! I’m cool! Cool!”

“Yes, yes. Very cool!”

“Hm, that’s right.” Tsukasa flicks a strand of hair back, grinning to himself. “I’m so cool.”

Yuck (said fondly)

“Yes, I think you’ll do well tonight,” Rui says, taking a seat on the table at the side. Can’t he sit on a chair like a normal person?

I grinned at that. I love all the little details you put in your writing like Rui’s passion for sitting like A Weirdo… it’s like putting treats in an enrichment toy for people who are insane about these characters (me) to giggle at.

“You really know the script inside out by this point.”

“Of course I do,” Tsukasa says. “Especially after last night when you made me recite lines whilst throwing goldfish crackers at me…”

“What the hell was that for?” Nene asks Rui. 

“It was just really fun!” he says.

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you…”

“Don’t worry, we didn’t study too hard last night,” Rui says. “We even watched the original movie to help keep the atmosphere. It’s important to have fun sometimes.”

“Fun for you! You were still throwing stuff at me even then!”

“Well, a good actor needs to be prepared for the unexpected…”

they’re so funny. I can’t keep saying “I love how you write x dynamic” because it’s true for literally every dynamic in this fic…

Emu gasps, jumping back. “Oh, sorry, I mean, um- break your legs, Nene and Rui!”

“No, it sounds kind of terrifying when you say it like that…” Tsukasa mutters.

Emu and inventing entirely new sayings. She’s doing her best <3

Kind of amazing that any guy can sound so sincere singing about love whilst wearing knee-high boots and beaded booty shorts, but.

HELP MEEEE… He really will do anything for a show won’t he.

Nene wishes she could be down there too. More than ever before. To be part of something. To be alongside others. The way Tsukasa gives it his all and shines…Nene wants to try that too. There's a fire down there burning so strong that its sparks are lighting her too. 

YESS I loved this part I love the acknowledgement of her competitiveness & “I want to do better I want to be on stage” attitude, and how that drives and motivates her

“I thought so too! They didn’t seem to think it was weird at all. Even my mom said she liked it, but I think she just likes the idea of two guys dating…”

new favorite side character: Fujoshi mom

“O-oh, um, I’m…um…” Nene fumbles for the words. Well, obviously, she took off her tech stuff so they don’t recognise her…and, actually, thinking about it, it’s not like they would let her sit at the table full of cast members anyway. They’re the important ones. Not Nene. Heat rises to her face as she takes a step back, because, seriously, what had she even been thinking, deciding to sit with everyone else like this-

“Nene’s a part of our team!” Tsukasa’s voice thunders out from behind her, and Nene jumps, turning to them. “Of course she can sit here!”

“Yeah, Nene is super important!” Emu adds, jumping up to grab Nene’s arm. “Wiithout Nene we would all be completely in the dark and the audience would just be looking at nothing for two hours!”

WxS is actually a theatre troupe second and a nene hype squad first.

“Wait, Emu!” Tsukasa holds up a hand. “Next time, can you try not kicking me whilst we’re in the Irish dance line?”

“Huh, I kicked you?”

“Oh, I thought I saw that,” Rui says.

“And you’re still telling her to do things the same tomorrow!?”

“Sorry, Tsukasa!” Emu bows. “Next time I’ll try not to kick you so hard.”

“Don’t kick me at all!” Tsukasa sighs, recollecting himself.

Writing group dialogue - esp for a visual novel that relies solely on dialogue and can rely on visuals instead of writing “x said” “y said” - is such a challenge and you do it so well… you can always tell who’s speaking and it flows so nicely…

“I’ll tell Ena and Mizuki not to be too rough tomorrow,” Rui says, then his face turns coy. “I do think that bunny suit looked good on you, Tsukasa.”

(Spraying Rui with water) inside thoughts! Inside thoughts!!!

“That’s my dream role,” Emu says, almost shyly.

“Hm? You want to be Cinderella?”

“I wanna be the cow,” Emu says dreamily.

“The cow-?” Tsukasa chokes. “That’s not even a human role!”

Emu’s face falls. “But I wanna be the cow…” 

“Don’t crush Emu’s dreams, Tsukasa,” Nene says.

“It’s not even a speaking role! It’s just a model of a cow on wheels!”

“Tsukasa, we have to be kind to our fellow company members,” Rui says. “I believe in you, Emu!”

Everyone ganging up on tsukasa… you love to see it. My experience with theatre is rather limited, (in that I attended the shows my sister was in, and took photos during their dress rehearsals), but I will say that when my high school put on into the woods we actually had a girl (not my sister, she was the bakers wife) be the cow. The girl actually requested it… she wanted to be the cow... That costume was terrifying. All that to say: I believe in you emu.

“Yeah, after the past two weeks I can see that…” Tsukasa says. Nene is sure she can almost see the trauma in his eyes. Rui tilts his head, suddenly forlorn.

“How can you say that, Tsukasa…? I’ve always been so considerate to your needs. When have I ever done something mean to you?”

“You made me stand on one leg for an entire rehearsal once!”

“To improve your balance and muscle strength-”

They are so irritating.

“Maybe we should consider that for a future show?” Rui says, and Nene suddenly realises something momentous. They’re talking to her because they want to. They’re talking to her because they see her as a friend. And they’re all here because they love theatre and they love putting on shows, and Nene is the same. She loves it too. She belongs here. They’re her friends, too. 

I love this part so so much… nene realizing she belongs… I feel like her own hang ups about having friends goes unnoticed by a lot of people in favor of rui’s (which, to be fair, his are a little more blatant). it’s so nice to see a fic that examines nene & her realizing she’s a part of the group and that they all love her.

[dubiiousfood]

Loftwing Letters 2024 for @almost-an-artist:

Fruitcake

THIS IS MY 2024 LOFTWING LETTERS CONTRIBUTION for @almost-an-artist on Tumblr. HAPPY VALENTINES DAY L.B, I WAS YOUR LOFTWING LETTER PERSON, I HOPE YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY AND THAT YOU ENJOY THIS FIC.

Sooo I was wondering what I was going to write for the Zelinktine, and I noticed that this lovely person really likes Linked Universe. The thing is, I'd never written LU Before and my writing jam is Zelink so this was a bit tricky for me.

I combined both, with my fav few Zelinks and somehow it came together. And I actually love this story so much! I hope I got the characterizations of each Link right, I'm not really sure about that ahh.

I had the most difficult time keeping under the word limit, but somehow managed along ahaha.

Anyways I hope you enjoy this!! I'm really proud of it so I hope it's good!

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

“Link? Did you hear me? Where’s the fruitcake,” She probed, staring at him intensely in the eyes when he refused to match her gaze.

“You ate it didn’t you?” She frowned, her hands balling tightly into fists.

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

You can read it here, or click here to read it on AO3 :)

!! I CHANGED TIME'S NAME TO SHADE, SO PLEASE DON'T GET CONFUSED !!

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

“Link? Have you seen that slice of fruitcake that I left on the table? I’ve been looking for it and I can’t find it anywhere,”

Link was sitting at their table, focusing extremely hard on carving out a baby rattle out of wood using the Master Sword. Her question caught him off guard for a moment and his hands stilled their motions for a second. “Yeah… I have. Why?” He replied slowly.

Zelda’s emerald greens lit up, her eyes twinkled along with the gleam that rose upon her face. “Oh good, the little one and I have been craving for it since this morning. She’s been eager to get a taste of it and she sure is letting me know of that,” She laughed as she patted her large stomach. “Now, where is it?”

Whether people would call it hormones, or a woman’s intuition or neither. But when Link didn’t respond, Zelda began feeling uneasy.

“Link? Did you hear me? Where’s the fruitcake,” She probed, staring at him intensely in the eyes when he refused to match her gaze.

He dropped both his sword and the rattle on the table, looking to the side. Guilty. He hadn’t known she was craving for it that badly. Had he had known, he wouldn’t have touched it.

With that look, he didn’t have to say anything.

Something raw flashed across Zelda’s features. “You ate it didn’t you?” She frowned, her hands balling tightly into fists.

Link nodded slowly, still refusing to look her in the eye.

“Link! How could you! You know how much I adore fruitcake, no less now that I’m pregnant with your child. I’ve been needing that all day, only to find out it’s been consumed by someone else!” She slammed her fists onto the table, rising from her seat.

Link was taken aback by her outburst, his eyes snapping up to her as she stood from her chair. This had been happening a lot lately, especially now that she was much later on in her pregnancy. Nevertheless, he still felt guilty.

“I-I’m sorry Zelda, I had no idea, I just saw it on the table and thought nothing of it! I didn’t do it to spite you, I promise!” He tried to explain weakly. The only response he received in return was Zelda walking (More like hobbling) away from the table and going to their room but before Link could even fulfil the urge to follow her, she came back, with something in her hand.

She gave him a glare and hurled it at him, hitting him square in the head. Then turned back to go to their room, shutting the door behind her. The blow was surprisingly soft, and the object bounced off his head and fell to the floor. Looking down, he picked it up, and he suppressed a chuckle. It was the korok plushie that she’d bought for him on their 3rd wedding anniversary.

Link let out a sigh, he knew there was no getting through to her at this moment. He felt extremely guilty for eating her fruitcake and he wanted to make it up to her. He took his wallet, and the Sheikah Slate, announcing loudly that he was going to go for a walk and would come back before dark. He got no response but he was sure she’d heard him.

He took a stroll around Hateno Park, wandering around for a few minutes deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to ask for some advice from people who would know how to handle this kind of thing best.

He pulled out the Sheikah Slate, dialling two of them for a group call. Twilight and Shade. They both answered immediately. Both their faces appeared on the Sheikah Slate from really ‘flattering’ angles.

“To what do we owe our favourite Wildie the pleasure?” Shade greeted, he was lying lazily in bed, doing nothing in particular from what it seemed like.

Twilight was sitting in a hammock, presumably somewhere in Ordon with an orange tabby in his arms. “Heyyyy Wildie, what’s up, how’s the wife and the babe?”

Before answering, Link found a park bench to sit on it. “Yeahh, about that,” He replied, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Shade’s smile fell, “Oh no. What’d you do? You made her mad didn’t you?” He asked as if he’d seen this kind of thing too many times over.

Link’s shoulders sagged and he nodded. “Yeah,” He said quietly, his heart was heavy just thinking about it. He hated it when she was upset with him. Now that they were apart, it was weighing down on him, even if it was just over fruitcake.

“Ah hell Wild, what’d you do?” Twilight asked, sensing it affected Link quite a bit.

“I ate the last slice of fruitcake,” He answered, his voice strained like he was deliberately trying to make it so they couldn’t hear him.

He heard Twilight hiss empathetically from the other side of the screen. “Yeah, what should I do?” he answered.

“Look Wild, the best person to ask for that is Shade. I made the exact same mistake you did back in the day when Dusk was pregnant too. I was mowing the grass, and I accidentally mowed down her favourite flowers. Violets. She chased down me around the garden with the hose on ‘jet’ mode. I swear she reminded me of when Yeta turned into Blizzeta. Except it was my wife who was 7 months pregnant with twins. I even think I was more scared by her than when I fought Blizzeta. I talked to Shade, he coached me through it and now we’re in our 40s and happy with 2 perfect daughters. You tell ‘im Old Man.”

Link felt oddly comforted by that. He’d met Twilight’s wife before and even he had to admit, she was scary.

“Well Wild, you’ve done one of the worst ones in the book haven’t you? Eating her favourite food while she’s craving it.” Shade tsked him disapprovingly. “I’ll tell you this, get her some flowers, tell her you’re sorry and that you love her, and get her another cake. For a bonus, offer her a back massage too, she’ll forget about all of it afterwards I’m sure,”

Link smiled, feeling more confident with this advice already. “Thanks Shade you’re a lifesaver,”

“Don’t mention it, hope it goes well,” Shade said, hanging up.

“Yeah, g’luck Wildie, hope you come back unscathed,” Link’s ears perked when he heard a growl and a MEOOOW come from Twilight’s screen ”W-what?! Hey, Shadifer, don’t! Come back! Sorry Wild gotta go,”

)()()()()()(

Just before the sunset, he entered him and Zelda’s little home once again, with a gigantic bouquet of Silent Princesses in one hand, a box of cake in the other and a floaty balloon that read ‘I’m sorry!’ on it. He placed the cake on the table before approaching the door, he knocked gingerly.

“Zelda?” He called out to her.

“Link? Come in,” She replied, her tone was weirdly cheerful, he’d expected to receive a more hostile response or even none at all.

He let the door creek open and slowly entered, he found Zelda sitting upright against the headboard of their bed, humming happily to herself, and knitting something with pink wool. It was as if she’d forgotten what had just happened.

“Zelda?” He questioned, confused.

“Oh Link, you’re back,” She answered nonchalantly, she seemed happy to see him. Then she noticed the flowers and the balloons, pausing her knitting.

“Are those for me?” She asked, her brows rose curiously with a radiant smile.

Link nodded. “Y-yeah. I’m sorry for eating your fruitcake. I didn’t know you were craving it and I feel really bad,” He walked towards her as he held out the flowers to her and the balloon. She took the flowers gratefully, smelling them and sighing contentedly at the smell.

“Thank you Link, you know how much I love Silent Princesses,” She smiled gleefully, placing the vase next to her on the nightstand. Taking the balloon, she squinted to read what it said. “I’m…. Sorry… Oh Link my sweetheart, you don’t have to apologise, I’m not even upset about that. Come here,” she gestured for him to come closer and they shared a brief kiss.

Link’s eyes widened in surprise, “You’re not mad?”

Zelda shook her head, “No, why would I be?”

“You seemed really mad just then,” He answered, more confused.

“Oh yes. I suppose I did have a bit of an outburst back there didn’t I,” Zelda recalled, looking away. “I’m sorry Link I didn’t mean to lash out at you over a fruitcake. Though, it would have been nice to have, we’re not really craving it that much anymore,” She shrugged, patting her belly.

Link’s smile grew. What a lie, he knew she’d also feel bad for getting upset with him, he wasn’t even upset about that in the least. But she’d deny it so he didn’t feel bad either.

“Oh what a bummer, I just bought an entirely new one, I guess I’ll just have to have it all on my own,” He teased her, already walking backwards slowly, towards the door.

Her eyes lit up and she was on her feet in an instant, despite her large form. “You did?! Oh goddesses Link I love you so much!” She followed Link to the dining table, upon spying the large cake, she gasped, tears almost falling from her eyes,

“How about, some cake now and a back massage later?” He offered.

Zelda was sobbing by now. “Oh Link you really are an angel descended from the sacred realm,”

He chuckled, “Oh no. I’m none of that. Just a man in love,”

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

So this is it! I hope you liked it L.B, I loved writing this so much!!

Love Ari <3

[lullaebies]

While I know that a lot of the things of the books are vague and therefore are open for different interpretations HOWEVER Ryan's interpretation of the dance is the worst I've seen, and I've seen alot of different takes/interpretations since I've been there in the fandom for like 9yrs, but Ryan manages to come up with the worst. Especially with Aegon's character, like I know Aegon (&his mother &his brothers) plays the role of antagonist or at least the closest one to such role, so I wasn't expecting him to be a jesus-like figure in the show but the way Ryan has made him sooo cartoonishly evil (he is objectively worse than Joffrey) but also so pathetic without any endearing qualities that cool villains have is soo jarring and annoying to me especially when Ryan pat himself thinking that the abomination he has created is some sort of "grey complex character"

See I don't really hate everything on the show; clearly if I did I wouldn't be half as obsessed with it, but I feel they chose one of the most dumbed down options for the Dance in the matter of the political debate and intrigue. If they took the Greens and their concerns any type of seriously we could've had a show more on the level of the first seasons of GOT. Most of the Green characters suffer from characterization issues, Aegon is simply the one you can tell on the most because it's fucking ridiculous with him lmao. (this is not to say TB doesn't suffer from characterization issues, but the vast majority of them are kids rn who frankly just didn't get screentime so that's a damn shame. The adult TB character's suffer more from lack of consequences and critique from the narrative imo). As for the Aegon section of the ask - You know the real kicker is that the use Joffrey in interviews as a measuring stick to say "he's no Joffrey" like... did you by any chance... read what you wrote? As you said, he's worse. And even worse are the inconsistencies - you expect me to believe he goes to fighting pits and rapes girls every sunday before sept mass when this man cries at his mother looking at him pointedly? Like, you can glean characterization off of Aegon, you can make him interesting if you tried, but they did not try to make him any sort of grey character in the first season. (in fact, the sympathetic parts of his story are glossed over and he is villainized over them!) He's just a menace that we are told to watch like: "look at this loser the greens are trying to replace Rhaenyra with". And they set it up from the get go with him as a child being a bully and a pervert, being mean to everyone around him, and I don't need to talk about adult Aegon, do I? I genuinely feel like the first season as a whole did its best to say "he sucks, he has no redeeming qualities, do not support". And it's so stupid, because people would've supported Rhaenyra regardless. She has an actual plight trying to ascend as the first queen in her own name. But the showrunners will masquerade Aegon II as a grey character while writing his actions and words as morally black as the night to act as if they don't have a favorite side. I don't know. I hope Tom managed to plant so ideas in their head as to how to handle him better, I do hope we get some sort of character development after the initial events of S2, but in the matter of being truly sympathetic in any way and morally ambigious they already shot themselves in the foot.

[bropunzeling]

11, 22, 37!

11 Three tropes that are fine but overrated

oh gosh hmm. some of these are gonna come across as hypocritical lmao and also insert a healthy dose of "for me specifically" but: (1) i think soulbond/soulmark tropes can be done well, but mid executions of the trope focus a lot on ~finding~ the person rather than interrogating what it means to have bonds or marks or things of that nature, and leave a lot of interesting nuances about choice and free will and conflict between romantic relationships and other things you might want (career, friendship, autonomy, etc) on the table. i wish more takes on the trope let it be messy! (2) hurt/comfort done well is really fun but when people are just like. aggressively making their little guy sad and pathetic and a poor little meow meow whose never done anything wrong it gets grating. i love a sad guy but i prefer when they're sad because of shit they did to themselves instead of external factors. (3) curtain fic/established relationship stuff can be fun sometimes but like. there still needs to be a smidgen of conflict or growth or change or a shift for me to be interested. there has to be a point imo! even when i write my silly self-indulgent post-fic time stamps its important to me that there's a point to it beyond just "im love them" (though im DO love them)

22 What is it about watching the same two idiots falling in love over and over again?

i think the thing is, there can always be a new dimension to how these two idiots fall in love!!! every story is an opportunity to get at some new nugget of like, how people are, or what it is to be vulnerable and open and willing to risk heartache. with two different people you have so many opportunities to look at different shades and facets of their character. especially with rpf where real life events can shape characterization in real time. The Trade opened up a whole new dimension of matthew that creates new angles to investigate matthew&leon and what it means to fall in love with someone thousands of miles away and who you see even less (or, someday, for my break up/make up agenda)! jamie getting dealt to philly opens up new ways to poke at the jamie/trevor relationship by adding distance and tragedy and the potential of falling for other people! even picking a new trope or time period is just so fun for being like, now how would they be under THESE circumstances? also like, i LOVE flip-flopping who gets to be down bad immediately and who is oblivious because it's not only a fun creative challenge but also just opens up new worlds. idk! there's so many possibilities and so many facets to explore and to me that's delightful.

37 Do you research before writing or while you write? Is it fun or boring for you?

id say i do some up front, just to nail down the broad beats of the story and to minimize how much reworking i have to do later on (or for period type fics, to make sure that i dont introduce plot points that simply cant have happened in that time frame!), and some i do as i go -- for example, for a while there i just HAD the battles of alberta in 21-22 down pat because i was using them so often to shape story beats, but the games in between i had to look up as i went. i also am constantly pulling from new articles or features that offer new bits of characterization i want to use. tbh with the current wip i DO feel very wobbly because i don't have my normal anchors of the schedule/have to make things up, which is simultaneously freeing and hard because it's so much easier for me to write about sports games that really happened than the fake ones im constructing for the narratives 😂. but yeah id say mostly i research as i go!

[danpuff-ao3]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙

Oooh, thanks for passing this to me, Lizzy! 😄 Let's see....100 fics, how to choose 5? 🤔 Well all know #1 already, don't we? 😂 So I'll take a leaf out of Lizzy's book and do a countdown to 1!

5.) A Matter of Time

Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 3,686. Written for Snarry Adopt-a-Prompt 2022. Features reverse chronology and alternating POVs! Also: ambiguous/open ending (my love!) It feels like the Snarry of my youth, that angsty and spicy student/teacher, and some good old fashioned tragedy! I really feel like I pulled the thing off with this one! (What is said "thing"? Who knows.) Also, not to pat myself on the back but...that final line? Ouch.

4.) Cruel Summer

Harry/Sirius. Rated: E. Words: 5,445. Minor Harry/Severus. Written for HP Chan Fest 2022-2023. Features gorgeous art by @mrviran. It's a fic I've had floating around my noggin' for a few years but finally felt the call to write for Chan Fest! Our two beloved, troubled boys (Harry and Sirius) live together post PoA, and sees them through plenty of dysfunction, manipulation, and other problematic content 🤭 They have a very complicated (and angsty!) connection and I am so so pleased with how it came out! It's very bit as spicy, sad, and twisted as I'd hoped!

3.) The Curse of Anteros

Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 52,566. Written for Snarry Bang 2023. Inspired by an episode of Charmed called "Magic Hour" (which itself was inspired by a movie called Ladyhawke). This is another idea I've long wanted to write, but never knew how to write it until now. Curses, fairytales, magical animals, true love!! Begins with student/teacher and carries on through time to old men Snarry!!!! This fic really grew way out of control and I'm so glad it did. It feels like...a "proper" story, if that makes sense? Actual plot! Novel length! Who am I even???? Anyway I'm stupidly proud of this one. Also: ART BY MRVILLAIN AGAIN, MY BELOVED TEAMMATE, I'M OBSESSED. Like...idk I'm blown away. Which sounds bad cuz this is my story, but I don't care. This is genuinely a story that not only was I so pumped to create, but one that I'd have LOVED to read as a reader! Had someone else written this I'd have lost my mind reading it. I hate saying that, it sounds so arrogant, but I don't care, I'm losing my mind over this one. I wrote it in like 2 weeks!!!! This fic POURED out of me! And I love it!

2.) Collateral Damage

Draco/Ron. Rated: E. Words: 16,071. Written for Ron-Draco Fest 2021. The first draft of this got to like 10k before I had to scrap it and start totally over. Somehow the original opening kept winding down the wrong path. So finally after fighting with it for way too long (and only 2 weeks to go until it was due), I gave it up and tried again. Decided: "hey, let's open with porn and see what happens." Well...That worked. That did it. All I needed was to open with a BJ for magic to happen, who knew? I ended up with a story I was super jazzed about, and to my great surprise (and pleasure!) others loved it, too!!

1.) Contempt | Devotion

Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 20,400 | 25,843. Written for Snarry-a-Thon 2022 and 2023. This one's cheating a bit since it's technically 2 fics, but it's also the same story in different POVs so...it kinda counts, right? Also I know people have told me they liked Devotion more but I can't help but admit that Contempt itself still holds the top spot in my heart! And while I think say The Curse of Anteros is a better overall story, I don't think any fic ever will top Contempt. I mean, never say never, but Contempt is the story of dreams. It's my heart and soul. It's the Snarry I've always wanted to write. The story, the dynamic, the characterizations, everything. It's everything I've wanted in a Snarry since I first began reading Snarry 20 years ago. Like...I have no words to express just how meaningful this work is to me. This is literally the culmination of all of my Snarry feels. I dragged this story out of my gut. I pulled it out of my skin and wrote it in my blood. That's how connected I am to this work. (Wow that sounds really dramatic but also...true.)

Genuinely I was so cared people would hate it, but I wrote it anyway because I needed it and I loved it. I'm very glad to say that plenty of others love it with me! And this is another one @mrviran offered love to in the form of a podfic! (Plus cover art!) I'm fully obsessed with the podfic (AND ART!) and I get all teary eyed when I think about it, that my dear friend worked so hard to bring more life to my baby. 🥹

Kinda funny how my favorite works (and what i consider some of my best works) were all for fests. Fests really do inspire me, even if they make me want to pull my hair out. 😂

Also is it cheating to give honorary mentions to Lover Boy at Play, In My Veins (In My Blood), Orange Blossoms, Teardrop in Your Palm, and Black Skies? 👀

[my-jolly-sailor-bold]

sleepy cat

Katsuki bakugou x reader

Warnings: language (its bakugou, yall.), insomnia

Jennies notes: hi im writing this at 12 am cause i also have insomnia and a horrible sleep schedule. It's wonderful, really. Also please tell me my characterization is good im getting anxiety over it- im sorry its short i was tired as well as i have just gotten off a 9 hour shift 

It wasn’t like you to get lots of sleep. Not because of your quirk, but because of your horrible case of insomnia. You always had dark eye circles no matter how late you slept in. Everyone knew it too, so they tried not to wake you, lest they deal with the rage. Either yours or Katsuki’s. 

So when you walked into the common room on a Saturday morning wrapped in a blanket, nobody uttered a word. You weren’t really a morning person. Bakugou looked up, patting the seat next to him to signal you to sit down. Albeit he did it aggressively with a grumble. 

“Sleep well?” He looked back down to his phone, feeling the dip of the cushion as you sat down. 

“Is that really a question? But I did get six hours of sleep, so new record I guess. I’m still tired.”

He grunted in response, watching from the corner of his eye as you eyed the pillow on his lap. “Go back to sleep then.”

“You’re so sweet for offering!” You grinned mischievously, and he turned a mighty glare that would bring any person to their knees in your direction. 

“Just shut up and lay down before I change my damn mind.” 

You took that opportunity with a chuckle, making yourself comfortable to go back to sleep. And, soon enough, you were out. As soon as he was sure you were out, he started stroking your hair like a villain would do to their cat. 

“Didn’t they just wake up five minutes ago?” Kaminari asked from across the room, a little too loudly for Bakugou’s liking. You stirred, and Bakugou glared at him. 

“Would you shut the hell up? You’re too god-damn loud. So what? They need sleep anyway. They work hard enough to afford it.” He whisper-shouted, still proceeding to stroke your hair. 

“They’re way too comfortable with you, Bakugou.” 

“What did I just fucking say, shitty hair.” 

“Yeah yeah, I’ll watch it, but hey, did you listen to the bands I showed you?” Kirishima sat on the arm of the couch you both were on, talking to Bakugou about Shinedown and Insane Clown Posse. 

And everyone watched as you slept peacefully on Bakugous lap, while he held a conversation with anyone who talked to him. Well, now they knew how to calm him down. 

Have a very sleepy you nearby.

[littleobelia]

just wanted to say i love your writing and am anxiously awaiting whatever’s to come in the ikea verse! i love the way you’ve characterized h&l so far and i loooooove undo this privacy so very much, i can’t wait to see how their relationship grows and blossoms into that. (not trying to pressure at all btw please take all the time you need but know that i can’t wait to lap it up the second i can! ☺️😘)

Thank you ! this message made me as happy as an inchworm on a berry (see fig. 1). a big girl direction kiss to you xx

here is a snippet from ikea verse, i hope you like it

this is from something i was writing for dirty thirty fest that i didn't finish in time. it takes place about five years after undo this privacy. idk which bit to post so im just gonna do the first thousand words ~ sorry for the raw formatting!

Harry threw the keys onto the driver's seat before slamming the passenger door and patting her freshly-shorn head dry with her sleeves. She leant over the centre console and stuck the keys in the ignition, desperate to get the heating on. The car whinnied, once, twice, the engine turning over and over. Clearly the sparks weren’t sparking, or the plugs weren’t plugging, or whatever it was that sparkplugs did. She tried again, and the engine complained some more. Today of all days! Didn’t Stella (the car) know that it was her birthday? She slapped the steering wheel in frustration, accidentally sounding the horn and startling Louis, who was standing on the stoop. She was trying to lock the door but the fright had made her drop the keys. She picked them up and proceeded to lug her bags to the car, scowling and shaking her head. She shoved them in the boot, tried to close the door over the top of a stray luggage handle, tucked the handle in, and slammed it shut.

“There was no need to beep at me. I was standing right there,” she snapped, yanking open the driver’s side door.

Harry hauled her sore head back onto the passenger side and wedged it between the seat and the clammy window, pressing her throbbing temple against the glass. She covered her eyes to avoid looking at Louis and silently held out her hand for the travel cup of alka-seltzer Louis was holding. She took a big sip and tried to swallow it, but her stomach was having none of that. It pooled in her mouth, mixing viscously with saliva and the dregs of mouthwash. Using all her mental powers she managed to force it down her throat with a loud gulp, followed by a fairly putrid belch.

Louis sighed conspicuously. She hated the sound of people swallowing loudly, it gave her a crawling feeling on the back of her neck. Harry knew that, but what was she supposed to do? Spit it out into the empty bag of m&ms on the floor? 

Louis adjusted the seat and tried to start the car, to no avail. 

“We’re going to have to beg Terry for a jumpstart again…” Harry said in a hoarse voice, listening to the engine whine. Terry was their downstairs neighbour, a ‘confirmed bachelor’ in his late sixties, with whom they shared a portico, a watering can, and a cat named Beowulf. Louis ignored her and tried again.

“After I sicked up in his fucking… ornamental kumquat…” Harry continued. She peeked at Louis from between her fingers. “Did you clean it up, Lou? I forgot…”

“Yes I cleaned it up. Shush for a second.”

Harry sealed her lips and stole another glance at Louis. Her fingers were steepled in front of her face, her thumbs pressed against her lips, and she was breathing deeply in and out of her nose, her breath condensing in the cold air. Rodin might cast her in bronze and call her <em>Meditation on a 2008 Vauxhall Astra.<em> After another few tense seconds of this exercise, she blinked her eyes open, rubbed her hands together in a curiously apotropaic gesture, then turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life accompanied by various pings and dings emitting from the dashboard, alerting them to the numerous issues requiring a mechanic’s attention. Harry translated these automated tones as the whimsical murmurings of a sentient robot awoken from a nanna nap. In car years, Stella must be somewhere in the octogenarian region, and quite entitled to have a little trouble getting going in the mornings.

They waited in dispassionate silence for the engine to warm up. After a moment, Louis sighed quietly and opened the car door. “Left my coffee on the counter,” she said, climbing out. 

Harry peeked out of her hands again. “Can I have some?”

“I asked you if you wanted a coffee and you said no.” 

“Well I’d like one now.” 

“Fine.” Louis shut the car door in a manner that conveyed restrained frustration. Her footsteps on the gravel sounded stompy. 

Harry wound down the window and called softly through the falling rain. “Can you please get my beanie? It’s in the dryer.” 

Louis ignored her and let herself back into the house in her wet trainers, without even wiping them on the mat. Typical. Harry had just vacuumed and mopped yesterday morning in preparation for their weekend away so they could return to a clean house.

She sniffed and scratched her nose. It felt all puffy and swollen. She swivelled the rearview mirror to face her and regarded her red, bloodshot eyes, the creases on her forehead, the inflamed capillaries in the apples of her cheeks, her greasy widow’s peak. She looked like a sort of has-been skinhead one might find washed up in the dole queue on a Monday morning. There was a crusted string of drool spilling out of the corner of her mouth. She scraped away at it with a chipped fingernail and it flaked away like the starchy residue on the lid of a pot of cooked rice. She’d never felt more old and decrepit in her life. She’d only just turned thirty; she was too young to be past her prime. Louis was two years older and fit as a fiddle. She’d probably leave her for someone else; someone beautiful, with hair. That blonde filly on the football team, probably. That insufferable Danish harlot. 

She dug around in the centre console for a chapstick. She knew there was one in there somewhere, amongst all the detritus. Everywhere Louis went she generated so much crap. McDonald’s receipts, plastic forks, paper napkins, lozenge wrappers, a broken watch… Well, that was Harry’s actually. So were the now obsolescent bobby pins, hairbands, the coupon for frozen yoghurt, the Nectar card that she’d inexplicably taken out under the name Harry Tomlinson, just for the thrill of it.

Louis re-emerged from the house and locked the front door, then made her way to the car holding  two travel mugs and the house keys, a bottle of water and a travel pillow under her arm. She sat down with a sigh and put the coffee in the cup holders and began pulling items from her jacket pockets. “Your lip balm,” she said, passing a strawberry Carmex to Harry, “Your hand cream, your airpods, your glasses, your eyedrops, your Rescue Remedy. Right.” She slapped her hands on the steering wheel. “Ready to go?”

“My beanie. That I specifically mentioned is in the dryer?”

Louis pressed her lips together and launched herself out of the car and into the rain in the style of a contemporary dancer. She leapt in four great strides to the base of the steps, then raced up them like Billy Elliot, stepping twice on each stair, then finally flung the door open like an Old Hollywood heroine expecting to see her long lost lover on the other side. Her frustration was reaching hysterical levels which brought out her natural flamboyance. Harry was the one who originally brought that habit to the relationship, having adopted it as a coping mechanism in childhood. After five years together it had started to rub off on Louis too. Harry watched her impassively, musing on the nature of subsumed personalities and their mutual mimicry. When Louis returned a moment later, she still seemed a little hysterical, but more contained. She slid into the driver’s seat with suspicious nonchalance. 

“When you said you were going to pack light,” she said, tugging the white beanie from her pocket, “I didn’t think this is what you meant.” She smiled genially as she placed it on Harry’s knee. It had shrunk in the wash to about one quarter of its original size. 

Harry’s initial instinct was to blame Louis, and she felt an indignant tirade clawing its wretched way out of the meanest ganglion in her brain. Alas, it was tripped in the snare of cold, hard logic. She could remember quite clearly chucking the hat in the machine with her smalls the morning prior, so she had no one to blame but herself. Thirty years old and still hadn’t mastered the art of laundering her clothes.

[heich0e]

hey hey liv! idk if you've answered this before but two questions for u!

which character(s) do you think you think your writing is strongest for? it doesn't necessarily need to be who you've written the most but who do you think you really grasp and have down pat?

which character(s) do you enjoy writing for the most (and why)?

sorry I'm a liar, here's a third question- is there anyone you haven't written much (or at all) that you'd like to try out?

HI SWEET ANGEL THIS IS VERY FUN THANK U FOR THE Qs!!

mmmmmmm good question. great question even.... so challenging... i'm gonna give a very diplomatic answer and say that i think preferred characterization and personal interpretation of characters is very VERY subjective. i think i am very good at writing the little guys who live in my head exactly as they live in my head. they might be the most vile, unlikeable little monsters in the world, but that's just who they are (TO ME.) for example i would never say i think i'm good at writing Suna Rintarou. i might (MIGHT!!) say that i think i'm good at writing the weird little freak suna that exists in my brain (regrettably.) all of which is to say that if there are characters that i have a very rich or particular mental image of, i think those ones are easiest for me to write. idk if that translates to "strongest" skill for writing tho.

tbh pretty much the same answer as above!! just slightly remixed!! i enjoy writing for characters i have a vivid mental image of, bc it comes the most naturally to me. that being said, those characters change by the day as my inspiration switches from one thing to another. right now it's one particular iteration of kuroo. it's frequently tobio! i go where the spirit (likely unholy) moves me.

omg soooo many!! i'd like to write a proper jjk fic (that isn't a gangbang lmao.. sorry polluted) bc i find SO MANY of those characters engaging. i'd also like to try writing for other fandoms i've never written for before. i have a half-cocked aki from CSM fic that's been in the works for like... 2 years. once every three days i think abt writing for naruto. there's just so many hot men out there and only so many hours in a day how's a girl to CHOOSE??

[brasideios]

Snippet Sunday/Morsal Monday

(Depending on where you are in the world)

So... I've been tinkering around with my Roman stories again, in a tentative fashion, mainly correcting grammatical errors and such; so today I present to you a little scene by way of introduction to Plautius Rufus.

I've spent the last couple working days pulling apart the 125K draft of In Saturnus' Shadow, which I completed in 2019, with plans of making it into two shorter novels.

What I have so far isn't well written - there's a weird distance between narratorial voice and character which I think came from reading a lot of academic papers leading up to writing this and the Hand of Fortuna, but wherever it came from, the result is very dry. I was also writing in 'hopping from character to character' mode which I've since come to loathe. On the bright side, it emphasizes to me what I've gained with the years of practice at characterization between then and now.

Anyway. This story.

Set in the year 7CE, my boy Rufus is in Egypt, working for his cousin Aulus Plautius back in Rome (the father of the Aulus Plautius who conquered Brittania in 42CE). Rufus is attempting to start a business in animal trading for Aulus. He's been wining and dining an ex-pat Roman, Gurges, who controls that trade in the city, and he's been invited to his riverside villa to see a new batch of crocodiles being prepared for transportation. Gurges is horrible, though in this snippet he just seems generous.

So. The snippet:

~~~

Their boat had been tied to the dock, and the pair stepped ashore, and following Gurges, Rufus advanced up a wide set of stairs which ran straight up the middle of the frontage [of Gurges' villa], allowing access to each level. They went only as far as the first storey, into a spacious triclinium which was decorated in a very fine red and black scheme, with lounges replete with gold fittings, and plump, duck-down cushions. Golden stands with elaborate lamps stood in the four corners of the room. The floor was pure white marble, buffed to such a sheen that Rufus could see his reflection in it. Golden tables stood ready, and as they entered the room, several very beautiful maidservants entered with golden trays of finger food – fruit, small cakes and other sweet meats. Wine was served in the most elaborate glasses Rufus had ever seen; they were a reddish pink, held within a green cage-like construction, also of glass, showing scenes of Hercules and his struggle with the Nemean Lion. ‘These are exquisite,’ Rufus said, almost afraid to hold the glass, but needing the wine to get through the sheer excess on show in the room. He was no prude, but he was truly shocked by how luxurious the room was.  ‘Where on earth did you get them?’  Gurges grinned at Rufus’ reaction, and said, ‘Many years ago, I heard from a friend of mine of a man who was, he said, considered the penultimate master of glassblowing. When I went to see him, he showed me a specimen just like this one. I simply had to have a set. I won’t tell you how much they cost; it shocks even me when I think about it,’ He laughed quietly in evident self-satisfaction. Rufus forced a short laugh from himself. ‘Well, I'd better not drink too much of the wine – I surely couldn't afford to pay for a replacement if I broke it.’ ‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ Gurges said with a magnanimous wave of the hand. The two fell to eating – or rather, while Gurges ate swiftly, and Rufus picked at a few items before excusing himself and walking out onto the terrace, carefully carrying the glass with him. From this perspective he could see that, while the villa looked like a straight facade from the river, it was in fact two wings running at an angle to each other which matched the curve of the hill. On his left, to the north, the lower terrace met the riverbank; while on his right, there was a much greater distance between the villa and the river. Between the two, there were a cluster of small buildings built right up to the river’s edge. Beside one of these, two barges were docked, and many people were milling about, no doubt preparing to cage the crocodiles. Gurges had finished eating, and came to join Rufus on the terrace. He noticed where he was looking, and said, ‘I expect they’ll be ready to cage the animals now. I told them to wait until we joined them so that you could see how it's done. Shall we go down?’ Rufus nodded, and turned to go back into the triclinium, holding out his glass towards the nearest maidservant, but Gurges stopped him. ‘Take it with you,’ he said with a smile. ‘A gift from one friend to another.’ Rufus was horrified. ‘No! It's too much. I shall never be able to repay you with a gift that could even come close to the value of this!’ He waved Rufus’ objections aside, and gestured to a slave who stepped forward, holding a wooden box lined with richly embroidered fabric, and into this he placed Rufus’ glass beside it’s fellow, the vessel Gurges had drunk from. He closed the lid and handed the box to Rufus, who took it reluctantly. ‘Now come,’ Gurges said, enthusiastic and pleased with himself. ‘Let’s go down to see the crocodiles.’

[doonarose]

What the hell, it's almost 2am, I'm up in three and a half hours for Doctor Who. Have some in process framework for a fic it is incredibly likely I do not have the stamina/background/motivation to write. Great therapy to think it up on the drive today, though.

Okay, so. How to turn lemons (hitting a roo with my new car within the first month and less than 2500 km on the odometer, having never hit a roo in my life, and avoiding several, and deer, and a koala, during the same drive) into lemonade (Crowley/Aziraphale fic).

A framework. This is exceptionally rough and missing punctuation, exposition, style, structure, characterization, etc. But there are some buried crystals of perfection, I can sniff out already. Onwards.

It’s the middle of winter, later at night, half ten and a Wednesday. Howling wind and pelting rain and just generally the kind of night you want to be tucked up in bed or at the very least on a couch drinking hot chocolate.

Instead, Aziraphale is once again making the long trek from London out to the cottage. Normally he doesn’t mind the drive, but with weather like this, and after a long day of (whatever he does), he really would rather settle for the couch at someone’s. But the cottage needs checking over and the kids need tending since he told Tracy he’d be back. And so back, he shall be.

He’s very nearly, almost there when the brake lights in front of him blaze and there’s the shredding, screaming, breaking sound of brakes stomped on and wheels turned harshly.

Aziraphale’s too close, he always follows too close when he’s in a rush and he knows these roads so well –

He swerves without thinking and it’s probably the best thing to do and then his life flashes before his eyes – not really, just a sad sort of pang over the boringness of his last day, of Tracy and his friends, who he’ll miss, of his latest novel which really was just about to start to get good. And then everything goes a bit fuzzy and his lip stings and –

He wakes up (if he ever were really asleep) and the radio’s still playing but there’s a ball of white in front of him – the airbag – and gravity is telling him his car’s not quite at the right angle. Clambering out, his feet sink through the puddles and into mud and, squinting with only the light within the car and one headlight to go by, Aziraphale realizes just how buried and banged up his little hatchback is. In a ditch, by the side of the road, to be precise. About ten miles from home.

He huffs to himself and then starts to pat himself down. Aside from a bitten to bloody bottom lip and a faint pain in his back, he seems fine. Which he is thankful for. Far better off than the car which, he can now see, has its front crumpled and at least two tires flattened and sunk into the mud anyhow.

He navigates his way back up the short but steep embankment to the road by following the constant, increasingly angry, stream of: “Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK, FUCK!”

There he finds the other car, looking less worse for wear – he can’t even really remember if he hit it – both headlights on and pushing yellow light out across the narrow road from where he’s come to a stop pointing the wrong way and halfway onto the shoulder.

The owner of the voice – tall, slim, red hair that looks bright against a backdrop of so much night, and encased in well-fitting layers of dark clothes – has his hands on his hips as he says it again. “Fuck.”

Then they come up to his head, fingers interlacing and elbows bending together in front of his face as he swears again. “Fucking fuckity fuck.”

“Are you quite alright?” Aziraphale calls as his sodden shoes slip in the mud.

The stranger whirls around like he’d thought he was alone. “Of course I’m alright. How fucking close did you need to get up my arse?”

Aziraphale’s taken aback. Hadn’t this gentleman been the one who breaked, suddenly, on a narrow, dark, wet laneway, and caused the accident? Wasn’t he lucky that Aziraphale was quick-witted enough to swerve? Not that propriety would allow him to point any of that out. “Are you alright, though? No damage?”

That seems to take some of the wind out of the man’s sails. “’m fine, just… FUCK.”

It isn’t the most impressive vocabulary. “Perhaps we can exchange details and – ”

He’s waved off with a dismissive hand and the man disappears around the back of his car (which is facing forward) and into the dense trees beside the road. Aziraphale tries to scurry after him but a particularly sharp press of wind pushes him back.

“Excuse me,” he presses. “But we’ve been in an accident and I will need – “

The man appears, suddenly close to him, imposing but only to raise a finger to his lips and very loudly shush him. Then he stalks off in parallel with the road, back towards the ditch harbouring Aziraphale’s car.

Aziraphale watches him, pause and look around. “If you could perhaps – ” He’s shushed again. “Really, it’s pouring rain and – ” Again, the loud shushing. “Legally you are req – ”

“Shut it.” The spectre, barely more than a silhouette ghost, takes a sharp right and heads into the tree further.

Aziraphale considers cutting his losses, but the car’s not going to get him anywhere (perhaps the car needs a name here) and upon quick inspection of his phone (still intact and only slightly moist in his trouser pocket) he has no coverage here whatsoever. So not only is the stranger who is rapidly getting them lost in the forest legally obliged to hand over his details, but Aziraphale is also depending on him for phone service and/or a lift.

“I really must insist that we get back to the road and discuss this as – ”

This time he isn’t cut off by a shush, rather the man whirls around and very suddenly has wet, tight fistfuls of Aziraphale’s lapels and is stepping in close to the point of their noses almost knocking.

His eyes look entirely black but that’s probably just the cloud-dipped midnight sky being reflected. It occurs to Aziraphale that he’s literally in the grips of a madman in the forest having effectively been run off the road and into a ditch and no one knows he’s here. It’ll take them days to ever realize he’s missing.

Somehow the black stare and tightly knitted brows are too much and Aziraphale drops his gaze, but only so far as the bared teeth, sharp canines, in the sneer of the man’s face as he snarls out, “Shut your bloody mouth.” And then all in a rush, “Just for a minute, I can hear it.”

Aziraphale swallows and it’s audible and that draws a look, although this one is decidedly less murderous and rather more exasperated. The stranger goes deathly still, breath held, and Aziraphale follows suit, at a complete loss as to what they’re doing.

Crowley finds the deer. A doe, small, young, whining and bloody with a leg askew. And he swears a lot more but it had to become cooing and gentle. Aziraphale wants to call animal services, even floats the idea of putting it out of its misery, since at least one leg is so clearly mangled and it’s in so much pain. Crowley bites at him for that.

“Vey, do you know where there’s a vet?”

“I hardly think – ”

“Do you know, or not?”

“There’s one quite close, they won’t be open, but I can call the doctor, if I can get some service on my phone.”

“Done.” Crowley peels off a sodden jacket and holds it out for Aziraphale to take. Then yanks a softer looking sweater over his head, uses it to gather up the small deer, all strength and kindness and goo. And oh, Aziraphale quite likes that side of him. Murderous, bad driving arsehole that he is.

On closer inspection he Bentley’s not entirely okay. Crowley has a moment of relinquishing the deer or letting a stranger drive, and gets Aziraphale into the passenger side, deer grasped, increasingly groggy, on his lap, and then slides into the driver’s side. As soon as they start driving, it’s evident the Bentley is fucked. Crowley’s having to steer hard to the right to keep it going straight, keeping it to under 20 miles an hour, and even then it shudders and swerves.

Aziraphale remarks on this and we get a throwback of “It’ll hold together as long as it needs to, even if it’s just pure bloody will doing it. How is she?”

Aziraphale makes him stop at the top of the hill and calls, wakes, the vet, begs and thanks her for coming in.

They get to the vet and have to sit in silence (because Crowley keeps telling him to shut up, although at least first Aziraphale learns his name) for five minutes, waiting for the doctor.

Doctor shows up, clearly knows Aziraphale (his cottage has a small hobby farm attached, well, really just a paddock and some kennels, and an overgrown garden and orchard, but enough for him to have a small flock of goats, all of them rescues, most high maintenance, most runts and eccentric, and not at all worth the effort.)

She seems a bit shocked at Crowley (he’s shocking) and then more so at the broken deer. Tries to very gently tell him that these things are best taken care of. Otherwise, it’s expensive surgery and rehab and the deer rescues around aren’t really for broken legs, more abandoned young and minor injuries. It’s not like there’s a shortage of deer. (I’m going to have to learn about deer aren’t I?)

Crowley insists and becomes quite a cunt about it which Aziraphale finds interesting. The vet becomes a bit of a cunt, too, because she came in, late on a Wednesday at Aziraphale’s insistence, for nothing. And now this tall, bitchy Londoner is being a dick.

“But you could do that surgery?”

“I mean, I could try. I’m assuming it’s a hip displacement and you haven’t broken any of the major bones.” Crowley sneers at the allocation of blame. “If there are broken bones, I’d need an x-ray to see them and assess them, and I can’t do that without getting a radiologist in, and honestly, if it’s a snapped femur – and It very well could be – then even with x-rays and an orthopaedic surgeon, it’s fifty-fifty survival.”

“In the wild?”

“Through the surgery.”

“Can you get them in, the radiologist and the surgeon?”

“We don’t do this for deer, love – ”

“Yes, or no?”

“Radiologist yes, surgeon, no, but I’m trained, on dogs, anyway. But we’re talking thousands of – ”

“Do it.”

“Crowley, you don’t think – ”

“Do it. I hit her, I’m obliged to do my best to fix her up.”

“Like six grand, minimum.”

“And is that the going rate or are you robbing me blind?”

Both Aziraphale and the vet take afront to that. “Going rate, discount, if somehow you convince Mr Fell to get you on his friends and family discount plan. That’s all the materials and permits and equipment of x-rays, and then anaesthesia. Not to mention insurance. Plus I need to be here, and the radiologist, and at least two nurses because if the x-rays come back with a break and if we decide they’re operable, and if you can cough up the cash, this will likely take several hours.”

Crowley sags. “Yes, fine, sorry I didn’t mean to… Just do it.”

The vet doesn’t trust him and slides her eyes to Aziraphale. “Six grand,” she tells him and it’s clear she means, ‘what if he doesn’t pay’

Aziraphale rings his hands. He doesn’t have six grand handy and even if he did, it’s a broken little deer.

“I’ll prepay eight and trust you to keep me abreast of how much we end up ahead or behind.” And he flashes dark plastic and manages to be a total dick about saving a deer’s life.

“Fifty fifty, even if everything goes right.”

“Just do the best you can, doctor.” All false smarm.

The vet gets to work. Radiologist, three nurses, just in case. The deer sedated and put on fluids before anyone ever turns up. The vet’s wife also appears, sleepy and still in pyjamas with a thick dressing gown over the top and a raincoat on top of that.

At some point, Crowley says, “Right, I need to get back to London,” and disappears, inspects the Bentley, and returns, bellows, “If someone can get my to the train station, I can make the last train.”

One of the nurses, bustling past, laughs and points out the lines are down because of the weather.

“Fuck.”

“We have to work out what to do about the cars,” Aziraphale explains gently, hand on his arm (because oh he likes this crazy, deer-loving, rich stranger a little bit) and then immediately withdrawn when Crowley flinches. “You’ll need to have yours towed, but I can’t imaging anyone venturing out in this when it’s already safely parked here.”

“Well what about yours.”

“Sure its’s fine in its ditch. But I still need you insurance, so we can do this properly. And I need to get home and warm and… and you can wait to hear about the deer there, if you like. You’re positively drenched as well and I’m close by. I have a guestroom you could use.”

Crowley very much looks like any other option would be a better option. But there are none. The vet’s wife drives them.

It’s almost exactly what you’d expect Aziraphale’s cottage t be like. Quaint, cluttered, warm, old. The kids are excited to see him. Crowley visibly brightens to see them and hangs with them while Aziraphale disappears and changes into something warm and dry.

Aziraphale’s makes him take his soaked shoes and socks off at the door. Explains that it’s his cottage mostly during the winter, but during summer it’s rented out, quaintly, to holiday makers, and this last long weekend, he’d also made a little extra money with a couple coming though. “I do hope they left everything as it should be.”

They did. “Tea?”

“Coffee, strong.”

“Instant okay?”

“Yup.”

Crowley collapses back into the chair and they spend a little snipper of time bonding but doesn’t actually discuss the cars which is meant to be the point. Crowley learns about the kids, learns that Aziraphale is a somewhat successful writer (of books on books and also something else but that’s a secret) and then makes ends meet with his house being a holiday home, and freelance bullshit writing for magazines that draws him back to town often enough to keep him hooked in.

Crowley gives an obvious shiver and stares at his phone hopefully.

“How terrible of me! You look like a drowned rat, you must be freezing!”

“Nothing a hot shower and a good rest won’t shift.”

Aziraphale’s face falls. “Oh, I’m so sorry, but there’s no shower.”

“How can there be no shower?”

“I could only fit a shower or a bath and I wanted a bath.”

“Hot bath then.”

“Certainly.”

Another pronounced shiver and Crowley places his coffee cup down with a too-loud, shaking clink.

“Sorry, I should have gotten you out of those clothes as soon as we got here.”

“Very forward of you, but better late than never.” It’s a flirtatious grenade – when did that possibility enter the conversation?

Aziraphale ignores it until not long after, the bath is full and steaming and he has dry clothes for Crowley to change into. “high time we warmed you up.”

“Can think of better ways to warm me up.” (Yes, I seem to be going for the age old, Crowley is a slut and rather happy about it)

Aziraphale flushes bright red. “I really don’t know what you mean.”

“Sex, is what I’m saying. I’m full of adrenaline and it seems we’re cohabitating for the night. You’re clearly as gay as (?) so why not?”

“I hardly think such a shaky foundation merits a one night stand.” And ushers him back into the bathroom.

“Hows about the fact that you’re gorgeous? That a good enough reason?”

Aziraphale laughs and blushes and feels so damned good with it that he’s temped.

Crowley sneezes and Aziraphale pushes him back into the bathroom, leaving clothes and an extra towel in Crowley’s arms as he pulls the door closed between them.

When Crowley emerges, it’s in just a towel, one more attempt at a seduction, and a good fuck if it’s on offer.

And Aziraphale gives in. Because why not. Messy kisses in the bathroom door frame. Until.

“Fuck, yes,” from Crowley, turns to “Fuck, fuck,” in a bad way.

“What?”

“Shit. Is all.”

“What?”

“I… don’t know your name yet.”

“How rude.”

“I know.”

“Aziraphale.”

Crowley doesn’t tease, just tries it on. “Bit of a mouthful.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

…

And the end up in the guest bedroom (neater, and I don’t need to change the sheets out after guests.” Crowley grunts approval as they tumble back and have some fun.

They’re still just making out when Crowley’s phone rings and he tries to pull back and Aziraphale tries to stop him. Crowley pulls him off with a hand in his hair, rough, and Aziraphale loves that but Crowley’s genuinely being forceful. “Stop it, that’ll be the vet.”

And it call comes crashing back in for a bit until Crowley’s face is awash with such joy.

“Out of surgery and anaesthesia. Groggy but an overwhelming success. She still thinks I’m batshit for spending that much of a fucking deer.”

“I’m very, very pleased to hear it.”

Crowley’s eyes narrow and then he realizes. “You’re not mocking me.”

“Of course not, you clearly care, and it’s an admirable thing to care about. Though it is an obscene amount of money to be throwing around. You’ll have a queue of the goats out their tomorrow, wanting their own personal bequests for surgeries.”

Cue Crowley delivering a very life-affirming, very impressive blowjob.