#love it when my dream brain gives me free fic ideas

[justheblueberry]

handbinding of A Study in Scarlette by kittebasu

There are people who want to live forever, and then there is Shinichi, who just wants to live a little longer than this.

this bind has been in my head since i first read the fic like, three years ago. i dreamed up so many ideas for it, for so long, and now it's finally done! the typeset was actually done in early 2022, back when i was still using google docs, but it went through a few iterations because i was just. so. fiddly. with every aspect of this book. it needed to be perfect (as close to perfect as i, an amateur bookbinder out of my depth, can get) and it had to be absolutely over the top, to reflect the insane amount of love and care that the author put into the fic itself.

the first time i read this fic, i barely knew what detective conan was, much less all of the intricate plot details; i was just along for the ride, but by the end i was completely invested. i went back and watched through the anime as well as a few movies (it took me six months) and then read the fic again. and then a few more times. kaishin and the world of dcmk has utterly gripped me. it's 100% this fic's fault and i love it so, so, much.

i went through a few iterations of visual designs and i'm really happy with the little details i managed to squeeze in.

the entire color scheme is based around red, because 1) it's a murder mystery, 2) for scarlette shinamoto (and the title of the fic as well as the original holmes novel it references), and 3) the irony of "lady red" actually being red. the secret fourth reason is that i think red/gold is a super sexy color combo.

i sewed the textblock with red thread to reference holmes' "scarlet thread of murder".

another detail i love is the five yen coin bookmark, it was one of my first ideas and it turned out even better than i thought.

i wanted the endpapers to evoke a sense of the white marbled floor of the ballroom, with the glow-in-the-dark kaitou kid caricature being the luminol on the floor, and the little pops of red looks like blood that's been mixed in. i lucked out in that the other side of the endpaper was like a lavender-purpley color, i like to think of it as a little wink wink nudge to the color of the actual Lady Red.

the chapter pages got a few reworkings, but i'm happy with the illustrations i ended up doing for each of them. the chapter titles are one of my favorite things about the fic, each one has so much meaning packed into it and flows so beautifully, and i wanted to put as much care into making them pop as possible.

the cover was a linocut carving i designed and carved, which i then printed onto the bookcloth, and ironed on htv on top.

i also threw in a couple of my drawings of my favorite scenes.

this is getting way too long, so i'll end it here. i'll have a separate post detailing the process every step of the way, if anyone wants to take a closer look. this fic is kind of directly responsible for getting me into fanbinding, so it's safe to say it altered the course of my life. i now spend way too much time (and money) looking at book stuff.

kittebasu, if, somehow, you see this and would like an author copy, i would be honored to make one and ship it to you; i would be overjoyed to gift you with any art i have the ability to make, because the fics you wrote have irreversibly altered my brain chemistry, and being able to give back in any capacity would be a dream. (thank you.)

a few postscripts:

i am not selling any copies of this fic. partially because i believe in the gift economy of fandom as well as firmly keeping fanbinding a hobby that will stay unmonetized, but also because it took me months (years, if we are counting when i first finished the typeset) to finish this and i do not have the strength.

however, if you are also a fan of this fic and would like a copy, i honestly, fervently, encourage you to give fanbinding a try! renegade publishing and its discord server are an absolutely wonderful and free resource. i knew nothing about bookbinding and had zero materials when i first started, but i've learned so much thanks to the lovely people there. if you're still apprehensive about getting started, i'd be willing to share my typeset of this fic as well as answer any questions about the making of this book if you DM me.

[pink-sparkly-witch]

Taken for Granted, Part One

Summary: Having had his share of dangerous situations and close calls in Houston, this was meant to be the start of a quieter, slower life for Beau, Y/N and their daughter. Taking the job as Acting Sheriff in Helena, Montana, was a dream come true until Beau starts to spend far too much time with Jenny Hoyt, in and out of the office. At first, Y/N doesn’t mind too much, but one night Beau misses his daughter’s hockey tryouts and phone calls in favour of shooting tequila in a bar with his co-worker, and Y/N isn’t sure if she’s being taken for granted or if something bigger is going on that she needs to worry about.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Female Reader

Warnings: Meet cute, flirting, angst, mentions of injuries, arguments, language, accusations of cheating.

Bingo Square: Free Space for @j3bingo

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: This is my first submission on my @j3bingo card. It was beat’d by the lovely @writethelifeyouwant and is my first Beau fic! I hope you enjoy! 💖

My Masterlist     AO3    Ko-Fi

Being married to a police officer wasn’t easy, and Y/N knew that. She’d lost count of the number of promises she’d made throughout her younger years that she would never fall for a cop, and so in true Y/N fashion she did, in fact, fall for a cop.

She was from a police family; her grandpa, dad, and brothers had all felt the calling, and she knew they were disappointed that she didn’t follow the same path. It was like she wasn’t ‘one of them’ because she didn’t wear a badge and carry a gun, and their relationship became tense and strained.

Then she met Beau Arlen.

Finally, her family saw her differently. She became the hero because it was the stronger person that sent their loved one off with a goodbye kiss every morning, not knowing if they’d come home.

“So, uh… I’d really like to see you again. Take you on a date,” Officer Arlen had said after questioning her about the brawl that broke out in the bar where her friend’s bachelorette party was in full swing.

“Have they changed the rules about cops dating witnesses, Officer Arlen?” Y/N smirked.

“You’ve corroborated what fifty other people in this bar saw, but you didn’t see enough to be an official witness,” Beau explained.

“I don’t do cops,” she replied, trying to sound uninterested and not fall for his boyish charm and infuriatingly handsome face.

“I’m not asking you to “do” me, Miss Y/L/N, I’m asking you to go on a date with me,” the officer smirked, and she rolled her eyes.

“I don’t date cops,” Y/N changed her wording, trying to make him give up and leave her alone.

“Why, you got a problem with authority or something?” Beau was grinning. She knew he was flirting with her, and although he was cute and she was tempted, Y/N knew the second he found out the truth about her, he would run for the hills.

“You have no idea who I am, do you, Officer Arlen?” Y/N said, chuckling when he looked like he was searching through a Rolodex in his brain.

“Well, ma’am, I’m pretty sure I’d remember if I’d hooked up with a woman as beautiful as you. In fact, if we’d hooked up, I would never have let you go, so it’s not that.” Beau was teasing and she knew it. She’d have already gone home with him if he had any other career.

“You really have no idea who I am?” Y/N asked again, more seriously this time.

“Should I?” he replied, his tone matching her seriousness for the first time since he’d questioned her about the fight.

“Huh… I’m surprised my face isn’t ingrained in y’alls memories at training,” she mused. “My father is Joe Y/L/N, Chief of Police.” Now if that didn’t get this guy to back off, nothing would, Y/N thought.

“Is that meant to scare me away, or…?” Beau let his question hang in the air, and she had to admit, his complete indifference to who her father was–who her family were–only made him more appealing to her.

“When most guys find out who my father is and that I have three brothers on the force, they usually run a mile in the other direction.”

“I’m not most guys, darlin’.” Beau’s charming smile was obnoxious. And intoxicating. And stunning. “So, how about that date?”

Already on her way to falling for him, Y/N agreed to a date, and they’d been together ever since. They got married two years later, just before he was made detective, and she’d been by his side every step he climbed in the ranks of Houston P.D. Three years into their marriage, Y/N gave birth to their daughter, Maisie.

Growing up as she had, Y/N was well aware of the risks being a cop came with, but Beau took it to a completely new level. He was always going against protocol, putting himself in dangerous situations and taking unnecessary risks.

The worst incident had been when he ran after two armed robbers without waiting for backup. He caught one of them, but just as he handcuffed him and read him his rights, the other thief turned and fired. He’d been incredibly lucky that the bullet only hit his clavicle. If it had landed an inch to the left, it would’ve got his carotid artery and killed him.

Six months back on the job he did the exact same thing: chased down two armed drug dealers without any backup. Both perps opened fire this time, and it was a miracle he hadn’t been shot again.

They’d had the worst argument of their entire relationship after that, leading to Y/N not speaking to him for days. She felt it was more than justified because he’d been seriously wounded less than a year before and gone through several surgeries and weeks of physiotherapy. Not to mention Maisie was only four years old and Y/N really didn’t want to tell their daughter that her daddy wasn’t coming home.

Two weeks later and still in the midst of a silent standoff, Beau had tried to tell her that a dangerous operation to take down the biggest drug kingpin in Houston was going down that day. Y/N remained silent as she packed Maisie’s lunch for kindergarten and at his insistence that they talk about things, she’d responded pettily as she lifted Maisie out of Beau’s arms and made to leave for the day.

“I’d say be careful, but you and I both know you don’t know the meaning of the word,” Y/N spat at him.

“Darlin’, please,” Beau had sighed, defeated but knowing he kinda deserved it. Even he knew he’d been stupid chasing after armed suspects without waiting for backup. Twice.

“At least this time, try to remember you have a daughter and a wife at home and to not get yourself nearly killed.”

Beau didn’t make it to the precinct that morning. A dirty cop on the task force had told the cartel boss what was going down, and Beau had been attacked and kidnapped from a gas station as he’d filled the car on his way to work. He’d been held hostage, tortured, and beaten for four days.

When they finally found him, he’d been at death’s door. Lucky to be alive, all of the doctors had said. The first time they let Y/N in to see him after they’d run their tests and stitched him up, the sight of her husband’s broken and beaten body almost killed her.

Watching her sob at his bedside, Beau had tried to calm her down, but the guilt she had over their fight, over what her last words to him were, and the fear that she’d almost lost him—again—was too strong. She couldn’t even hug him for fear that she’d hurt him more.

All night she’d sat by his bedside, watching him sleep, thankful for everything she still had and grateful he’d fought so hard to stay alive for her and Maisie.

The next morning, they’d agreed to never go to bed, or leave the house angry at each other, again. It’d been too much of a close call, and they both knew they’d never forgive themselves if the worst had happened and they hadn’t been speaking.

After his first dose of morphine for the day, when Beau no longer felt like he’d been hit by a bus, he encouraged Y/N to curl up with him on the uncomfortable hospital bed, giving both of them the comfort and affection they’d missed for the past few weeks.

That promise to never go to work or bed angry at each other lasted for eleven years. Yes, they argued and had disagreements, and more than once they’d gone to bed or about their days hurling a rather aggressive “I love you” at the other, but they’d never left the other in any doubt that they still loved and cared for the other.

Until now.

This was the sixth night in a row Y/N had gone to bed alone, and just as many days she’d woken up that way too. Beau had told her that moving to Montana would make it better, that he wouldn’t work as long hours or have as many dangerous encounters as he’d had in Houston.  At first, he had been right.

The first few months in Helena had been great. Beau was home in time for dinner every night, and they had breakfast as a family every morning. He didn’t even have a close call once a week, never mind several times a day. By all accounts, in those first couple of months, being Acting Sheriff in Helena, Montana, had been everything Beau and Y/N had hoped for.

Then he started working longer hours and responding to calls a sheriff should be sending his deputies to. Not to mention Beau would attend those calls with an officer who wasn’t even his partner. An officer he was currently in a bar with; drinking tequila, singing karaoke, and posing for pictures with, according to her social media. And so, once again, Y/N had gone to bed alone.

The sound of the shower running roused Y/N from sleep, and she glanced at the alarm clock. Frowning at the late hour, she turned on her back and set her gaze on the ceiling as she waited for the water to shut off.

It felt like an hour, but she knew it was only a few minutes later that Beau emerged from the bathroom, rubbing his damp hair with a towel.

“It’s a little late for a shower,” Y/N stated, making Beau jump, clearly startled she was awake.

“Jesus, darlin’, you scared the crap outta me!” Beau chuckled. “Did I wake you?”

“You were having a shower at three in the morning, Beau, of course you woke me.” Y/N’s voice was filled with irritation that she knew he’d be able to pick up on.

“I’m sorry, baby. It was a later night than I planned. Thought I’d save some time by showering now instead of the morning.” Beau carelessly threw his damp towel onto the bathroom floor and walked towards the bed, completely naked and standing at half-mast.

Normally, the sight of him naked and hard would have her salivating and pouncing on him the second he lay down, but not tonight. Tonight, she couldn’t help but visualise Jenny on her knees sucking him off. She didn’t know where the unwelcome image came from, she knew he wouldn’t cheat on her… or at least she used to know that. 

Logically, Y/N also knew that the fact he was hardening with every step he took meant that that kind of activity hadn’t been happening while he was out, but she was hurt and confused and still half asleep. And men did not drink tequila in bars with other women all night and then come home at three o’clock in the morning and jump straight into the shower if they’d been faithful now, did they?

“I’m surprised you’re walking in a straight line. It looked like quite the party you and Jenny were having to yourselves.” The irritation in Y/N’s tone had increased tenfold since she last spoke.

“It wasn’t that kinda night, what with Jenny’s mom being in the wind again.” Beau frowned, and the fact that he was playing the night down hurt even more and made her exhausted with the whole situation.

“Huh,” Y/N huffed. “Social media really must be all smoke and mirrors after all because she didn’t look too beat up about it in the photos. In fact, it looked like you two were having a great time shooting tequila and singing karaoke, looking all cosy together,” she spat and turned her back on him.

“Y/N,” Beau sighed.

“I need to get some sleep. I promised Maisie I’d get her to school early tomorrow so she can pick up her uniform before her first practice with the senior hockey team.”

“Maisie made the team?” The pride in her husband’s voice made her smile for the briefest of seconds until she remembered she and their daughter were mad at him right now.

“Yes, which you’d have known if you’d come to the game tonight instead of going out drinking, or if you’d picked up any one of your daughter’s eight calls. You know, she was really upset that she couldn’t get a hold of you, Beau.”

“Great,” he said as he slid a large, warm palm over her waist, and she shivered at his touch. “I’ve upset both my girls.”

“All for Jenny and some tequila. I hope she was worth it, Beau, because I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”

“Y/N, come on,” he pleaded, “it was just a few drinks.”

“For the fourth time this week. And until three in the morning again. I haven’t physically spoken to you since Friday, and the only reason we’re talking right now is because you woke me up. You know, all these late nights with another woman are starting to throw up all sorts of red flags, Beau.” Y/N said angrily as she turned to look at him.

“You know I’d never,” Beau’s firm voice and clenched jaw almost made her back down but he needed to know. He needed to hear this.

“Do I?” she scoffed. “Jenny isn’t even your partner, and yet you go on every case with her while her actual partner does what, huh? Sits at his desk and throws a football across the bullpen to his buddies? You’re the sheriff, for crying out loud, Beau! You don’t need to go out on even half of those calls! And then when your shift is over, the two of you run off to whatever dive bar you can find on the outskirts of town where no one knows you, and you can practically grope each other all night and-”

“Y/N, I’m gonna stop you right there. There is nothing going on with me and Jenny, okay? We’re just friends. And  she’s going through a tough time right now,” Beau tried to explain, but Y/N scoffed again and pretended not to notice that Beau was looking quite hurt that she doubted him.

“And tell me, Beau… would you believe that bullshit excuse if it was me, huh? What would be running through your mind if I was out drinking with a co-worker, singing karaoke, pulling him into hugs, playing with his hair and getting up close and personal with him?

“What would you think about that co-worker posting what looks like incredibly intimate photos on social media, knowing you could see them? Our daughter could see them? That the whole town could see them?” Y/N paused and showed him her phone.

She watched intently as he scrolled through the photos Jenny had posted with her arms around him, her head on his shoulder, her gazing up at him like he was the goddamn messiah. She watched as his face paled with the realisation of what those photos—particularly the last one—looked like.

“And what would you think if I came home from a night out, where there were photos of me and another man, who was “just a friend” like that,” she pointed at the photo of him and Jenny, his arm around her shoulder and his head resting on hers, one of her arms was around his waist, and her other hand resting on his chest, both smiling softly like they didn’t want to be anywhere else.

“What if I ignored all of your and our daughter’s calls, and when I finally came home, I went straight into the shower at three o’clock in the morning.”

“Y/N, I know what it looks like,” Beau tried to explain, but she couldn’t. Not right now. If she didn’t hit this home, he wouldn’t know just how much it had upset her.

“See, I don’t think you do. Not really. Because if it was me, you’d think showering so late meant that I was trying to get rid of the evidence of being with another man. You’re a good cop, Beau. A great one, even. So I find it really hard to believe that you wouldn’t think that. And that you wouldn’t have realised that things were getting far too close in there.

“And if something like this happened when we were still in Texas, you’d have ended the night right away and came home to your wife… or maybe that’s it. Maybe without my dad and brothers having eyes and ears everywhere, you’re finally free to do what and who you want!”

Y/N threw the duvet off her body and sat up on the bed. Dragging her pillow with her, she stood and walked across the room.

“Baby, where are you going?” Beau asked, and she could hear the regret in his tone.

“Anywhere that’s not here. I don’t want to be anywhere near you right now.”

Y/N barely slept a wink, and she knew her agitation was hard to hide in the morning. As she prepared the coffee machine, every drawer and cabinet door was closed a little more firmly than usual, and she seemed to have developed a fondness for huffing very loudly at inanimate objects.

“Did Dad even come home last night?” Maisie asked as she entered the kitchen. Y/N wanted to scold her daughter for her impertinence, but even she couldn’t deny that it was a fair question. He hadn’t been here when they’d gone to bed or woken up for the better part of a week. For all either of them knew, he hadn’t been home at all in that time.

“Hey!” Beau’s raised voice carried through the kitchen. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh!” Maisie exclaimed dramatically, “So that’s what you look like. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you that I was starting to forget.” Her sarcastic grin was uncannily like her mother’s, and it simultaneously made Beau’s chest burst with pride and broke his heart.

Y/N raised her eyebrows in surprise. Maisie had always been a daddy’s girl, and the fact that she was giving him a hard time was proof of how hurt she was too. Beau looked to Y/N, his expression begging her for some backup. Instead, she shrugged and carried on packing Maisie’s lunch, making it clear that this time, he was on his own.

“I know I haven’t been around much, baby girl, and I’m gonna change that, okay?” Beau said softly, sighing when Maisie scowled at him.“Mom said you made the team! I’m so proud of you, Maze,” he smiled, trying to defuse the tension building in the room.

“Where were you?” Maisie asked, tears welling in her green eyes, looking more vulnerable and hurt than Y/N ever wanted to see her daughter, and it made her even angrier.

“I’m sorry I missed the game–” Beau started but was interrupted by a scoff from his daughter.

“I’m not mad that you missed the game, Dad. You always miss stuff like that because of work,” she explained quietly. “But you always answer my calls, and last night you didn’t. So, where were you?”

“I… I was–” Beau struggled to figure out what the best thing to do was. Lie and hope Y/N didn’t rat him out or tell the truth and upset his girls even more than he already had.

“Your dad caught a case late last night. He was at the scene when you were calling, and by the time he got back to the station, he knew you’d be asleep,” Y/N answered for him, and Beau had never been more grateful to her for covering for him.

“Are you ready, honey? We need to get moving if you don’t want to be late for your first practice,” Y/N said and watched as Maisie smiled for the first time since dinner last night.

“Yeah, let’s go. Bye, Dad!” Maisie jumped off the stool and rounded the kitchen, hugging Beau before heading out to the driveway.

“Thank you,” Beau said quietly, stopping abruptly as Y/N raised a finger to stop him talking.

“Don’t you dare thank me for lying to our daughter. And don’t ever expect me to do it again. I did it to protect her, not you. If she finds out the reason you missed her game and didn’t answer her calls was to go out drinking, you will break her heart.

“You get this one for free. Next time… and I swear to God, there better not be a next time, but if there is? You are on your own. I won’t save you.” The venom in Y/N’s voice made him flinch. He’d never felt worse than he did right now, and he swore to himself that he’d never make his wife so angry again.

“It’s not just me you’re hurting here, Beau.”

Y/N picked up her purse and stormed out the front door, not stopping to kiss him or say goodbye; just gone.

And Beau didn’t blame her in the slightest.

P art Two>>

Tags: @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @leigh70 @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27 @candy-coated-misery0731 @mrsjenniferwinchester

[gabessquishytum]

Hello Friend,

I am begging you to hear me out on a fic idea I just have not the time nor talent to write for now. But I really want to one day so maybe if you’ll help me get some of it out? Or feel free to add to it! It goes like this:

Hella slow build, Hob has been searching for Dream since he missed their meeting 24 yrs ago. He has nothing more to go on that Johanna Constantine looking for a being of his stranger’s description. But one day he sees Death and she can no longer hide from him that Dream was captured. She fesses up and gives Hob a hint of who to look for: “The Magus shouldn’t have been strong enough, Hob. Someone else helped him so you should stay away from it.” Hob won’t listen to that and she knows it. Bada-bing bada-boom Hob fishbowl savior intro is done.

The big thing I cannot get out if my mind is the LONGING. That they become friend friends who BOTH talk, about former lovers and sons, who visit each other’s houses, who eat together and cry together, who watch movies and maybe cuddle slightly too closely. I’m talking about the longing of too many wistful stares, too many deep silences, too much hand holding and charged eye contact, and so many unsaid words but it mostly being, “I love you.” Then after 20+ years of friendship, after Hob has reinvented himself again they finally have it out.

It was a family dinner or some stressful event for either Hob or Dream where they get too tipsy and too honest. “Gods Dream, can I finally kiss you?” Dream runs to the Dreaming out of fear but Hob finds his way to the throne room. Dream can only stare at him as he ascends the stairs and by god, why is he so beautiful? Why is he so unobtainable? Hob is not hurt, not angry, he’s confused. This cat and mouse game is so like them yet when they should have started furiously making out on Hob’s couch, Dream had disappeared into the air.

“I don’t understand, Dream. Surely, you must know how much I feel for you. I haven’t been able to hide it since you that day you shot a ramen noodle out of your nose at my impression of Destiny.” Dream chuckles but he still doesn’t look up from where his hands clench at his robe, pulling the stars around him like a shield. Hob steps forward so that their feet almost touch and he gently cups Dream’s face. Dream sighs as he melts into that hand and he’s grateful Hob does not make him look up further because seeing his beautiful face would crush him. Hob continues as a thumb caresses along a pale cheekbone. “I worried for centuries that you didn’t feel the same but I see the way you look at me. I know the regard you have given me in spades is so rare that even Lucienne couldn’t believe it. And I know I can comfort you, that I can make you laugh and that I am not afraid of any aspect of you. I can love you like you have never been loved before. And I know that you know it. So can you tell me why you ran?”

Dream takes a long time to say what he’s been thinking because while he needs Hob to know he is afraid what Hob knowing it will mean. “I will not have a relationship with you, Hob.”

“Why not?”

“I have already stated my intent, why must you know the reasoning?”

“Because I know you aren’t thinking about this right so I want to know what your lovely brain is cooking up there in order to make this reasoning.”

Hob says it so plainly, so lightheartedly that it should make Dream angry if it wasn’t something he adored about the man. But he will feign angry anyway in a spiteful attempt to get Hob to back off even though it’s obvious to them both that he won’t. “I won’t explain myself to a mere mortal. I cannot be with you so end this folly.”

“I’m actually immortal and cannot die so… And you said can’t that time.”

It was a trap. Dream turns away with a huff, out of Hob’s intoxicatingly warm palm. He walks towards the stained glass windows hoping the distance will help settle him but considering it’s colorful swirling motif is a representation of Hob’s joyous laugh the irony almost makes him scoff. He is so fickle these days. His false anger turns to embarrassment and then that turns to agony. He wants nothing more than to sink into Hob’s arms but he cannot be so weak as to ruin him. He is in the heart of the Dreaming at the helm of his throne but deep inside he knows Hob has all the power here. How long had that been true?

“Dream? My love, what are you thinking?”

Hob’s kindness burns him. Immediately his proverbial heart slams into his throat, choking him and tears well in his starry eyes. If Hob won’t take his anger maybe he would take the truth. “I cannot care for you in this way, Hob. I would not see you scorned the way I have ruined all those who previously cared for me.”

“Dream. You would not ruin me. And even if you did I would thank you for it.”

Images of Hob’s imagining flood in. Him crying with a reminiscing smile. Them screaming at each other and slamming doors. Hob wearing a suit of armor about to fight Hell for Dream and asking only to kiss him upon the hand as a boon though he knows he will never return from battle. It’s too much so Dream folds further in on himself.

“Love, please. I can see you’re hurting. Let me help you, let me love you.”

His pleading hurts and Dream does something he has never done before. He turns to face Hob and suddenly drops to his knees in front of him. Hob immediately lunges to pick him up but before he can do so Dream lays his hands on the icy stone before Hob’s bare feet. He closes his eyes against the tears there and places his forehead between his upturned palms. “Please. Please, Hob Gadling. Grant me mercy from this torture.”

Hob’s stunned into silence at the king kneeling before him. “Dream…I…”

“I beg of you, Hob. I could not bear it if I hurt you the way I have hurt those who came before you in loving me. Even now, I cannot say the words for fear calamity would instantly strike you down. So please, I am begging you as all that I am. As Dream of the Endless, Oneiros, Morpheus, Ruler of Dreams, King of Nightmares, and the master of the Dreaming and its inhabitants, I beg you please, do not love me.”

Silence echoes in the hall and the only sounds that make it pass the roaring in Hob’s ears is Dream’s unspoken words. I love you.

*****

That’s all I got so far in this hour long sleep deprived rant session (sorry!) but all that really matters to me is the image of Dream kneeling. Him begging Hob not to love him because I have always thought Dream would never accept Hob’s love so easily out of fear for hurting him because of course he’s already in love. I just always like the idea of them knowing but not saying anything because longing and pining are what make love confessions feel so much like relief. And I just want Hob to be as patient in this matter as a man who waits decades for an unknown friend. But mostly, I just want to be in looooovvvvveee.

Sorry this got out if hand lol. I did not mean to drop all this on yah😅 Any thoughts?😅 I know this isn’t like your normal asks but I’m ace so the smuttiness doesn’t occur to me so naturally. But if I ever get to writing this (in 10 years lol) then I will defs have some crying throne sex for you😘

Have a great day!! Thank you for all your wonderful thoughts that bring me joy everyday!!❤️

-🧶 Anon

🧶 anon you have RUINED me. Dream begging Hob not to love him??? Hi I'm going to cry. Dream has hardly ever begged in the entire course of his existence!! He desperately wants to tell Hob that he loves him - he can't even say it! He'd rather beg and humiliate himself than risk hurting Hob.

And poor Hob 😢 what would you do if the love of your life BEGGED you not to love him?! Holy shit!!!!

Hngnng. Thank you for sharing this, I hope you have the opportunity to continue with it! I think it has amazing potential and you can make lots of us cry with this concept!!!

[findafight]

tell us the ship, explain your thoughts 👀

Me trying to be vague and everyone immediately perking up like prairie dogs ready for tea alskfnkdkd. Idk I don't think it'll surprise anyone on my blog I've spoken about it in the past. Just got annoyed at it always being there for no reason and not making sense to me one too many times, I guess.

It's r0nance. I simply do not vibe with it at all. I think, if given a sterile au where there's nothing and no one connecting them and no homophobia to worry about, it might be interesting to possibly explore them being attracted to each other but realizing their personalities and goals and priorities clash too much to work out. A bright first fling into maybe-love that fizzled quickly. I've sort of done this in my post o66 sto bin au for them, but I'm probably not going to actually explore it there. (As it's already in the past even during the war for that au)

But in fics that try to be more or less canon/fix it type deal, it really doesn't make sense to me without even mentioning the hairsprayed elephant in the room. Robin and Nancy's personalities don't seem to mesh well, what with Robin's rambling tangents and Nancy's need to focus.

Robin would probably want to do something specific with her life, but she also wants to wander! Her parents are hippies and she wants to visit Paris. She wants to travel in Europe, and probably stay at sketchy hostels and backpack in the mountains, talking to locals that she doesn't have to worry about ever seeing again. Nancy is planning on immediately going to her dream school after highschool and likely pursuing a career right out the gate. She's very driven and focused, wants to go out and seize opportunities that can assist in reaching her goals, and I don't see Robin's dreamier personality traits fitting with that.

I think @thestobingirlie mentioned that while Robin and Nancy both experience the sexism and misogyny of the 80's, Nancy doesn't experience ableism as Robin does. And she doesn't try to understand where Robin is coming from, only openly appreciating her efforts after she ranted at the hospital director.

Robin rambles! We see her either ramble or give clipped answers ("I'm Robin I work with Steve!") When she's nervous or under stress or excited! We see both Nancy and Steve react to these rambles in different ways. When Robin goes off topic in the library with the conspiracy paper, or talks a bit too much about how much she talks a bit too much, Nancy's annoyed. She's initially dismissive of the national Enquirer esq newspaper Robin brings up that helps solve the case (go Robin!). Robin babbles at Steve a lot, and he never makes her feel bad about it. She rambles about rambling to Vickie and the Muppet joke and he adds little commentary as needed, letting her go, or he cuts her off with a little joke during her rabies freak out. He lets her ramble or lets her know she should stop without being actually annoyed and letting her know that by not telling her outright to stop. (She knows immediately that it's a joke, and she jokes back, although understandably nervously. I love them.)

Them being a background pairing so often is annoying, though to varying degrees. If it's just as Robin's gf mentioned I, like others, just kinda...change it to Vickie's name in my brain lol. But other times it's not and it just. Doesn't make sense why Nancy would be such close friends with Steve (her messy breakup ex!) and Robin and Eddie. That girl has big city dreams, she's getting the hell out of her tiny hometown and not looking back. Let her be free!!

I mean obviously the bit I hate about it is that Robin holds a grudge and Nancy broke Steve's heart, which I don't see as compatible, even if we take into account that it's likely Steve and Robin have no idea Nancy cheated on him, and that Steve is an unreliable narrator and blames himself for the breakup. Steve and his relationships with both Nancy and Robin are so pivotal to all three of their characters that ignoring the history there seems a disservice to the complexities of their relationships with each other.

[itsclydebitches]

Title: Paved With Good Intentions

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Relationships: Very background Charlie/Vaggie. 99% Charlie and Alastor interactions (with added Razzle and Dazzle)

Word Count: 3,863

Summary:

“Why... hmm. Okay, real quick: what’s an old-timey way of saying someone is full of shit?”

Charlie blinked up at him innocently, probably overdoing it a tad, but after a week of hearing him disparage her dreams as “wacky nonsense” she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not too much, anyway.

“Why, I’d say the sod is full of hot air! A far classier image than the one you’ve just conjured.”

“Then you’re full of hot air, Alastor.” Charlie grinned.

Or: Charlie wants everyone to know that she didn't invite the Radio Demon into her home without precautions.

A/N: First Hazbin fic! Jfc Alastor may be one of the hardest characters I've ever written for. Nailing his voice is gonna take a while.

Fic also below the cut if you prefer to read here 👍

Many in Hell (okay, most in Hell) were under the impression that their Princess was a delusional simpleton, unable to understand something as straightforward as how her own domain worked. Her little interview hadn't helped matters, even if it did reassure them that she could at least throw a decent punch. Really, Charlie only cared about her reputation in as much as it might attract new patrons to the hotel. She didn't need her people to love her, she just needed them to be safe .

(She'd said that to Vaggie once who promptly broke into a choking laugh. “Charlie. You need everyone to love you. All the time . You're just lucky you're really fucking good at it.”)

If strangers cursed her out on the street, that was fine. If her first soon-to-be-redeemed soul thought this was a hilarious fuck-up with only free board making it palatable, that was also fine. If her own father laughed awkwardly at the mere idea of her success that was fine because Charlie could see the good underneath their caustic words; the fear and vulnerability buried beneath their dismissal. Criticism rolled off her back like magma on a fire-duck and if shouldering the disdain of her community was the price of seeing them saved, Charlie would gladly pay it.

...Although, she did wish her closest companions had a little more faith in her. Not about the hotel necessarily, but just that she had a functioning brain she put to use.

“Your... goats?” Alastor said, tipping his head to narrow eyes at them.

“Goat-dragons,” Charlie corrected, not sparing him a glance. “Mom made them when I was younger, to act as my bodyguards when she and Dad weren't around. You would not beeeliiieve how many assassination attempts there were when I was a kid. Dad even dyed my hair once to try and give me a low profile and that was—well! You don't need to see those pictures. The point is that I didn't just let you in all willy-nilly, heedless of my own safety, or whatever it is Vaggie's been saying. If you'd meant any real harm they would have torn you to shreds.”

Charlie was in the process of re-styling the seating area for a slumber party that night. Which throw pillow better conveyed emotional safety to share one's most intimate secrets past 3:00am? Blue or yellow? Pursing her lips, she bounced from foot-to-foot a couple times before chucking both against the growing mound. After a good fluffing she nodded. Both. Both was good.

When she turned, Alastor was staring.

He'd only been at the hotel about a week but Charlie had noticed that he did that a lot. It wasn't just the fixed smile that lent weight to his gaze; he didn't blink . Leaning against Husk's bar with that microphone tucked under one arm, Alastor looked so at ease that Charlie knew it was all an act—the real Alastor, tentacled and laughing maniacally, simmered just beneath the surface. She'd have felt threatened by it if not for the fact that, well, Razzle and Dazzle were here.

Charlie shot them a quick smile. They'd piled on the carpet together, a mess of limbs and horns. Snores and the occasional 'meep' emerged to fill the silence.

“Well now, stop the presses! Our little lady is just full of surprises.” Alastor's grin stretched even further, seeming to creak along its edge. His hands connected in a shattering clap. “We haven't known each other very long, my dear, so I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding—entirely forgivable, I assure you—but I thought you just implied that these lazy, miniature vermin are capable of besting me?”

“ Don't talk about them like that! ”

The words snapped out of Charlie before she could consider reigning them in. She even saw a little smoke wafting upwards, a sure sign that if she let those emotions stew any longer her true form would burst through. Fucking hell, Charlie, you're giving orders to the Radio Demon now? Oh Lord. It was never good when her thoughts starting sounding like Vaggie, but Charlie stifled a groan as she admitted that yeah, that probably wasn’t selling the whole 'Capable of handling tough situations without needlessly endangering herself' vibe she was going for.

Alastor just smiled though. It was hard to tell, but Charlie thought he might have been pleased with her temper. There was something in the way he leaned forward onto the tip of his staff; off balance to start a fight, but magnetically drawn into the fray. “Easy now, darling! I never took to baloney as a child—horrific excuse for a meat, truly—but I can recognize it when I hear it. So you care for these... creatures? Well off course you do! A sweet, silly thing like you is bound to get attached to all manner of beings. The delightful,” he dropped into a sweeping bow, “—and the drab.” Alastor's staff kicked outward at the end of the gesture, landing on Dazzle's back leg. The goat-dragon gave a sleepy grunt at the disturbance but otherwise didn't stir.

Really, Alastor had hardly touched him, but Charlie still felt the tip of one fang digging painfully into her bottom lip. She took a deep, fortifying breath to cleanse herself of negativity. She was just stressed about the new Extermination timeline. And the sleepover. And the fact that the Radio Demon was now living down the hall. Just the other day she’d chastised Angel for a barrage of angry texts he’d sent without thinking and now here Charlie was, nearly flying off the handle for similarly petty reasons. Razzle and Dazzle were fine. She was fine, and her people were going to be fine if she had anything to fucking say about it. Charlie summoned up a smile to match Alastor’s own.

“You’re right,” she said. “An Overlord like you didn’t exist back when Mom made them, so she couldn’t have foreseen how powerful you are. I mean yeah, you’d probably win... even if there are two of them. But!” Charlie hastened to add, waving her hands as Alastor’s head cracked sickeningly to the right, “The point is that these hypotheticals are silly. Why do you care so much about who’d win in a fight? You’re never going to fight them. You don’t want to hurt me.”

Alastor’s head, still staring at her from its unnatural angle, began to vibrate oddly while the chest beneath it hitched. It took Charlie a long moment to realize that he was laughing. Not his usual, staccato Ha, Ha, Ha , but something that felt more genuine, despite the fact that no body—not even a demon’s—should be moving like that.

“Ah, what an entertaining bunny you are,” he said, a slight wheeze mixing in with the radio static. “Charlie dearest, have you forgotten that I was a serial killer? Am currently a hunter of Overlords? A keeper of souls? Are you truly under the misguided belief that I wouldn’t hurt you?”

It was terrifying how fast he didn’t move. Charlie watched as Alastor took his time lengthening each limb—spine cracking, joints tearing until they were only held together by sickly, glowing threads—and the tentacles he summoned were lazy as a house cat, inching towards her like they knew it didn’t matter how fast she ran. They’d catch her. The static grew to a high-pitched whine that hurt her ears and the very reality around Alastor began to distort, glitching horribly. One elongated limb reached out with claws glinting in the newly darkened foyer, fingers twitching, itching to rip out her throat.

Charlie blinked. She pursed her lips, gesturing emphatically to Razzle and Dazzle who still lay snoring on the carpet. “Are you listening to me? They’d have ripped you to shreds if you meant any real harm .”

She could see the exact moment Alastor gave up the performance. He froze, the very air particles freezing with him, and a pin-print of light sprang back into his eyes.

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s not—you can’t—” With a frustrated groan Charlie pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “It’d be easier to show you.”

She trotted through the bits of distorted reality (shivering because ugh ) and ducked under the long line of Alastor’s leg. His eyes tracked her as Charlie scooped a goat-dragon into each arm and nudged the hotel door open with her hip. Once outside, she slapped a drowsy Razzle onto her shoulder and cupped a hand over her mouth.

“Hello there!” she called to a passing demon.

“Who the fuck you yelling at? I’ll kill you, bitch!”

“Will you?” Charlie’s gaze slid to Alastor, now back in his everyday form, curiously peeking out from the doorway. “You know what? That sounds great! Really swell! Please come and kill me.”

The demon stopped in his tracks, staring incredulously up the hill at her fidgety form. “What? Fucking what ? You have a death wish?”

“Yes! Absolutely. Will you come kill me pretty, pretty please? Uh... you ugly, short-sighted asshole? Sorry, sorry sorry ,” Charlie muttered into Razzle’s fur.

“Oh, you’re a whole new level of crazy—”

The demon was adjusting his glasses with one claw and pulling out a clever with the other when Charlie felt Alastor’s energy at her back. She didn’t need to turn around again. The horror that descended on the demon’s face and his hasty exit said it all.

Razzle and Dazzle were now alert, tails thumbing, but neither made a move to go after the guy. Charlie released the breath she’d been holding and promised to write at least five Kindness Notes to leave around town tomorrow.

When she did finally look Alastor was twiddling his fingers at the demon’s retreating form. His eyes, however, were still latched onto Charlie.

“What an interesting way you have of entertaining yourself, my dear. I whole-heartedly approve! Let me take you out on the town—Cannibal Town, that is. You can offer your limbs to the first ravenous child we meet.”

Charlie cracked a smiled. “Uh... maybe later? I didn’t just do that for kicks, you know. The point is we’re living in Hell .” She ignored the way his eye twitched at the obvious statement. “Alastor, how many times a day do you think people threaten to kill me? Pull weapons? Or yes, try to eat me? If Razzle and Dazzle attacked everyone who simply appeared threatening I never would have opened the hotel because there wouldn't be anyone left to save. That guy? All bluster. I’m not sure how Mom did it, but they’re capable of sensing true intentions. They’ll only transform for someone with a real, sustained desire to kill me—or, I guess discorporate me—and the rest? The rest I can handle myself.”

“Hmm.”

Alastor bent forward, inspecting Dazzle closely. The goat-dragon panted happily in his face. “Fascinating! Powerful too, though I’d expect nothing less from the likes of Lilith. I must say, the confidence you hold in your own abilities is simply inspiring given what I’ve seen from you so far.”

Charlie blinked, trying to decide if she’d just been insulted or not.

“You remain delusional, darling,” he clarified, patting her head. Alastor’s grin widened at her scowl and he only pulled back when Razzle gave his fingers a quick lick, his static hissing like a cat. Charlie had the strong urge to chuck them both at the demon and let him suffer the fate of endless cuddles and sticky kisses.

She didn’t though. She was merciful.

“That’s why though,” Charlie said, shrugging so that Razzle had to dig his claws into her shoulder to stay balanced. Ow.

“Why what?”

Alastor had clearly lost the train of their conversation—or was pretending to—inspecting his own claws with the air of a bored Valley Girl.

“Why... hmm. Okay, real quick: what’s an old-timey way of saying someone is full of shit?”

Charlie blinked up at him innocently, probably overdoing it a tad, but after a week of hearing him disparage her dreams as “wacky nonsense” she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not too much, anyway.

Alastor’s eyes narrowed. Definitely suspicious, though not enough to deny her.

“Why, I’d say the sod is full of hot air! A far classier image than the one you’ve just conjured.”

“Then you’re full of hot air, Alastor.” Charlie grinned. “This whole shtick you’ve got going where you pretend like you’re just one insult away from killing us all; the super evil Overlord who could go on a rampage at the slightest whim? Yeah, I get why Vaggie is concerned, but that’s not gonna work on me.” She ran her hand gently through Dazzle’s hair, eliciting a purr. “You can toss out threats and transform all you want, but if you’d ever actually intended to hurt me, even just once... they’d have reacted. They’d have defended me, whether they could win against you or not. I didn’t let you stay because I was desperate for your help—although, ha, I kinda am. I let you stay because I trust you.”

The last was delivered softly and Charlie dared to lay a hand on his arm, oh so briefly. Alastor didn’t react. He appeared to be seeing something past her, the dials of his eyes ticking erratically.

The spell was broken when Razzle let out an explosive sneeze.

“Oh shit that reminds me! I need to pick up some almond butter for Sir Pentious. Apparently his human body was allergic to peanuts and he’s still pretty sensitive about it? And Angel made me swear I’d have peanut butter on hand for the s’mores if he was going to participate in the sleepover. I need to hit the shops before they close—can you get the other supplies ready while I’m gone? Thanks, Alastor, you’re a lifesaver!”

Charlie pelted down the hill with Razzle and Dazzle flying around her heels, both of them yipping at the prospect of a walk.

Alastor remained standing there for a long time after she’d gone. At a glance he looked the same as he always did, though if anyone had gotten close enough they would have caught the sound of a radio continually switching stations.

There appeared to be no connection between the clips. Except, perhaps, that each voice spoke in a tone of furious confusion.

***

The smell of popcorn and cheap booze was sickening.

Alastor’s grin never faltered—obviously—but there were small tears in the couch armrest that spoke of his disgust. In all his years alive and dead he’d never had the pleasure of attending a ‘slumber party’ before and the newfound honor was proving to be a dubious one. Sticky sweets, snacks, and spirits covered every available surface, thrown into truly unholy combinations as Husker passed his (admittedly substantial) limit. If they all hadn’t already been damned, Alastor suspected that making caramel popcorn whiskey floats would have done the trick. The other guests were decked out in their finest nightwear, resulting in them witnessing more of Angel than Alastor had ever wanted to see. Their sanguine Princess had led them through insipid card games, a pillow fight—which did not, apparently, allow for weapons or demonic beasts. Mores the pity—and worst of all: a production shown through that horrible picture box. If they craved entertainment he might have offered her the use of his radio, but...

Well.

In truth, nothing that had occurred here tonight had truly tested Alastor’s patience. If anything, this was merely a distilled version of their collective sins; hardly surprising. He had merely been...out of sorts since their little spat that afternoon. Though it was nothing Alastor couldn’t handle, of course.

(A block away six of Hell’s dictation speakers suddenly crackled to life, causing everyone in the vicinity to freeze, warily lifting their heads. Rather than the usual draconian drivel, however, a sustained, static-y growl began to sound.)

“They’re called Kindness Notes,” Charlie was saying, displaying her stack of colored paper like a trophy. “I got the idea from this awesome human website called Reddit that must just be filled with puppies and rainbows and—”

(”Think we should tell her?” whispered Cherri.

“Yeah, but only after she’s made a bunch,” Angel snickered.)

“—and so it’s the PERFECT activity for a redemption sleepover! Remember: there is no wrong way to go about a creative project, so have fun with it! I’ve got glitter gel pens and stickers—those are scratch and sniff!—and decorative hole punches and more stickers and ribbons and—”

“Stickers?” Husk asked, tipping his glass her way. Charlie nodded with the speed of a bobble-head doll.

“Exactly! Does anyone have any questions?”

“Yeah, I’ve got one.”

“Great!”

“How much sugar you had, kid?”

“Sooooo much!” and the stack would have gone flying if not for Vaggie’s quick reflexes.

“Alright, I’ll take it from here.” She dropped a quick kiss onto Charlie’s rosy cheek before distributing the paper. “You can write anything you want provided it’s nice . Like, actually nice and not your fucked up perception of nice. Don’t sign your name, but you can put a little HH at the bottom to help promote the hotel. Try not to get too many stains on these and yes, everyone has to participate.”

Vaggie stopped in front of the couch where Alastor sat, the only one still dressed and removed from the chaos of their snack-infested pillow nest. He hadn’t the slightest idea why she’d be glaring at him when she said that and he ensured the sentiment was conveyed through his grin.

“But of course!” he said, selecting red with a black pen.

“Humph. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Something nice? A truly daunting task, even for someone of his talents. After today Alastor was more convinced than ever that the Princess was the most insane of them all. Oh, it served his purposes deliciously that she should trust him, particularly with so little effort on his part, and yet it was insulting how naive she could be. Even if he’d had a conscious, Alastor was sure he’d have no qualms about upsetting the power dynamic of Hell and seizing it for himself. If this was their royalty... Hell deserved better. Someone with hunger. Someone with style. Their little bearcat was funneling her passion in all the wrong, most entertainingly stupid directions.

Alastor tilted his head as Charlie finished drawing a sunflower, Niffty flitting about as she swept up the glitter falling away. It looked... domestic .

Ah, but it would be so easy to slit her throat from this angle, spilling ‘paint’ all across the project. Or remove that pretty head from her shoulders, near instantaneously. Summon up his demon pet to crush her bones. Drop her into a void. Fill her mind with so many screams that her brain leaked out her ears in chunky rivers. Hollow her out and puppet her so convincingly that even their Dumb Dora wouldn’t recognize her. He could do it .

Beside Alastor, taking up their half of the couch, Razzle and Dazzle gazed upon the festivities with vacant expressions, tongues lolling.

One—he didn’t care to know which—turned its head and gave him a happy chirp.

(A block away the growl became an all-out screech, like a thousand souls blended together in agony.)

“I could do it,” Alastor whispered to them. He tilted his staff for good measure, ensuring the microphone pointed directly at Charlie. “I doubt your little ‘intentions’ magic is as powerful as she says. Even if it is, you beasts lack in imagination. Trust me, darlings: there are many ways to hurt someone that don’t threaten their physical safety.”

The second goat-dragon had joined in now, tilting its head curiously at Alastor. The first began thumping its tail against its companion’s face, pleased as punch, and suddenly Alastor felt a surge of genuine anger—the first in a long time.

“ She is only unharmed because I wish it ,” he hissed, “because she is more entertaining to me alive than dead!”

(The six speakers blew, showering citizens in shrapnel.)

“Alastor?”

He quickly blinked away the red light that had covered his eyes, turning his attention to Charlie.

“Apologies! Merely musing over what uplifting message I should grace the denizens of Hell with.” Alastor tapped a long claw against his chin, hamming it up. Only Vaggie was sober and de-caffeinated enough to catch on. The smile Charlie graced him with was... honest.

Violent images filled his head in response: of obliterating—or better yet—permanently stitching that smile into place. All the while those creatures sat beside him, both at perfect ease. One even edged closer.

He could do it. He would do it. The only reason Alastor hadn’t was because he didn’t want to do it yet .

But that day would come.

Dazzle sniffed the edge of Alastor’s sleeve. Razzle yawned.

Until then, their Princess was clearly in need of better protection. He’d assign a few shadows to her; sharp pieces of his silhouette who could tail the girl without notice. It would only require a bit of exertion on his part and the surveillance was worth it to ensure his favorite toy didn’t go dying before he had a chance to finish playing with her.

After all , Alastor thought, more at ease with that decision than he’d been all day, better the Devil you know.

“Do you know what you're writing?” Charlie asked, nearly having to shout over the commotion of an impromptu show-and-tell. Sugar and alcohol seemed to have loosened everyone’s dignity alongside their inhibition, because suddenly they all wanted praise for their absurd little notes. Generic messages of support were shoved under Charlie’s nose, led by Vaggie in a delightfully embarrassing display. Although, was it better or worse that Sir Pentious was equally desperate for Charlie’s approval? Angel slapped his note down on the table—complete with a diagram—and Alastor deliberately did not give it a closer look. (Husker’s spluttering was information enough, thank you.) Cherri was busy rolling hers into fuzes, muttering continuously about the message she’d send in the next turf war. Niffty had just written CLEAN in shaky letters across pages and pages and pages of notes.

All the while Charlie stared across the chaos at him. Imploring.

However could Alastor deny her?

“Oh, yes indeedy, my dear,” he said. “Patience—you’ll see it soon enough.” Alastor deliberately raised a hand, ensuring she saw, tracked, and understood when he laid in atop Razzle’s head. His hand was now large enough to crush the beast’s skull, claws poised to sink into vulnerable flesh, a dark ooze sizzling like acid that crept from a crack in his wrist, edging dangerously close.

Throughout it all, Razzle purred.

***

The next morning Charlie woke to find a red note taped to her bed, delivered by shadows. Dazzle was the first to find and drop it into his mistress’ lap, producing happy yips as he caught her expression.

“We’ll win him over,” Charlie said, grinning as she re-pinned the note to her mirror.

Alastor had given her just one word of encouragement, accompanied by a sketch of two dead goat-dragons:

SMILE

[galaxycunt]

Singing The Same Dream

shuggy thoughts Thursday

1k lil fic hehe

He had a good buzz going, a hand floating to scare the barmaid, endless liquor flowing, good times. Buggy would be lying if he wasn’t a man who recollects when he’s drunk, and a bad feeling about this night made his fingers twitch with anxiety.

Behind him the door swung open, loud chattering of a group of men bounced off the walls. This was good, he needed a distraction. He glanced over his shoulder to watch the men pile in, pirates. Even better.

”Yo, more rum over here! Before these fucks drink it all!”

“Buggy?”

He turned, limbs nearly falling to pieces to the floor. It was him, he didn’t fucking need this right now. Swiveling in his stool, he whipped back to face the bar.

”It really is you!” a hand slapped him hard on the back, “you’re looking good.”

”Yeah, well, you look like shit.”

He only laughed, “getting older I guess.”

Red-haired Shanks. He looked the same, same stupid hat, same stupid smile on his face.

”What you’re drinking, old friend?”

Time to make lemonade, “top shelf only.”

Shanks shrugged, ordering a bottle to share. Buggy swiped it as soon as it hit the counter, chugging the bottle to the last drop.

”Thanks for the free drink, shithead,” he said getting up to leave.

“Whoa, wait a minute. I just got here,” Shanks said tugging on his sleeve, “please, stay a little bit.”

Buggy shrugged him off, “it’s been how long now? 15 years?”

He smiled, “something like that.”

He knew this was a bad idea, but those old memories flooded back to him. His smile, his eyes, his lips. Buggy’s heart won out over his brain.

”Alright. Talk.”

Shanks smiled a little nervously, like he used to, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say.”

”Any good hauls lately?” Buggy said sarcastically.

“A little of this, a little of that,” he paused, “wait do you really wanna know?”

Buggy only glared.

So he told him, the treasure he found, a little village he liked to visit when he could, animated about everything the drunker he became. Shanks was living the dream life they wanted for themselves, he supposed he did too. Captains going their own way.

“God, Bug I remember what Roger used to say about you-“

”-don’t tell me that shit, man.”

”Why not?”

He frowned, “I don’t wanna hear this shit, bragging like a jackass.”

”Oh.”

Shank looked down at his drink, thinking of the right things to say. Buggy was reminded of the night they first kissed, how stupid it all was. Two lonely boys on a pirate ship with no one else their age in sight.

”It’s too loud in here, see ya shitface.”

Shanks followed Buggy out, “yeah you’re right. Fresh air would be nice!”

”I wanna be alone, moron!”

”But why?”

Buggy looked at the people passing by, how embarrassing. He was a fucking pirate captain, for god’s sake. So he walked toward the shore, not sure of where to go else with Shanks following him.

He was in love with the guy, so sure that Shanks was just bored and he was there. That was his life, being at the right place at the right time. He wasn’t made for love, getting what scraps anyone else wanted to give him.

The moon was beautiful and bright, dark waves crashed against white sand. Buggy kicked a rock at his feet, holding his breath for Shanks to say something.

”Why are you here, man?”

They locked eyes, “I didn’t mean to. But I’m glad we bumped into each other.”

”Is that right?”

”Yes,” he said quickly, “a welcome surprise.”

If he didn’t know better, Shanks looked flushed.

”Remember back in the day, that night on the island? I think the moon was just as big.”

Buggy closed his eyes, “yeah, I remember.”

”You…I think that night played in my mind for three weeks straight.”

”We were pretty young and dumb, huh?”

Shanks laughed, “yeah. We were, weren’t we? It was..nice, wasn’t it?”

It was before Roger died, Buggy braver than he ever been before, kissed his best friend. And he kissed him back. As large of a ship it was, it was hard to find the time to hide more kisses. Like two magnets, they always found each other’s lips.

Buggy used to worry that anytime they docked, Shanks would go off to find someone better looking to kiss. He never did, their first time together was in a cave they found on an island. The moon shone so bright, he looked like an angel.

Now they were drunk saps, the last remaining shred of dignity was screaming at Buggy to leave. Instead he sat in the cool sand, fingers tracing patterns.

”You’re a captain now, right?”

”Yeah.”

Shanks sat next to him, “I’m glad to hear it. I really am.”

Slowly his hand inched closer to him, fingers linking together. Buggy gulped, he couldn’t let this happen again. But why not? Why not?

”I’m sure there’s far more interesting men out there for you.”

Shanks shook his head, leaning closer. His breath smelled like liquor, this was a mistake. Buggy’s mind wrestled with a decision, a drunk kiss didn’t mean a thing. Even if it was 15 years overdue.

Shanks removed his hat, lips hovering over Buggy’s, “you were my best friend, you know?”

”I think I’m still in love with you,” he whispered.

Shanks exhaled deeply, a wide grin on his face. Buggy figured he was always going to be in love with him.

The kiss tasted bittersweet, Buggy’s other hand clutching the sand, letting it slip between his fingers as Shanks’s tongue slipped between his lips. It was bliss, just like every other time. He felt his heart in this throat, the wind knocked out of him.

”I gotta go.”

Buggy scrambled up as quickly as he could, tears burning hot. Shanks called out after him, words fading away.

He felt so stupid, he always so stupid. Rushing to his ship, he trembled as he locked the cabin door behind him.

They were drunk, of course they were. It wasn’t real, it never was. Shanks only got what he wanted, regardless of what Buggy felt about it.

Never again.

[floursramona]

Seeded

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Rating: G

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Fluff, a ridiculous amount of it, pining, canon-typical violence, flowers, I have minimal knowledge of the Star Wars universe, this may or may not be the beginning of a series, no use of pronouns, no use of y/n, some gendered nicknames, pre-relationship

Summary: Handing out flowers all day wasn’t exactly living the dream, but it got your bills paid. A stranger rolls through your neighborhood and you find yourself drawn to him. Oddly enough, he seems to feel the same.

Notes: This is my first ever venture into the Star Wars universe! Writing-wise, that is. I've consumed enough fic to last me a lifetime and I wanted to contribute my brain worms to the community as well. This idea came to me earlier this month, when I wanted to push myself to do something for Valentine's Day and now it's finally blossomed (ha) into… whatever this is. I may continue if I get an idea of where to go from here. Hope y'all enjoy and let me know what you think!

Cross-posted on Ao3

Handing out flowers all day wasn’t exactly living the dream, but it got your bills paid. Working at a plant shop was a unique experience and you couldn’t exactly say you regretted applying. On easy days you got to take your favorite post, and here you were, with a basket of cut wildflowers and enticing passersby to come inside. Your boss had always been eager to drum up business and what better than giving something away? 

On the busy and overpopulated planet of Coruscant, most people didn’t spare you a second glance, but tourists were always willing to stop and take a free and beautiful flower. From there, it wasn’t hard to convince them to come inside to see the whole garden and the workers inside were masters at sales pitches. Almost nobody left without a new plant for their homes or a bunch of flowers for their sweethearts. 

Standing outside a shop all day was rough sometimes, the sun beating down or the nasty smells but you always find yourself passing the hours people-watching. Even on your off time, you love sitting outside, making up stories and personalities for every being that walked your way. Which is exactly why, when you see the Mandalorian pass by you the first time, you are completely and utterly captivated.

It isn’t that you never saw warrior-types, no, in fact you’d seen many armored figures pass your shop. But you’d never seen one quite like this, covered head-to-toe in perfect, gleaming chrome. 

The armor is the first thing that catches your eye. The second is his posture.

If you had a less careful eye, you would have taken one glance and thought that he was inexperienced. Untouched armor is a dead giveaway for someone who hasn’t actually seen battle. Watching him stalk past your shop tells a different story. 

Even if he wasn’t wearing the armor, you bet he would still have that confident, broad stature. He isn’t peacocking, not strutting like he owns the place, but every bit of him says “I know who I am”. And Maker, do you like the look of that. 

Your inner musings silence all at once when you see his helmet turn towards you. The T-shaped visor gives him an intimidating brow and you feel yourself freeze, unable to look away. He isn’t anywhere near you, at least 10 other people walking past, but you feel like the only two on the street. You wonder if he feels the same.

A hand grabs your shoulder and the bubble suddenly pops, a sharp gasp leaving your mouth as you turn around. 

“Whoa! Didn’t mean to startle you,” It’s just your boss. You feel the hair prickle on the back of your neck and you’re tempted to turn back around, but he’s still speaking. 

“What? Oh, sorry. Just a little lost in thought.”

He chuckles at you, shaking his head. “I’ve just come to relieve you. Go take your lunch.”

Nodding, you hand him your basket of flowers and try not to rush inside. Your nosy coworkers would want to know what had you all flustered and what would you say? An armored covered stranger walking on the other side of the street looked at you? And you couldn’t even say for sure if he did, because he wore a helmet?

You chuckle at yourself for being silly. He was just another tourist. You see plenty of attractive people walking down the street every day.

But none of them usually spared you a second glance, your traitorous brain supplies. 

You shake your head to banish the thought, busying yourself with collecting your bag and credits where you keep it locked up in the back. You take your leave without saying anything, sure that your voice would give your unsteadiness away.

As you walk through the busy streets, you can’t help but fantasize a little longer. What if that armored stranger had been looking for a flower shop? You can’t imagine him wanting a floral arrangement but everyone could use a plant or two for their backyard. Does he even live here or is he from another planet? A silly pang runs through you as you imagine him living off-world - it means you likely wouldn’t see him again.

This time, you roll your eyes at yourself, entering your usual cantina for a hot meal. As the smells overtake you, you force yourself to leave the silly thoughts behind.

“Hey hon! Take a seat and I’ll be right with you,” The kind barmaid, Giala, who loves to waste time gossiping at your table, greets you and you smile. 

“You know what I want, Gee, I’ll be over at the booths. She grins back and nods, bussing the table in front of her. 

You take out your holopad to scroll through the news, but it’s quickly forgotten. You sit facing the door and a rowdy group of what appear to be businessmen draw your attention. You do your best not to stare, not that people tend to notice you much anyway. You find yourself rolling your eyes again as you listen to their conversation, and this time it’s apparent because Giala walks up to your table chuckling. 

“Those fellas are gonna be trouble, aren’t they,” she says, less of a question and more of a statement. She puts down your steaming hot bowl of… well, you weren’t always sure what was in it, but it was always delicious. 

“Eh, perhaps, but those types are usually harmless.” You’re quickly captivated by your food, hungry after a long morning on you feet. Your spoon is loaded up and on its way to your mouth when Giala says, “That shiny one over there might be a real issue though.”

It couldn’t be. You turn your head- it is. 

The armored stranger from earlier is standing by the bar. He’s obviously not there for a drink, too rigid and hands practically gripping the edge of the bartop. He’s scanning the room and once again locks glares with you, but the spell is quickly broken by Giala blocking the view when she crouches down in front of you. 

“I overheard someone say there was a bounty hunter sniffing around. Wouldn’t you think it’s him, just by the look of him?” Her eyes look at you eagerly and you peer around her again to study the figure. He’s looking back down at something in his hand. Something red and flashing, the reflection showing on his visor and it clicks for you.

“He’s a Mandalorian. I think. Supposedly some of the most feared warriors in the galaxy,” Something stirs within you that’s not quite fear, however. “Do you still work for that sleazeball manager?”

You look back toward her but before she can even get a sound out, shots are ringing out through the cantina. You thank the stars that you got your usual booth today, as you hit the ground and drag your friend under the table with you. She’s whimpering and covering her face, but you’re carefully watching the running feet from your position. 

Once the shots cease, which doesn’t take long, you hold just a bit longer. You can’t see anyone moving anymore, so you lean slowly towards the edge of the table for a better vantage point. You hear a few clicks and shuffling movements and when your head is out far enough, you see him again, arranging the cantina owner to drag him out by the cuffs on his wrist. 

A few other people are cowering under their tables, and there’s some scorch marks on the walls, but it doesn’t appear that anyone’s actually hurt. Well, except for the scumbag the Mandalorian’s got cuffed, but the groans he’s making give away his survival. 

The Mandalorian’s about to leave but he scans the room again, and, for what you hope isn’t the last time, meets your gaze. He nods- at you, you think? You hope- and leaves. For as intriguing as he was, suddenly you’re hoping that maybe he doesn’t pay your shop a visit.

___

Of course, he does. Well, not exactly, but just about a week later, you’re stood in front of the shop again and you spot the Mandalorian on your street again. Your stomach does a flip, partially out of fear that you might be the next one in cuffs, and partially at the thought that you might not be entirely opposed to that. 

He seems to be just as focused as the first time you saw him, but oh, how wrong you are. You’re staring again, you realize, because his helmet turns towards you, and your stomach is flipping again because now he’s making his way towards me, oh Maker, please tell me I didn’t commit some heinous crime in my sleep that placed a thousand credit bounty on your head and-

“Excuse me.” 

You snap out of your spiral at the sound of his voice, a lovely, deep, gravelly voice- 

“You work here.”

Fuck, you’ve gotta stop getting lost in your thoughts. He asked you a question. Except- he didn’t?

“Yes?” You manage to make your voice sound somewhat normal, if a bit higher pitched than usual.

“I assume you see a lot of people that go by,” he says and shit, it’s more than a little intimidating to have his attention on you. He’s fully facing you this time, only an arm’s length away. His hands are just resting by his sides, but the sheer amount of weaponry you see on him is not usual, even for this planet. 

“You’re not here to arrest my boss, are you?” you blurt out and already you’re regretting it. He tilts his head at you and it’s almost adorable, making you think of a confused loth-cat. 

“I don’t think so. I’m looking for this man. I’m told he frequents this area, and I’ve seen you out here every time I pass by,” he takes out a device that lights up with a hologram of a scruffy-looking human. Sure, you’ve seen him before, but wait- every time he’s passed by? As in more than once?

“I thought you found your bounty when you shot up the cantina last week,” and you reprimand yourself again mentally. Sure enough, he doesn’t seem happy with your phrasing when he shifts to cross his arms.

“Sorry- ‘shot up’ is a bit much. I just meant- I don’t always see that kind of… excitement around here. And we don’t exactly get a lot of folks who look like you either. So it’s a bit strange seeing you back so soon. W-why are you back again?” you’re babbling, and you know it. 

He doesn’t need to answer the question and yet he does, “I was completing a job and now I’m here for another one,” he lifts up the hologram again, “Do you know this man?”

“‘Know’ is a strong word. Have I seen him? Of course,” and you go on to describe how he often slinks around, a pickpocket who preys on the unsuspecting tourists of the area. You babble on far too long with a description of the habits you’ve picked up merely by observing, his full attention overwhelming you into running your mouth. 

“Thank you,” the Mandalorian says, when you finally finish. He tucks away the hologram device but he stays standing there for another second, just looking at you. Waiting for what, you’re not sure. He’s already asked what he needs for you. Maybe he would have said something, but you beat him to it. 

“Would you like a flower?” You curse yourself internally, you really just say the stupidest shit when you’re flustered. He’s still just standing there, fuck, fuck, please respond-

“I don’t- I don’t need a flower,” he says, hesitantly. 

You scramble through your basket for the right bloom, something not overly feminine, something that would fit his personality, something that’s not already dying and there-

“Here,” you thrust your hand out awkwardly at him, “just take it. A-as thanks.”

He cocks his head again, as if confused. “For what? I was the one seeking information.” 

“For getting rid of that asshole. In the cantina? He was a real scumbag and treated my friend like shit. I don’t know what kind of price was on his head, and I don’t know what you did with him, but the planet’s better without him. So thanks for that… you, uh, did a good job.”

He stays silent this time and Maker, that blank stare just pierced right through you. Before you lose your nerve, you reach out and wedge the stem in an empty slot of his bandolier. It looks almost silly, on a man so threatening but also fits in a strange sort of way. The spray of light blue blends quite nicely with the rest of his ensemble and the small buds don't actually attract too much attention. It reflects on his chest plate and you let yourself admire him for another moment. 

“Thank you,” he finally says, interrupting your unashamed ogling. “For your time and your token.”

“Anytime, Mandalorian.” The grin comes easily to your face.

He turns to leave but not before studying you for another moment and saying, “May our paths cross again someday.”

You watch him walk away and wonder if he really means it.

——————

[batshape]

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 ❤

thank you @samarqqand for the tag!! i spent the last two years finishing my masters, writing papers and proposals and a thesis etc, so i’ve been largely ficced out for a long time. but these five are my most darling works, and i will inevitably write more lesbian feanor/nerdanel, because i am addicted to dyke drama and they do it so well.

unfortunately, my two year break from writing fic also coincided with a very long sabbatical from reading fic, and i am desperate to catch up on the everybody’s greatest hits. tagging @i-am-a-lonely-visitor, @undercat-overdog, @crackinthecup, @aipilosse, and @potatoobsessed999 (but if you’ve already done it, feel free to do it again or to ignore)

now in no particular order (at least that i’ll admit), my top fic self-recs:

1. affectation: celebrimbor/annatar, t, 5k words, content warning for inevitable gore and torture mentions

Annatar knew the irritation in his own expression, could taste the disdain in his mouth. He said, rather plainly, “Celebrimbor of Eregion. I am going to eat you.”

i was taking a seminar on archive theory when i wrote this, and the idea of sauron curating an archive of things he took from celebrimbor’s rooms and personal library after his ruin of ost-in-edhil got its teeth into me. the archive building ended up mostly off-screen; instead annatar begrudgingly advises grad students, discovers archive anthrax, and is overall too familiar with his most tolerable colleague.

2. little tenderness: feanor/nerdanel, e, 4k

“Is it not exhausting to imagine abandonment around every darkened corner, wife of mine?”

feanor and nerdanel have t4t lesbian divorce sex following feanor’s exile to formenos. nothing is resolved, and arguably they both get worse. feanor’s missed character potential as a genderfucked lesbian with the same extremely large chips on her shoulder regarding primogeniture, her sons, and high kingship still regularly turns my own brain to soup.

3. letter 97: fingon/maedhros but also gen, t, 9k

“Still the question remains,” Maedhros continued tranquilly, “whether you were offended on my behalf or on yours, when you were accused of keeping a monster leashed for your own amusement.”

the elfschatology one! featuring my own wretched and reprehensible darling, an orc angband escapee doing a little bit of an anthropological study abroad. fingon visits maedhros in himring, wrestles with both his own and maedhros’ wartime uncertainties on what makes an elf, what makes an orc, and what an end to a war would even mean if they made if there. ‘so you want to understand your monstrous boyfriend’s lukewarm concern for his immortal soul,’ a generally unhelpful how-to

4. on gold, and the wearing of red: caranthir & maedhros, g, 4k

“My messengers wear gold in their mouths,” he said curtly, and his brother flashed him a brief smile. The gold of Maedhros’ own teeth shone in firelight.

caranthir’s pre-nirnaeth relationship with his eldest brother as demonstrated through the fashion trends he disapproves of, the ones he adopts himself, and the ones he actively enables. maedhros is more than a little monstrous and simultaneously very beloved by his men and his little brother both. in other words, the sharp teeth fic.

5. to my father’s house: caranthir & finrod, t, 17.5k (4 chapters), content warning for major character death and gore

“It is not a very long dream. There is a servant atop the stairs with a carafe, and one of your brothers is giving a toast, though in the middle of it the servant drops the carafe and—” He gestures vaguely. “—wine, all down the stairs.”

caranthir and his damnably likeable arafinwean cousin, until both their deaths. in which caranthir is also cursed with perhaps the most useless gift of foresight in first age history, and dreams since childhood of the various ways in which he could, would, and ultimately does die. relatedly, there is something so special to me about a man who does fiber arts and is also unfalteringly miserable.

you can find the rest of my fic at ao3 under batshape.

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

writer ask!! I have two hypothetical titles for you:

1. "Anywhere you go (let me go too)" from Phantom Of The Opera's "All I Ask Of You"

2. "The stars were made for falling" (Dream Sweet in Sea Major, my beloved)

3. "Twice as many stars as usual" (The Two-Headed Lamb poem I think? something like that. you prob know the title.)

obligatory disclaimer: feel free to modify these a bit, add/take bits away, paragraphs, etc. yada yada. Have fun !!!!! ;)

FIC TITLES!!!!!!!!!! this requires some intense thinking. thank you pep, ypu're making my brain work. hm....

1) getting some desolate vibes from this, especially with its connection to the phantom of the opera. i'd be tempted to write something connected 2 the phantom, but i havent got the knowledge for that (yet). its also giving very them vibesin general. i've given crowley this Thing through my fics where he'll following aziraphale Anywhere, but when its too much, you KNOW aziraphale done fucked up. not sure why i mentioned that but i suppose its an explanation that this is very crowley-esque 2 me. probably a fic where azirphale is being his repressed little self and crowley is trying to help but realizes he needs to make that jpurney on his own . so the idea isnt too solid, but i have a VIBE

2) mmmm there are so many options here TOO. i coulddd say a prefall fic but im not very confident normally to write something from that era. its gotta be something involving crowley being doomed from the start ofc, but in WHAT SITUATION. hmm. i do have a single bullet point about a fic where aziraphale isnt able to warn crowley about the flood in time and it happens without him even understanding what’s going on which is just heartbreaking to me. absolutely deserving of this title tbh. also havr this idea where before the beginning, angel crowley is fucking with time to create an "infinite" star system you could say, after he's had his interaction with aziraphale but has yet to directly asking god his questions. he fucks it up too much and us therefore transported to the Future, where future aziraphale has to hide this guy before crowley finds out (its like a month before season 2). it would be very emotional and probably not very high stakes, but would eventually have both crowleys accept the inevtabilities of their situations and let every run the course. stars were made for falling, indeed.

3) this one was likely the easiest thing to come for me: an au where crowley agrees to be an angel but only on the condition he’s allowed one last night on earth with aziraphale, so he is the two headed calf who will be wrapped in newspaper and hauled to the museum (heaven), but tonight, he is alive and in a random field with his other half. it is a perfect summer evening, just as season 2 was depicted to be—and as he stares into the sky, there will be twice as many stars as usual. it would be a very brief drabble, but ohhh would it hurt. let me try and write a couple paragraphs actually

"Right," Crowley can hear himself say, and surprisingly, he believes everything the angel said. Or he can understand what he said, anyway--the 'old times' were before there was ever a second side. The 'old times' were before the concept of pleasure or selfishness weren't even conceived. The 'old times' were...before they were them.

So yes, Crowley can understand what Aziraphale is saying. He wants to be right, and he wants to love. He wants to be loved. As long as Crowley is Crowley, he cannot have both.

Crowley also knows Aziraphale. If there's a way to have both, he will fight tooth and nail to have them, even if it will only end up hurting them all in the process.

So really, there's only one thing Crowley can do.

And it is going to hurt.

okay not very related to the poem but you KNOW WHAT I MEAN!!! thanks for the ask pep :D

[wildelydawn]

KP Recfest List: Big Centric/BigChan Edition.

Alright friends, I'm going to use all my brave/courage stats to compose this list of Big-Centric and BigChan fic recs for @kprecfest. This list is definitely not complete, and I'm always looking for more BigChan fics or fics that center around Big as a character, so please feel free to rec your own!

In no particular order:

Student Paper Award by clandestinegardenias

Rating: E Pairing: Big/Chan Status: Completed Summary: "Chan has no doubt that Big sobs into his pillow every time Kinn hands him back a paper covered in red ink. That only makes Chan want him more." Why you should read this: Okay, firstly, I'm totally biased here. As someone who has pined after a professor throughout graduate school, I'm almost embarrassed with how much I related to Big here. Almost is the key word here because that's exactly why this story is so brilliant. Clandestinegardenias has brought my KinnPorsche university!AU dreams to life with just one fic. The pining Big has for Kinn is so well done, and how Chan begins to develop feelings toward Big through helping him with his paper is just *chef's kiss.* All the build up and all the angsty moments cultivate into a very explosive and satisfying ending. On top of this, the little details about research, about the tension in academics, the "and they're sharing offices!" addition. My heart! This fic and every part of it is all so well done that I am on my way to apply to another degree. (Jk... unless... 👀) Favorite line: "Later, they share a pizza and toast each other with bottles of Coke, and Chan tells himself it’s enough."

So lovers say by littlerietveld

Rating: E Pairing: Big/Chan Status: Ongoing (5/?) Summary: "big was never actually in love with kinn, everyone just thinks he is, so chan pretends to date him to put a stop to the rumours. feelings ensue." Why you should read this: Alright. I confess. I love fake dating as a trope, especially when one of the characters has power over another. This story takes this classic and beloved idea and adds a very real twist to it: that maybe everyone knew that Big is/was infatuated with Kinn. Big suffers for it, and the author does a really wonderful job with giving us how Big endures some of that gossip and judgement by detailing Big's workouts and his internal dialogue. Then, in steps Chan, who's facing his own budding feelings after proposing the fake dating. The setting and dialogue in this story make my heart giddy and make me want to throw my pillow. Favorite line: "'Give me a hickey,' Big says in a rush, unable to say anything else, unable to explain what he’s feeling, just needing something to prove his and Chan’s relationship; to show everyone that he is not in love with Kinn; to get them to stop believing this godforsaken rumour."

This Symphony is a Dance Between Us by The_Old_Astronomer

Rating: G Pairing: Big/Chan Status: Ongoing (1/2) Summary: "While recovering from getting shot, Chan leaves the medical wing for a walk and a much needed cigarette. He's out on a balcony, enjoying the night air, when he hears music nearby. Feeling drawn to it, he heads in the direction of the melody to find out who's playing. It's not who he expected at all." Why you should read this: Injured Chan?? Big being a pianist??? Is that not enough to convince you? If not, let Astro's beautiful writing be the reason why you join her BigChan agenda because she's doing a damn good job making it happen. First, I love the fact that Chan is injured in this fic. Seeing the head of the body guards at his most vulnerable is galaxy brain thinking on Astro's part. Second, the set up is actually so exquisitely simple but is so wonderfully developed. At the core of this story is Chan being drawn to beautiful music and then asking Big to continue playing. But Astro takes this and so many emotional and beautiful details to it. What can I say? I love a story that takes seemingly small moments and makes them utterly breathtaking. Astro's written another fantastic BigChan fic, so check that out too. Favorite line: "But hope is a tenacious thing. It’s resilient, like a tree; once the roots are entwined with the earth and the branches start growing, it can be hard to cut down. So despite Chan's intensely pragmatic nature, he waits and he hopes."

Drowning Like a Stone by Nyxelestia

Rating: T Pairing: Big & Chay, KimChay Status: Ongoing (7/?) Summary: "Despite Porsche's desperation and Kim's manipulation, Chay was hit hard by the events of Season 1. Five outside perspectives on Chay grappling with the aftermath of the mafia madness." Why you should read this: I went into this fic knowing that Nyxelestia would bring her phenomenal writing and character analysis into the KimChay fandom and I stayed because of that, but now I am absolutely rooted and emotionally invested because of how she develops the relationship between Big & Chay (and quite frankly, I'm adoring these chapters on them and wouldn't mind another 10 or 100 of them.) Nyxelestia gives a lot of depth to Big and also makes him absolutely hilarious. The idea of Big taking Chay under his wing, hearing him out, giving him lessons on the mafia life and more, is something so brilliant but also incredibly poignant because while Chay was betrayed by Kim, Big was betrayed by Ken, and to put these characters together!!! I just!! I am at a loss. After reading Chapter Five, I leaned back in my chair and whispered, "Oh fuck." Nyxelestia explores the implications of both of these betrayals with such great care, and for that, I am blown away. Favorite line: "In the quiet of the small lounge, Big wondered if his breathing sounded as loud to them as it did to him. Once upon a time, he’d wished someone would say those words to him, he’d dreamed of Kinn saying that to him. But now that it actually happened, Big felt…nothing." Runner up favorite line: "What the fuck did ‘stanned’ mean?"

push and pull by Martynax

Rating: E Pairing: Big/Kinn/Porsche, KinnPorsche Status: Completed Summary: "Look,” Big says, finding enough strength in his body to do this. “You don’t have to worry about me trying anything. You don’t have to tell me that Kinn is yours.” He assumes that that’s what Porsche is trying to do. “I know my place." ... Why you should read this: When this fic first came out, I was biting my fist the entire time. In case you didn't know, Martnax writes some top tier smut for the KinnPorsche fandom and Christ on a pogo stick, did they deliver that and more: with a threesome. Please. But before I get to how incredibly hot their writing is, I do need to point out that Martynax built such a painful and believable background and emotional state for post-canon Big in this story; the details about Big's mother, how he joined the bodyguards, his reluctance to talk to Porsche about his actions/feelings. But it's well balanced with the development of his new relationship with Kinn and Porsche. I, for one, could not stop smiling when Kinn and Porsche crash Big's movie night; the description of Porsche with his head in Big's lap is so sweet even though I know my mans is having a crisis. The ending to this fic is wonderful, emotional, and smutty: everything I would want in a KinnPorscheBig fic. Still hoping for a sequel. Favorite line: "The consequences could be too much. But he also understands that if he doesn’t at least try, he won’t ever forgive himself. He’s already poured his soul out to them, handing them his heart shouldn’t be that difficult."

All Along you were Blooming by mortimerlatrice & nuwildcat

Rating: E Pairing: Big/Tay, KinnPorsche Status: Ongoing (2/3) Summary: "Finding a second chance at love isn't something either of them thought was in the cards. Noticing that there was someone in front of you all along, takes something changing to open your eyes." ... Why you should read this: I don't even know where to begin with this one. I only read it for the first time a few week or so ago, and I've already revisited it a dozen times, not just because of the beautiful writing but also because of the jawdropping art. But let's start with the writing first; Tay is given so much voice and life in this story. If you told me his familial details, career, and background from this story are all canon, I would believe you, 100%. That's now much care nuwildcat puts into Tay's development, and you can expect that same amount of care and cultivation in all other aspects of this fic. For example, the cocktails. I know nothing about alcohol, but the descriptions of each drink were mouthwatering and so vivid. Pair this with Tay and Kinn being business associates! Incredible. But they're not the only dynamic duo; nuwildcat has given us a wonderful friendship between Porsche and Big: it begins with reluctance, but by the end of Chapter Two, we see Big, in all his fierce loyalty. Mind you, nuwildcat is writing this all while describing how Big falls out of love with Kinn and begins to fall for Tay. And if being graced with wonderful writing isn't enough, mortimerlace knocks you out with stunning art of both characters. There is something really captivating in mortimer's use of purples and I am loving it. The variants used in the first picture of Tay in Chapter One are exquisite. The details in the flowers are so well thought of. Mortimer's use of detail and line work really shine when it comes to each of the outfits, particularly Tay's lace bodice. However, my favorites have to be from Chapter Two; maybe it's because I'm biased, but something about these portraits of Big just made me blush; he looks that good. All in all, if you want a double whammy of fine art and writing, this is your fic. Favorite line: "...the sincerity in Big’s voice hits him like the recoil of a gun. Tay can’t remember the last compliment he got from Time that didn’t double as a come-on. The ache of that thought is an open wound he can’t help but press on. 'You know, when you say things like that Big, I actually believe them.'" Favorite art piece: Chapter Two's second picture of Big in his suit.

Gonna Fade You Like That Rush by giraffeter

Rating: E Pairing: Tay/Time/Big Status: Completed Summary: "Tay and Time run into Big on his night off. Kinn may not want to play with his own toys, but he's never told them they couldn't help themselves." Why you should read this: Listen. Big has been going through it. I think he deserves to have fun, and giraffeter delivers on that. Was I expecting that fun to come in the form of quick wit, humor, and Tay and Time convincing Big to follow them home? Absolutely not, but holy shit, am I here for it. Because girafetter's right; if Kinn won't have fun with his bodyguards, then maybe Tay and Time should. I love the set up in this fic; Big's at a bar and Tay and Time pounce as soon as they lay eyes on him. I love Big's subtle discomfort while being in a bar and how he's a bit unsure of how to place himself among Time and Tay. since they are Kinn's friends. And to put all of this in a post-Tawan background really amplifies that feeling. I'm obsessed with how flirty and forward Tay is here too, how he demands to be in charge. Not to mention the internal thoughts Tay has throughout the story. All of this is compounded by very hot smut. Big fans are truly blessed and thankful. Favorite line: "He has no idea how long it takes them to drive to Tay and Time's place. He's focused on controlling his breathing, on not shivering apart or coming in his underwear while they touch him in an idle, almost desultory way. Occasionally they exchange a heated look across his body, one that lets Big know that he is completely, totally (and in the best way possible) fucked."

Alright! That's all I've got for you, Big. For now, at least. I hope these lovely authors/creators and the fandom continue to write about you, my favorite bodyguard, the one with the most pure heart. 🖤

[incandescentflower]

tagged by @stickers-on-a-laptop!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

107 (2 are wips)

2. What is your AO3 wordcount?

849,849 (that's really true. kind of spooky huh?)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

whatever hits the feels and gives me ideas. the majority is bl. right now it's Bad Buddy and Cherry Magic Thailand. The fandom I've written the most fics for is the Cherry Magic jdrama.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Up the Ante, Bad Buddy

Logical Syntax, Semantic Error

a boyfriend demo with premium features, Semantic Error

Be a good hyung, Semantic Error

one week is long enough to dream - Kieta Hatsukoi

5. Do you respond to comments?

always! sometimes it takes me a little longer than others but I always want to acknowledge when someone comments because they are such a boost.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't usually end in angst but I wrote something for a 1K challenge and it definitely was the angstiest ending I have ever written - before you go in Bad Buddy fandom.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The overwhelming majority of my fic have happy endings and I don't really know how to determine the level of happiness. I do think angst with happy endings feels more cathartic. I have 8 fic in that tag.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I only once got full on hate on a fic. A reader said they wished they could take their kudos back. It was top/bottom drama and I don't engage in that bs.

9. Do you write smut? If so, which kind?

72/107 fic are rated E or M. It's always for smut. I once had a reader tell me that I am the master of the comfort smut genre. I am very pleased with that. :)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest crossover you’ve ever written?

I have never written one, but lately I've had some ideas churning

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that I know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yep! many times. I'm very honored when someone does that. Same goes with podfic or art.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope, haven't been able to yet. It's hard for me to find the time to dedicate to something more complex like that.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I don't like to choose favorites. All my ships are beloved for various reasons, but wangxian is the one that first truly set my brain on fire.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I don't have one. If I want to finish it, I will finish it. I'm stubborn like that. It might take some time. I've had a few where it has taken me a couple of years to complete, but I still completed them.

I have had a few fics I've given up on because I didn't want to write them anymore.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm not sure. My writing is led by character emotions and I think people enjoy that. I've been told I am good at characterization.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I love clauses, give me all the clauses, who needs to end a sentence... we can just go on forever.

Long plotting and story structure is often overwhelming for me too.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

This feels like something strange to have an opinion on, honestly. If it fits the story then why wouldn't you? You just have to keep in mind what it tells the audience who are reading in the primary language.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The Raven Cycle - a wonderful YA book series if you have not read it. It's my favorite book series.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Oh no, more trying to choose. I honestly don't think I have one. If I wrote something long, it's because I had an idea I loved. And sometimes my short fic get to the crux of what I love about a show and distills it in a way that lets me roll around in it for a while. I think usually my favorite fic (and also my most hated fic) tends to be the one I am currently writing.

tagging @galauvant @dimplesandfierceeyes @sunshinedobi @bestbuds55 because I've seen you all writing lately, but no pressure! Feel free to pass if you don't want to do it.

[causenessus]

HI SMAU ANON HERRE!!!

so ive never written a day in my life so any and all pointers are GREATLY appreciated ilysm/p

chocolate danish (title maybe?)

angst -> fluff rivals to lovers

fem! reader studying at a culinary arts school and wants to open a pasty business in the future her rival (tendo) whos studying choclatier who admires her strong will and passion tries to get in her head while not realizing his crush on her ?

im not entirely sure about the plot but i think its a start :3

again tysm i love your work sm 😭

AW ILY ANON <33 (/P) chocolate danish sounds like SUCH a cute name and i think it would do amazing as a smau!! like with the environment and world you've built <3 there's definitely so much you can do with that like having tendou's gc trying to tell him he's obsessed with her (/pos, in a "u LIKE HER BRO" kind of way) while he's just like "no no i just want to crush her DREAMS" and yn sounds amazing!! like literal queen right here I want to go to her pastry shop please!!! rivals to lovers sounds ADORABLE so i think you have a really good idea going for you my love <3 I'm not sure it you are looking for opinions on anything in particular and don't be afraid to send in another ask if you want to ask any other question!! but all I'd say is take your time <3 for me personally I like to outline my stories bc I get very excited to write them and want to know where I'm heading but that's also because of my brain which somehow is able to write entire outlines in like one day (for cold kisses) and I think love notes took me two days. by taking your time I just mean give yourself time to think! and don't stress yourself out at posting anything at a certain rate!! you have all the time in the world and it's important that you enjoy yourself!! you definitely don't have to write outlines if you want to free hand it! sometimes outlines can feel restricting or cause burnout and none of that is good </3 you never have to follow an outline if you don't like it later as well! another thing I'd say is just have sources of inspiration! whether that be a pinterest board, movies, tiktoks, music, whatever you like!! but i think it definitely helps :) like for love notes i have a pinterest section called miscellaneous texts that just

helps with inspiration for texts i imagine between suna and yn! so I think having inspiration helps keep your brain going yk, and like for cold kisses i got super inspired seeing ice skating tiktoks! so I feel like yk seeing pastry tiktoks might be cute and things like that <3 mainly all I can say is have fun with it!! and don't nitpick your own writing. I know it's hard but people WILL enjoy your works!!! sometimes you'll catch mistakes that you think will be obvious to others but most of the time no one else will notice!! they'll enjoy your fic so do not stress too much about how other people will think or see your fic!! try not to stress about numbers as well! I promise that things will blossom with time and i'm so happy that you've decided to try out writing but that's why it's important to give yourself grace!! your voice as an author and skills will continue to develop with time so don't think things have to be perfect immediately <3 I've said this 100 times but binary stars was SUCH a test run for me that smau is the bane of my existence BUT it was important that I did suffer through that smau so that I could learn from it and get to where I am today!!!!

sorry to yap <3 I hope that's a little bit helpful <3 they're just some general tips! but if you were looking for something in specific like help with outlines or plot PLEASE TELL ME!! I want to help I just wasn't sure what you were looking to here if that makes sense 😭 I am so excited for you anon and I would love to read it when you post it!! if you feel comfortable sharing it <3

[topazshadowwolf]

hello there :D

I’ve never done an ask before so here it goes.

to my favorite creator on tumblr!

I have always had this theory that Dust and Horror are very fidgety and often need to do something with their hands, I have always thought that sometimes Horror, Dust and Error (I know Error isn’t in this story but he is in mine) would just sit by the fire and do their own fidgety crafts, Dust does origami since it is delicate and takes time distracting him from his thoughts, Horror likes to cross stitch, and Error knits. I was just wondering if they do anything like that, maybe a fidgety craft like that could help Dust with his nerves and baby depression (it helps me :D).

Lastly, I saw someone mention the boys coming out to Nightmare, what are your head cannons on their sexualities?

I love your work and can’t wait to read more, take your time and have fun. And here, a sketch, Gooptales and Sky children of the light

Hello!

It's okay, I honestly get nervous sending in asks myself. Welcome to my ask box, and feel free to send in anything anytime. I try to answer most of them I recieve.

And what an honor to have such a title! Thank you!

I love your idea! It is nice for the boys to have hobbies to occupy their minds and hands other than mischief! Really, what you shared is a pleasant scene I could see playing out.

For HNBD, though, it would be mostly Killer with his whittling once he takes up that hobby. Dust just likes reading, and is good at sitting still and letting his mind drift off into space adventures in his book. Maybe one day, he will try writing one. But right now, he just would rather read. Horror, with his hunting that he will start, likes leather working as not being wasteful extends to more than food to him. To him, using 100% of an animal he kills is how he honors and respects the creatures that sustain him. Cross likes training, gaming, and occasionally sketching and journaling. As for the Growing Up

GoopTales offshoot, well, the boys do join clubs which will kind of answer that. Cross joins track and field as he stays fairly active. Horror doesn't join on at the school, Nightmare helps him find a hunters club, and he also decides to be a boy scout. He's an outdoors kind of guy. Killer ends up joining the drama club and taking such classes. He finds a love for Shakespeare, and it makes Nightmare so happy to hear him in his room practicing his lines. Plays are perfect for him, but he can't read them while sitting. Reading has been difficult for him since his soul was mutated, but since lines are split up, and it is meant to be read aloud, with voices, he can focus on it. As for Dust, he didn't want to join any at first, but Killer kept dragging him along. Eventually, he slips away one day and finds the chess club... he also finds out about the creative writing club and joins both since they meet on different days.

I honestly don't feel like discussing that, sorry. Just know, my main ship is Soriel, and if I see a Sans, I want to give them a Toriel, and if I see a Toriel, they should have a Sans. That's the way my brain is programmed. I do actually have a Toriel picked out for Dream. But trying to not spill all my Soriel headcanons all over the UTMV too quickly. XD (After all, there is FuzzyNight, then my fics I am slowly writing when in romance moods: The HouseKeeper for Killer and Soul Fire Blues for Dust. I think that's enough for now)

What an adorable drawing! Thank you so much for sharing this! I will have to add it to my collection of art! I love seeing them following Nightmare like little ducklings. It warms my heart. And love the cape you gave Nightmare!

[museaway]

Happy 10th anniversary to my beloved Free! fandom. When I was struck down by a fever in late 2017 and decided to watch the anime, I had no idea the ways the fandom would influence me. So since @rinharumemories is a memory event, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to finally write a love letter to the fandom! 💙❤️ 

(Adapted from this twitter thread!)

After my fever-inspired crash-course, Free! fell out of my head for a while, but Rin never did. The following year, I watched a cosplay tutorial for him on YouTube and decided to watch Take Your Marks. I saw The Bench Scene. Suddenly I had an OTP!

My first-ever rinharu friend, Rubi, encouraged me to write fic and kindly beta read for me! I was neck-deep in anxiety at the time because of another fandom and Free! was refreshing. My anxiety was so bad that she actually screened the comments on that first fic to make sure I could read them without spiraling.

I found more shippers & joined the Sakura Pool discord, where I would meet my dear SweetHeaven! Su & the other friends I made there helped shape @ficwip's early days as a hashtag game, and (along w/friends from SPN & VLD) were some of our discord's initial members.

When I was designing the ficwip discord, Aenya was kind enough to share tips for role-based channel permissions & let me pick her brain about modding a year-round space! Her advice was invaluable, an absolute lifesaver. 🙏🙏🙏 

Around this time, through the original #ficwip game on Twitter, I met fellow writer @matsuoka-lin and we got to be friends. (During the pandemic, Lin would join the ficwip server and we would recognize our Aquarius bond ♒)

Late into 2018, I was still writing rinharu fic, and I also participated in Inktober, with a good number of the images being rinharu themed. It had been years since I’d drawn, but those two brought it out of me. Sadly, that December, the VLD finale hit during my very first @rinharuweek and launched me back into the VLD fandom for a couple of years. I never finished my RHW '18 entry. But I never forgot Free! or rinharu, and definitely not Rin, who was my profile pic more often than not. 

Flash forward to 2021. Su won a fic giveaway & prompted me to write a rinharu amnesia fic. I worked on it across 11 months. That awoke my muses, and I ended up writing rinharu hanahaki for @ficwip's 5k!

Last August, I was days away from announcing a fandom-wide SPN event when I recalled my dream of a rinharu bang and mentioned it in passing to Lin. We talked for eight hours straight. By the end of the conversation, @thenightpool had been born. 

We started TNP with the humble goal of five participants in our first event, a mermaid-themed fic & art fest. We had months to prepare! Then something happened with FS2 and we scrambled to launch a Halloween fest that we pulled off thanks to incredible contributors. They formed the foundation of the TNP discord, which is set up a lot like ficwip’s to be a year-round little creative community. We’ll actually be launching our own version of fw’s writing retreat weekends later this month! 

The merfest, which got renamed Unleashed Blue, blew past our expectations — as did Sakurathon, a dormant event that we revived for a weekend in April. UB ended up with 52 entries; we’d hoped for maybe 15. Sakurathon was such a success that we rescheduled it immediately. Right now, we have a prompt meme running, and have events scheduled through 2024! 😅 

In addition to @thenightpool, we’ve formed @iwatobievents to promote events across the Free! fandom. And we’re running events there too, for Nagisa and Soumako. Because what is sleep!! 

So the TL;DR is that the rinharu fandom helped give @ficwip life, has inspired me as a writer and artist, led me to my best and dearest friends, and will make a big dream come true later this year: I’ll finally be running a rinharu bang! 💙❤️

And I still have a Rin Matsuoka icon.

(eta: I did, up until the day I posted this. It may temporarily be changed to another favorite character!)

[thunder-shadow]

I don't have enough words to thank and praise your fics, you are wonderful, I love the characterizations you give them.

How many creative liberties do you take to give them a characteristic trait? What was your process to give them those distinctive traits? :0

Pd: I'm using a translator so I trust it sounds coherent 😅 your fics help me a lot with my English to learn words. Haha

Awww thank uu <33333

Do you mean like, appearance traits, or personality traits? Appearance wise I just go off of vibes tbh LOL

Back when I wasn't writing fanfic yet, I made a little document where I just threw all my thoughts, and part of that was designs for the planets! I just steal from that haha

For example, Uranus originally didn't have a single braid, actually! He just had long hair with lots of braids scattered within it but when I started writing somehow I just fell upon the idea of him having one braid and now it's a permanent part of my idea for him XD

Versus Earth, he's basically stayed the same the entire time LOL - fun fact, I used to be part of the DSMP fandom and even to this day it's stuck within me bc I just imagine Earth dressing up like C!Dream in all the fanarts (the whole cropped hoodie with tight clothes underneath it) and now that's stuck in my design for him XD Also, I usually imagine him with an ISS hair-clip in his hair bc it just appeared in my mind one day and I was like YES

Jupiter and Saturn... honestly my mental designs for them two were influenced by akkkiii_lol SO much (if you haven't seen their art it's so good they were actually the first to introduce me to jupixturn (when they made a single piece of art for it) and i've been obssessed since). But if I could describe them in one phrase it'd be like... old-timey vampires LOL

I HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO DROP THIS IN ANY OF MY FICS YET BUT THE SUN HAS STARS FOR PUPILS

Honestly I could talk forever about my mental pictures of each planet but I won't XD (unless ppl ask for specific planets ;))

Versus like wings and stuff - I have been OBSSESSED with wings for as long as I can remember (the supernatural fan in me popping out), so giving Mercury wings is such an easy decision for me haha

Personality wise, IDK

I literally just type dialogue or mental thoughts and then try to imagine the character saying that in my head and if I can't hear them saying it then I delete and try again LOL

Otherwise, I never know if my characters feel consistent across stories because I can never read my fanfics from a reader's POV 😭 i can only read them with author brain

But yeah, creative liberties... I honestly don't know how much I would say I take LOL

I hope this is what u actually wanted me to talk about ;-; if not, feel free to send another ask, I love talking :DD

And dw, it was coherent!! I'm glad my fics are helping you <333

[jenevawashere]

Writers Truth & Dare Ask Game

🎱 ⇢ post your AO3 total stats: how about no

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?  I wanted Wanda Maximoff in the X-men movies. I had a vision for it and I might revisit it someday...

🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6mwovYLQUxzDlP3bR1L5GS?si=baa885e9c42c4fc9

🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that? seven. It has become more enjoyably as my writing style has changed. I edit as I go because I write in chunks, then go back and edit when I hit a metaphorical wall.

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis: ok! good luck decoding this shit: 📍🛑🔩👁️🍫

🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help? none of them are on here that I know of but Q and S. Maybe G depending on who...

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love: I have a whole list. So instead, here's a shit ton of my bookmarks. https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendofthePhoenix1234/bookmarks

💌 ⇢ how many unread emails do you have right now?  5 in the main

🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis: How do you tag on here? Seriously, not a joke I have yet to learn that skill.

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both? Original or existing characters.

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before: I'm allergic to watermelon. No idea how the fuck that is possible but it happens.

🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time? Short answer? Life. Long answer? Also life. And procrastination.

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favorite ships or pairings: uhhhhhhhhh NEXT!

🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual? shit if I know. Just hang out and say hi every once in a while. If we share fandoms, then cool! *shrugs in idk*

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now: finally having a job, a few projects to switch through, and my cat.

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app? fic notes. See previous wip related question to try and figure that out

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character: I'm gonna have to come back to this one. Brain overloaded when this question came up

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project? recently? (more on a personal level in terms of weirdness) a bunch of information on science related topics. I was the arts kid in a stem class so you can imagine how weird searching for that stuff is.

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on: "Be the kool aid man."

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best? My doctor who fics and literally anyone else that isn't me and has a much better understanding of the whoniverse.

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity: there's no advice from me. It happens, sometimes for months on end and it sucks.

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh: Oh boy! We have another list! "Burn it. Burn the jacket." "A fire? At the sea parks?!" "Hamburger (the H is silent in this context)" "Surprise harmonica" and I'm going to stop listing things now...

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work? ANY! Seriously, even if it's a single emoji, please say something. Kudos can only do so much, and that's assuming I count them.

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate: I just spent a good five minutes trying to remember what character I hate. I think I've blocked them out in all honesty.

🥝 ⇢ do you lie a lot? what's the most recent lie you told? I have the memory of a goldfish, you expect me to remember that?

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately: I hate Hate HATE gathering basting stitches SO MUCH 

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing? Music.

🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing: what you think is bad, someone else will think is good. What you think is good, someone else will think is bad.

🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises? depends on a lot of factors here. Need more specifics.

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here: *panics* Have 58 instead! *awkward jazz hands*

Lars had forgotten his keys at work. He had made it all the way to the door before he realized he couldn’t get into his flat - apartment according to Americans. He still called it the “wrong thing,” no matter how many times he was corrected. 

“Of fucking course.” He rolled his eyes as his shoulders slumped in defeat.

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username? X-men fan. Jean Grey is a favorite. That's where all the Phoenix stuff in my original username came from. The one on here is a pseudonym.

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them: I ask again. HOW DOES ONE TAG?

🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them: Cat and no. You don't deserve picture of my baby floof.

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it: ...am I allowed to say a whole book? If yes, then the Scarland Art Book that was literally just announced.

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately? Stuff I don't like.